Tiferet Odinsdottir's page

Being frank and upfront with how things stand is always laudable in my book. It's been a while that posting frequency has been slowly yet inexorably waning, and not just on your part. While it lasted, this has been one of the deepest and most interesting gaming experiences I've had here, and for this, I'm thankful to you and everybody else as well.

So whatever you decide, worry not, and know that this has been a very enjoyable experience for me. Good job and thank for all the fun!

Tiferet heaves a sigh of relief as the guards appear to buy Eve's story. Luckily, her hood and furs do an excellent job at concealing it as she moves closer to the cart.

Now what? she thinks.

Tiferet looks at the guards for the briefest of moments, and quickly averts her gaze, keeping herself aloof. As uncharacteristic as such a low profile was for the usually stormy Ulfen warrioress, she can't help but notice that without her elven-blooded companions' natural nimbleness, or Nathara's defensive magic, the only thing standing between the soldiers' steel and her skin are a thin layer of furs, and Eve's words.

The former I don't put much faith into. Though the latter have always proved an abundantly robust barrier.

Sorry to see you go... but as you put it, it's the rational decision. Inire has been a one of the most complex and fully-fleshed character I have ever had the chance to play with, and as much as my wish of getting a peek of her journal will remain unfulfilled, still the fact remains all your posts have been a pleasure to read from start to finish!

Once again, best of luck with your new job!

Besides the wagon, an unarmed farmer wrapped in fur walks circumspectly though the gate and under the icy vaults, nervously fidgeting with her cane.

Once she's reached the courtyard, she casts a nervous glance around her and up the battlements. First the crows, now this. I don't like it. If a fight breaks out – no, it won't even be a fight for them. Just target practice.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

She did ;)

Tiferet holds the cane in both hands, weighing it with the utmost care. She notices the marks etched on its surface, but doesn't know what to make of them.

A graceful weapon she thinks, silently nodding in appreciation at the dauntingly alluring Varisian standing in front of her. [i... for a graceful woman[/i] she can't help but conclude.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Later, on the road, she strives to keep the unassuming gait of a simple Ulfen farmer, clad as she is in furs concealing her figure, pretending to lean on Eve's cane for support. She's pondering the implications of Nadya's reveal – the way out is going to be bloody, that's for sure – when she hears the Varisian's warning. She tries to get a glimpse of whatever Eve saw, but to no avail. Still, she instinctively goes for her axe, only for her and to grasp air in stead – a swift curse escapes from her lips as she clenches her grip on the cane.

I'm just going to handwave the purchase of the raw materials, perhaps Nadya could have done it?

Tiferet has spent most of the previous afternoon deep in parchments and quills, only raising her eyes from time to time to mutter some arcane word or weave an intricate gesture into the air. Without armour or weapons on her person, her linen-clad figure offers a stark contrast to her usual warlike self, looking more like a mousy librarian lost in her work than a battle-forged mercenary as she moves aside the occasional silver lock that threatens to fall over her eyes.

Her work continues deep into the night, so she's among the last to wake up – the luxury of enjoying an uninterrupted night's sleep in a safe place for the first time after they've left Heldren playing no small part in it, and even outweighing her usual preference for resting under the open sky. As they prepare to leave, she quickly realizes there would be no way to conceal her armour, even under the heavy furs Nadya gave her – with her heavy axe being an even longer shot.

"This is going to feel weird – walking towards an enemy stronghold unarmed. My weapons and armour have long been some sort of second skin to me. I... kind of feel naked" she sighs. "There's really no other way, though. If I fight breaks out, I'll support you with spells – and try not to be too much of a hindrance."

Accounted for and ready. I'll deduct 50 gps from the stash and add 4 CLW scroll to the inventory.

Tiferet nods heartily at Morgraine's powerful vow. Oaths are not spoken lightly in the North, but she knows every word has been uttered with meaning and purpose.

"Your rightful revenge will never be taken away from you" says she says still whetting her blade. "Nor will your children. This I swear, as long as I draw breath."

"Then we have a plan... or at least an opening move. But we're good at improvising" says Tiferet with a grin, as she starts honing her axe.

I'm ready to move on when everybody else is... Tiferet can scribe 4 scrolls per day at 50 gp total cost. Just tell me how many you'd like to have...

"Whatever spares us the trouble of storming the battlements, is good in my book" Tiferet says after looking lost in thought for quite a while. "But once we're inside, it's going to be bloody. We might be able to talk our way in, but we'll have to fight our way out."

