"Well, then. That was a bit of unwanted exercise," Dawrbrün grumbles as he tromps through the snow back to the group. "It's been awhile since I've had to sing and fight and wade through snow at the same time!"
He holds out the mangled corpse of the pixie he killed for the group to examine. "Here's one of 'em, if anyone cares to look."
"Do tiny winged people usually attack random passersby?" Frank wonders aloud.
After glancing at the dead fey, he summons Broulnindre again.
Broulnindre folds her arms and pouts after her return.
"Hy fight next vun too." she decides before also taking a closer look at their fallen foe.
Hekla eventually trudges up to the group.
"[insert descriptive text]"
"It's kind of incredible to see them here! I think I killed one! Maybe it will be okay."
She looks worried, but only slightly so.
Once Alethea starts moving again, she remembers why she trudged over here and offers her a hand up.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Groggily, Alethea accepts the proffered hand and allows herself to be hauled to her feet, then quickly bends down to scoop up her falcata from the ground.
"I think the only lasting injury is to my pride," she says, fastidiously brushing the snow from her clothing and smoothing out any wrinkles. "Is everyone else all right?"
"I'm right as rain. Dawrbrun, that voice is sweet as the Sirens', I never would have expected. Do our tracks keep going?"
"Kind of ye to say, Miss Hekla. It was just a well-known dwarvish war chant. Tall folk don't usually have an appreciation for the lower-registers of dwarven voices. Too much bass and resonance, and not enough melody's the usual complaint. I'm glad it inspired you."
He glances at each of the party members, trying to assess if anyone is badly wounded, and in need of his last healing spell.
"I'm game for pressing on, if everyone else is, but if you're tired, we can stop and rest a bit."
Barnaby shakes his fist at the dead, dying, bloody asshat fey, sprites, winged-asshats.
Anticipation and I are good to go. We are just wondering why frosty fey waylaying folks are here, but formerly from frosty climates.
Anticipation nods in agreement, except his alliteration was way better.
Both Hunter and Giant Ant giggles as they attempt to pick up those drunken farmer tracks....
Both the gnome and the Ant look a bit turned about and topsy Turvey....
You follow the erratic path of the lost farmer for another two hours. As you approach a frozen stream you note he has discarded his clothing. A dire sign of late hypothermia.
A human-sized snowman stands in the middle of the trail before the stream. A crude wooden sign leans against it and bears the words “Trespassers Turn Back.” Just across the stream you see the legs and feet jut from a pile of snow next to the trees.
"Over there, near the trees!" Dawrbrün says, pointing to the legs jutting out from the snow bank. He strides purposefully through the snow towards who he presumes to be the lost farmer.
Barnaby and Anticipation trudge through the snow and sludge to stand looking at the crude wooden sign leans against it and bears the words “Trespassers Turn Back.”
So, they jump over the fence and yell
Hey! What gives you the right to keep us out and to keep Mother Nature in!
Ant seems to be bobbing his antenna in rhythm to the gnome.
Hekla examines the gear left behind. She swings the bow and a quiver over her back and offers the rest around, then she stows anything that the others don't want.
Afterwards, she'll follow Dawrbrun.
Alethea tucks the fallen dagger into her belt, then, when Dawrbrün points out the body, rushes over to join him. There's still a chance, she thinks, trying to convince herself that it's true.
Dawrbrün approaches the body, and looks for signs of life. "Can you hear me? Are you awake?" he asks the fallen man.
As you approach within 15ft of the snowman it stirs to life and commands you, “Can’t you read? The sign says turn back! Now get lost!”
Dawrbrün stares suspiciously at the snowman. "Is this more faerie nonsense? Show yourself!" He tries to perceive if the snowman is a phantasm, or if more pixies are lurking in the trees. "Otherwise, get out of the way, so we can attend to the poor soul lying in the snowbank before he freezes to death!"
Hekla says calmly to the snowman, "Sir, we need to check those legs over there for the presence of the rest of him, for his safety you know. We mean you no harm."
Alethea halts in her tracks when the snowman addresses them, but keeps a hand on her falcata in anticipation of the inevitable ambush.
Lyudmilla punches through the snow to follow closely behind Dawrbrün and the other's prewalked path, her eyes widening on the snowman as it seemingly speaks. Nope. She looks to others responding and gets momentarily trapped in the surrealness of their circumstances.
Swallowing dryly, Lyudmilla refocuses by slipping into her customer service experience, doing her best to add a little honey to Dawrbrün and Hekla's request. "Forgive our disturbance on this brisk day! I'm sure you are quite busy with your stream guarding duties but may ve have your permission to proceed? If you believe us to be intrusive, ve will act most swiftly."
The party addresses and studies the animated snowman. It seems real enough, Dawrbrün finds nothing out of place, snow falls on top of it lightly, an impression in the snow leads to its base, where the ball was rolled.
But Dawrbrün thinks about it and the voice sounded hollow and tinny and when it moved the way it moved seemed unnatural and fake. When it was speaking, that was the illusion but the snowman is real enough.
The snowman does not respond to you further and anyone looking around doesn’t detect any mischievous fey nearby.
