As the party crowds around the words to read them as their eyes cross the last glyph it explodes in a torrent of ice and cold.
The blast of bone-chilling cold causes frost to form in Dawrbrün's beard and his skin to go nearly blue. He stands in the snow, shivering violently; his teeth chattering.
Later on the trail she kept quietly to herself, deep in thought about how with every step they were encountering deeper and stranger threats. She'd hoped the necromancer was the worst they'd have to face.
An explosion tearing her from her dark musings, the shock nearly knocking her from the carriage. "Dawrbrun!" she yelled, eyes wide, and rushed to his side. With a quick moment of focus she summoned her borrowed magic.
Barnaby just stands there with egg....errr...Frost on his face!
Frank winces at the explosion.
"Maybe Broulnindre should take the lead." Frank suggests from a safe distance.
She hauls herself out of the snowbank she dove into and dusts Dawrbrun off. Then she takes her mirror out of her pocket and checks to make sure she isnt too bad off. As she does so, the cold burns and ice lacerations start to patch themselves back up.
"Well will you look at that."
Alethea jumps back in alarm, drawing her weapon, but settles down once it becomes obvious none of them are in any further danger. She watches Lyudmila work, concerned for Dawrbrün but not wanting to get in the way.
You travel for another hour into the cold woods.
We hear the crunchy steps of pitter-patter in the snow.
They seem to be looking at tracks of a large animal in the snow.
Ant-icipation begins chattering nervously
Ant says, The common giant weasel made these tracks. Ravenous hunters giant weasels must consume nearly half their body weight in food every day. The bite of a giant weasel leaves a ragged wound which bleeds profusely.
Barnaby winks.
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"Th.th..thank you, m..m'de..dear," Dawrbrün stutters to Lyudmilla, as her healing magic suffuses his body with warmth. "I think I can thaw myself out the rest of the way." He hums the opening tune of Let Me Stand Next To Your Fire, a rousing tavern tune often sung on cold or rainy evenings.
"Do you think it's the same weasel that killed the hunter we found?"
Frank checks that his crossbow is loaded and ready, just in case.
"Hopefully it isn't hungry."
A cold wind blows through the valley, bringing a spray of sleet and broken ice. The sky ahead roils with thick, gray clouds and the sun is only a dim glow somewhere in the mist.
The source of the crunching snow shows itself with a squeaking hiss. A weasel about the size of a grizzly bear stalks closer. Its fur is completely white except for the tip of its tail, which is dark black. Blotches of dried blood coat one of its leg which it doesn't favor as it pads towards you aggressively.
Barnaby and Anticipation both look up at the appearance of the owner of the very tracks the two were studying earlier. They both sigh.
The Hunter and his Ant decide to get into a more advantageous position!
They both stride through the snowy terrain to hide behind an overturned cart?
Dawrbrün draws his axe and moves towards the front of the group, ready to fight the voracious varmint.
Lyudmilla turns her chilled face to the source of the crunching snow, her breath catching in her throat. Gloved hands fumble for her crossbow. She begins backing up slowly, right into her Ulfen-blooded ally but continues until she stood firmly and safely behind Hekla.
"I-It's here!" she managed to hiss.
Hekla is fortuned, but can't react quickly enough to use it!
Baranaby finds cover while Dawrbrun bravely faces the weasel head on. Lyndumilla hexes Hekla to no apparent effect and everyone else barely catches on to what's going on.
The weasel sees its chance and takes it scurrying across the snow bearing its teeth in a threatening hiss.
Dawrbrün begins humming in a deep bass, then begins to chant rhythmically in Dwarvish. He slaps the flat of his axe blade against this shield in time with the chant.
Lyudmilla directs probability in Dawrbrün's favor finding the rhythm in her Dwarf friend's chant. Pushing down her own fear, she adds her recipe list for chilly roasted weasel on beat with his war words.
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Alethea steps past Frank, probing the weasel's defenses with her sword.
"Stand behind me!" she shouts, stepping back into a defensive stance. "I'll hold the beast's attention."
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Hekla trudges over the snow up to the weasel, letting Dawrbrun's song drive her. How dangerous could an overgrown rat be? She would finish this quickly. Hefting her axe, she swings away!
Barnaby, having sized up the situation from an advantageous position, begins trudging through the snowy terrain!
Ant-icipation follows along.
The Hunter--swiftly--alters their Vermin Focus.
