The All-New Eiji's page

The "whump" of a distant fireball signaled that the others were either in trouble, or having too much fun. Cat and I hurried down the hallway. We found it partially clogged, along with the room beyond, by the bodies of perhaps four frost giants. Must have been them that gave that evil witch tree outside the horseman snack. There's likely more around here. Giants in a mountain are like termites in a forest. They didn't have much on them, but there was a table in the room, and everyone was gathered around a map someone had drawn... someone smaller than a giant.

Cat and I were left alone, still working on the task at hand. As Ailmar yelled obscenities at his wolf (maybe not so well trained after all) down the hall, I finished opening the door with another two blows. Beyond the door was a fiend. Ram horns, bat wings, goat legs, shark teeth, and raptor claws. He was like a deadly little petting zoo, and he was all mine. The evil glint in his eye and the way he tried to ensorcel my mind was enough to convince me to introduce him to the business end of my greatsword, the Witch-Splitter. The Rock got a bit caught up in my rush and joined the battle. He meant well, but he's really a cook at heart and not much of a warrior. The fiend fled before my righteous smiting, but it was a ruse! Another evil fey tree, this one with tentacles, waited in vile ambuscade. It snatched the Rock out of the air and broke him nearly in two. A red haze descended upon me. The fiend lay in pieces at my feet as I stared down the tree. Cat's magic erupted from the floor and slammed the tree against the ceiling overhead. There was a great snapping of branches and a pained shriek as it fell back to the floor. With pure malice on its wooden facade, it swallowed the Rock. Witch-Splitter cleaved the fey plant in twain, and my little Rock came floating out; damaged, but not undone.

Vos entered the parley, and then he and Cat got excited and shouted out the name of the former Black Rider, "Illarion Matveus." This was followed by girlish hand clapping, like their knightly sweetheart had just grabbed the brass ring. The evil, witchy, fey tree woman moved aside to reveal a passageway leading back down into the mesa. The tunnel inside was carved with countless flowers and a bunch of nekkid women. Probably evil fey witches. There was a strange echo of an oversized language from up ahead, and I sent Ailmar ahead to scout. A few moments later, Cat yelled that he'd been hexed (another witch!) and we ran ahead to lend aid. It was just one witch, but she was giant-sized and had two heads. We brained her twice and turned to Ailmar; who was just faking it.

The room she guarded was empty and held only one other exit. We proceeded down the corridor amidst dim purple light cast from stacks of glowing stones. As the hallway descended further, we happened upon a door. It was locked. I proceeded to unlock it, both by traditional methods and, when they failed, by my improved method - Lock Pick. The first blow scarred the stone door deeply, but also attracted a lone giant. The silly thing looked sad shuffling and crawling down the too small tunnel. We tried to put him out of his misery, but he rejected our kindness and fled back the way he had come. I ordered Ailmar to finish him quickly and with little pain. Unfortunately, Garth seemed to misinterpret his actions, and, not surprising given his obvious cruel streak and lack of social norms, chased after to taunt and torment the poor giant. This precipitated Vos's departure, hopefully to maturely stop the evil little man, but just as likely to join in his mean-spirited fun. Bella also joined in the pursuit, no doubt to test the flammability of frost giants.

There's practically nothing atop the mesa Atrosa was carved from. Just the back of the statues' heads. We headed over there to get out of the wind while armor was re-donned and plans were made. Within that shadowed area was a tree. I don't often comment on trees, and for good reason - they're boring, taste terrible, and are generally no threat. This tree might always remain a mystery in two of those categories. This tree was, and it sounds strange but is absolutely true, a thoroughly feminine tree. And, given the events leading up to this point, meant there was a very strong possibility it was both evil, and some sort of fey or witch tree. This was further reinforced when it had a long conversation with our witch in that same flowery language she's used before. Neither participant had the good manners to repeat the details of this discussion in a more civilized tongue, but at one point called upon my incredible recall to shed illumination upon the lineage of Baba Yaga's many daughters and their roles as rulers of Cat's homeland. Also, the tree had a gutted horseman hanging from its branches. Cat didn't seem bothered, despite her recent fling with a horsewoman. Evil witch women. They're everywhere. Or at least they were....

We made stops at the knee, belly, elbow, and shoulder of the statue Cat calls "The Matron." I didn't think the climb was too bad; the air was crisp, casters flitted about like lazy gnats, and Ailmar was good company. Old Greg was on the line as well, but he was mostly silent, possibly because he couldn't have conversed with us anyways since he's ignorant of any language worth knowing. The wolf... poor thing had to be hauled up in a harness at each ledge like so much dead weight. Ailmar's done a good job training him - he's quieter than Garth and understands simple sentences. Good job feeding him as well - the thing is at least the size of a small horse. I wonder if he's not some sort of magical wolf... maybe I should have fed him some of the will-o'-wisps we came across by the upper arm. For all Vos's dire warnings, they were disappointing but tasty; a dry crunchiness with a hint of peanut flavor.

... so Cat had the new guy, Garfunkel Rativore the Third, dance around naked on a table while spouting lies as part of a magical ceremony to free him from Baba Yaga's confinement while simultaneously leashing him under Baba Yaga's control; I think I like the getting-hit-with-arterial-spray method better, but to each their own. Now that he could get out of my Hut, we lit the birdman's corpse on fire. I'm not sure why. Hoki never asked us to do that. Maybe some of the group hoped his spirit still lingered and could feel the intense heat. That's a lot of hate, so maybe the witch then or the new firebug opera singer... Either way, we let him burn the rest of the day, probably more out of laziness than any real attempt at cremation - an open pine and birch fire just isn't going to get that hot.

