PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I

|   Name   |  Race  |    Class    | E Lev| CHP | HP  | AC  | For | Ref | Wil |
|Sophia    |HUMAN   |Clr          |  9   | 69  | 77  | 24  |  8  |  4  | 13  |
|Nin-galad |DAWN_ELF|Ftr/Rog      |  5   | 40  | 45  | 20  |  6  |  9  |  3  |
|Xenarchy  |HUMAN   |Sor          |  8   | 13  | 37  | 14  |  4  |  5  |  9  |
|Ceres     |DAWN_ELF|Bard         |  7   | 39  | 39  | 20  |  4  | 12  |  7  |

Party APL: 7 Encounter 1: Winter Wolf x2 (CR5, 1600XP each, Average Encounter) Encounter 2: Frost Giant (CR9, 6400XP, Hard Encounter)

Now that Alexandria is getting back in touch with the outside world, it's becoming clear that the five years out of touch has not been too pleasent for some. Among some of the first to head up north, you are aboard an airship to the northern mountains- to restore contact with the mountain communities that live there. The journey is about half a day, and left very early in the morning- it is approaching midday and the airship is soon to land.

Sophia is bundled up, not only for winter but for the fact that it's this high in the mountains. She wears a thick fur-lined cloak as well as her normal armor and other attire, absently twisting a ring on her right hand as she looks around. "There are times I admit to wondering if I would ever be seeing this again." She smiles a little ruefully, looking over at the others for a moment before her gaze wanders back to the vista of the mountains around the airship.

Ceres would blend right in, if there was much to be seen of her. In addition to her usual wear, a thick warm cloak to be included, she has stolen from Sophia's closet of ideas and gained a snow-white fur-lined cloak to try to keep at least a little bit warm. "... I would prefer it, however, if we were going south. Where it is warmer. Perhaps requiring Fantastic Eddy's horses." The bard is a goodly distance away from the railing, so that she cannot look down.

Nin-galad has also prepped for the cold weather, having found some fur-lined clothing to go over his usual attire without encumbering him. A comfortable cloak of similar warmth is also worn over it; too long in the South it would seem, the winter seems particularly bitter to him at the moment. Idly, he rubs his gloved hands together with an occasional puff of breath to warm his cool fingers. His hands hang over the railing, and his eyes are more or less pointed downwards as he keeps his digits warm. "Warmer would be nice, yes. Much nicer."

"I've never been this far north," says Xenarchy, wrapping a black fur coat around herself. She pulls the hood up over her head. "If you want a horse I can create one for you, temporarily. But while we are here on this airship there's little need. Right now I am wishing I had some reliable means of personal flight." She breathes, white puffing from her mouth, and rubs her gloved hands together.

Sophia chuckles softly, "I could have prepared something like that, but I thought it better to have antitoxin prayers at the ready." She looks out again, then turns to face Xenarchy, seeming not too affected by the chill, "Of course, this just feels like a winter day back home when I was a child... but then I tended to stay indoors for those, when not having snowball fights with my family." A faint smile, at that, before she looks away, a troubled expression crossing her features.

The airship is going down. Luckily, it is going down in a controlled manner, not reminiscent of crashing horribly at all. They do seem to be aiming for a lake, though. One of the ships crew is sent to gather all of the adventurers in a cabin towards the rear, where a bored-looking half-elf representative of the guild of explorers waits to brief them.

"You grew up in this area, Lady Sophia?" Ceres asks, rather curious as she turns away from the vista. "I must admit to not having explored anywhere this far north before.." before the movement towards the ground occurs, totally distracting the bard to the point where she's moving towards the edge to look down. Green is not an attractive color for her at the moment.

Nin-galad keeps the warm, furry collar up around his chin as he peers down over the edge of the airship's railing. It's cold no matter where he decides to stand, so he might as well be standing someplace where the view is good. The ground and the lake sitting on it seems to be getting closer, however, as it would appear they are descending. He looks 'round when the call comes shortly after, and makes his to the cabin with his hands still rubbing together as he moves along. It is going to be a cold day indeed.

