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“He does not look so friendly,” Malden comments to his friend at the appearance of the horned, black clad man. “But he is badly wounded … it is my duty perhaps.” Securing his scarf in place to hold his hair and protect his lower face against the freezing wind, Malden moves forward, kneeling down beside Jeydavu to examine the rider’s wounds.
"I am afraid neither do I," answers Malden. "Well, it would seem wise for some of us to remain here momentarily - we may soon need to rescue our more eager companions."
Malden shields his eyes from the swirling snow as he looks towards the anomaly, the glances back at Alikai, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“Most unnatural in appearance,” agrees Malden. He tightens the grip on his scimitar and whispers a brief prayer to his goddess. “Let us look more closely.”
“It does appear that these ice homes belong to the venomous rabbits outside,” comments Malden. “With four buildings as such here, there may be more of them.”
Malden pulls his hood up, shielding his ears from the wind and points towards the nearest hut.
Malden keeps his scimitar drawn as he follows the others through the snow to the igloos, huffing into his scarf and looking about.
“They were trying to kill us I don’t doubt Alikai,” Malden says. He squeezes his friend’s shoulder. “You did well. And you Sahsara,” he adds, nodding at the other woman.
Malden is +1 init.
“Witch magic?” Malden murmurs. “Or some Numerian weapon?” He stands warily. “Those igloos perhaps hide the attacker or will perhaps give us cover. In either case, they will be our destination.”
Unable to spy the source of the attack, Malden kneels down to examine Esme, searching for any signs of life. After a moment he looks up, shaking his head sadly, and murmurs a prayer to Sarenrae.
"For the love of sunshine, what was that?" Malden yells, looking wildly about, his hair whipping wildly in the snow.
Malden looks up from his gristly work, trying to determine the source of the sound.
Malden continues to strike at the felled creature with his flaming scimitar, praying that holy flame may stop it's unnatural healing.
His scimitar aflame, Malden darts in to stand beside Gaelin and strikes at the blue giant.
Malden offers a prayer to Sarenrae and the blade of his scimitar begins to glow red hot, steam rising from it in the cold air
Malden's modifier is +1, so 17 for me.
Lets head over to the hill if we can as suggested.
"Another of the blue elemental kin perhaps?" Malden wonders out loud, peering upwards through the snow.
Malden brushes damp, limp hair from his brow and pulls his scarf up around his chin. “This is miserable,” he mutters, although despite his words and tone, the cold doesn’t actually seem to be impacting him as badly as it is some of his companions. He seems to forget his discomfort momentarily upon looking down into the clearing. “Are those huts of some type? Could someone be living here? I suggest we proceed with caution.”
"Let us proceed then."
“How do you fare Gaelin?” Malden asks. “If you require healing, please but ask.”
“All, well done,” says Malden. He peers down at the dead creature. “Do any of you know what it was?”
Malden whispers a quick prayer to Sarenrae, thanking the goddess for granting him the power of flame and guiding his aim.
Malden makes a throwing motion, and a bolt of fire speeds unerringly towards the flying attacker.
Malden will delay until after the creature acts (if its not cut down first), alert for anyone requiring healing.
Does it look hostile? Like its trying to attack us?
“It is a new day,” says Malden, looking up at the grey sky at about the point where the sun should be, “and a new day brings new hope. Onward!”
Malden rises just before dawn and prays to Sarenrae as is his habit, asking for the strength to find the source of this unnatural winter, that Ecaterina may be safe and well (if she’s not an evil turncoat) and that their new companion Esme may prove true.
Once Alikai points out the prints, Malden looks thoughtful, absently playing with a strand of his long fiery hair. “These small prints – fey? The strange doll from the chicken-leg hut? It appears whatever it was may have flown off with Ecaterina. I do not see how we can track them further if that is so. The question I have … was she taken, or did she leave?” Malden looks at Ecaterina’s longer term companions and raises his arms to chest height, palms outwards. “Forgive me for asking the question; from what I know of her she seems good hearted, and most of you know her better than I. But does it not seem strange that a winter witch should find herself in the south of Taldor just when this strange winter starts? A winter that it now appears likely was caused by Ecaterina’s kin? Perhaps she knew more than she said … or perhaps she is being targeted? Or I am wrong, and her presence here is mere co-incidence, her disappearing foul play. In any case, I suspect that we will not find her without finding the source of this cold.”
Alikai shakes her head, looking worried. "She left her gear. Can she survive in this cold without it?" “She is a witch of winter, I have little doubt that she has protection from the cold my friend,” Malden replies.
“She stood first watch with Gaelin,” Malden remarks, looking to the warrior. “Gaelin, was there anything odd about your watch? In Ecaterina’s demeanour or in the world about? Apart from the cold of course. For that matter, Alikai, Tristan, did either of you notice anything during her watch? Anything that could have caused her to depart, willingly or otherwise?”
A man wearing blue and white robes, and with flowing auburn hair and faintly glowing eyes steps out from beneath the lean-to. “Esme who Dwells With the Pines, I am Malden Sunspark of Sarenrae,” he says with a slight bow. “In the lands where I was raised it is customary for chance-met travellers to share their food and camp. It is a great taboo to offer harm to another once food has been shared. So come, share our camp, share what is left of our repast and know that we will do you no ill. It does indeed appear that our quest is the same, and joining to solve this problem seems wise. My friend Alikai has told you our tale; based on what we have discovered, we have reason to believe that one or more of the white witches of the northern lands are behind this unseasonal winter, though how that may be yet eludes us.”
Malden had not quite drifted back to sleep when the stranger intrudes on their camp. He sits back up and carefully begins to extract his legs from the tangled bedroll, peering out under the overhanging canvas lean-to at the newcomer.
Malden smiles sleepily and settles back down to sleep. “Firebats … fantastic …” he murmurs to himself as he drifts back off to sleep.
“Wha..? Fire?” Malden sits up abruptly, waken by the faint commotion. “Did someone say fire? Is all well?”
Malden snores quietly, dreaming of warm sand and bright sunshine.
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