The next day, we loaded up out packs and set off in a random direction as determined by Garth, or newly bound guide and translator. I didn't like Gary at first. I still don't. Garum is not likeable. He is unable to be liked. We should find some magic to make him more likeable; or at least less unlikeable. Gert-the-unlikeable took us into the forest and directly into an ambush by horsemen. Scent-arse, according to Vos. The horsemen talked with Gourd in some harsh, strange language, then Cat joined in in a more flowery sounding language, Then Garmin and Cat and Vos talked in a slippery, sibilant language. It was all very tedious. Vos said we weren't attacking the horsemen yet, and instead we spent the night at their camp. It was... aromatic. By which I mean it smelled like all the worst parts of a horse stall and a few dozen people that have been in the forest too long. Cat apparently made friends with them, and they gave her a horsewoman as a present. I tried to tell her that she wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility, but she threw a fit, and, big softy that I am, I let her keep it.

I glanced at a map and was able to locate both our objective, Artrossa, and a nearby settlement. We swung by to get rid of a few of our larger, more cumbersome souvenirs and then set off along a river to the north. A zombie carrying a greatsword came shuffling along, headed south. Gory-the-unlikeable started chatting with him. Who talks to zombies? He's weird and unlikeable. Or maybe just unlikeably weird. We're going to need some serious magic if we're keeping this guy around. Or a hood; like on a hawk, maybe. I'll talk to Vos about this; see how he overcame being weird and unlikeable. Maybe he can give Gerdy lessons. So Gummy-the-weird-and-unlikeable stops talking to the zombie, much to my relief, and charges- no, rushes- at it. In return, it starts to beat the ever living crap out of Gery. At this point, the zombie is more likeable. Seeing as how we might need this guy to be our guide, and since none of us speak enough zombie to ask if he'll take the job, we all lay into him. Ailmar is shooting arrows, Cat, Bella, and Vos are slinging spells, and I'm watching Germane dance in everyone's line of fire. We have got to remember to either take his sword away or teach him some group tactics. Given how well he takes a beating, I think the latter is the more prudent course. I timed it just right, and as Garf was distracting it, I released a fraction of my power to sink my blade down between his gorget and helmet. After the fact, Vos said it wasn't a zombie, but rather a dead-knight, which seemed a little on the nose. Regardless, I got a nice belt and a show out of the encounter. Oh, and some nifty magic armor that no one is allowed to wear. Vos says it'll turn whoever wears it into a dead-knight. He also says that would be bad. Instead, I'll use it as a sled for our other souvenirs, at least until we find a volcano (or some other plane we can just dump it on).

This place doesn't seem so bad. Sure, it's crawling with horsemen and giants and the occasional dead-knight, but I think I could vacation here after we take it over. Time for bed. No doubt we'll kill some more giants sometime tonight, and then on to Artrossa tomorrow.

All right. Let's get ourselves together. First off, where are we?
Looks at Vos and Cat
You guys said those symbols on the doors where Iobarian, right?
Looks at Rat
And you said you almost conquered Iobaria, right?
Well, using these disparate scraps of information, I have come to the conclusion that my Hut has somehow, perhaps even magically, transported us to Iobaria.

Now, as I see it we don't speak Iobarian, and the one guy that does can't leave my Hut. This is unacceptable. Vos, learn Iobarian. Cat, get in the library and find a way to get this useless, no-Hoki-saving lout outta my Hut. Bonus points if you can magically coerce him into serving as our translator since I'm assuming Vos is going to fail to learn a useful language.
Looks at Vos again
Still able to talk to all the things that aren't here? So useful.
Points to Ailmar
Keep an eye out the window for more giants.
Points to Bella
Keep an eye on the bird-donkey-maid... or do whatever red riders do.

I suspect there might be something important in this kitchen area, so I'll be over there.
Attempts to find all the necessary components to assemble a sandwich

Ties an errant quill feather to Lock Pick's pommel.

Stares, dumbfounded.

We entered reality again inside a common room. A man there, the only man there, claimed to have nearly conquered his reality when a deal with Baba Yaga went south and trapped him in the Hut. Having been in the Hut, and not seeing him (or this room), this seemed suspicious, so I told him to leave and showed him the door. The door, however, had other ideas, and refused to let him leave with me. Which is how I found myself on the porch of Baba Yaga's Hut, surrounded by a multitude of giants. I did not then have the powers that I have now, and a Rider's mantle is no match for a giant's fist when push comes to shoving your ribs into your internal organs. And shoved I was, back into the Hut. Cat was kind enough to see to my grievous wounds while Ailmar started to give the giants a piece of his mind in the form of tiny, sharpened sticks shot from his bow. It was a pointed conversation. Hehe. Then things got bad. Someone told the Hut to kill the giants, which it proceeded to do. This included gobbling one of them up and swallowing the damn thing whole. It turns out this common room is somewhere on the upper course of the Hut's digestive track. In addition to our delusional new acquaintance, we now had an angry, gibberish spouting giant in our midst. Chaos ensued. There wasn't room for a proper fight, and things quickly descended to fists and teeth and rolling around on the floor-an otherwise excellent weekend, but not great in this specific context. The giant was felled, but not without loss.

We are in Iobaria. There is a delusional conqueror trapped in my Hut, and we have just buried the master shadow walker, Hokkaido Goto.

...after we tossed the bit of frost giant's beard and the bird-beaked mask I'd been carrying around since forever into the cauldron, there was the sensation of tearing sideways. It’s not a sensation that's easy to convey, but imagine you're a piece of paper, and that paper that is you is then torn, but sideways. See? Not easy to convey. This sensation persisted for a while too. I'm not sure how much of what came after was real, at least until the bird bit it. That was really real. Too real.

