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After her second triumph at the card table, Jayma sticks around for another deal.
But her hand was not as good, or perhaps the Russians were starting to get her number.
Later, she heads back to the hockey game...
...but her legs are a bit wobbly from her earlier icescapades and her enthusiasm starts waning.
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"Hmp." Itka's not surprised at Jayma's success; it seems the gnome is preternaturally gifted. Even so, she keeps playing cards for the sheer joy of watching the hands unfold.
Of course, she didn't anticipate being dealt a hand quite like that. Hmp! Who knew?
Once that hand is over, she limps over to the pond. Everyone seems to be having fun. She notices that there's one member of each team that stays in one place, defending a goal. Hmp. Maybe I could try that. At the next break in the game, she hobbles out there and gamely asks for a turn.
Honestly, she's satisfied with her performance. She didn't expect to be the star of the show; simply not falling and shattering a hip was plenty good enough for her.
As Avonatha watches, Krakazh tries to add a little juice to the game, but gets caught (or maybe not, and it's just home-ice bias) and joins Ulrich in the penalty box. Down two skaters, the Pathfinders can't stop Buryan from charging the net and putting one in himself, but it is too little, too late as the Pathfinders win the game. Buryan presents the winners with a silver cup he found in the woods and a fear gem.
Meanwhile, Itka spots a tell in Shurin's play and creates a ruff-sluff that allows him to win the last round. Again, the Pathfinders are victorious. They collect their winnings - 99 sp worth of coins, a lesser potion of disguise (naiad) and some odds and ends from the Russians' pockets.
"Ее Высочество обязательно захочет с ними познакомиться!"
"Ну, большинство из них."
"Тот, который мы можем скормить Мишке. Остальные мы должны оставить."
"Может нам стоит добавить магии к следующему хоккейному матчу."
"Нет, если нам придется полагаться на ведьму, чтобы обеспечить его."
After the games conclude, the evening’s grand finale commences: a combination of a drinking contest and a dance contest. Everyone troops out to a snow-covered field next to the great hall, carrying the benches and tables with them, while Ded Shurin passes out small cups of a clear spirit that smells faintly of pine needles. To participate, everyone downs a few shots of strong vodka, and then attempts the athletic dance known as the Hopak, a Ukrainian Cossack dance involving numerous jumps, squats, and kicks. One soldier demonstrates the dance while everyone else drinks. Ded Shurin comments, “As the old saying goes, the grave calls if you drink; the grave calls if you don’t.”
Again, the Pathfinders are invited to participate. Anyone who joins but chooses not to drink instead has a heavy log strapped to their back. For fairness, of course. At the beginning of the dance, each participant must make a Fortitude save or take a -2 penalty to all further checks in this event.
The dance contest takes place over three rounds. In the first round, a fiddler strikes up a tune and the Hopak begins. Performing the vigorous dance requires a successful Acrobatics, Athletics, or Performance check.
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"Hmp. I'll gladly take the drink, but these hips aren't what they used to be." Itka fully intends to sit this out, watching from the sidelines, but after a while the drink works its way into her mind. Her eyes crinkle and her mouth quirks into what could be called a smile. "Hmp. What the heck. I'll give it a try. Extra rosehip tea for me tomorrow!" Abandoning her cane, she hustles over to join the dance.
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Jayma sniffs the glass of clear spirits and is surprised at the faint scent of pine needles. No stranger to strong drink, she downs the shot...
...and finds it to her taste. "It's no Chelaxian Pepper Whiskey, but it warms the stomach in much the same way."
When the music starts up and the soldier demonstrates the Hopak, Jayma is intrigued. Treading the boards was more her thing, but she was no slouch when it came to dancing. When the first round gets going, Jayma takes Twyl out and puts him down on the ground where he accompanies his mistress with claps and chirps as she tries her best to reproduce the dance steps earlier demonstrated...
... Jayma's tight pants and short legs make her early attempts to squat and jump a little awkward, but...
...after some quick adjustments, she starts getting the hang of it.
At the conclusion of the first round, Ogthup hiccups and slides quietly off her bench. None of the Pathfinders has trouble holding down their drink, though Itka finds that her joints are bothering her more than expected, and she cannot follow the steps and is asked to sit out the remainder of the event.
Ulrich is unable to continue through his giggling fit. Vera, who also strikes out in the second round, finds a blanket for the slumbering goblin. The others can still keep up fine.