Hekla swings her axe and it connects with the beast in a meaty thunk. Red blood pours out of the wound and the weasel screams in pain and rage. Now in a fight for its life the weasel lashes out at Hekla.
The beast scrapes against her breastplate and finds no purchase against her flesh.
Barnaby commands Ant to come aid his endeavors against the giant weasel!
The Hunter then decides to chop away at the rapid animal!
Frowning a bit at the tiny cut that he inflicted, the Hunter--swiftly--alters both of their Vermin Focuseseses.
Hekla tries to finish off the beast!
Alethea steps to pin the weasel between her and Barnaby, trying in vain once again to actually hurt it.
Dawrbrün draws inspiration from his own chant, and swings his axe at the ferocious ferret.
Between Barnaby's machete and Dawrbrun's axe the weasel succumbs to its accumulated wounds and collapses. Weasel blood darkens the snow under it's body.
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Lyudmilla spreads her luck magic thin to cover Alethea next. Thankful for Dawrbrün's sense of rhythm, she was able to fill the roadway with the sound of precise recipes, all on beat.
But just as she'd released her witchcraft, the fight was over.
Relieved but a little hangry, she ran over and started investigating the beast. "Anyone hurt? If we've time, I'd like to get a piece or two... "
Barnaby and Ant just look at the ruin corpse of the weasel.
I thought it would be bigger.
Ant chitters in agreement.
"I... good job guys. Saves me a bolt." Franky explains as he stops trying to a past Alathea.
"I should just call Broulnindre again..." he explains with a sigh.
After a minute long ritual, Broulnindre appears. Not very frozen, anymore, but quite bruised.
Frank pricks his finger and casts a spell...
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Broulnindre quickly goes from almost incensate to smiling up at Frank as her injuries all fade away.
Frank looks away without saying anything.
Suddenly very perky, Broulnindre sidles up to Lyudmila, everyone's favorite chef.
"Hyu need cut?" she asks, rubbing one claw against another like a butcher sharpening a cleaver.
Dawrbrün examines the carcass and considers how best to skin it for the purposes of saving the pelt.
Hekla smiles proudly as she looks over the carcass. "Well struck, lads! She'll mike a fine few pairs of boots. Count me in for the jerky!"
The chef poked the creature up and down, wondering if it was inherently magical or just dire-sized when Broulnindre approached her.
"Oh perfect! This beastie might actually be a bit too thick for my skinner. I'd be grateful for your expertise!"
Lyudmilla motioned to Dawrbrün, "And yours as vell, Master Dwarf. I'm a little gówno with field dressing, to be honest. Especially if some of us are expecting boots..." finishing with a smirk at Hekla.
Broulnindre smiles wide, showing off her wide array of sharp teeth, and then gets to work cutting at skin and sinews.
As she continues to butcher the overgrown weasel, it seems more and more like her skill isn't as great as her enthusiasm...
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Sadly Broulnindre ruins the pelt with her enthusiasm before Dawrbrun can proceed with a more careful knife. Hekla's dream of weasel boots are dashed yet again. At least Lyndumilla is able to salvage a fair amount of meat.
Barnaby and Anticipation watch mournfully as they butchered the giant weasel.
They both say a prayer to Erastil.
We want to camp prior to investigating the portal?
"Yes," Dawrbrün replies. "I think we could all do with a warm fire and some rest."
Dawrbrün sets himself to clearing an area for the party's tents and a fire pit. He then sets up his tent, stows his gear, then proceeds to collect dry wood from wherever he can scrounge it.
"I'll get the tents set up."
The next morning you continue on your way towards the center of the Boarder Woods. The snow grows deeper and deeper until starts to come up to your waist. The snowfall is so thick you can barely see in front of your face. Heavy ice burdens the trees to either side, bowing the branches until they touch the ground.
Ahead you can make out the vague shapes of four igloos in the snow.
The next morning, Barnaby and Ant-icipation wake at dawn. The Hunter immediately re-casts Endure Elements on both of them, before prepping breakfast.
Drudging through the deep snow, blinking the constant swirling snow flakes from slitted eyes, and being bombarded by a bullying wind, both gnome and giant ant seem a bit relieved once the shadowy outlines of the igloos come into focus.
May be that we could ask for shelter?
Hekla narrows her eyes and checks her grip on her axe. "My tent was shelter enough. I can't imagine anyone who knows how to make those here is up to any good."
"Still, should we call out to whoever may be out there?"