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Seeing her chance, Astrid runs forward, letting her bow drop into the snow and pulling out her greatsword. We have to finish it off now - fire stops its wounds from closing. Her headlong charge leads into a swirling cleave with her sword as she makes good on her own words, biting deep into the brute's neck.
From her vantage point at the back edge of the battle, Astrid sees the troll lumbering across the snow...but with its speed, the words of warning haven't even reached her lips before the spear has impaled Blaze. Choking back the worthless warning, she reaches for another arrow and aims it squarely between the troll's eyes - it's already proven a far worse threat than the smaller fey. Troll, troll...fire, we need fire! Otherwise, it'll never die!
If anyone's curious, I do have a pretty okay resume when it comes to PbP GMing. ;) Will everyone be interested in staying around and playing through the campaign if I take over? I've got a lead on someone who could possibly step in to replace me (an excellent player in a couple of Sir Longears' other games who's now suddenly found himself with some openings in his roster). Hands up, everyone who's interested in keeping on keeping on, and if we've still got a group I'll go ahead and take charge, running Astrid as an NPC until you no longer have need of her. Definitely don't feel like that shuts you out of running a campaign, though, Evelina - if you want to, go for it!
If you're interested in running a game, Evelina, maybe consider running one for this group? That way everyone wins! :) Along those lines...I am actually considering taking over this Reign of Winter game, but I'll need a couple days to think it over. I'll let everyone know soon!
Don't bother trying to argue with the monsters - this is all they understand! Astrid calls out, brandishing her bow. As she draws the bowstring back, sighting down the arrow's length, she silently curses not having spent as much time drilling with distance attacks as she had with her teeth and claws. Shooting was a delicate task...one that her thick, meaty hands were little suited to. Still, the arrow hits its mark, though fey magic prevents the arrow from digging in as deep as Astrid would have liked.
I'll have to thank Blaze later. Reveling in the freedom of movement and visibility the tiefling woman's abilities have created, Astrid pulls out her longbow and sets her sights on the fey, squinting through the rain and mist Blaze's heat has created.
At the bang, Astrid tenses immediately, her knuckles white as she grips her spear. Subconsciously, she cocks her ear toward the sound of the chanting, waiting for something to appear from the blinding whiteness - then she realizes that the spear will be of little use when she cannot see even the spear head extended in front of her. Hurriedly, she drops the polearm, extending her clawed hands in readiness. Fall back on Freyja! she calls out, doing the same herself as the Ulfen woman begins her dance. Blaze! Can you do something about some of this snow, so we can at least move a little? But the tiefling woman doesn't respond, and Astrid swears as she turns to see Blaze clutching at her ears.
In my IRL Wrath of the Righteous campaign right now, we have a paladin, a warpriest, a gunslinger/inquisitor, a skald, a cleric, and a witch. Literally everyone can use cure wands, and everyone but my witch has current native healing (which will soon be rectified). It's fantastic. XD
Wincing in pain, Astrid throws her greatsword to the ground as the mephit falls, grabbing her bow and standing ready to fire at the air elemental. As everyone works together to take the elemental down, she flexes her hands between shots, trying to work out the cramps and numbness the cold had brought. After things have died down, she holds her bow at the ready for any other surprises that may emerge - only after several moments of silence does she re-sheathe her bow. At Cithembi's call, she pulls off a glove, as if only now remembering her injuries. Patches of her hands are white and bloodless, and the ring and little finger of her left hand don't seem to want to bend; when she pulls aside the thick clothing beneath her leather armor, she notices an angry red welt where her holy symbol rests against her chest. Half-snarling the incantation, she sighs with relief as her healing energy suffuses the wounds, and then shakes her hands to diffuse the pins and needles as the blood rushes back to her frostbitten hands.
Well, at least this little monster troubles us no more. Surveying the fallen mephit, Astrid smiles; it's clear she takes pride in her final master stroke. Those who can should rest - tomorrow still comes, and who knows what it brings?