Another rounds of drinks is passed around. Seymon now takes a long swallow of liquor and joins the dance, starting with a high jump and a series of squatting kicks.
The dance finishes, and the audience applauds loudly as the Russian bows in acknowledgement that he has been beaten. Semyon bequeaths his sheepskin papakha hat to Krakazh.
Eventually the celebration breaks up, and the Pathfinders are escorted to one of the nearby homes to sleep in a family’s loft. When you arrive, you find an old, hunchbacked woman of surpassing ugliness sitting in your room. A chicken pecks at some bugs at her feet. The old woman regards the group with a dubious gaze.
“Good enough, I suppose,” she says simply. “Don’t disappoint me.” The old woman then hefts herself to her feet and brushes past them, grabbing her hen along the way, refusing to answer any questions or respond to anything that the Pathfinders might do.
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Jayma pouts a little when Krakazh is declared the winner of the dance. "Oh poo!" But when she sees that the prize is a papakha hat she's less upset. "That hat would definitively *not* go with this outfit."
When the old woman makes her comment and waltzes out of the house without a further word, Jayma frowns, then shrugs. "She was an odd one, wasn't she? I wonder what the ominous pronouncement was all about."
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As the dance closes, Itka remains seated, though her grinding-boulder cheers rise as loudly as everyone's as she applauds the contestants. When it's time to go, she needs Dreadfang's help to haul herself, groaning, onto her feet.
When shown to their accommodations for the night, she stifles another groan. Hmp. A loft. _Joy._ Itka mentally grumbles as she painfully, laboriously, works her way up the ladder. The sharp ache in her hips is rising, and the alcohol she consumed earlier has clearly started wearing off; she's back to being a glowering grouch.
"She was an odd one, wasn't she? I wonder what the ominous pronouncement was all about."
"Hmp. I think that means we should take watches. I'll go first."
Once the strange old woman has left the loft, the night passes uneventfully. In the morning, the Pathfinders wake in various states of illness, but Vera appears with a fizzing liquid that she hands to each of you in turn. She doesn't stay to chat, since it looks like she is going to be visiting every home in the village, but in a few minutes, you each feel well enough to eat and be on your way.
You leave Zharchovsk to complete your surveying before returning to Bjersig, beginning at the lake where you first met Semyon. It’s a clear day in Irrisen, and the bright sunshine lights the ice and snow up like fields of diamonds. Ogthup entertains the party by singing horrible off-key goblin songs as you travel. Everyone but Jayma, who may be more interested in Krakazh's hat than she lets on, realizes that they are being followed by a squad of Russians as an escort.
By late morning, the Pathfinders arrive at the edge of the frozen water. In a matter of minutes, the sky grows dark and a chill mist rises from the forest. Suddenly the mist parts, revealing a tall woman in a luxurious red gown that announces her presence against the white of the snow. An elegant pin of ice holds her hair off her neck, and she shows no hint of discomfort against the biting air. The winter witch, for that is what she certainly must be, stands on the ice as if to bar the way forward. A host of fey horrors skulk and twist by her side.
“So rare to have guests in Zharchovsk, and rarer still when those guests choose not to pay their respects to this land’s mistress,” the tall woman speaks, her voice as high and clear as a bell. “An unkind soul might suspect you of discourtesy.”
“My name is Chesjilawa Jadwiga Karina, and I bid thee welcome to my domain. Tell me, who are each of you, from whence do you hail, and what brings you to Irrisen?”
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Jayma looks Chesjilawa over with a practiced eye to determine the best approach to dealing with people like her.
Sensing a certain level of threat from the winter witch before them and feeling that open hostilities were imminent, Jayma is of two minds. A part of her wanted nothing more than to feel the joy of tapping into her wild blood magic and pitting her spells against those of Chesjilawa, while simultaneously blasting the witch's fey horrors back to the First World where they belonged. Another part is drawn to the challenge of using her vaunted charisma to try and defuse the situation through the use of diplomacy, deception and subtle threats. In the end, she decides to give the diplomatic approach a shot, while also preparing herself for the almost inevitable armed conflict to come.