Since we weren't able to get our hands on a Wand of CLW, Tiferet can use her Scribe Scroll feat to get a bit of extra resiliency. It takes 2 hours per scroll, so we might have to postpone our assault until tomorrow, but it still beats having to retreat because we've run out of healing...

Congrats for the new job!

For what is worth, I actually think it is a very promising lead... If we're planning on mounting something resembling a revolution against Elvanna, getting the shards would take a very powerful ally away from the witches. They might even be a powerful bargaining tool to remind the fey their original pact was with Baba Yaga, and not Elvanna.

I'd be a little bit more cautious about immediately handing them back the fey and tell them "here are your shards! Now you're no longer compelled to do evil on the Witches' behalf and are finally free to do everything you want!". Because we might find out the former and the latter could very well be one and the same thing (individual cases – like Vosi's – to be judged individually, of course ;) ).

The way I understood it is that a fey would willingly let his heart be pierced to become winter-touched. The Witch who did the act would then keep the shard as some sort of collateral.

I mean, even if one's contract of employment was stolen, that wouldn't automatically prevent him from going to his job every day if he enjoyed it (or its benefits, for that matter). If he didn't, though, it would surely make handing his resignation easier. Though your average Irriseni fey is a NE mischievous little thing – some might have had a change of heart after their transformation, but I suspect that would be a conspicuously tiny minority... (even Vosi switched sides more due to fear of punishment for his perceived failure than anything else, I reckon)

I have to admit I'm a bit lost about this shard thing... Didn't Vosi mention that the deal with them was that if a shard were shattered, the fey whose heart it pierced would die?

Why getting them back would free the fey from the Witch's control?

Get the bonus, and here's an additional +2 for a +6 total ;)

Diplomacy (aid another): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

"Please, Hutch" says Tiferet in an uncharacteristically feeble voice. "Talk to us. For the laughter that used to brighten this house and is now no more, for every small child in Irrisen whose life hinges on the cruel whims of some Witch. Help us take down the accursed Nazhena."

Same here, mostly. I still feel Tiferet is having a hard time coming to grips with Thora's death, so she's in a bit of a gruff and taciturn mood. Also, I'm in the process of switching PCs so I've been forced to post from mobile in the last few days, making me less active than I would have wished.

Will have a post up tomorrow helping Eve with asking the house-keeping fey for assistance!

"I can try" says Tiferet as she subtly hums, then intones a faint lullaby, a soft, sporadic banging providing the accompanying tempo.

Perform (percussions, aid herself): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10
Perform (sing): 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 9 + 2 = 29

Though her distress makes her pounding nervous and unsteady at first, her song quickly picks up rhythm. It speaks of a girl lost in the woods, of an evil witch, and it ends with a plea for help.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Nathara's touch seems to abruptly wake Tiferet from her torpor. A subtle nod indicates the dusky blademistress' carefully worded innuendo is not lost on her, yet even as her warrior instincts kick in, she can't help but feel a sense of gloom at the notion of the young mother possibly having led them into a trap.

It is with a sense of relief, then, that she listens to Nathara's findings. A housekeeping fey. That would also explain Vosi's warning, as some fey are known to sense each other's presence.

What kind of creture would that be?
Knowledge (local? nature? religion?): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 +2 if arcana, +4 if planes

The voices of her companions breaking down the horrible truth of Thora's death is but a distant buzz in Tiferet's ears. She had hoped this moment could come as late as possible, but she was wrong. And now she realizes it was as much cowardice as it was piety which stayed her tongue.

She averts her gaze, unable to look the twins in the eyes in the moment of their realization. Even after they've entered the house, she stays conspicuously silent for a while.

"Flatterer" Tiferet says, her eyes twinkling with mirth just as a quick laughter escapes her lips. "Quite a lady-killer in the making you've got here, Nadya." Her smile dies as soon as Thora is mentioned, however. The moment is over she dejectedly realizes as she follows the trio inside.

And yet, even as the last, bittersweet aftertaste of the joyful family reunion she's just witnessed lingers at the edge of the soul, she manages to catch a glimpse of Nathara trying to get her attention. A warning she thinks, her left hand unconsciously looking for her axe. As much as she doesn't want to believe Nadya's leading them into danger, she knows better than to double-guess an explicit signal from her sister.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Tiferet tries to push her dark thoughts away and enjoy this brief sliver of warmth they've found in this cold, harsh land. One day they'll have to learn their sister is dead – one day, but not today. For now, let mother and children take solace in each other's embrace.