As the chill of sword and breath both dig their way into her muscles, Astrid begins to shiver uncontrollably, sharp teeth chattering against each other audibly. But she's unwilling to let so pedestrian a thing as pain or discomfort master her, once again she steps forward and takes a swing at the mephit. What's it take to hurt this s!@~? she calls out, hoping someone's got a wider range of experience with the weird than she does. My sword's hardly doing anything to it! But even as the words escape her lips, the tide of battle favors her - the mephit attempts to dodge her attack, but seeing his adjustment in time, she changes last moment from an overhead chop to a sideways swing. The hapless creature ends up flying straight onward into her swipe, and the imposing blade cuts deep, overwhelming even the strange protection the mephit posses.
As the holy symbol on her chest begins to burn with cold, Astrid uses the pain to drive her onward. Seeing that her spear point has little effect on the mephit, she elects to drop the longspear to the ground and pull out her gigantic greatsword, lunging forward and cleaving the chill air as she strikes for the creature's heart.
As the firelight winks into darkness, Astrid sucks in a deep breath, hefting her spear to her side. Intruders! she bellows, the sound ringing through the wood - and the tents where her allies rest. The little blue bastard from before! Leveling her spear point before her, she charges forward at where she'd last seen the mephit, praying for Gorum's blessing of battle - and praying that the pest's stayed where she saw it.
I didn't see anything...but I heard something, that I know. Wings, like a bird's or a bat's, and a strong wind those wings are fighting against. Astrid's wide nostrils flare to draw in the cold air as her chin twitches upward, strangely reminiscent of a dog standing below a stove. But either it's blindly fortunate or crafty - it's downwind. I can't smell it. Once more she tries to draw in the scent, but in vain. Whatever it is, I can't tell if it's coming close...but everyone needs rest to be in fighting shape, and I don't want to wake them for nothing...
Been looking already - how's that spot up ahead to the right look? Between those big trees, next to that little hillock; they'll shield us from the worst of the wind, and we might be able to string up more of a windblock between the trunks.
When a campsite is settled upon, Astrid as usual sets to work, quickly laying a series of small game traps and collecting pine boughs for kindling and an enhanced windblock. The spot isn't ideal, and it's hard to get enough space protected to keep everyone out of the wind, but she soldiers on doggedly. As she works, her gaze keeps flickering back to Cithembi, as if she's sizing him up. Is he being deliberately coy about his curse...or are there truly beast-men who don't carry it? Who is he? What is he doing here? I'll take whichever watch. The fire will give me enough light to see well even in the darkest hours, and my hearing's more than fine. Secretly she hopes for a chance to pull the cat-man aside, but she knows on watch isn't the time for it - without hearing, he'll have to choose between conversation and attentiveness, and that's not a good choice to have to make. In the morning, or on the trail. That'll be better.
At Arvanya's question, Astrid pauses in concentration for a moment, as if attempting to collect her thoughts. I...don't know if it was really speaking, per se. It's...I can't...really remember what happened...it's all, I don't know, fuzzy now. I think it was more like a feeling...I just suddenly couldn't bring myself to harm the thing. Her heavy fist lashes out, punching a small tree trunk nearby. I wish I had properly spoken to her - at least then some good could have come of it!
The battle ends, the glade falls silent...and then, suddenly, not so silent. Astrid's eyes are wide, alight with an inner fire, and her words echo through the trees. You gods-damned piece of s&@% doll! Enchanting me...controlling me... F@#~ing magic...f&@!ing witches... Every expletive is punctuated with a kick or a stomp to the poppet lying still on the ground. It's clear that, whatever Astrid's experienced, it's shaken her deeply - and that fear's tearing itself free of her as white-hot anger. Soon, the doll is tattered and filthy, covered in mucky boot prints; anger abating, she turns to everyone else, and the look in her eyes is one of deep shame. It...took over me. Convinced me it was a friend...I'm sorry. I should never have let it master me like that.
