On the tenth day of your stay, the river of adventure tugs at your boots when a wizened old woman slips quietly into town. The perfunctory greetings of the townsfolk as she passes them by indicate that she is one of those singular figures whose person is revered in the abstract but whose attention is feared in the particular.
She hobbles into the mead hall during morning meal. You all look up from your boiled oat paste in time to watch her pull back the hood of her traveler’s cloak, drawn up against the light drizzle that plagued the small hours. An ancient face, creased with lines of mirth, grief, and wisdom gazes back at you.
Nirri rises to her feet and darts across the room to take her mistress’s cloak and lay it by the fire for drying. The old woman smiles kindly at Nirri and grabs a seat next to Okoteck. Another bowl of oatmeal is swiftly prepared, and the crone fetches her spoon.
"I am Irila, seer of sights unseen, and crone of the Coven," she offers by way of introduction. She gazes piercingly at each of you in turn, taking especial note of Okoteck's feathers and Syper's eye. “From the looks of things you seem possessed of both exceptional ability and a newly-deepened acquaintance with the spirit realm. If our association is to bear fruit, you must tell me everything,” she says in the calm tones of a woman used to obedience but not incensed by its absence.
Jaym'row is not shy about speaking about herself or her adventures, but in this circumstance, she defers to the captain to first represent his own take on the mission as a whole. After that, she will say her part in answer to the crone's request.
In Jaym'row's tribe, crones were important members of the elders who made important decisions and were also respected and sometimes feared. So Jaym'row looks forward to what the crone will reveal.
Okoteck had noted Kork's odd constructions, so when he sees the goblin leave one intact he can't help but question Kork the next time he sees him. "So Kork... what are those curious creations of yours? And why did you leave the last one intact unlike the others?"
When Kork leaves Nirri's hut, he looks at his feet and murmurs something to himself, focused on putting something to memory. "Eolh..." he makes three steps, and stops. "Daeg..." He turns around, walks a semi-circle, and stops again: "Kaun."
He continues for a few seconds, then repeats the process a few times, and nods. He looks at Okoteck, and his eyes go wide. He is stunned for a few seconds, then squints his eyes. "Hmm... something scare birdman?"
The goblin turns towards the piles of rock and one standing cairn between the treeline and the settlement. "Kork need to recenter. Have time to relax, pick up a hobby. Do some..." he snaps his fingers a few times, trying to remember something. "Petitioning, yes." he nods. "To protect patch."
He looks at Okoteck and grins. "Kork get answer, leave troll standing."
He stands there for a few seconds, looking at the bleached tengu, and pulls out the bundle of black feathers. "Maybe a refill after food?" he smiles.
"Thank you for meeting with us, Seer Irila. I am Jaym'row, and like all the rest of us, I came only recently to this land, sailing from the south. Such exploration was always prevented by the presence of the virloga. We learned they had left the area and had not returned, so we came to see for ourselves this storied land. We then happened into a raid on a village by monsters. ..." Here Jaym'row pauses and glances at Amka as she says, "Tuluruqi they were called. Looked like men with wolf features. When we returned to the village to search for survivors, some kind of spirit attacked and possessed one of our crew."
"That led, as you have wisely recognized, to a journey into another realm to find a cure from someone called a Green Man." Another glance at the others for confirmation. "Oh, I almost forgot, around this time another crew member was possessed and caused our ship to sink. So we are stranded here. We saved our crew member and were given a shortcut through this fey realm to near here and the people of this village have been very kind to take us in for a time. Some of the others are traveling to seek a way to begin building a ship so we might return to our homes. I don't understand the talk I've heard about evil spirits imprisoned deep underground. Anyway, that is how we got here."
As you mention the tuunbaq, her face darkens.
”Hmm…” she thinks for long moments as you finish telling your tale, licking her spoon clean of the last of the oatmeal.
”It is a fell omen that the tuunbakuit stir once more. The angakkuit of the frozen wastes have always hated the light and warmth of the Green King’s domain, but they have never held enough power to seriously threaten it. That may be changing, if there is an evil witch strong enough or fool enough to call a tuunbaq. And if the summoner is a Tuluruq, sworn to the Great Dark Ocean Spirit, that is doubly cause for concern, for they may be seeking to free it. I will alert the coven, and in the meantime, you must pay special heed to any bad dreams.”