"The snowman isn't speaking. The voice is someone else's words, already spoken and magically imbued to repeat as a message. I'm not sure if the snowman itself is living, if it is some sort of construct, or just being moved by magic to try and scare us away."
Dawrbrün draws his maul axe and continues to advance, shield raised, daring the snowman to do something about it.
Anticipation winks at Alethea before walking up to the snowman. The ant just circles it then plops down to see if it speaks again.
Barnaby crisscrosses the sign line to see if that works....
Frank keeps his crossbow handy, his eye on the snowball.
Broulnindre walks right up to the snowman.
She looks at it up close first before poking it.
Hekla trudges to the snowbank to extricate the farmer, again leaving no footprints through the snow as she travels.
Alethea follows after Hekla, falcata held at the ready.
Lyudmilla raises a hand to warn her comrades to be cautious, but reels it back recognizing that they likely know better than she. Instead she takes note of Frank and removes her dusty crossbow, loading it slowly.
The frozen guardian erupts in a concussive scream.
From the frozen river a pair of animate chunks of ice roughly in humanoid shape emerge.
A wall of sound hits Dawrbrün, and knocks him back, ears wringing. His maul axe and shield fall to the ground.
Round 1 of Snowman Ball'n!
Barnaby and Anticipation both scream back at the snowman!
Barnby's seems definitely a lot louder than Ant's since the ant is stunned to silence!
The Hunter approaches the icy water's edge, prepared for repercussions!
Beware foul wintry beasties! You shall not pass!
Stunned!
The inquisitive Broulnindre covers her ears, her scream of discomfort unheard over the cacophony.
The elementals wait for you to cross the river patiently. The ice on top of the river cracks and groans in anticipation.
Round 2 of Snowman Ball'n!
Barnaby waits. And waits. And waits for the frosty fellas to cross the slippery ice. The gnome's mind wonders off a bit, thinking about the little things of life....
Barnaby then glances over at his companions. The Hunter notices that they all decided to drop their weapons and to surrender to the icicled crossing guards.
We really need to discuss these things prior to just giving up. I swear just because I am short doesn't mean my voice shouldn't be included in these types of decisions.
The gnome then drops his cold-iron machete in the snow and raises his hands over his head.
We surrender!
Anticipation begins to be relieved of his Stun duties just in time to stare blankly at the gnome's actions.
The Giant Ant just shakes his head....
Dawrbrün regains his senses in time to hear the gnome declare surrender.
He reaches down, retrieves his axe and shield, but otherwise holds his position.
"What's going on here?" he asks the ice creatures. "Are you lot the cause of all this, or do you serve a greater master?"
"Definitely seems like a trap. I suppose that they're just guarding some area, really." Frank postulates aloud while letting his crossbow aim drift not too far from the ice creatures.
He begins to drop his guard as he begins sharing ideas for how to continue.
"Perhaps we can seek audience peacefully? But maybe after we save the farmer?"
"Hoi-" Broulndindre mutters, as she comes to her senses.
The ice elementals look at each other as you try to speak to them. One of them shrugs, the other shakes its head.
"How in the Nine Hells are you supposed to look for tells on a big chuck of ice?!" Dawrbrün says with obvious frustration.
Alethea steps up next to Barnaby, falcata held in a high guard stance.
"They seem to be waiting for us to step out onto the ice, where they'll have the advantage. Miss Nornsdottir, do you still have that bow handy?"
Hands still raised over his cool hair cut, Barnaby glances up at Alethea and Dawrbrün picking up their weapons and responding with patient aggression.
The gnome (still with his hands up) looks over to Anticipation, who just sheepishly shrugs.
The gnome smiles at the stalemate.
Is it that we are surrendering or that they don't take prisoners?
"Neither, Master Bridge. But stepping out onto the ice with them seems extraordinarily foolish. Better to make them come to us."
Hekla regains her senses and looks down at her axe lying in the snow with a look of surprise. Alethea's question snaps her out of it, and she unslings the bow and knocks an arrow.
"Certainly do. I'll give 'em some encouragement."
"Well, they aren't talking..." Frank explains as he fires too.
Joining the volley, Lyudmilla releases her bolt at one of the elementals.
The gnome frowns.
Then why did everyone throw down weapons and just stand there looking shocked?
The gnome continues to grumble (making any dwarf proud), picks up his cold-iron machete, and readies again.
Ant stands behind the gnome. He seems to be wearing his mean face!
The first two projectiles bounce off the ice, of the ice elementals with merely a small chip knocked off. Lyudmilla however plants her bolt into a crack, which widen's visibly.
The two elementals retreat to the safety below.
PCs go!
"They're acting like guards, but what are they guarding? Perhaps their master watches us now, and seeks to test our mettle. I will go out on the ice. When they rise out of it to attack, strike at them, with bows or with arms if you prefer. We've got to force their hand, or else just stand here like idiots," Dawrbrün finishes his statement with a grumble.
Maul axe and shield at the ready (, Dawrbrün moves forward out onto the ice.
"Maybe-" Frank begins.
Broulnindre gives him a look.
He wrinkles his nose before reloading his crossbow instead of finishing his suggestion out loud.
The small and nimble Broulnindre races out onto the ice. She waits impatiently, but ready to dodge instead of lash out.