But there was another bird before that. If it was real. There might have been a bird before that. It went like this. Keys first, then the tearing, then there wasn't a door to the porch anymore. Instead, we opened the doors to the war room, but it was gone too. Instead there was a hallway. We followed the hallway to a door. The door was marked with an inverted hemisphere. I don't know what that is. In all my studies and travels, I still have not managed to invert a hemisphere, or even vert a hemisphere. Let alone revert one. Regardless, the door led to another hall, but this one might have had a bird inside it who might have implied that we had to kill a boar further down the hall. Down the hall we found a boar, and, having a magical boar spear, I prepared to bore said spear into said boar before long-suffered bird became a bore and, bored, I bore my boar spear away in boredom. The boorish birdman was bloodied by the boar and bore the brunt of my ill bearing as he bled our benefits with his blood. This combination perhaps foretold his doom, which if unreal would make this a prophetic vision, and if real, would indicate a predestined existence... heavy. Returning bits of the boar to the implying bird led us further a-hall to a clever mess of mannequins and miscellanea. We played dress up for an eternity amidst the whispers of ghosts or eldritch leavings as another bird waited for a combination of scarves and gloves, or greens and blues that pleased its raven-ish eyes and led us further and further a-hall.
A final bird or birds bid us to bide time with a fragmented spirit on a bloodied bed that cried of betrayals of Baba Yaga and tried to betray all to break her and the cycle that broke her. Our Cat bandied words until the spirit bequeathed the location of a hidden bauble inside a doll in unknown dimensions that set the birds atwitter. We exited the hall.

The Hut was the size of a small barn inside; even had a loft. The interior design was a bit clichéd, drawing inspiration from every cottage of every child's tale involving witches: shelved walls crammed with jars and bottles, dried bundles of plants and animal bits hanging from the ceiling, and a big cauldron in the center, magically bubbling away without a fire. The rest of the room held few surprises - a desk, a stove (why was the cauldron not there, where there was a fire?), some barrels and crates, oh, and a set of double doors atop a flight of steps. This place wasn't just bigger on the inside, it was way bigger on the inside.

About this time, we saw another strange thing. The Hut had a maid. Not one of those cool maids you dream about when- um, just, not one of the cool ones. This one had horns and claws, which I'm not normally against, but she also had donkey ears, a bird's beak and feet, and looked about a hundred years old. Apparently, the Hut conjured Vostok's ideal maid instead of mine. He name was Zorka, and she was, according to Vos, a kinky-moray. I didn't see the eel-ness in her, but I'll take his word. She seemed suspicious of us at first, which I can understand looking back on it. I mean, there she was, trapped in a Hut, trapped in a bone fence, trapped in a forest, trapped in a city, under the thumb of the wrong evil queen, when one of the most motley, half-dead group of thugs to ever blight he doorstep barges into her Hut followed by the most perfect, nigh-divine being she's likely to ever see in the flesh, which is to say, me. Merely being confused and suspicious speaks rather highly of her. I heard Vos went back for her after that whole queen thing was wrapped up. Good for him.

While no one was looking, as usual, Hoki found a secret door - who hides a door in a cottage on chicken legs? I feel maybe Baba Yaga's got a different view on priorities than I do - that led to a library. Naturally, the book-ly members of the group went a little nuts at this. I had my doubts, so far I had kept Cat's book burning rituals to myself (and bravo to her for teaching that owl to eat the evidence!), but the fire hazard this represented almost made me warn the rest of the group. Still, I was nearly flame proof, so what real harm could there be in keeping her secret?

Vos decided to explore unknown regions of the Hut himself, likely in an attempt to prove to Zorka how brave he was, and opened the double doors. This led to a sort of war room with five iron thrones perched around a map of Irrisen done up with magic to make some portions float over the otherwise detailed drawing. This room would prove useful in our future endeavors; if only to force some evil fey to sit in the chairs and answer our questions. There was a small door off this chamber that lead to a root cellar full of more boxes. One of these caught Vos's attention since it was chained shut. As Hoki sorted through his tools, I got out my own "lock pick" and opened the chains. I truly love this sword. From the box emerged a hairless cat-like... thing. It was not alive, but was animate. It moved with a jerkiness that caused your stomach to twitch if you looked at it directly. It emerged from the box and sat there licking its pale, pink skin with its raspy, dry tongue-cleaning the dust of its lengthy incarceration or just savoring the distilled essence of unease that oozed from it, I cannot guess. It faced me then, its face was a skin-mask of my own features. I named him choo-choo bear in my heart, and he would be with me forever.

…especially lucky for Ailmar, The Rock doesn’t care about poison gas (proof of this is his ability to be in the same tent as my brother for extended periods of time), and he took the potion from a Cat that was barely scratched-ha! cat/scratched. I don’t even try-and used it to save that ranger’s damn life. Ailmar then owed The Rock a life debt. He still has not repaid that debt which is why The Rock continues to hunt him for sport annually in the spring. Oh yeah, so then a strong wind came out of nowhere and wafted what remained of the gas away, and even as the ice statue continued beating me about the head and shoulders I saw what all the fuss was about. A witch, possibly our witch, I'm not sure, they actually do look all the same, was hovering around the head of a skinny, distended giant on the backside of the Hut. Someone, either Vos or Pyr-o-pera tossed a big ball of flame their way. That was all she wrote. That giant flew off carrying the witch, who was also kneeling by Ailmar-actually, they were probably two different witches.

Cat warned us to back up before ending the ice statue, which Hoki musta heard as "end the ice statue," because he stabbed the darn thing in the backside and then did his best jazz-wings while dodging all the ice chips.

(prob. other) Witch and bodyguard went away, and I certainly don't see how they could ever affect any revenge scheme...

Now for the Hut. I'd heard the big guy stomping around and knew it had a big chain on one leg. Well, me and my old "Lock Pick", that adamantine sword I found a few weeks ago promptly hit the chain so hard it shattered. The Hut recognized something vastly superior to it and promptly submitted to my authority. Ever the gentle giant, I allowed my crew to enter before me. This was definitely not a calculated move to set off almost any kind of trap; my rider's mantle protects me from glyphs and wards - this, according to a desperate, fallen, defeated man we found at the entrance to a portal halfway around the world. Have I told you that one?

While the rest of the shlubs were climbing over megasized roots and getting sprayed by twigjack splinters, I followed a pair of Ailmar's arrows and bee-lined a few feet of cold steel into the gusty gal. Thus, taking down the reality shield.