"They seek knowledge of the elves, Crone Mother," Nirri adds helpfully.
The crone nods an acknowledgment and regards the party with a steady gaze. ”It has been long years since I went on an adventure like yours. And I am too old and my powers too weak to do you much good. But I know a thing or two about the spirit realms, and about the elves, giants, and other creatures of might and magic who roam this island.”
She pushes her bowl into the center of the table and continues.
”Long ago, the elves lived among the peoples of this land, and many Röskarí have some degree of elven blood to this day. Elven magic brought a degree of warmth and light to these lands they have no business having, as well as protection from outlanders, and the Jotunblooded’s mighty thews guarded the elves against those threats magic could not defeat. The peculiar brightness of the aurora in these parts is a testament to that long-ago bargain.”
“But then one day, five hundred years or so ago, the elves retreated to their sanctuary in the mountain valleys of the far interior and cut off nearly all contact. True elves now only leave Alfheim on the most pressing business, and one is usually only seen in human lands once or twice per century. As to why they left? Perhaps they were concerned that men were becoming too well-versed in their magic; rumor had it that a mad mystic who fancied himself a hierophant of the dead god Rothar sought to build an order of mage-priests who would wield elf magic to contact the deceased god’s spirit, but whether anything came of that before the elves left is a mystery.”
The crone waves her hand, and her bowl of oatmeal floats into the washroom.
”While the elves were not they who sealed this dark spirit below the earth, they have great knowledge of the ley lines that crisscross this island and have no wish to see it freed. They might have useful knowledge regarding what manner of being this creature is and the nature of its prison.”
”When the elves retreated, they sealed their mountain redoubt against intrusion by outsiders. Though the spell has weakened over the centuries, it is still not trivial to pierce, requiring magic that few alive outside their realm possess. A group that does not include me.”
She chuckles mirthlessly.
”But as to magic I do know, and know well, the spirit realm has clearly called you for some design or other. Best to master it before it masters you.”
She turns to regard each of you with an appraising eye, then pulls out a jar of oil with an astringent odor.
”There is a bear of unusual size and ferocity who lives on an island a half-day’s row east of here. Hunters refuse to go near him, for he is spirit touched, a man-eater, and clever as a devil. Bring me his heart inside this jar, and I will use it to perform a ritual to strengthen your connection to the spirit world.”
The goblin turns towards the piles of rock and one standing cairn between the treeline and the settlement. "Kork need to recenter. Have time to relax, pick up a hobby. Do some..." he snaps his fingers a few times, trying to remember something. "Petitioning, yes." he nods. "To protect patch."
He looks at Okoteck and grins. "Kork get answer, leave troll standing."
He stands there for a few seconds, looking at the bleached tengu, and pulls out the bundle of black feathers. "Maybe a refill after food?" he smiles.
Okoteck caws his raucous laugh. "Of course you would want more feathers. Gladly, you may have a few, though I don't want to make a habit of supplying them. It does hurt a bit."
He nods back at Kork's grin. "If I may, what was the answer? And I had been wondering also, is your peculiar brand of magic," he waves at Kork and his collection, "Something you learned from your people, or did you figure it out yourself?"
As you mention the tuunbaq, her face darkens.
”Hmm…” she thinks for long moments as you finish telling your tale, licking her spoon clean of the last of the oatmeal.
”It is a fell omen that the tuunbakuit stir once more. The angakkuit of the frozen wastes have always hated the light and warmth of the Green King’s domain, but they have never held enough power to seriously threaten it. That may be changing, if there is an evil witch strong enough or fool enough to call a tuunbaq. And if the summoner is a Tuluruq, sworn to the Great Dark Ocean Spirit, that is doubly cause for concern, for they may be seeking to free it. I will alert the coven, and in the meantime, you must pay special heed to any bad dreams.”
Okoteck adds details where he feels necessary, particularly pointing out the runes associated with them (though he doesn't name who is which one unless asked).
"Dreams..." the tengu muses. "The first night after we arrived... I don't know if it was a dream, or a vision, or a..."