"Why, hello young men!" she says, tousling their hair.

As she walks the short distance separating Waldsby's square from Nadya's home, a sense of gloom clouds Tiferet's mood – the feeling of being about to enter a dusty, deserted house, its owner long absent, the mirth of childish laughter replaced by a heavy, eerie silence.

Much to her delight, those expectations are quickly shattered as soon as they step in. Thora had brothers. Twins, by the look of it. She can't help but smile warmly at the sight of the two boys running to meet their mother, keeping in the background to allow Nadya to fully savour this moment.

The smile is short-lives, however, as another, darker thought enters her mind. She's already lost one child. If word of her helping us reaches the Witch's ear...

"Discreet, inconspicuous and not too eager to volunteer information we weren't explicitly asked for" Tiferet says having thoughtfully pondered Morgraine and Inire's advice. "And a half truth is always better than a full lie. Got it" When she stepped through the Portal, she did so ready to face a full-fledged contingent of trolls and guards – even the Witch herself. But this – this climate of deceit and mistrust everyone, from the Jadwigas to the humblest peasant, seem to be part of – this somehow manages to be even worse: more frustrating and probably quite as deadly. There's a far reaching shadow looming over Irrisen, colder than Winter itself. And now it threatens to grab the whole world in its clutches.

"Nadya has graciously offered her residence if we want to have a conversation far from prying eyes" she then chimes in, elaborating on Nathara and Eirikr's remarks. "Might be a good place where to decide on our next step without attracting unsolicited attention."

"Thank you, Nadya" Tiferet says heartily. "It means a lot to us... all that you're doing for us here. You're a guide in more ways than one."

She tersely answers Mierul's nod as the Forlaren takes her leave from the party. Despite her own suspicions, she can't help but feel slightly surprised when Vosi voices his own concern about the fey-touched bard... and Morgraine claims to have already seen through her tricks. "For her to mention the possibility of the Black Rider passing by so close to where he was actually ambushed – no picked up rumour could have told her that. You think she was lying about everything else, too?" she asks Morgraine, a hint of incredulity in her voice. To Tiferet's ear, Mierul's words were pouring out of her lips like honey – good thing there was someone among them shrewd enough not to be fooled by charming manners and a musical voice.

Re:Alchemist's Fire, this list tries to keep track of the party's possessions, so as long as we have 5 in total, we shouldn't be too concerned about how many vials each one of us individually has (except in combat, of course).

Dunno about magic items, but ABP probably puts a spanner or two in how the normal magic items / level progression is supposed to work. For instance, if someone buys a spell storing longsword, she wouldn't be able to confer it a +1 attunement bonus next level.

Tiferet only nods silently, almost deferent to the unbent strength of spirit this woman is showing. Whereas a lesser spirit would have been broken by the news, this woman has chosen to stand by their side. It seems they might have gained an ally, yet even then at the direst of costs.

"I meant what I said – no matter what comes, my blade is yours."

Nathara surely knows. As for the others, I haven't used the word 'Aasimar' explicitly I believe, but she made no mystery of having 'Celestial Blood' and she told Eirikr this gave her her 'shapeshifting powers' (i.e. Alter Self 1/day). She also seemed comfortable wearing very little while the group was venturing into the snow-covered Borderwood (a nod to her Northern ancestry as well as her trait-bolstered cold resistance). So her situation is similar to Eirikr's I reckon, who never used the word Skinwalker but everybody knows has an affinity with wolves and can turn into something resembling a werewolf...

"They both look real enough to me" Tiferet whispers back. "And Heldren has always been there, as far as I know. Perhaps we're getting causality backwards..." she adds cryptically, almost to herself.

As Inire goes reconnoitring ahead, she waits with the caravan. Pharasma instead of Erastil. Seems fitting she muses as the nimble half-elf reports her findings. Unlike Inire, the Lady of the Graves has never really spoken to Tiferet. As a Skald, she has always seen life as a story to be told, as a riddle to be unravelled, as a battle to be fought. The inevitability of the cycle of birth and death was the frame lingering at the very edge of it, a lens through which everything seems distant and meaningless – and an unsubtle reminder that in the end, every story ends the same. A cruel form of cosmic justice, if it weren't for the fact that some are over before they can even begin she gloomily considers, thinking of Thora. This time, it's not rage that threatens to overwhelm her – only a vast, profound sense of sadness.