"Even having lived in Sendor for several years, I'm not so used to this cold. I grew up with hardly any snow at all, so far south in Charn." Xenarchy moves inside the cabin before the ship lands and nods in greeting to the guild representative. "Alright. What manner of unpleasant beast are we tasked to neutralise this time?"

Sophia glances over at Ceres, heading back towards the guild representative, "Oh no... I grew up in Byrn Myridorn. Youngest daughter of one of the all-too many noble families back there, though it was an unusual change that my family, unlike some others, valued me as more than just a possible wedding piece." Her lips curl in a faint smile, "Though my family does seem to be winding up in Alexandria, more often than not." What THAT means, she doesn't elaborate, as she nods slightly to the half-elf, "Good afternoon, and now I suppose we'll be getting some more details about the task at hand?" Right to the point.

The man nods his head at each as they enter, and gestures for them to take a seat on the other side of a small table in the room. He gestures to some papers on the table, "The captain of the ship mentioned that on his first flight into this region, some of the locals were worried about slavers of some description up in the mountains." He informs them then. "So the guild wants you to head down there and find out what's going on. This is mainly a scouting mission, but if there are slavers up there it would be best to be prepared for combat. We'll be landing in about fifteen minutes, it's about an hours walk from the lake to the first village you'll be visiting. I have a map here- but it's a bit old. Some of the paths might no longer be viable, so take care." he hands the map over. "Anyone else want to ask any questions before we land?"

Nin-galad peers at the map as it is presented from overtop the dark furry collar around his neck and the lower half of his face, gazing at it curiously for a moment. "Five years is a long enough time for most people. Who knows what could have changed since this was made, but it's certainly better than nothing." His hands find their way into some pockets within the heavy cloak he is wearing, sans the map. He won't be the one to be carrying it unless it is handed to him. "Is it just a walk, or are we likely to find ourselves scrambling up an ice-covered rock face as well?"

Ceres grimances as Nin-galad askes that question. "Ah, trees.." she half-mourns, before shaking her head slightly. "Only whatever information there is on what was seen," she offers before glancing at the others.

"Slavers? Do we know if these slavers are human or otherwise?" Xenarchy asks. She clasps her hands behind her back. "I am hoping we can at least talk to them. I do not want to find out these are undead things released from the thawing ice to drag the people off to be their wretched minions."

Sophia arches a brow at Xenarchy, "Typically they don't bother with such, but still, a valid question. Do we have any idea on what these slavers might be? And how long is this trek going to take, in total? Will we need to worry about camping up here for an evening?" She seems a little cautious about how long this might take.

"It might be a bit of a tricky walk, but it will mostly be walking, yes, if the map is still accurate." The half-elf informs the group. "As for the slavers? We're not sure. At first it was just a goatherd dissapearing now and then. But the locals that the captain spoke to said that an entire village had been cleared of people and burned to te ground in its wake. One or two survivors have showed up, said they used some kind of tamed wolves to drive the villagers into them."

"Ah, entire towns cleared and then burnt to the ground. This bodes well indeed," the Dawn Elf remarks with a mildly sardonic tone, but most of his expression is hidden behind the warm collar at the moment. Still, expressive eyes say all that the rest of his face could have anyway. "At least if we happen across another village there'll be a fire to warm our hands on. Whether it's in a heart or covering the whole inn, I suppose."

Ceres pulls at her ear a moment. "Still probably wish to have a decent amount of climbing gear, just in case - at least, that is what tales I have heard suggest. Anything else we should take with us?" she asks, attention mostly on Sophia, being a sorta local.