He waves a taloned hand. "...spirit-walk? It felt too real, too detailed for a dream. I stood on the shore of a lake under an aurora and spoke with a woman, a servant of one Countess Ysene, who negotiated a bargain in her name. It is from that bargain that I now bear white plummage, and of course my friend Hyggiandi here."
”There is a bear of unusual size and ferocity who lives on an island a half-day’s row east of here. Hunters refuse to go near him, for he is spirit touched, a man-eater, and clever as a devil. Bring me his heart inside this jar, and I will use it to perform a ritual to strengthen your connection to the spirit world.”
Okoteck considers the request quietly for a few moments. "You say the bear is spirit-touched. Are there any clues to what sort of spirit touched it, beyond its cunning and violence?"
She nods and replies, "He seems to have been the pet of a grimstalker that has since moved on to other hunting grounds, leaving the beast to carry on his work: to stealthily hunt down and slay any who set foot in the wilderness."
She smiles mirthlessly.
"Though the spirit you met that night may have been seeking a mutually beneficial arrangement, not all who dwell in the Other Place are capable of parley, and not all who dwell in the Dark Realm are beyond reason or accommodation. I've learned this from bitter experience."
Okoteck nods slightly. "I will remember that lesson, in hopes I can avoid learning it from my own experience."
"The less you meddle with spirits, the less they meddle with you," Jade mumbles, then in a clearer voice says, "But I suppose it's too late for that. We're in for a penny, may as well go in for a pound. Besides unnatural size, ferocity, and cleverness, does this bear have any special powers we should be aware of?" Jade asks the crone.
Grimstalkers are gaunt and hairless, and their mottled, green and brown flesh gives them the appearance of moss-draped bark. When damaged, they bleed a thick, sap-like blood. They mark their territories by lopping off the heads of their victims and stringing them up in the surrounding trees, a practice that often lures dangerous scavengers into their lands.
There are few accounts of grimstalkers working with other fey—for the most part, grimstalkers see their kin from the Other Place as cowards or weaklings, or perhaps both. Even notoriously violent fey such as redcaps shy from them, as grimstalkers consider their own kind the only company worth keeping.
She shakes her head and replies, "None of which I am aware. Then again, no one who has tussled with Old Whitefang has returned alive, so I cannot say for sure."
Jade turns to the party. "I just remembered what grimstalkers are. An old druid who booked passage aboard the Stormweaver told us scary stories about them. Nasty hairless fey with mottled flesh like moss-covered tree bark and blood like tree sap. They attack any humanoids they come across in the wilderness, regardless of how respectful you are of nature. And they string up the heads of their victims to mark their territory. So a bear that's vicious enough to be their pet has to be very bad news."
Okoteck caws his raucous laugh. "Of course you would want more feathers. Gladly, you may have a few, though I don't want to make a habit of supplying them. It does hurt a bit."
"Well, Kork grateful, but did ask for white plumes at start. Birdman give black." the goblin shrugs.
He nods back at Kork's grin. "If I may, what was the answer? And I had been wondering also, is your peculiar brand of magic," he waves at Kork and his collection, "Something you learned from your people, or did you figure it out yourself?"
Kork tilts his head in confusion. "Magic? Explain." Then he looks at the cairn. "Answer... complicated. Kork want to say, hmmm." he pauses as he considers the right word to use. "Acknowledgement of presence?" he shrugs again. "Not words. Akin to feeling of reassurance. Encouragement. Not really a discussion. Understand?"
As this discussion is happening, he largely ignores the other part of the room with Irilla. He does look every now and then, but can't seem to focus on two communication threads at once.
Okoteck cocks his head to one side thoughtfully. "Hmm... let me be more explicit. You have an uncanny knack for exploiting the vulnerabilities of your enemies through the most... unlikely of substances."
The tengu would have phrased it, You're either drawing out the inherent power of your collection of oddities or using them as a medium for expressing your own power, but it was clear after Kork's answer that he didn't see it that way.
"Where did you learn to do such a thing?" he says instead. "I doubt I or any of the rest of us could get quite the results you do."
******************
Okoteck nods to Jade. "A dangerous foe indeed. We shall be both predator and prey, in a way. Perhaps we can turn that against it... but we must remember it will try to do the same, from the sound of it."