She looks around, looking for Nadya. There are no words kind enough to approach a mother who has just lost her child, so she just opts for the oldest and tritest in the book. "How are you today?" she gently asks of the Ulfen woman, in her eye an implicit offer for any kind of help.

Is Mierul still accompanying us?

Tiferet tries some of the leftover mantis before the caravan departs – she has to admit it tastes far better than she thought (low expectations being often the stuff pleasant surprises are made of, after all), though it tastes even better if she doesn't think too hard about its source. She wishes she could share Inire's innate curiosity for everything that surrounds her, seeing the world as a book waiting to be browsed rather than a cause to fight for or against, as the occasion comes.

She walks besides the sleighs trying her best to keep up with their brisk pace, but she finds the chilly morning air invigorating as she inhales it as deeply as she can. Few things she would like more than to feel its caress on her bare skin, yet, to her growing impatience, the heavy furs she's wearing form a cocoon that feels more and more like a prison. Still, no matter how much she'd like to parade through Irrisen in her breastplate and double-slit linen gown, the closer they get to the village the more she comes to grip with the notion that the secrecy of their mission is worth a little silent suffering.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Entering Waldsby, she's quick to offer her help unloading the goods, when Morgraine's interrogative draws her attention towards Inire perplexed look. Eirikr's remark, however, catches her completely by surprise – and yet, a careful examination of the surrounding square is enough to realize how right he is. For an instant, an absurd thought enters her mind. It's like we never crossed the Portal, but simply traced our way back to Heldren – only to find it already engulfed in the icy bubble.

Like Nathara, Tiferet has chosen a secluded spot rather distant from the campfire to perform her devotions and immerse in meditation. There might be safety in numbers, but also the lack of intimacy she had come to enjoy when it was just the six of them in camp – that kind of intimacy only having trusted another person with one's own life can give. So, as the heated water from the bowls slowly evaporates and the storm rages all around her, there she stands, hands raised, kneeling in snow, offering prayers that hadn't been whispered in Irrisen since time immemorial.

Her first night in the land of her ancestors. She has longed the whole day for this moment. She had hoped the North would reawaken her connection to her core, but she hadn't taken into account that this land hadn't belonged to the Ulfen for a long time. This was the Witches' land, and even though she feels Tolc's influence growing stronger, so was Baba Yaga's. Which means her soul is still a battlefield.

***********************************************************************

"Naming the Rider might have been a coincidence... but getting the time and place right?" Tiferet whispers back in Elven. "I do second the sentiment about her singing, though. She could teach me a thing or two." Beautiful art can only stem from a beautiful soul, I heard someone say. Would that it were so simple.

/\
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Before Eve's question or after it has been dealt with – whatever you think works better :)

"The Elvannas wouldn't make such claims light-heartedly, not with the time of their judgement otherwise being so close at hand" Tiferet says, staring right into the fire. "Strange times are coming upon Irrisen, but if the balance of power has shifted, better to be on the winning side, right? You rumour seems to claim the Black Rider is still on the run. I'm sure there's coins to be made by helping in the capture of such a powerful creature."

She pokes the fire, stirring the embers. Sparks suddenly erupt, pirouetting against the black of night, and the Skald falls silent for some brief moments, following their dance. "They say a wandering eye sees more things than one fixed in place. Should we stumble into him, on the off-chance we survive the encounter, do you think someone would be interested in knowing?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

Good point.

I'll wait for Faceless to chime in and suggest the more appropriate roll (I'm also leaning toward Diplo).

I too am wary of pushing our luck, but I like the idea... and it seems like a reasonable response for 'we travelers' to have, given the bard was the one to bring the topic up. Knowing the name of at least one party loyal to Elvanna would be beneficial.

Eve would be our best bet if it comes down to a bluff check, but she has also been silent thus far. Not that this necessarily matters. If it is being done 'for coin' it might be best if it isn't brought up by Morgraine, who being Jadwiga should be at least comfortable financially already (or so I would assume). I am also fine with aid another, on whomever broaches the offer.

Exactly. This why I was asking if it required a Bluff check: if she bought our 'just travellers' act, such an answer would be quite natural and shouldn't arouse too much suspicion.