A few minutes of backtracking, and we're at the Hut. Someone has it chained up in a big bone fence tastefully decorated with the occasional corpse. The fence, not the Hut. Might be corpses in the Hut, but at the time, I'd had no way of knowing. Magic happened. Just like that, from nowhere, super cold ice blanketed the ground. Another witch, not dissimilar to our witch popped out of nowhere above what I thought was a ten foot tall snowman, but was really a white giant. Quicker than we can react, the ice is layered with stinking yellow smoke and thick webbing. We're hosed. Everyone's nearly blind, vomiting, and, unless you happen to be differently-heritaged, probably freezing to death coated in frozen vomit and covered in frozen sticky white fibers. It's like summer camp all over again.

A few figures moved around me in the fog, and something roared a few feet west of me. I was struck sick-stuck and could only stare while some icy crystallized statue walked up to me out of the ochre haze. Then he hit me. I was tied up, and he just beat on me for what seemed like a full minute. Now that's really a reminder of summer camp. I could make out Ailmar within the writhing malaise a few feet from me. Not looking good. Even as the ice thing struck futilely at me- just occurred to me that maybe he just liked the sound of his girly little fists beating on my breastplate. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, Ailmar slowly freezing to death. His skin turned blue, and let me tell you that is not his color-more of a hazel/brown and green I think-and then he started to frost over. Well, he stopped breathing; I knew we'd have to take this all seriously. Other things, possibly even important ones, were happening nearby. Hoki and Opera were talking about ignoring "her" and just shooting "him," but either they weren't talking about me -unlikely, I know- or they were talking about someone else.

...and then she gives me a bottle of wine and suddenly everyone who was just saying 'no, don't relax with the nice women who offer free wine and a warm fire' changed their tune took up seats and jugs with smiles on their faces. Vos decided to spoil it all by casting something so offensive that the hostesses turned feral and started after those of us that are differently-heritaged. While I'm used to sideways glances, muttered threats, and fanatical assassination attempts just for having a smidgen of demon in the family a few generations ago, I'd never have guessed Opera the goody-two-shoes to be in the same boat. Not the exact same boat, because let me tell you, those beast women were out for mine and my brother's blood. They just also said mean things about the aasimar. Hoki tackled the wolf while Cat got in the middle of everything and tried to hippy everyone into talking. I let my sword do the talking. I don't mind claws and teeth, in fact, it's usually on the list of things I look for, but out-and-out cannibalism is a huge turn off. Turned out, surprise, they were evil, shape-changing, lying, backstabbing, no-good fey. So we ended them. Hoki plucked out their eyeballs too. It's like an all you can eat carrion buffet here for that birdman.

A bit further on we find a clearing with a weird, massive beech tree. There in the tree is a wind-woman. Like a normal woman, but breezier. Obviously, she's the battery we're looking for. We lay out the facts for her, which is to say, that she's down two pipers and is playing solo now. She tells us to bugger off and let her take the Hut back to the first world. Maybe one battery was enough to pilfer Baba's abode since the shield thing was already in place. I wasn't sure, and the caster types -Vos, Cat, and the Operatic pyro that was now tagging along- weren't any help in figuring this out either, so instead we went with the easy way. Vos was singing a terrible little ditty so off-key the wolf was howling, but he touched my shoulder, and I felt a little lighter on my toes. He'd worked his flying magic again.

With their dragon commander dead on the cobbles below the clock tower, one of the Guards was thrown into chaos and the other Guard chaotically threw into them. This sweet guard-on-guard action provided the perfect opportunity for us to KILL THEM ALL, but instead we snuck into the magical forest in the market square within which we expected to find Babba Yaga's hut. Instead we found an uncooperative man wading in a strange, upward flowing pond. He had a flute... or recorder. Possibly a clarinet. Whatever. He deflected our questions when asked politely, and when asked less politely, but still somewhat politely when adjusted for the mean politeness of my party's typical meeting with strangers paradigm, assaulted my eyes (and presumably the eyes of those around me) with magic. The cad! The Rock was kind enough to guide me in my temporary blindness after the soon to be very uncomfortable piper. He must have been a mind reader, because he had, after insulting us all, departed to find a grease spell, a very soft cushion, and a new instrument. I gave chase, but soon found myself betrayed. As my vision returned from whence the piper's magic had bid it go, I witnessed Hoki pull down a tree in my path. His hastily constructed blind was completely ineffective at concealing himself, was so poorly constructed that he seemed to be stuck beneath it, and most importantly, blocked my path to the doomed flutist. As I climbed atop the fallen trunk (eliciting a most agreeable squawk of discomfort from what was definitely an entangled Birdman), I noticed the ambush the dishonest, disagreeable musician had tried to lure me into while blinded. A pair of three eyed, hunchbacked midget demons served the soon to be martyred minstrel. Vos and the Witch and even the Ranger would later try to convince me that these were Fey - as well as the piper... and the water and most of the trees. If it's inconvenient or even a little dangerous, it's apparently fey. The dragon was probably fey. Where was I? Oh yeah, killing a piper. In my experience, three eyed demons are a bit tricky to deal with, but proportionately less so when midget sized and even less so when thrown off balance by a freakish humpback. I made short work of them, and Hoki sought my forgiveness by way of poking at them from beneath the tree. I told The Rock to keep him off the menu... for now. We had lost the piper in the few moments it took us to put down the demons, and while looking around for him, we instead encountered a magical barrier. The spellcasters all agreed that it was fuelled by some sort of elemental batteries which would be identifiable by their bizarre, unnatural behavior... like a pond that flowed upward.

Upon returning, we found the piper back at the pond and wasted no time with questions, polite or otherwise. His death and subsequent oboe insertion seemed to have ceased the pond's strangeness, and rather than flowing up, it now flowed with gravity, which is to say downward, though the dead, violated fey thing did lend its own sort of gravity to the scene. Pipe in hell you blowhard.