"My brush with the First World apparently granted me some understanding of magic where before there was none. What I learned, however, will be of little use against this bad news bear. But I understand that some magical crafters have made arrows that are meant to be extra harmful to a particular type of creature. Even one such arrow would be useful to us archers. Is there someone where who could craft such an arrow or mayhap more than one?"
Jaym'row directs this question to the room at large.
She also asks, "My people are excellent hunters and I'm able to smell and track even when prints are not very evident. Is there anyone with perhaps a pelt of a bear of the same type as this Whitefang menace?"
Irila claps her hands. "Fargas has a few rowboats you could use. The islet is about a three-hour row due east. As to the scent of the beast, I think Othek has a bear pelt on his wall that might suffice, though the scent is quite faded by now. And one of his huscarls will likely have some weapon or other that might serve your purposes."
"I know some shanties we can sing to help us row together," Jaym'row offers.
Jaym'row seeks out this bear pelt once the meeting ends. Jaym'row will also study the clouds and winds to see if she can foresee any storms coming.
The scent of the polar pelt on Othek's wall is weak, but still discernible. Asking the local fishermen about the weather reveals that it will likely be fairly clear this time of year, though the occasional light shower later in the evening is a possibility, and of course the small hours typically see fog roll in off the ocean. To Jaym'row, this jives well with what she can detect from the motion of the air and the humidity, temperature, and similar tells.
Okoteck cocks his head to one side thoughtfully. "Hmm... let me be more explicit. You have an uncanny knack for exploiting the vulnerabilities of your enemies through the most... unlikely of substances."
"Where did you learn to do such a thing?" he says instead. "I doubt I or any of the rest of us could get quite the results you do."
The goblin opens his coat, and pulls out a short fuse wick. He looks at it, looks at Jade, and puts the wick back in his coat. "No. Too dangerous. Kork explain."
He pauses for a second, lost in thought. "Oh... Say Feathers want to, uh, want to destroy snowball. Can wait for summer, can pour salt, can submerge in water, can throw into fire. Yes?" he waits for Okoteck to nod to confirm he follows. "All that destroy snowball. Just take more time or less. Kork simply find the fastest way. It just how world work." he shrugs. "Example - Feathers know stories of vampires, yes? Vampire not walk in daylight. Hate sun. So... Kork convince vampire that Kork's blade is sun. Coat blade in fire or such." he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. "Old stories teach what hates what. No fire, no smoke. Kork like stories. Know many stories, and find frailty. Can be symbolic, like vampire and etching of sun. Or can be physical, like blade on fire. When Kork fight vampire, Kork make sure vampire know Kork understand how to hurt it bad. Can be all it need to falter."
He leans back again. "Combat not only physical. Kork get in mind of enemy. Well, try to. Understand now?"
Okoteck nods at Kork's explanation, while resolving to observe the goblin's actions with detect magic. He's still convinced there's a magical component to what Kork is doing.
He doesn't have any further ideas for preparations to make before departing.
Syper takes in the crone's words and listens to his new quest. When she prepares to dismiss the group, he speaks up with one last question.
"Nana Irila, you are correct that I am seeing into the spirit realm, well, more than I used to. Well, I'm not sure it's the spirit realm. Someone promised me assistance when I ask, whether it's the Green King or the Claw, I'm a bit hazy on. The Other Place, the Dark World, I was raised on their stories by another matron. So... I see shapes that I haven't before, but always knew they were there."
He clears his throat. "Sorry, I'm rambling. What I need to know is, how do I know what I'm looking at outside of this world? And we all received runes or somesuch in the Green King's court. Does Ansuz mean anything to you?"
The old crone smiles at being called Nana. "Every living thing has a rune emblazoned upon their soul. For some it is stronger than others, but all have it, though only beings of great wisdom can perceive it. If the Green King has imparted such knowledge to you, you may trust it to be true, and if Ansuz is your runesoul, that is an auspicious omen indeed. Ansuz is the rune of breath, order, meaning, inspiration, and ancestral fate. The chanting of spellsong is your especial gift, and you will unlock great power by mastering it."
"Runesouls," Jade muses. "The Green King said mine was Raidho. What does that one mean?" she asks.
The crone ponders a moment before answering. "Raidho is the path, the way, the journey, and the inner compass of righteousness that sees one through to its end. Those who wander but are not lost, who knock and have it opened for them, who ride the wind and the waves to distant shores, these are its children."