Sophia arches a brow, "Hopefully that will be the case." She nods slightly at the half-elf, "So, we'll keep an eye out for slavers. Using wolves... sounds almost like orcs, if I had to hazard a guess." Her lips purse a bit, "I somehow doubt they'd be willing to listen to reason, but we'll see what happens when we encounter them... IF we encounter them, anyway."

The Airship touches down /relatively/ gently. Everyone is advised to hang into something as it hits the water and bounces slightly, before rumbling to a stop. The half elf casually catches an inkwell which slipped off the table in the pricess and puts it back in place. "Well then, good luck. I'll be waiting to take your report on the return journey- you have three days." he informs them then. "Incidentally, do any of you want to take out search and rescue insurance? It's only a small weekly fee..." the man drones on about this guild-offered insurance until the captain sounds that the passengers are clear to depart, and they are guided to a ramp which touches down on the small pier of this small valley town.

Once in town, they are guided from the docks by a local to where they can purchase mountaineering supplies- he even offers to guide them for the first little stretch of the mountain ascent.

Xenarchy hugs her coat around herself more tightly. "Brr. I hate climbing. Had I known about this, I would have considered finding a scroll of overland flight." She looks at the docks and frowns. "I would not imagine they would have one. Picks and ropes and things, then?"

Ceres blinks at the representative, before asking hesitantly, "Do you know Master Aleron...?" given some of the terms used, she had to ask. However, once it is time to get moving, she is with the others picking out gear and the like, "I think so, Mistress Xenarchy - but I have never gone mountain-climbing before," she admits. "Have you been to any of the areas we are to be looking at then, sir?" she asks, more to talk than anything, to the local.

"The old fashioned way. Maybe not so old that we're not climbing up by our fingers and toes alone." Nin-galad looks around them as well, glancing from shop to shop along the docks. "Definitely going to be wanting some very sturdy rope. The idea of a poor quality rope fraying on the edge of a rock and sending me plummeting an uncomfortable distance is not a pleasant one, and something I'd like to avoid if at all possible."

Sophia nods. "Rope, picks... it shouldn't be too hard to get those, though I would hope that we have paths for the most part." She nods at the local, "And the services of a guide would be welcome, I think. At least for the initial stretch." She then glances at the others for confirmation.

"I may have to work on developing an alternate phantom steed; one suited to steep and icy terrain," mutters the sorceress. "My current mount may be able to traverse any horizontal terrain, but it cannot go up rocks and ice." Xenarchy is not pleased with this arrangement. "Strong, healthy guides that can haul us up when we inevitably tumble over an edge," she says, agreeing with Sophia.

Ceres just stares at Xenarchy. "Do not jinx us, please. While I may be able to climb trees and the like, I have not the slightest on how that translates to ice and rock - and catching a falling person shall not be easy. And I only have so many fall-lightlies to call upon.."

The group finally makes their way out of the city, and with the help of the guide, the mountain path isn't hard to find and keep to, at least at first. The bottom of the mountain is heavily forested, and the first village they are visiting is on the edge of the forest, where it gives way to the snowy rise of the mountain proper.

Nin-galad now sports a pack, full of climbing supplies as well as other such necessities in the event they end up stuck somewhere without a warm bed or anything resembling shelter. Luckily, the climbing tools haven't been needed yet and as far as the Elf is concerned it would be best if they were not needed at all. Climbing is not a bad thing, but in the frigid cold weather with a nasty wind and an unfortunately slick surface, it starts to look very much like a bad thing indeed. "I don't see any smoke yet," he remarks to anyone who happens to be listening, his eyes focused forwards.

Sophia bears a fair amount of gear as well, including the basic necessities for a few days of camping in the mountains if such is required. She shakes her head slightly at Nin-galad, "Unless we time it appropriately, I doubt we would see any smoke coming up. Best to be cautious, in any event."

It is at this first village that their guide and the party seperate ways- the village itself is so far untouched, but there is an air of tension. A weary eye is cast over the visitors as they arrive, and they are met at the gate by the mayor of the village- a man in his thirties, with a weather-worn appearance to his features and hair turning grey a few years ahead of schedule. He's missing his right index finger from the second knuckle. "You're them 'explorers' the guild sent, right?" he grunts at them.