Stepping forward with a very harmless looking Twyl in her hands, she bows. "Lady Chesjilawa, a pleasure. We've heard so much about you during our brief visit to Zharchovsk. My name is Jayma, recently of Absalom, and we are members of the Pathfinder Society, a venerable institution whose goals are to Explore, Report, and Cooperate. We are currently on an exploratory mission to find and map a new pass through the mountains into Irrisen." She dips her head to finish the introduction and strokes Twyl's beautiful white winter coat as he trills in obvious contentment. "Oh!, how rude of me..." She lifts her arms to indicate her familiar, "...this is Twyl, my particular companion."
Sensing that she'd manage to reduce the heat of the current situation slightly, she continues. "Based on my chats with Semyon..., I mean Captain Gubkin, it seems that there is some difference of opinion as to who rules in Zharchovsk. It appears that you were once responsible for its welfare, but that since his arrival, Captain Gubkin feels that with the support of his Russian compatriot, Queen Anastasia, he is currently in charge. As a neutral outsider, I offer my services in mediating this conflict with the hopes of reaching a mutually acceptable arrangement between yourself and Captain Gubkin for the administration of the town. I think a solution to this disagreement that doesn't involve copious amounts of death and the possible destruction of the town itself would be in everyone's interests, don't you agree?"
Jayma subtly looks around to see if she can spot Semyon nearby. She suspects that if Chesjilawa takes the bait, that she'll also need to sweet-talk the Captain into accepting a middle-ground in the running of the town.
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Ulrich looks at the witch and holds his breath.
"My name is Ulrich Makaisson and I come from city of Absalom. A private detective at your service"
When he sees what Jayma is trying to do, he moves closer to her, and in a lowered voice he says
"Others have said that he reacts favorably to being addressed as Lady Chesjilawa."
She looks at the rest of you expectantly.
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Hmp. Fine. This'll go well. Itka thinks wryly as she clears her throat and reminds herself to be on her best behavior. "Hmp. Itka Biklest, based in Absalom, at your service. We were unaware of the local politics when we arrived, and only have one side of the story so far. We'd be honored to hear yours as well." Hmp. Jayma's wearing off on me. ... Good thing, I guess.
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Avonatha introduces herself and Quete. I am Avonathalanthalasa Caldon, from Kyonin and a student of the art of the Magaambya.Elven is often difficult for non-native speakers to pronounce so you may call me Avonatha, if that is easier for you to pronounce. This is Quete she says, pointing at the faerie dragon.
“I am Zharchovsk’s rightful ruler, by the blood in my veins, by the sorcery in my heart, and by the charter of Queen Yelizaveta in my pocket. Unfortunately, we live in tumbled times, and all three of these count for less than they used to. Uncouth strangers have taken over Zharchovsk and lack the sense to realize the folly of their actions.
“I wish to make you an offer, my dear guests,” The winter witch lowers her voice. “You are people of cunning and skill, and I would have you as allies at my side. Aid me in retaking my birthright, and I shall see you rewarded well.”
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Itka can't help speaking up, despite the better half of her brain warning her not to. "Hmp. The Pathfinder Society's motto is 'Explore, Cooperate, Report.' Undermining existing sociopolitical structures isn't among our objectives. Dreadfang makes a good point. Surely you have other allies already based in the area, who will be more useful to you in the long run." Hmp. And you haven't really tested how 'skilled and cunning' we are, so how would you know? *Hmp!* At this point, it occurs to her that the werebear from earlier may have been sent by Chesjilawa as a test (albeit not a very thorough one).
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Jayma, realizing that Chesjilawa is not quite as confident of the strength of her position as she makes out, takes it as a sign that there is some room for negotiation. But any thought of helping this woman regain control of the town was out of the question. Not only had the Russians been excellent hosts, admittedly after a slow start, but they also seemed quite happy with the current state of affairs. Jayma suspects that Chesjilawa would be unlikely to treat the residents particularly well were she to subjugate Zharchovsk, and the dashing Captain Gubkin was likely to experience a very short life expectancy in the process. Besides, they were Pathfinders, not mercenaries. If this woman and her monstrous minions were to attack them or the innocents in town, she and her colleagues would be forced to defend themselves and help the townsfolk.
"Lady Chesjilawa, it has been some time since Queen Yelizaveta reigned this land and the present queen seems to be in favor of the current status quo vis-a-vis the running of the town. As a sorcerer myself, I can well understand your blood-bond to this place, especially after having ruled over it for so long. But, as you yourself admit, situations change and new realities must be accepted. It is said that: The green reed which bends in the wind is stronger than the mighty oak which breaks in a storm. Surely you can see the wisdom of negotiating an acceptable agreement with the Russians for the running of the town rather than risk the oak's fate."