Hey, he ended up winning the House cup for that. :P
Seeing Evelina slowly stiffening further and further, Astrid grabs her around the middle and carries her away from the doll, setting her gently against a tree several feet away. I told you, didn't I? We should just let the doll be!
Stop - please! Worry etched into her eyes, Astrid moves back and reaches for the doll, murmuring an incantation as her hand approaches it. Maybe she can help us find the ones responsible for doing this to her! But you have to stop if she's going to!
No - please, stop trying to hurt her! Can you blame her for trying to protect herself?! Astrid moves into the fray - clearly trying to force herself between Auryel, Evelina, and the small doll. Her stance isn't aggressive, and her spear stays upright at her side - but she doesn't look as if she's about to budge from protecting the poppet, either.
Arvanya - Arvanya, no! Desperately, Astrid rushes forward, trying to catch Auryel in his tracks and stop the wolf getting to the doll - but even in the lighter armor she'd gotten from Freyja, Astrid is no match for the canine's speed, and by the time she reaches him, he's already begun to tear at the tiny poppet. No!
Yes - let it be. Astrid sighs with relief as Freyja backs away. Further up and further in - let's see if we can find the ones responsible for this winter. For a moment, she looks sadly back at the hut. It's the best way we can help her.
No, it...it's not magic, or at least, I don't think it is... For a moment, a conflicted look comes into Astrid's eyes. I...I felt something. Some kind of unease, fear even. It was like...like that girl was pleading with me to leave the doll alone. Or like the gods themselves were trying to keep me from destroying it. We have to let it be...
No...no, don't, Arvanya! Astrid moves between Arvanya and the entrance of the hut, looking over her shoulder at the doll on its stool with a sad, almost pleading look on her face. I was...I was wrong. If that girl's spirit is tied in with this doll somehow...I mean, who knows what damage it could do to her? What if even just moving it harms her? We can't be too careful...not if her well-being is at stake...
For those into it, Merry Christmas! And for those not into it, I hope the day's still merry. :)
At Arvanya's report of her strange experience, a loud, animal growl rumbles from Astrid's chest. We tear that doll to pieces. Her eyes are hard as flint. If it is just a trick, whoever's responsible, we'll have put out one of their eyes. And if somehow this girl's spirit is trapped inside...well, anything that would happen to her is better than that. And Astrid proves true to her word - when she sees the strange doll in its seat, she growls again and bounds forth, spear held forward like a jouster in a tilt, its point aimed straight for the doll's mirrored eye.
Not one to be outdone, Astrid rushes forward alongside Arvanya, spear at the ready. You're right - they will know we are here. So where's the harm in finding out what's happening? Suddenly, a mischievous grin crosses her face, a brief attempt at breaking the tension. I call smashing the doll, if it's in there.
Careful - she leads us on a chase. She is meant to draw us in. There was no way a child would end up here on her own - no more than a hunk of greasy cheese would end up in a mousetrap of its own accord. This whole situation practically bellows "trap" - so Astrid ventures forth into the field of ice spires with her spear at the ready, putting herself between the others and the mysteries of the maze beyond. She shouts to the child, a faint hint of tension in her voice. We have no time for games, child - come to us, and we will protect you. Now, why are you here?
"As f@!#" is pretty close to "as all get out". You're good. :)
The kind of monster that would throw a land into this false winter, Astrid replies softly under her breath to Evelina's musings, gripping her long spear tighter. The kind that would freeze crops, kidnap noblewomen, leave thousands to starve. Which means the child might lead us to some answers. Saying no more, she watches the situation carefully, scanning what she can see of the ice maze for any signs of surprises.