Ceres has a pack as well. Perhaps not as well stocked as the others, but an odd enough sight for the bard to be in. The mayor gets a quick smile, "The Guid did send us, indeed. From Alexandria, of course."

Xenarchy carries less than the others but still has the required equipment. She does not like this burden one bit. She nods grimly to the man. "We are. What can you tell us about your situation?" Xenarchy briefly considers the terrain, then her own clothing, and with a wiggle of her fingers and brief utterance changes all her black into snowy white.

GAME: Xenarchy casts prestidigitation.

Sophia nods, "Indeed." She lets Xenarchy do the talking for the moment, pausing a moment as her attire is also suddenly white and grey-patterned, perfect for blending in with the mountains. She keeps a wary eye out, just studying the village for the moment.

Nin-galad opted for a white winter cloak to begin with, as he lacks such magical jiggery-pokery. It won't be as good if he loses his winter-wear, however, as the clothing beneath that is perfectly black so as to make him stand out like an ink-stain on a white page in the winter. Still, it's so cold there should be no reason for such heavy clothing to go vanishing. He too keeps silent, his yellow eyes wandering the locale around them half-curiously and half-cautiously.

"Giants? I did not know that giants employed wolves - just, as you said Sophia, orcs. And they are taking slaves too? Very odd. Maybe they are from Charn?" Ceres asks, before frowning at Sophia and Xen, before 'oh'ing. And then her own clothing is all in shades of white as well, after she frowns down at her garments.

"Wolves?" The mayor scoffs. "Geat big beasts, more like. Big as a horse, and made of muscle, sinew and fang." he mutters. "You hear them howling some nights. It's enough to turn the goats' milk sour."

Xenarchy taps her chin. "I can speak Jotun. I cannot, however, speak to wolves. If these beasts are under the command of the giants, we may be able to persuade them to leave these people alone and release their prisoners."

Sophia frowns, "Charn? With where we are, Bludgun seems more likely." She shakes her head, looking at the spokesman, "Have they been known to take captives before? And where was the last village attacked?" The cleric looks decidedly disturbed by this bit of news, though what part bothers her specifically is hard to say. She then nods a little at Xenarchy, "Perhaps. But we need to be prepared if they are not willing to negotiate."

"Aye, they've been there for as long as anyone alive can day can remember, and longer than that I reckon. But they've always stuck to the peaks, only taking folks who stray too far up the mountains." he informs them then. "They've never taken so many from so far down the mountain, though, as I said." he informs them then. "We're not sure just how close they are- but we suspect they've been sending scouts down. Some of them wolves were sighted the next village over, reckon their master must be nearby too."

"Wolves as big as a horse? Well this gets better and better by the minute. Horse-sized wolves lead by giants bent on kidnapping entire villages for who knows what and then obliterating all traces of the village itself." Nin-galad drifts off into a stream of under-the-breath mutterings in Thallassian, but he quickly falls silent soon after. "Hopefully some kind of an agreement can be made, but somehow I find myself doubting we'll be so lucky. Perhaps if we could find out what they're using the people they've kidnapped for. It would certainly make some sense out of this strange behaviour."

Ceres just slowly shakes her head. "Well... it is also just a scouting mission. If we cannot talk to them, finding out where and why and then running like a pack of.. non-giant wolves are after us may be appropriate."

Soon the group is lead to the trail leading up the mountain. "While you are out there head along this path- there was an avalanche this week, so you might have to take a diversion through the forest. But just keep heading northeast and you'll get to one of the other villages." he informs them and peers up. "Looks like a storm is on the way, too. Watch your way- and good luck!" he tells them, and sends them on their way. The journey is uneventful until they reach said blockage. By now the storm has swept in, and biting winds drive snow into the mountainside in sheets. The forest is dense evergreen trees with almost no underbrush- and is looking rather inviting compared to the oh-to-exposed path.