With all the fun of vengeance behind us, we set off looking for the other batteries. Unfortunately, we found a hut. Note the lowercase 'h.' This is not the Hut we are looking for. We wasted some time helping a broken man and his two kids climb down a tree. You see, this hut was in the tree. Magical forest, remember? Apparently it hadn't always been in the tree, but when the forest sprang up a few weeks ago, it took the hut and family with it. Thinking, as always, about what is best for the ignorant masses, I decided to disarm this fey trap-hut, and rather than let it fall on an oblivious, but no doubt deserving nameless peon, I climbed the tree and hurled the hut to the ground. The fey had laid a cunning double trap! After disarming the hut, a subtle tree-shaking trap was sprung. Rather than be flung into a fey pit of spikes or a portal to the First World or whatever else they had planned, I quickly slipped from the arboreal noose and dove to the ground. It was only my quick thinking and quicker reflexes that allowed me to use the now defunct stone dwelling to cushion my fall and, as planned, demolish the house past the point of repair, thus ensuring no wily fey rearmed the trap-hut.

Another set of good deeds done, we were back to hunting for batteries. Another clearing opened and we found a large floating platform with another hell-bent musician and his minions. This one had a ring of boulders orbiting it like he was the center of the universe. I let my minions handle him while Ailmar (the Ranger) and made sure they were sheltered from anything following us. Well, that's what Ailmar believed. I wanted to stick close to this opera singer that had followed us in here with no real account of herself, and no proof that she's not a witchy doppelganger.

Having cleared all the rooms on the second level, we ascended the ladder up through the clockwork and into the tower itself.

We burst through the trapdoor at the top of the ladder, our speed enhanced by Vostock's magic, and confronted the beast in all his baby dragon cuteness.

Smiting a cute little dragon is not my regret.

Ailmar did most of the work on this one, I'm not gonna lie. His arrows crashed like a black rain against the white dragon’s baby soft hide and many found their mark. The poor beast flew circles around the tower, blasting his icy breath against us, not realizing that the cold is my second home. Vos (proving himself to be useful twice in a single day!) bestowed the power of flight on me, and, on my third try, I smote the sad, now quite pink dragon.
The others told me they were fighting clockwork things while I was busy with the real fight, but I saw only the busted gears of the broken mechanisms of the clock. They may be trying to make themselves feel important, or seeking to ingratiate themselves to me should I ever wake up in a bad mood.

But the crux of this tale, the real regret of this conflict. I had a brief opportunity when we first entered the dragon's lair to tackle a flying dragon in mid-air and take him to the ground some fifty feet below, and instead I played it safe.

Never again.

We dispatched the latest in a long list of ice trolls. This one might have been female. I'm not really sure. He or she was just as ugly as the others, but slightly lumpier. Anyway, we stepped over his or her corpse and proceeded up the stairs. At first it seemed like no one was home, but like Vos after the sun goes down, things got weird.

While exploring the kitchen- by the way, if you're reading this or, just as likely given how stupid most of you are, having this read to you, don't put a kitchen on the second floor of a building. That's just wrong.
Where was I? Oh yeah. Weird. The stove attacked us. With much clanging and fire and pipes, the stove attacked us.

A stove.

Presumably the same used to fricassee children quite recently. Or stew. However the trolls most like them. Unless the cook didn't care about her patrons' tastes. Then perhaps charred. That seems easiest, and the stove certainly had a large enough opening/mouth. I know, because it bit me.

I was bitten by a stove.

The stove was tough. Possibly the toughest thing I had yet to kill. Luckily, the stove's weakness seemed to be hefty doses of sword. It so happens I was carrying extra that day and was more than willing to share my supply.
Even as I (and one assumes the others with me) were dealing with this kitchen abomination, a whispering and cackling came from a nearby room.
Vos, in his tactical genius was ambushed from behind (a fine point for ambushing) by an old lady.

To his credit, he quickly created a magic pit for her to dwell in and prep for the coming battle in relative security. So, we waited for his ridiculous spell to end while Copper sobbed in the background about how the oven was the perfect being and was too good for this world. She's a few sammiches short of a picnic. Amusingly enough, she and her mammoth toss the burning remains of the attack stove into the pit. It was quite satisfying. Quite soon thereafter, Vos's spell finally wore off and we got back to the business of smiting old ladies and their creepy dolls too.

We soon came to know that the old biddy was called "Granny Nan." This was told to us by a plump little child that was completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to get eaten. Copper, needing something to do since her soul mate had been hacked to pieces and thrown in a pit has volunteered to take the nearly-entree'd back to the quickly-becoming-not-a-secret rebel headquarters. She vowed to burn "all the things," so we may have more to deal with as soon as we are done here.

The next room we entered contained the kidnapped princess, or maybe an evil witchy doppelganger of a kidnapped princess that also sings opera. She didn't make much of an impression on me. Not my style of music, and I don't trust her. She claimed to be a fairy tale stereotype, but I saw through her ruse. She's been sent to the rebel headquarters. They may not be happy about the sudden influx of people that have no reason to not betray them to the powers that be, but that's between the dupes and the rebels. Not really my problem.

We go to the clock tower and bust in like we own the place; which we will shortly.

First on the menu is an appetizer consisting of a couple column constructs. They look like stone, they hit like stone, and they dented my damn magic spear like stone. Still, got off better than Hoki's butter knife. That thing snapped like a, um... snappy thing. Oooh- a turtle. Whatever. Just glad I didn't bite em.

Main course was meddlesome ice trolls and their dogs too. Not sure how many exactly, somewhere shy of a half dozen if I recall correctly. It's all a blur of flying fur, slicing steel, burning fire, and creepy gnome laughter.

For dessert, we had a creamy wiggitywak. Wakkiwig. Wikimap-a-wig. Whatever it was, it looked like a white hobgoblin. Everything in this land looks like a color-challenged version of its natural self. He was in a room used to store and butcher children. Some sorta creepy kiddy knackery. little surprised our witch seemed upset about this. What with the evil and witchiness and all. Just sayin', she got the moon in her eye.