You're right - no sense in leaving it behind. Astrid kneels down and gets to work, accepting Cithembi's help with skinning the massive creature. As the two work, she can't help but steal more glances at the cat-man as he works carefully over the giant weasel corpse. Standing in ruins? Maybe he means he was attacked there by a were...were-cat, I suppose it would be? But...then what's Desna got to do with it? Nervously, she waves to him again as they finish up their task. Tell me...tell me more about how you received your gifts. To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure how a bite to the ear would leave you deaf in both...or was it the course of your affliction taking over that did it? My first changes were a bit traumatizing, too, but not to such degree...
With spear in her hand and a foe to fight, Astrid's confidence had brimmed over...but now that the thrill of the fight has ebbed, the look in her eyes suggests it's been replaced with trepidation. As the others surge forward to introduce themselves, the hulking Ulfen woman stands back, scratching almost self-consciously at a patch of fur on her neck; it's only after the hubbub has died down some that she chimes in, waving slightly to get Cithembi's attention. It will be good to fight along another so...blessed as you are, she ventures forth. I never thought to meet another like me in these woods. Is it an ancestor's gift you carry on, or your own? Were you born with the power, or did you receive it later?
Doubling over from the blow to her gut, Astrid growls and straightens back up, brandishing her spear. Again she stabs forward, trying to make contact with the maddened beast, though the pain in her middle threatens to take her breath away.
That was the idea. ;)
A - another one gifted with beast-blood? Besides her own mentors, Astrid had never seen another person who shared her gift - and it seemed this man was even more advanced than she at using the gift, for him to take animal form so completely! There could be so much to learn from one so skilled...but she knew there were those who let their animal side run too free. Let it take over them, let the viciousness and wildness master them rather than bending their impulses to their will...could the degree of his transformation be a sign that he was truly more animal than man? There was only one way to find out. And his greeting had seemed friendly enough. Rushing forward with her spear, Astrid sets herself near the traps and bellows out a loud challenge, trying to catch the giant weasel's attention. With any luck, it would get bitten by the fearsome metal teeth - and even if it didn't, she'd be at hand to aim a blow. Get behind me! she barks, jerking her head backward so the cat-man could catch her meaning.
Despite herself, Astrid can't help but chuckle slightly at Arvanya's comment. Snowball, she chimes in. Throw a giant snowball over it from a window, and we're free to explore, right? Her face splits in a good-natured smile at the jest, and it's clear it's kindly meant.
She'd spent years camping in the Border Wood, only a thin piece of canvas between her and the elements...but Astrid had never been this cold. And though Blaze had cleared away the resin enough so she could move around, the smell still lingered in her hair, around her nails, in the folds of her cloak... Every time she turns in her bedroll, she catches another whiff of the sharp odor, and in her dreams the shock and surprise of the trees' attack begins anew. So, characteristically, she arises grumpy and half-snarling, dark circles under her eyes and shaggy hair standing nearly on end. She accepts Freyja's offer of breakfast wordlessly, filling her tin cup with tea and huddling close to the fire. Hunched under her blanket, scowling over a cup and bowl, bits of dried resin still in her hair...it's clear Astrid's not having much in the way of fun. Finally, she speaks, her voice even huskier than usual with a bit of rasp to it. We'll have to be careful. Sky the way it is, we're like as not going to get hit by a snowstorm. Not the kind for a romantic Longnight romp, either - heavy enough and you might as well be blind. Whatever we do, we've got to stick close.
Breathless from her exertions and huffing loudly, Astrid growls softly and begins scratching and clawing at herself, trying to tear loose from the rapidly-hardening resin. Does the why matter? she mutters in reply to Arvanya's musings. Whatever the f~@% is going on here, it needs to get the Hells out of my woods. And it's going to get out of here, if I've got anything to say about it.