Nin-galad tugs the collar of his warm jacket that is worn underneath the cloak up a little higher to protect himself more against the chilling wind that is blowing waves of snow into them. He squints slightly when he looks in that direction, to keep as much snow out of his eyes as possible as he glances around them. "I'm getting to the feeling that the forest might be a better option at this point. Even if there is something a'lurking in there, I'm willing to take my chances with it over freezing to death on the side of a mountain."

Sophia frowns, "Could be a bit rough to go through, it will definitely slow us down... but so will puttering about in this wind. At least it will be minimized there." She glances at the other two, "What do you two think?"

Xenarchy grumbles and is still strongly considering summoning her phantom steed to ride on, but that would be a waste right now. She takes a moment to renew the cantrip-powered white colour on her clothes after an hour of travel. "I would be glad to have any cover at all. This weather is awful."

"Cover would be better than not, I think. We will have to take care to not get turned around, however." Not that Ceres has any suggestions for avoiding that fate - but the trees look much more attractive than the exposed trail.

visibility in the forest, dense as it is, isn't much worse than it is on the trail with the heavy snow. And the trees do serve as an excelent break for the wind- it cuts off sharply as they trudge into the treeline, and with it the temperature becomes a little less achingly cold- though it is still cold enough to make the ground crunch with frost. They continue traveling for a time, through the forest.

GAME: Nin-galad rolls perception: (13)+12: 25 GAME: Xenarchy rolls perception: (13)+0: 13 GAME: Ceres rolls perception: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Sophia rolls Perception: (4)+12: 16

Nin-galad pauses as they move over the snow-covered ground, sheltered from the bitingly cold winter wind by the trees. At least, moreso than they were out in the open. Now, with the howl less loud in his ears, something else gathers his attention. He comes to a slow halt, lifting up a hand to motion for the rest to stop moving as well. With slow movements, he tilts his head to the side slightly and listens silently for a long moment. "We're being followed," he murmurs, as quietly as he can to whoever is nearest him. "I can't tell how many or what it is, but we're being followed. They stop when we stop and move when we move."

Sophia pauses a bit, then draws out her mace, "I noticed. White fur, it's hard to see in the storm, and I heard something in the snow. Sounded like paws, perhaps." She nods slightly at Nin-galad, "Measuring us, for now. They seem to be pacing us, waiting for something."

Xenarchy stops once the others speak of movement. Slowly, she draws out a thin arcane wand. "Winter wolves? Shall we ready ourselves for combat?" she says quietly, just so the others of the party can hear although she can't know how well the wolf ears work.

Ceres unslings her bow, and uses it to poke at the ground a bit, taking care to avoid gettings now on anything important, before letting it slip into a relaxed hold. "A true joy, that is. Perhaps the missing villagers?" In white fur and paws? Well, she at least seems hopeful on the quietly spoken offering.

"Rimefang! Blizzardmane! Kill them!" Comes a guttural roar from the deeper trees, and there is a vicious snarling sound followed by something the whole party can hear- there's no attempts made to hide now. The wolves come charging through the trees, their paws falling heavily on the ground as they advance- they are some distance ahead of the group, clearly they had been expecting the party to get a bit closer before they attacked.

GAME: Xenarchy used a Wand of Mage Armor. GAME: Sophia casts resist energy.

Xenarchy hears the incoming wolves and their very distinct calls of attack. She activates the wand, wrapping herself in a layer of shimmering force and stows it back in her belt to leave her hands free. "I do not think they will allow us time to negotiate."

Sophia glances wryly at Xenarchy, "Pity, well... I left my dog treats back in Alexandria." She intones a brief prayer to Althea, her mace starting to glow with an azure light as she looks rather unfazed by the cold, straightening a bit. "I'll be the anvil today, I think."