And then we turned to the next door...

We still haven't reached our destination when we bump into a terrified viking man. Read that again. Didn't make sense to me either, but then a big 'ol white wolf was barreling down on us and it suddenly did make sense. The witch, in her talkative way buys the viking- didn't realize we were slavers -and doesn't kill the winter wolf, even when he's nigh helpless while transforming into a man to take her payment for the slave. So, she bought a slave, that's probably evil, and she didn't kill the evil winter wolf that owned the slave, that's probably evil, and she's dating a winter wolf. Pretty sure the witch is evil. Or insane.

Is every day here going to be this busy?

We had to duck a patrol of Winter Guard trolls- or where they Iron Guard? Whichever are the ones we should probably be killing- and duck into a house that happened to contain the even-more-mincey-than-Vos wizard who was so sorry he forgot to unlock the door that he made us all fake papers so we could carry weapons around the city. I'm totally sure the free fake papers are up to snuff. They definitely weren't a rush job that he didn't give two tugs about. The first time they're spotted, I'm trading his name for a walk.

We finally made it to the Milani temple the Heralds of Summer's Return (or something equally delusion-ally grandiose, HoSR for short) use for their headquarters; bet Baba Yaga will be interested in that. This was followed, naturally, with a week of shopping, indulging in hobbies, and otherwise wasting time while the Evil Queen's plans come ever closer to fruition. Seriously, who's in charge? This gets better. The HoSeRs, in the form of a woman named Soul-Vig, tell us that we have to go kill a dragon in a clock tower. This is, in the rebels' opinion, the best way to lure the guards away from the Hut, which is in a magic forest in the city's center. The Hut being the real reason we're here. Also note, these are rebels against the Evil Queen, but also against Baba Yaga, a.k.a. our boss. I'm sure they have our well being foremost in their tiny minds.

Well, we get to kill a dragon. So, yay.

So, we make it past that stone cold wolf, Greta (see what I did there- cold wolf) with our fish, our frozen weapons, and a date for our witch (ebony and ivory hair living together in perfect harmony). We're off on our merry way. I don't know who was driving this load of cod, but we take a turn into either a wide alley or a narrow street that just happens to be full of goblins. They profess to be some sort of homosexual goblin beggar guild and the witch, still high off her lack-of-wolf-rejection, gives them a basket of fish. Do you want pyromaniacs? Because that's how you get pyromaniacs. And that position is already filled; and in roughly the same size, shape, and temperament (note to self: inquire of Copper as to the racial disposition of her past life).

After that, and some more alley/roads, Ringer gets all nervous and tells us to not look in the mirror across the road. Admittedly, this seems odd, especially when said mirror starts walking our way. Ringer explains that it's a mirror-man and an agent of the white witches. He has a name for them, but he also has a very thick accent. Anyway, this mirror-man is an eye piece for the witches, but unlike regular mirrors, they have to look at his face to see what he saw, see. We all start pretending to fix the obviously not broken wagon wheel to lure him in closer. Everyone suddenly gets really deep into their wainwright characters. They're not good at it, per se, but they are really enthusiastic. Points for enthusiasm. Luckily for them, I remember the plan, and I stab that mirror-man right where the sun don't reflect. This is followed by a brief application of practical violence that ends in a shattered mirror face, a fish head, and a bit of chuckling. Evil queen is down one mirror-man, and my collection of mirrors now has some rare shattered-face mirror bits.

Good, because I don't. I imagine he's holding one hand over his mouth and pretending to swallow, then stops and stares past Greta... which would make me think he's asking for directions to a restaurant
Sense Motive: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (7) - 1 = 6
Hoki, I don't think she swings that way.

How do wolves usually greet.... oh yeah. They sniff butts.
.
.
.
Glad I'm not a wolf.

Eiji whispers to Vos, What's all that clucking and cawing mean?

We went back to Ringer's place after strategically weakening the martian shack and using it's debris to hide all traces of our assault bury the fallen with dignity. Ringer had a clever plan. At least clever for someone that got himself tied to a martian's chair. We were going to walk into the city. Not sure why we need Ringer for this. Not sure why we didn't just do that in the first place. He claims we can disarm and disarmour ourselves and hide all of the things that keep us alive in the ice beneath a half-ton of dead fish, the only thing this place does have in abundance while we stroll around beneath the noses of winter wolves acting like people and/or the winter guard or iron guard; whichever the new one is called and likely hates us. Oh, and our witch is still wanted. And again, those noses belong to wolves. Smart, frozen wolves. But it's okay, because we're going to go through a hole in the wall. A secret hole. A hole so secret that it's guarded. From the inside. By wolves.

Copper threatened to burn enough peasants that one eventually talked to her and the witch and told us that Ringer was being held by Martian Extortioners or Exporters... either way, we knew who to knock down next. We blazed a trail (not literally, much to Copper's disappointment) straight through fish-odor-burg to the largest wooden building there. It had a sign on it. I don't know much of the frozen speech, so I assume it was something meant to offend me. It did. We discussed various ways of bringing hell to Fort-fish-bouquet, but decided on practical rather than clever violence. Cat knocked on the door, and when non-water ogre opened it, we knocked on him as well... maybe a bit harder... with a spear and a pair of arrows. Turned out there was another non-water ogre and a Martian in the shack as well. I stepped in to say 'hello,' and got stabbed a couple times for my attempt at being polite. This, plus the sign, and the mere fact that we had to bother ourselves with retrieving this chump finally had me seeing red. I don't remember a lot of what followed, but my boarspear was bloodied a few feet over the crossbar, the ogre was dead, the martian was dead, a very threatening man who was probably faking being tied to a chair was allowed to live while the adjacent wall was sacrificed in his stead, and I had been declared king of fish-town by an authoritative voice that none dared second guess.