When Chesjilawa tries to recruit them to her side in the conflict, Jayma shakes her head regretfully. "I'm afraid that we cannot accept your offer, Lady Chesjilawa. As members of the Pathfinder Society and strangers in this land, we must remain neutral in local political matters ; it is what allows us to act as disinterested mediators in this matter. But I advise you not to force our hand. If you were to bring violence upon us or the innocent townsfolk of Zharchovsk, you will find us to be formidable foes."
"Hmph," Chesjilawa responds. "All these Russians have offered so far is an usurper and the sting of their firearms, which I still see behind you. If you can get them to see reason, I will not bring my armies to bear on them, but be sure that I will have a weather eye out for any treachery from either them or your Pathfinder Society."
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Krakazh stands up as tall as she can, which isn't very, but she does seem to gain in stature somehow. "We would be delighted to speak to our hosts in our capacity as negotiators." Putting her hat back on, Krakazh goes in search of the Russians.
Who are not hard to find, since they were following us. "As you may have noticed, we have met this witch you were telling us about. Now she claims to be the rightful ruler of this domain, but seems to be willing to negotiate. Would you meet with her so we can keep the bloodshed to a minimum? I like you all and would prefer to be able to visit you again." She smiles in a way that is obviously meant to be soothing, but the sharp teeth get in the way of that a little bit.
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Inclining her head respectfully, Itka acknowledges Chesjilawa's concession. "Hmp. Thank you for being open to diplomacy. It speaks well of your character." With that, she hobbles off after Krakazh to try to convince the Russians to give negotiations with Chesjilawa a chance.
"Hmp. Agreed. She mentioned armies. Plural. If it comes to a fight, even the non-combatants in your village will be in danger. Better to at least try to work out a deal."
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When Chesjilawa mentions that the Russians are behind them, Jayma turns in surprise. She hadn't realized that they had followed the Pathfinders out to meet the witch. "Oh! They are indeed here. How convenient." Spotting the captain at the head of the armed soldiers, she nods to Krakazh when the goblin decides to go talk to their host. In a whisper, she gives the goblin some advice before he leaves. "Try to convince Semyon to at least acknowledge Chesjilawa's nominal rule over this land and maybe I can convince Chesjilawa to let him continue to run the town without too much interference. That might be sufficient to have them both save face and take this pot off the boil."
"I will listen to what this сука has to say," Seymon practically growls. "But we are not accustomed to being ruled by foreigners."
The irony of this statement is not lost on any of you.
With a gesture, the captain has his troops rest their firearms on their shoulders. As shows of faith go, it's not much, but they do enter the clearing where Chesjilawa stands, some of her fey minions still at her side. The ceasefire holds long enough for the Pathfinders to propose a solution.
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Jayma huddles with the others. "I believe that Chesjilawa's main issue is that she sees the Russians' independence as a challenge to her traditional rule of this part of Irrisen; a form of disrespect that if allowed to continue will eventually undermine her position over the entirety of her domain. As such, she sees the Russians' defiance as an existential threat and is thus willing to risk it all now to avoid losing it all eventually. The loss of tribute from the town seems like a minor matter by comparison, but not one to be ignored completely."
She pauses to catch her breath before continuing. "On the other hand, the Russians don't like being told how to run their affairs and would prefer to be free of outside interference. Their reverence for their queen Anastasia means that they don't completely reject the idea of being ruled, but not by just anyone. They also see Chesjilawa's total subjection of the town as an existential threat and will defend themselves to the death to avoid that eventuality."
"We need to come up with an agreement in which Chesjilawa feels that her rule over Zharchovsk is recognized by the town, possibly with a nominal tribute being paid annually to formalize the accord. In exchange, we need to make sure the Russians feel that they have a free hand in the running of the town's affairs without undue interference and the persistent threat of violence from Chesjilawa. As Ulrich says, I don't think either party wants to fight each other; the outcome of such violence cannot be predicted except that many will die on both sides regardless of who wins. We just need to show them that a way exists where each side does not feel that their very existence is threatened by the other, and they will jump at it, though probably after a lot of bluster."