---

24                  Blizzardmane

---

23                  Xenarchy

---

11                  Ceres

---

8                   Rimefang

---

7                   Nin-galad

---

7                   Sophia

---

Ceres brings up her bow - and rather than her usual commentary or inane comments, starts to sing. Vaguely martial, the words are in Thallassian, and stirs the blood.

The Worgs stop a little short of the group, snarling. One of them speaks- tongue out and panting icy air- not needing to move his mouth to speak it seems. "You should not have come here."

GAME: Sophia rolls Reflex: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Chiddle rolls 6d6: (25): 25

One of the two Icy Worgs opens his maw wide, and issues forth a blast of icy air, shards of water frozen straight out of the air darting towards her. The cold winds hit an invisible barrier surrounding her and shatter, flowing around her and harmlessly dissapating.

GAME: Xenarchy casts shadow conjuration. GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+3: (7)+3: 10 GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+3: (13)+3: 16 GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21 GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20

Xenarchy winces as cold air rushes out from one wolf. She finds herself unhurt, standing just out of reach of the frigid breath. Refocusing herself, the sorceress incants and draws on the shadows. Black mist billows out over the wolves, a stinging and biting fog that attacks their eyes and noses.

GAME: Ceres rolls 1d20+12: (5)+12: 17 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d20+12: (11)+12: 23 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d8+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d6: (2): 2 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d6: (2): 2

Ceres continues to sing, but her attention is on the blizzard-spewing wolf. One, then two arrows go flying past Sophia to impact into the wolf, sizzling and cooking the fur and meat below.

The two worgs hack and cough as the perceived poison cloud stings their nostrils and burns their throats. Rimefang drags himself out of the cloud, gasping for fresh air.

GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2 GAME: Nin-galad rolls 1d20+9: (8)+9: 17 GAME: Nin-galad rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Nin-galad rolls 1d6: (2): 2

Nin-galad sprints through the snow as best he can, spreading the heavy winter-weather cloak he wears as he goes to allow him freedom of movment. The black gloves with the long blades attached elegantly to each finger stand out sharply against his white clothing and the snow all around. More notably, steam rises from the blades attached to his right hand as the hum with a white-heat, the cool winter air rippling around them before they are plunged into the exposed flank of the hacking snow wolf.

GAME: Sophia rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21 GAME: Sophia rolls 1d8+2+2d6: (3)+2+(8): 13

Sophia looks unfazed by the winter breath of the first worg, and raises her mace high as she advances on the nauseated fiend. She doesn't go for any dramatic speech or declaration, instead just bringing the mace down on the skull of the wolf instead, causing the mace to flare once with azure light as it connects with the beast, burning it with holy wrath.

GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3

Sophia's chastizing strike forces the worg back, and it limps out to the other side, clearly smart enough to try and lead his attackers through their own attack. He gags, chokes, and coughs even after freeing himself from the vapors.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls intimidate: (17)+20: 37

Xenarchy watches the stricken wolves and their pathetic coughing and wheezing, both unable to defend themselves. Her evil eye comes to bear on the nearest wolf. "We could strike you down effortlessly if we so wished. Look at you, crawling and gagging for breath. You can do nothing! Surrender, and we may be merciful."

GAME: Ceres rolls 1d20+13: (13)+13: 26 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d20+13: (3)+13: 16 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d8+4: (8)+4: 12 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d6: (1): 1

Ceres should probably listen to Xen - but between the musical accompaniment and trying to get more arrows into the air, she misses the call for surrender. Two more arrows go flying, but only one hits. There is less sizzling, but the arrow goes in deep, leaving the wolf looking like he's about ready to fall over.

GAME: Nin-galad rolls 2d6+2: (5)+2: 7 GAME: Nin-galad rolls 1d6: (2): 2

Nin-galad makes a single strike at the retreating back of the winter wolf as it scurries out of his range, grazing it with his claws before it is out of reach.