The water ogres were really just cold-blooded cowards, and this appears to be a running theme surrounding the frozen heart of Irrisen. We continued on to White Throne, and made our way through what I can only describe as a dismal shanty town outside the city walls. The local peasants called it fish-town or fish-camp or fish-gut-stink-ville or some such. I wasn't really paying attention to them. They were dirty and smelled bad. Then again, so did everything else in fish-stench-ton. Nadja took us to meet Ringer or Ringier... possibly Ringiest. I wasn't really paying attention to her. To my surprise, he wasn't where she thought he would be. That in itself wasn't really surprising. They live along ways away, communication is difficult at best, and they were supposed to be part of a semi-secret underground treasonous revolt type of cabal thing. No, his absence wasn't the really surprise, that was actually kinda expected, but the complete lack of an ambush by Nadja's secret police contacts did go a way towards verifying her status as a possible non-enemy. Not all the way. Could be they didn't have time to plan a decent ambush. Could be they didn't have enough people to reliably capture me. Time will tell.

So, that's Glacier Lake... I wonder how cold this river could be?

Vos, what's that sign say?

While Hoki searches around the walls, no doubt behaving like a giant chicken looking for scratch, Eiji begins to roll out his bedroll.

This seems like a nice place to bed down for the night. Wake me for my watch once you thinky types figure out who needs the most sleep.

D'oh!
That was totally my fault.
Blame it on posting too late and too much.
Unfortunately, now that it's morning, I can't find a way to delete my post, so we'll just have to ignore it.

• Vostok
  
• Bad Guy
  
• It's Ailmar's turn
  
• Hokkaido
  
• Catriona
  
• Eiji
  
• Copper
  

Eiji casually place the point of his spear on the staggered creature's skull and hops onto the boar spear's lugs like a pogo stick.
Magical, Sharp Pogo Stick: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
I learned this move from a shady wizard in the south. Called it the "Monkey Smasher," and claimed he perfected it while stranded on a deserted island.
Monkey Smasher Damage: 1d8 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 8 + 6 = 21

So, there Vos was, maybe 15 feet behind me, his nigh useless crossbow loaded and ready. I don't know what was going through his mind, but he must have thought he was channeling Old Deadeye himself to attempt to shoot through whatever narrow gap he saw between the magic ice stalagmite and the smooth, dance-like movements of my combat stance, while striking low enough to save my jewels and still hit the prone, still twitching undead abomination...

Impossible Shot With a No-Feat Having Wizard's Nonmagical Crossbow: 1d20 + 2 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 2 + 3 = 21
Creatures AC is currently 15 + 4 (prone) + 4 (cover) + 4 (penalty for shooting into melee = 27

So yeah, he missed. Last I saw, his crossbow bolt was sailing well over the collection of dead trees behind the shrine.

+1 Spear of Manhunting: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
While tangled in the effective, magical ice spear (definitely not from Vos) Eiji also skewers the abomination before him.
Damage: 1d8 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 8 + 6 = 19

That trip attempt with the spell will have to use the wand's casting stats: Caster Level 5, Casting Stat Modifier +1, +4 for the snowy field effect.

Vos, in true Vos style, carefully considered the being before him. Something about his obvious transformation from person to non-person just did not sit right in his over-trained, under-performing mind.
Knowledge (Religion) with 1 assumed rank: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
He knew what it was. He knew exactly what it was. He knew everything there was to know about it. He probably knew it's birth name, it's hometown, it's favorite color, and it's worst terror. In true Vos style, he did not bother to warn us; preferring to gauge its reaction to [Eiji].

Vos drew forth his crossbow, but he had to have known it was ineffective without a magical enchantment... not that he could have hit the darn thing anyway. Really, he was way more of a danger to us.

Initiative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Edit: Forgot to do the will save, which could have affected initiative (since it's an ability check)
Will Save: 1d20 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 20

Looks abandoned. We can shelter here for the night.
Maybe Desna can keep out marauding fey troll women.
Eiji promptly enters the temple.

Knowledge(History), untrained: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13
A Desnan temple, that's good, right?

She spins an accented tale about trolls and moss and missing fingers. Trolls are probably some sort of fey, and probably women too. Our ranger, being the foolish and noble type declares his instant love for her and we all set off to find her missing fingers. I think. Ailmar follows some tracks, as rangers are wont to do, and they lead to a cave. Not a particularly strange cave. A low cave roof, some craggy cave walls, and a flat cave floor.

It's decided that Hoki should lead the way, so, Ailmar promptly barged in first. The idiot screams something about not touching s***, inspiring musing on the presence of bats in these northern caves.

What followed was, as usual, confusion. A man covered in moss or, more rightly, mold lumbered toward us, wood axe in hand. Feeling very threatened by this lumbering, my colleagues began to rain death upon him. To which the moldman responded by raining mold on them. Then Vos had to go and try to magic again. That nice, flat cave floor I mentioned was suddenly no longer flat. The mold man was now in a twenty foot deep hole. Thanks Vos. I feel like you don't know how to kill something even if you wanted to. The casters all jabber about mold insulating our brains which gives me a bright idea: The Rock doesn't have a brain! He flies into the pit to remove the mold. It was a solid plan by all accounts, but the moldman didn't want to be sanitized and instead climbed out of Vos's ultimate magical trap. And don't ask me how, but the ranger shoots the mold off him. Unfortunately, Hoki has been well insulated by this time, I assume, because he stabs me.

The birdbrain gets tied up and knocked out for the trouble. That reminds me of another time when Vos got into trouble- but another story for another time.

All this effort, and we just end up taking the moldman back to the probably evil fey thing that lives in a cabin in the middle of the woods. He's probably going to be eaten or have his soul stolen, or made into a suit... but he gave me a magic bear trap! Also, Ailmar got lucky.

Before word of the untimely passing of Nadya's brother-in-law, may he have died before it could be our fault, we decided to flee the scene make haste to a larger locale, the better to disappear into a crowd progress the storyline further our efforts to free The Hut. Specifically, Nadya, woman of dubious character and shady connections that she is, believes she can contact some sort of summer resistance (no doubt someone else she knows will end up dead then). Our witch knows about them, so ask Cat.

