Asta's eyes grew wide with the promised reward. That was more money than she had ever seen in her life. "I will find this woman and return her to you." She turns to the rest of her companions. "I think we should speak with this bodyguard."
Looking over the map spread out over the table as he thinks through who may be able to provide them with the best information for finding this noblewoman, Torval makes his decision as it seems that most of the rest of the group have come forward to a consensus "Yes the bodyguard, I agree, his first hand accounting of the situation will likely be the most helpful for us. Perhaps if his description is accurate enough, we may be able to ascertain what type of fey these 'winter touched' creatures are to prepare accordingly before we leave"
Raising an eyebrow at Cal, Harsk sighs, "Well, its just around the corner from the tavern we were just at. The bar tender told us so...
Ionnia Teppen nods at you each. "Good fortune to you, then - may Erastil guide you in protecting our community." She gestures towards the door, and you make your way out, across the town square, and file into the small apothecary.
A willowy elf woman with pale hair and large blue eyes comes out from a back room, blinking at the sight of so many strangers entering her shop. "Welcome to Willowbark Apothecary, sirs and madams. Is there something I can help you with today?"
Yes. We are here to see a Mister Yuln...we are going look for the Lady Argentea and he might beable to help us.
"Oh, of course. Perhaps with so many of you, I'll just open the door and one of you can come closer. The others should stay out here to not crowd him so much."
The elf pushes open the door to the back room, and you see a man that would normally be a hale and hearty Ulfen shivering under blankets, and obviously suffering the effects of extreme cold.
In a shaky voice, he speaks so that you can all hear, "So, you want to find the lady? Would that I could go with you. My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Argentea away. What would you know from me?"
"What did they look like, friend?" the gruff dwarf asks with a simple quirk of the mouth. "And where was this?"
Yuln coughs, then says, "We thought there were just bandits at first—outlaws who hide like wolves in the forest. They were no match for us. But then came the cold fey of the north. They appeared among us and the battle turned quickly. My people speak of the winter-touched all the time, but I never expected to meet them this far south."
He shudders a bit, though whether from cold or memory it's hard to say "I don't know much of them more than the tales - fey creatures who have sworn themselves to the White Witches of Irrisen, those who stole our lands from us during the Winter War. Tiny sprites no taller than the length of a man’s forearm. But don’t be fooled by their small stature. Legends say they have taken a sliver of ice into their hearts, and their touch bears the harsh bite of winter."
Asta furrows her brow. This man was extremely frostbitten. He'd be lucky to keep the nose.
"What did these creatures want with your lady?"
He is severely frostbitten... How can the winter be that cold?
She was now sure that it couldn't be natural. Feys, winter-touch, White Witches... Her mother had told her some stories about them, about the Winter War. What were they doing in southern Taldor? Why were they attacking a caravan? What was their aim?...
"Where were you attacked?"
Can't I do anything to take his pain away?... the druid thought, afflicted by the severe wounds of the man.
"Cold iron is likely the metal you are thinking of Miss Calynse. It is known for it's effectiveness against many fey creatures and certain creatures of the lower planes, demons I believe" Torval answers from his position standing back behind the others. Looking over their shoulders as Linge moves into the room, he watches as she checks over him and starts assessing the wounds that the Ulfen man has suffered.
Kristophe stays in the back.. the lady did say one at a time.
"Aye, you need cold-forged iron to get the best of these beasts. If you are going after them, maybe one of you needs my sword there," he nods towards a wall, where Linge can see a longsword propped up. "I'd like it back, of course, but if you're just using it for now, then take it."
He looks back to Linge, "As to where, it was on the road south of here, on the way back to Zimar, right where the road touches the edge of the forest. They took the Lady back into the ice and snow of the forest. I followed as far as I could, but the winter-touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped, and rode to seek help here.”
"Cold iron is likely the metal you are thinking of Miss Calynse. It is known for it's effectiveness against many fey creatures and certain creatures of the lower planes, demons I believe" Torval answers from his position standing back behind the others. Looking over their shoulders as Linge moves into the room, he watches as she checks over him and starts assessing the wounds that the Ulfen man has suffered.
"Its a good thing you know so much...If we hadn't known this, we would be in much greater danger. Whoever can wield a sword best, please take it. Harsk seems to have let his cold shoulder slip for a few moments, and is quite impressed despite himself "Sir, we shall honor your weapon, and I vow that it shall be returned to you if at all possible."
Asta frowns. Her question had been drowned out by her companions, but it was nothing she wasn't used to.
"I can swing a sword, but it's smaller than I'd prefer." She gestures to the greatsword strapped to her back. Asta turns back the recovering man. "Do you know where they might have taken her?"