Rimefang limps up to meet with his packmate, the two of them turning and snarling at the adventurers.

A quiet 'tch' sound escapes the Sun Elf as the winter wolf runs off. He doesn't bother chasing it, but instead immediately moves off to the side in a flury of white clothing as he slips into the shadows of the trees around them, and out of immediate sight.

GAME: Sophia rolls 4d8: (18): 18 GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+3: (2)+3: 5 GAME: Chiddle rolls 1d20+3: (18)+3: 21

Sophia looks sternly at the winter wolves, "You foul abominations of the woods, you have no place in this world." She then shouts out a harsh and sharp word in the celestial language, beautiful and frightening all at the same time as she gestures towards the wolves. One of them howls in anguish and collapses, while the other (Rimefang) staggers but stays upright.

Xenarchy has no more words for the frightened wolf, but instead starts invoking another spell. She summons the power of her fairy magic (don't laugh) and begins the slow process of bringing the spell into being.

GAME: Ceres rolls 1d20+15: (11)+15: 26 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d8+4: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Ceres rolls 1d6: (5): 5

Ceres glances over at Xenarchy, her song coming towards an end as the word repeat themselves. This time she sends only one arrow into the air, but it strikes true, and deep. The scent of burnt hair continues to fill the air, with the smell of roasted flesh underneath.

As the arrow pierces into the side of the beast, it howls with pain, and begins to prowl at the edge of the group's range- too cautious to approach directly. "Rimefang! Tend to your brother!" Comes the call from the deeper woods, and then heavy footsteps as whoever it is approaches. "I'll handle these fools myself." He adds then. A blue-skinned man emerges, wearing heavy ringmail and with a giant axe rested over his shoulder. Oh, and he's fifteen feet tall. His hair is white and braided, as is his rather impressive beard. "You really should have fled when you had the chance- this mountain now belongs to the Brothers of the Storm!" he declares, swinging his axe around and slamming it into the ground. He reaches down to tear a huge rock from the ground and then hurls it towards the nearby mountainside. The colission knocks a huge sheet of ice loose, and it begins picking up momentum and rushing down the hill towards the party. He, and his worg companions, take off running back up the mountain.

Now would be a good time to panic.

Nin-galad needs no more promting than that. As soon as the rock collides with the nearby mountainside, the Dawn Elf is already running. His heavy winter cloak trails out behind him as he sprints back the way they came, weaving through tree and stone and snow-drift to avoid being caught. Anything he can grab and pull himself with to get further and further ahead is used, he has no intention of being buried beneath a cold white wall.

Xenarchy frowns at the oncoming wall of snow and manifests a spell as quickly as she can. Her arcane words are drowned out by the roar of the mountain, but she completed the spell and brings into being a silent black horse. It appears near Ceres. "Take the horse. It will obey you." The sorceress starts at a steady pace. Her concentration on more magic means she is slower than the others. "Nin-galad, be ready! I am going to grant you a swift steed..."

GAME: Xenarchy casts shadow conjuration.

The wall of snow and ice continues rumbling towards the group- at full pelt, Nin-Galad is jsut able to keep ahead of it. And on her mount, Ceres will be able to begin putting distance on it. Xenarchy, however, finds that the wall of snow is making ground on her even as more snow adds to the torrent, increasing its intensity- and its speed. Luckily for the group, there is dense forestation and man-made fortifications on the other side of the path they took. It's just a matter of getting there in time.

The rumbling wall of frosty death licking at his heels does wonders to spur the Elf along. He's never moved so fast in his life across snow as he is right now, barreling through what he can and dodging around what he can't. He's headed directly for the fortification, in definite desperate need of /something/ to put between himself and the avalanche. Preferably something that won't collapse on top of him and just bury him regardless.