As seems to be our plight in this frozen hell of a country, a random stranger waylaid us on the road asking for help. She was a gorgeous redhead and seemed absolutely out of place in the middle of the woods. She's a woman, so absolutely not trustworthy. Also, she’s absolutely some other kind of fey. This land is just evil women fighting evil fey with the lot of us caught in the middle. And snow.

I'm beginning to suspect that Nadya is not the innocent we first took her to be. Everywhere she goes those around her wind up dead. There's something not right about this woman. Even her "sister" is a bit weird. Not just "my husband was randomly murdered by a blue midget gnome and a particularly violent shrubbery" weird, but also a "I sleep with goatmen" kinda weird. Not judging. Just saying...

So now her goatson is helping on the farm - which has got to qualify as some sort of irony, right?

And we're okay with all this because he was tied up in a barn with another blue midget gnome. Hehe. Reminds me of when Vos got in trouble with- but that's a story for another time.

attack of opportunity: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
damage: 1d8 + 14 ⇒ (6) + 14 = 20
I believe my reflex save successful since I now possess an eight foot long crow-kabob.

I don't like the look of those crows... Copper, can you do your mini-dragon impression again, like you did atop the ice tower? Eiji asks aloud.

Might save Ailmar and me time hunting, and The Rock will only have to worry about side dishes he thinks to himself.

Survival (Tracking Orm): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Eiji quickly searches for the boy's tracks.
Ranger, take the east side. I'll search the west

Eiji has a journal? Who knew he was literate?

Eiji dictates, The Rock records.

The tower got really quiet then. Except the muffled cries of "help, help" coming from an adjacent room. Turned out to be Nadya, and while, previously, all the women that yelled "help" at us have wound up tied to a chair and used as a zombie speed bump, we have now lowered that average by half! Nadya blamed the tavern owner and his wife (another evil lady!) for ratting us out, and then there was an awkward exchange about how she found out the witches (not our witch) had killed her daughter and how we sorta knew and hadn't told her. Only, I didn't know. Keeping that kind of information from her would just be cold. Inhumane even. Possibly evil. Well, she's mostly just pissed at the witches now. When we got back to town, she kinda bullied everyone into being nice to us and dealing fairly with us. She told us all about what she had pieced together of the evil witches plans while she was under room-arrest in the stair-less ice tower. Now it seems everyone's ready to go kill more witches.

We took the teleporter down to the top indoor floor and found the Radi-guy... with a goat. A goat. Seriously. A goat. I can't stand to see an animal be abused in such a foul way, and everyone else unknowingly agreed with me. At least, I assume they did, cause Radi started mumbling Vos-style and we had at him. Hoki went first, that's his thing now, and charged in. I stepped up to put the goat out of his misery, and Vos tried to banish Radi to hell, but only managed to drop him about twenty feet into a non-hellish pit. Keep trying, brother, someday you'll get there. Unfortunately, the goat fell down too. Out of the frying pan and into the fire my hairy friend. Not sure what to do now, I fished a random bottle out of my backpack with the old third arm. I fumbled to bottle and sorta dropped it directly on Radi. Luckily it was a flask of alchemist’s fire. Unluckily it splashed Hoki and goaty. Well, live and burn. A flurry of arrows, crossbow bolts, and magic finished off the sad, singed couple.

There were a couple rooms up there. All those tiny blue folk must have been living on the roof too, 'cause we found their tiny house full of tiny loot. And in the other room, we found a weird love note from Radi-something who's apparently some sort of creep that was trying to get in the beds of all the evil ladies (to include our witch, which explains her sudden urge to leave). But since he thought anyone getting too lonely might want his teleporter unlocking key, he left it up here (for the blue lady, the tiny folk, or just the flock of birds, I don't know. Not sure he cared by Cat's description). This was a good development. I wasn't sure I had enough oil and alchemist fire to actually melt through the floor up here anyway.

Vos says the teleporter thing is locked and we can't just go up to the next floor. Why can't they build ice stairs in this frozen waste of space? Cat, that's our witch, says we can go up to the roof and work our way down from there. So we go to a different teleporter and it warps us up there. If we could have done this right off, maybe our gnome could have just melted this whole place from the top down. Anyway, back out in the open air, there's another blue lady, only this one looks normal, except for being blue, but I won't judge. She's got a thing for birds though, and that's just gross. There's a thousand of Hoki's bastards sitting on some wire walls up here. The new blue lady squawks at them, and they come charging at us in a big mass of talons and beaks. Hoki must have figured that they wouldn't attack their kin since he just waltzes into the cloud of feathery doom. While he's screaming about "oh gods, they're going for my eyes" and such, I figure the blue lady must be controlling them the same way that little fella was controlling that stag back on the other side of the world. I hit her really good, and while she's reeling from the shock of pointy spear death, the gnome does her best to fry anything and everything bird-like in a series of truly impressive gouts of flames. She's like a tiny, crazy dragon. On top of a tiny, hairy elephant. On top of an impossible ice tower that's full of evil ladies. And has no stairs.

Suddenly Hoki got his feathers in a fluff and decides he's best suited to face blocking all the things and storms off through a door to confront the next dire threat... which turns out to be a lady on a bed. She looks like that lady we rescued from the basement of those bandits who were maybe the forest sentinels gone bad. Anyway, she says she doesn't remember anything, and she can't be a black rider 'cause that old man died and then disappeared, so her whole story isn't holding up. The gnome was singing a song about how the lady isn't the lady, and she was right! The lady turned into some grey, wrinkly skinned monster lady. This was apparently the go signal, 'cause all the weapons started going. She was a bloody mess on the bed in seconds. First Nadya, then the blue dancing lady, then the lizard lady, now the grey not-lady... I'm starting to think we shouldn't trust ladies eyes the witch and gnome.

Which is why we won't be trying to sell my awesome, 90,000gp ring of "regeneration"

By Erastil's good eye! Don't tell me you're a black rider too?