Morgraine has played the part of the aloof noblewoman perfectly, and I agree it would be out of character for her to be scrounging money (but perhaps she wants to curry favour with the Elvannas, whose power's expiry date seems to have now been prolonged indefinitely?). I wrote my suggestion from Tiferet's 'mercenary' perspective :)

@Eve: if you want, you could ask the Forlarren who you could relate any information you might happen to stumble upon to... As a merchant, it would be just business to you, and if the Jadwigas are still looking for the Black Rider, they'd figure expanding their information network wouldn't hurt them. You might sugar the pill by offering to drop her name to whomever we would supposedly end up talking to, so as to make it look like she was the one to recruit us.

I'd like to probe whether she'd be interested in information regarding the Black Rider whereabouts should we catch glimpse of him, or better yet ask her who we could relay such information to if we find ourselves unable to track her down (this in order to push her to give her contact away).

Would this require an additional, separate Bluff check? I'm loath to push our luck, but playing the part of clueless wayfarers who would gladly earn some coins might just work, considering how well we set up the act. What do you guys think? Perhaps piling up 'aid another' actions? Or simply leaving it to Eve, who's surely better than Tiferet at such things?

"Aye. Indeed, such events are so far beyond the reach and scope of the likes of us, the less time we spend pondering them, the wiser. Safer, too" Tiferet says gruffly. "Regardless, thanks for the warning. We'll be sure to be on the lookout for Riders, be they black or otherwise."

Illarion claimed he was ambushed near the Portal. Elvanna's agents must have been on his tracks. For this Forlarren to be so well-informed about his whereabouts...

Bluff: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Bluff (aid another): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

"What? Impossible! Golarion has its seasons, and Irrisen has its century-long reigns. For Baba Yaga not to make her return... that would be something unheard of in thousands of years... "

That's my bad, really, for conciseness' sake I omitted some details contained in the spoiler. A Forlarren's mother is a nymph, and she usually dies giving birth. They tend to be inherently evil, but are also prone to show remorse or outright shock after indulging in their demonic tendencies. Since Tiferet has Message currently cast on Inire, Eirikr and Nathara, assume Tiferet either told you spontaneously or answered any question you see fit to ask her on these topics.

EDIT: and now I feel bad for not having made a more memorable post #2000 :(

Perform (sing): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Perform (percussions): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

As the forlarren's song wanes, Tiferet picks up the melody and starts weaving it into another of her own, softly banging on her drums as she first hums, and then outright sings the lyrics of a tune similar to Mierul's own.

Brave the snow
Through the pillars of the pale
Rest your feet
Come and listen to the tales

So raise your mug to the legends of the frost
Through our songs they will never be lost.

"Welcome to our campfire. The Lady Morgraine is always keen on extending her hospitality to those capable of amusing her musical ear. My clients and I have similarly benefited of her generosity" she says, pointing at Eve and Inire.

Bluff (aid another on Eirikr's previous one?): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Tiferet and Eirikr can start a musical bodyguard business ;)

Good! Then, in the time the forlarren approaches Tiferet takes a cue from Eirikr and grabs herself some furs and a pair of more appropriate shoes.

EDIT: let's say message was cast on Nathara, and then Eirik and Inire as some sort of unconditioned reflex ;)

Perform (percussions, aid another): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Perform (sing): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Still wrapped in her furs, Tiferet starts banging on her drums and accompanying Eirikr's flute with a melancholic, sorrowful song.

Two natural 20s. If that were the Witch, Part 1 of the AP would have already been over (also, I'm going to let the wilier characters do the talking for this one).

Tiferet says nothing as Nathara and Eirikr move to greet the unexpected guest. Instead, she simply sits honing her axe, a grim look on her face as she keeps herself close to the Varisian merchant and her half-elf companion she is supposedly well paid to protect.

Would there have been time to grab some furs?

The sudden commotion foreshadowing the stranger's arrival seems to wake Tiferet from her torpor. Her eyes scan the darkness, trying to discern what kind of strange creature this blue-skinned, hoofed person might be.

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

A creature tainted by darkness she instinctively thinks as her blood tingles. A quick glance at Nathara is enough for her to immediately banish the thought, though.