"He's already taken off. I'll get my own horse and then you can quicken all of us," says Xenarchy, shouting over the sound of the avalanche. She summons a second horse for herself, identical to the first. Mounting hastily, she takes off at speed, trying to keep ahead of the rumbling doom.

GAME: Xenarchy casts shadow conjuration.

"I can only cast this twice - horse him if you can!" Ceres calls out, as she casts a hastening spell on their general area, trying to catch everyone.

Now mounted, the two women begin putting some distance between the wall of icy death and themselves. Younger trees are bent double by the force of the onrushing snow and ice, and yet more adds to the deluge. It's also getting faster, and begins to catch up with Nin-Galad. That is until the spells hit them- their horses, now hastened, are able to quickly speed ahead of the avalanch, giving them a good thirty, fourty second head start by the time they reach the path. Safety is just a few feet ahead- oh, and thirty feet down.

GAME: Ceres casts Feather Fall.

Ceres does not come to the realization regarding the cliff. Not even a little, until the rider and horse go over the edge. The bard looks down for a long moment, then calls out a spell. Well, really, screams it - and keeps on screaming even after the horse (and rider) start to drift down. And the other two horses and riders as well. Not that she notices. Eyes closed, and all that.

Nin-galad leans back, throwing a leg out ahead of himself as he turns to the side to come to a sliding halt before the edge of the cliff as Ceres goes barreling off of it next to him in a spray of snow. And screaming. The screaming though appears to be a magical one, he can feel himself lighten where he stands. A few quick steps carry him backwards to give him a little space before he takes off again, leaping over the edge and soaring out into the frosty air and blessedly away from the avalanche. If the threat of the avalanche wasn't so near, this might be more fun; he soars out over the tops of the trees with his arms spread out to the side and his clothing rustling in the wind.

"Oh f-" Xenarchy starts, as the entire party goes over the edge unexpectedly. when they prove to be falling more slowly than expected, she releases a held breath and pats the uncaring steed. These phantasmal horses are not bothered by the fall in the slightest, being imagined creatures with only superficial resemblance to real animals. Xen looks back up at the cliff, again worried by the sound of the oncoming avalanche.

As the rushing snows finally catch up with the group just after they leap- or fall- over the edge, something rather spectacular happens. A blastwave of air catches the slowly falling party, and sends them hurtling uncomfortably, but harmlessly, into a snowbank. And the mighty avalanch slams into the treeline. Nets hung between the trees, and the thick pine forst combines drastically slow its advance. Eventually, with a creaking, groaning sound the avalanch comes to rest- mere yards from the backs of the adventurers.

Nin-galad sits up after a moment of laying buried in the snowbank, throwing some white powder up with him as he jerks his head upwards. He makes noise, but it's not so much a language as it is muted muttering while he brushes himself off and glances around to see what new hell awaits. The avalanche, however, appears to be stopped and that at least is a bit of good news. Gingerly he rises to his feet, testing his limbs to see if anything broke on his tumble downwards. Everything seems to be in order, however. "Are we all alive?"

Ceres comes out of the snowbank, covered in snow, and just stares at the leading edge of the avalanche. There's a moment of stillness, before the bard just sort of collapses against the horse, letting snow fall off her head, as she just starts to laugh.

There's a noise of complaint from under the snow and Xenarchy starts digging herself out. She pushes at her black steed that is currently upside down in the snow and apparently does not realise this is a problem. "Augh, bleagh. Pthoo." She spits and sits up. "I don't think I'd be spitting up dirt and snow if I had died," says the sorceress. She gets back to trying to convince the conjured horse to get up. "We should get out of here."

And so the group make their way back towards the village- they report what they can- that the giants in the area are responsible and have scouts as far down as the woods you were moving through- and that a recent avalanch once more blocks the path up the mountain. Things seem worrying indeed, and with what information you have gathered, the town officials nearby agree to convene for a meeting.

The group are paid for their efforts, and welcomed to join, and offered a place at the meeting when it occurs, if they choose.