Jaym'row keeps silent on her rune, but from her dream, she believes the rune is associated with luck and prosperity. While she is curious to know what the crone would say about it, this feels like something she should keep to herself and learn from experience.
You finagle the use of three rowboats from the local fishermen. A promise to kill Old Whitefang and the imprimatur of the crone are enough to settle the matter of payment.
Jade takes the first boat, her mastery of wind and water allowing her to row as well as any other while leaving room for cargo. The second boat contains Syper and Kork, and the third is manned by Okoteck and Jaym'row.
It is the work of three hours to row out past the horizon, shortly after which the islet slides into view. Whatever enchantment keeps the mainland somewhat temperate is absent here, and ice rims the coast while snow douses the interior.
You circle around the island until you spot a deserted camp and a strange iron cage with a female humanoid creature bound and gagged inside.
The creature is a naiad. These fey protect streams, ponds, springs, and other natural bodies of fresh water.
Syper calls out the locations of thin ice that a Medium creature cannot safely traverse, and you begin your approach.
"That was invigorating," Jaym'row says, rubbing her sore shoulders and stretching her tired back muscles. "I think that's a naiad in that cage. Fey protectors of local bodies of water. I wonder who caged her." She looks around at the landscape, expecting to see the one responsible for the imprisonment.
No one stirs in the tent, and only faint embers remain of the once-sizable campfire. You find appropriate spots to tie up your boats and hop out, avoiding the thin ice.
Just then, Jaym'row smells the old bear, and with prying eyes spots him: hiding by the shore, only his mouth and eyes visible. The party can get the drop on him with the right planning.
Syper runs over to the cage once they get to Shore. "We'll get you out of there," he whispers to the naiad, as he studies the cage.
Miss
The naiad motions frantically toward the water, but her gag and bindings prevent coherent communication. The bear, seeing Syper approach, explodes out of the water and thunders toward him, taking a huge swipe with its paws. Syper, in a feat of incredible reflexes, dodges the blow, nearly laying himself out in the process.
Jaym'row sniffs the air and start to point something out in the trees toward the middle of the small island. Before she can, however, Syper tries to help the Naiad and ... "Oh Zanda's zippers!"
She moves to where she has a clear shot and pours the special oil on her bow.
"Syper!" Okoteck shouts... but it's already too late. Sighing to himself at the human falling into such an obvious trap, the tengu jogs forward.
"Hyggiandi, you should probably stay up in the air during this fight," he suggests to his familiar. Then he traces a circle in the air in front of him, cawing a magical command, and taking up his combat stance.
"Syper, get back! Behind me!" he shouts.
Jade winces at Syper's headlong rush into mortal peril, but runs◆ after him and then again◆ to stand beside Okotek. Then she flares her kinetic aura◆ to life and pelts Old Whitefang with hailstones◇.
Jade's sudden blast of hail strikes the bear dead on, dealing a slight amount of damage. The bear chuffs as the stones strike it on the head, jarring the skull.
Syper cautions a glance back to Okoteck. "Are you sure? I can keep it distracted..."
Dodging the bear's blow, he calls out, "Fine, but we'll not leave it at this!" He runs back behind the tengu, and calls out, "Your plans are always solid, Okoteck! Solid as stooone!" The last word is drawn out into a hefty drone, his voice a throaty roar, as he draws his shortbow.
As the party prepares for the bear's attack, they can hear a loud, although high-pitched "RAAAAWR!" from behind them. The source of the sound comes closer and moves through the crowd as Kork stands in line with Okoteck and pulls out his trusted Spikes. He studies the bear as he shuffles through his cloak for something useful.
Whitefang at 52hp.
The bear charges into the midst of the party and swipes at Kork. The beast hits him a staggering blow and pins the goblin with his claw.
As Kork shuffles in his coat, he pulls out exactly what he was looking for. When he raises his eyes to face the beast, however, it is already snapping towards him. "Whoaoaoao!" he screams as the bear claws at him, and lifts him into the air. He curses loudly in Goblin.
With the doppler effect happening as he is being tossed left to right, he screams "Kork come for this. Do it, husky dog!"
There is obvious pain in his words. Interestingly enough, no fear, and even a hint of eagerness?
HP 2/28