Welcome Cithembi! I've played a deaf oracle before - having a slate and chalk was a huge help, and a good way to stay a part of things. (I even made a magic slate that auto-wrote for her, priced as a prestidigitation-in-a-can item. Something for you and Frosty to consider, maybe?) I can link the character if you like, but I'm sure you've got a handle on things. And don't be too insulted - Astrid's probably going to be equal parts intrigued and dismissive until Cithembi's capability becomes clear. Nothing personal. ;)
Lashing out again, Astrid snarls at the tree-creature. Die already! Or...whatever the f$#+ freaks like you do!
With an opening between the two tree-creatures and Blaze facing her foe alone in the back, Astrid charges in, ducking between Arvanya and Evelina and raking with her claws.
Sorry, between the American holiday and starting my new position at work (yay promotion going through!) things got busy. My bad!
We know so little about what is happening...even if this doll is some sort of sentry, I think it worth the risk to get some answers, Astrid responds, the faint trace of worry in her eyes there for only a second before it turns to a distant, calculating gaze. Does it work by actually seeing, like you or I? If it sits close to a window, perhaps we could drop a blanket over it before it has a chance to see us...
Peering into the distance, Astrid takes in the scene from afar, keeping cautious of her surroundings. Yes - yes, it is a body. Humanoid...snow around it's pretty torn up, too. Looks like the poor bastard put a hell of a fight. But whoever they were, they came off the worse against whatever's left those tracks...Arvanya? Blaze? You said those tracks we saw before were some sort of gigantic weasel? These look like they could be the same...toes are plenty narrow enough, and the lay of the claws certainly isn't like those of the usual bigger predators.
Astrid had thought Evelina perhaps a tad dramatic before, when the magpie had gotten a taste of the skeletons' cold aura...but as her thickened, rounded teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably, she realizes maybe the smaller woman had been right. This was highly unpleasant. Still, though, she reaches down for her spear, using it to lever herself back upward into a standing position and doing her best to walk as if her muscles aren't going into spasms of discomfort. Well...th-that's th-that, she mutters, aiming for nonchalant (though it comes out much closer to pained and miserable). We h-have to m-move on.
Two can play at that game, Astrid growls out as the skeleton swipes at her. The snow would make a game of tiny steps, of cat and mouse, impossible - and it wasn't her style anyway. Though the cold of their aura digs deep into her bones, she tosses her spear to the ground and lashes out with both hands, leaning all her weight into the blows.
Ooh, beach! Have fun (and think of me as we sink rapidly toward winter up here)!
Arm's length - right. Shifting her pack on her shoulder, Astrid squares off her stance and jabs out with her spear, trying to keep the undead back and cursing as the spear head glances off the ribcage. Their movements would be hampered by the snow, she knew; at least, hers certainly were. That'd force them to shift their attention to moving if they tried to get closer...and that's when she'd strike hard.
As the mephit flies away, Astrid lets out a string of foul language, nocking another arrow to her string and letting it fly. Stop the little s+&@ - it may be a sentry! But with the tiny blue form quickly lost in the driving snow, she throws her bow into a snow bank in disgust and takes several deep but shaky breaths, trying to calm her frustration. Yes...yes, I'm all right. Blaze, come here, I'll fix you up... Arvanya, I think I saw one of my arrows land over there on the far bank. Can you see if you can find it? As Evelina helps Blaze off the bridge, Astrid reaches for the tiefling's hand, muttering a restorative prayer. Then she recovers her bow (only a little sheepishly) and checks the string before stowing it, making sure the moisture hasn't harmed the bow's function. Well...if that little f#@! was in league with whatever's causing this, they'll know now that we're coming. We've likely lost any element of surprise we could have mustered. Abyss take these damned snows... Grumbling to herself, she once again takes up position near the group's head, clutching her cold-forged iron spear and scanning the landscape ahead.
Wordlessly, Astrid nocks another arrow and lets it fly, the energy of her spell still crackling around her hands and sizzling through the air behind the arrow. Her lack of finesse is apparent still as she fumbles with the fletching, but fortune seems to favor her this time - the shot streaks straight toward the mephit, vibrating with power.
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