Yuln shakes his head at Astra. "Beyond what I have told you, I do not know. If you have any skilled at tracking in your party, it would be wise for them to lead the way - and quickly! It cannot have been more than a day now, has it, since I stumbled here?" He asks this last question of the apothecary, who nods her head in affirmation. He sighs, clearly saddened. "Well, give them your full fury in retribution for my lost comrades. Fury and fire, both will work well."
Sven and I can find the way! Kristophe says, eager to be of help
Harsk watches in awe as the man simply runs out of the room to track the creatures...
"Perhaps.... someone should follow him? the dwarf says, slightly shocked
Yuln is, indeed, looking a bit wan from the talking, but does look at you expectantly, desperate to help with the recovery of the lady.
He'll live...
Linge was relieved that his life wasn't in serious danger... Although his wounds were likely to leave after-effects. She couldn't do that much anyway. Frostbites were difficult to heal, and the apothecary had already done everything she could. The druid delicately put the blankets back in place.
"I cannot help you more," she said, smiling kindly. "You are already in good hands. All you need is a good rest... And thank you very much for your help."
She watched as Kristophe rushed out.
He is so enthusiastic...
She touched her signal whistle abstently.
Now that we are going into the woods, I could fetch Horn...
Harsk will appropriate the sword on the way out, and will also pick up a few logs so they will have some fire-wood for the trip. as well as an oil lamp if he can afford it.
More than a little surprised himself as Kristophe enthusiastically bustles out from the apothecaries, Torval shakes his head and gives a small sigh before setting out himself after the young human. Pausing at the door, he turns around to the others still left in the room "I'll go and see to it that he doesn't run off too far ahead of us all. If anyone needs further supplies before we head out, meet us at the south road to Zimar just outside the village."
Do you smell that Sven? Is that a carriage track? Oh. Hey where is everyone? Maybe we should wait a moment...
At Isker's Smithy:
At Isker's Smithy:
"I don't have enough money... Too bad... But I'll sure keep your offer in mind, just in case! Thank you for your help, and I'm sorry for wasting your time!"
Asta might not be the quickest learner, but she was wise enough to heed the words of an old soldier. She thinks of buying a cold-iron sword more her size, but immediately drops it. There's no way she can afford something like that right now.
She follows her new companions, afraid to start a conversation.
The elven apothecary shakes her head at Calynse. "I've no extra clothing here, but the General Store next to the smith might. The only thing I have for warding off cold are these vials - alchemist's fire, many call it. It burns for a short time, and might be useful to you if you face creatures that are themselves formed from cold." She gestures to a shelf that you had initially taken to have a variety of potions, until you realize that the entire rack - perhaps several dozen vials - are all filled with this volatile substance.
"Unfortunately, the components are not inexpensive. And bottling such an essence takes time and great caution. Plus, I may need them myself someday. Shall we say, twenty gold pieces per vial?"
While Calynse is in the General Store, the rest of you gather at the edge of town, and a small group of children run up. A little one with slightly pointed ears plants herself in front of Astra, looks up at the big woman and asks, "How heavy is your sword? It looks heavy. Heavy like my dad's plow. Can you plow with your sword?"
Harsk looks at the group of children suspiciously with a sharp pull on his beard. "Should you children be out in this icy weather?" Looking these children in the eyes, he tries to figure out what they are doing out here and how much they are wearing
They seem well enough clothed, and with red noses and cheeks they eye you back just as suspiciously. One looks at your warhammer and asks, "Are you a carpenter? My daddy's a carpenter, but his hammer isn't that big."
Kristophe studies flowers.
Asta frowns, unsure if she is being made fun of.
"I am no farmer, child," she mutters.
"We are quite in a hurry," Linge explained as sweetly and patiently as she could. "Please, can you let us pass?"
They seem well enough clothed, and with red noses and cheeks they eye you back just as suspiciously. One looks at your warhammer and asks, "Are you a carpenter? My daddy's a carpenter, but his hammer isn't that big."
** spoiler omitted **
"I am a craftsman." The dwarf explains with a surprising amount of tenderness. "But today is not the day for me to speak with you on the subject, go to your homes, this weather is too cold for children to be outside." he says, gruff once more.
He moves to walk towards the town exit once more, fat snowflakes encrusting his long beard.
The children make faces at Harsk for his dourness, and run off into the town.
You head south for two hours, along the road to Zimar. There is a dusting of snow on the ground when you come upon a grisly sight. Near the forest, the temperature grows noticeably colder. The road ahead is littered with debris and the corpses of slain humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. Muffled sounds of movement emanate from inside the standing carriage. To the south, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a statue of ice. A trail in the light snows to the south leads deeper into the forest.
Come on Sven, they might need help! Kristophe says, moving forward with his friend.
Let's see if they need assistance!
Stop! the dwarf says immediately, "They could just as easily be foes, turning to the others, he says "quickly, ready your weapons."
Pulling out his helm, he screws it onto his bullet shaped head, then readies his warhammer and his heavy shield.