"A Forlarren, if my memory does not betray me. Half fey, half fiend. The traits of both, yet accepted by neither, usually" she whispers into the tiefling's ear as she moves to greet the unexpected guest. This isn't their campfire to welcome people to, but then again, neither is Nadya in the condition to take such duty upon herself. It appears it will be up to them to do the honours.

Tiferet makes no move, speaks no word as the the events around her unfold. She's still kneeling in the snow when Morgraine and Eve offer their condolences – her grief but a pale echo of the mourning mother's, yet very real nonetheless.

Rationally, she knows Inire's reasoning is flawless; indeed, it very closely resembles her own rationale, when such a thing used to have meaning to her, at least. Her soul was just the catalyst fuelling the construct, nothing more. We didn't destroy her, only her prison. Yet those word's truth does not give them the substance she wishes they had. Only the rage she felt after the battle against the battle did, and here, naked in front of the Ulfen woman's sorrow, that rage has all but evaporated. She has heard tales of warriors who were forced to deliver a merciful death to their friends and companions, once their pain had become too great, and the chance of saving their lives too thin. She wonders if those warriors of old had felt like she does now after the deed; for delivering an innocent soul to the afterlife is a terrible, heart-wrenching thing, no matter how dire the circumstance, or how implored the act.

Still, Nadya seems to give us no blame she thinks; and that silences at least one of the two voices accusing her in her head. The other one still calls for what she has already offered out loud: to become an instrument of a mother's vengeance. A life for a life. If not me, then the Witch. She tries to once again turn her pain into anger, to summon back that rage that overtook her at the cabin. Finally, it answers her call. She stands up. The Witch dies.

Soon. But not now. There is a time and place for everything, and now, as evening falls upon a dark valley lost in the middle of eternal winter, it is the time for grieving.

"I was the one who delivered the construct the last blow. And I was the one who destroyed the gem holding her soul prisoner" says Tiferet trying to keep her voice as steady as she can – and doing a very poor job of it. She falls to her knees right in front of the grieving Ulfen woman, bowing her head down, leaving her neck exposed. "You won't be denied your weregild. I am your thrall – ask and I shall see it done. A life for a life."

Her silvery hair falls down on her face, concealing her expression and muffling her words. "For what little comfort it could bring you" she whispers, "her spirit asked us to tell you she's in a better place now, right before... right before she disappeared."

Tiferet helps setting up camp to the best of her abilities, eagerly taking the more strenuous tasks upon herself – part due to her imperviousness to the harsh climate, yet mostly because exhausting herself through physical work has always been her preferred method of avoiding having to linger on unpleasant thoughts. Outside of losing herself in the fury of battle, that is.

Yet, such thoughts have other, more subtle yet devastating ways to re-emerge – ways beyond her control. Five little words from Eirikr, overheard over the crackling of the fire, have the power to stop her dead in her tracks, every muscle in her body suddenly clenching.

Darn! That was the plan we should have thought of from the beginning! :)

I don't think Morgraine's really laying blame upon anyone, but if she does, then it should be Tiferet bearing its burden ;) I still sort of stand by her action – in my mind, that cover was more meant against hasty scrutiny by Irriseni officials than prolonged interactions with apparently friendly NPCs. We took a risk, but if she means well, it might very well pay off if we get some tips on how to better pass for locals in return. Also, prolonged charades can become very bothersome after a while, especially if already started with the wrong foot (IMHO :) )

@Morgraine: this is the curse of being the only character with 18 WIS among a party who, as a general rule, dumped it... lots of eye-rolling ;)

"It's... heart-warming to discover the seeds of Ulfen spirit are still alive despite centuries of tyranny" says Tiferet to Inire and Nathara as they march toward the promised shelter. "Dormant, perhaps, slumbering in the cold, hard soil, waiting for a single ray of light to pierce the clouds and thaw the frozen ground. It gives me hope."

Still, the thought of the girl's tragic fate haunts her mind. She wonders if their coming will prove to be the ray of light, or the late frost killing the bud before it blossoms.

EDIT: oops. Edited it away.

"This is not your battle" Tiferet replies, sensing the woman's hesitation. "Be assured, we understand full well if you don't want to be associated with intruders or implicated in activities against the Jadwigas..."

She pauses, afraid of the turn the conversation is taking – and then she casts a side-glance at Inire.

Don't worry - I sympathize with your feeling, I get ninja'd all the time. Truth be told, if you didn't mention it I wouldn't have even realized that; I subconsciously read it as a natural elaboration on Tiferet's words ;)