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At first, the frozen ground is as hard as stone, and nearly impossible to dig through. Karthak studies his spellbook for a few minutes, then prepares a simple incantation that warms the earth, making the work easier. Still, it is tiring, back-breaking labor, and you are all exhausted by the time it is done.
The funeral is simple and brief. Once the dead are honorably buried, your group steps a few paces away, to decide what to do next. A minor snowstorm has just begun--very light, the snow does not obscure your vision, but may be a harbinger of worse yet to come. The sky remains just as grey as when you first stepped out of the ship, giving the impression that no time at all has passed, though you know several hours have gone by. To the North, massive, forbidding mountians loom over you, casting dark shadows across the land. Thick, ominous clouds conceal the mountains' distant peaks from your view.
"I think we should head back to the ship," Karthak says. "Quentin will want to know what we've uncovered. And I am worried that those ice creatures may have attacked the ship while we were away."
{OOC}Just so everyone is aware, Karthak and Toshanharath are now offically NPCs. I will take over playing them at this point (though they will likely be spending most of their time abord the ship).{/OOC}
Oh, here are your experience point awards up to this point in the story:
Barkey: 1,000 [900 (combat) + 100 (roleplaying)]
Krug: 1,000 [900 (combat) + 100 (roleplaying)]
Sorrow: 1,050 [900 (combat) + 100 (roleplaying) + 50 (solving a riddle)]
Floe: 1,000 [900 (combat) + 100 (roleplaying)]
It doesn't take you long to get back to the ship. There's a gradual slope to the land which eases your travel--the sled covers ground much quicker going downhill. The snow has picked up quite a bit, and is beginning to interfere with visibility. Luckily, you can follow your own tracks fairly easily.
Soon, the great black prow of the ship comes into view, and the awful stench of the Whale's Carcass assaults you a few moments later. You can see the shillouette of Captain Gravan up on the prow and just beside him, the tip of what must be Quentin Voddlegrok. The two appear to be arguing--you can just make out Voddlegrok's tiny hands dancing in the air. Finally, you see Gravan hand his spyglass over to Voddlegrok, and a few seconds later the gnomish scholar cries out in surprise, loudly enough for you to hear even over the noise of the storm.
Gravan and Voddlegrok meet you outside the ship. Before you have a chance to say anything, Voddlegrok rushes forward, clearly very excited. He runs immediately to Floe, and stares at her in wonder. "Oh, mm-my! I can hardly believe it! Gravan told me that you were bringing, um, someone back with you. I insisted on seeing for myself, and yes! You have brought back proof that the fabled Faries of the Ice are indeed real! Oh, our expedition is a success!"
Behind the excited gnome, Gravan mumbles to himself, "Yes, I'm sure they'll put that on our graves. I couldn't be happier."
Voddlegrok ignores the captain, all his attention focused on Floe. "I wonder if she can understand us? Hello," he says, speaking as one would to a child, "my...name...is...Quentin. Do...you...have...a...name?" He then starts repeating his test sentence in a variety of different languages, oblivious to the rest of you, while Floe looks somewhat skeptical and amused.
Gravan turns around to face the rest of you. "Well, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. I'd glad to see you're all okay--we caught sight of the ice creatures that were chasing after you. I'm anxious to know what happened to you, but I'm sure you'll tell me in your own good time. But before you do, I've got to tell you about what's been going on around here. Flamesaxe found out we had a stowaway aboard the ship, and she's managed to charm the ears off of the little runt." Gravan gestures toward Voddlegrok, still babbling away. "Now, she's going to be down here in just a few moments, Flamesaxe is with her, and I just wanted to warn you that-"
But before Gravan can complete his warning, he is interrupted by a sudden crackle and flash of light. "A teleport spell!", shouts Karthak, and you all begin reaching for your weapons.
An elegantly dressed man, well-groomed with long black hair, has suddenly appeared, along with a slightly bent, elderly-looking warforged carrying a large pack. The man seems just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. He is unarmed, although you do notice a well-crafted mace at his belt.
The dark-haired man looks confused for a moment, then spots Voddlegrok, who stutters, "Why, is that you, B-balthazar? W-what are you doing here? And how did you manage to get access to a teleport spell? Don't tell me those old men at the Wayfarer's Guild have that sort of influence, hmm?" Voddlegrok suddenly notices the tension in the area, everyone's hands still on their weapons. "Oh! Oh, my, it's quite alright, my friends. Lord Balthazar and I are quite well acquainted. But I must say, I haven't the foggiest idea what a gentleman such as himself might be doing here."
At that moment, Flamesaxe climbs down out of the ship, followed shortly by a pale-skinned woman wearing an intricate, organic-looking breastplate. Flamesaxe spots the elderly Warforged and stops, pointing. "It's you!"
The elderly Warforged looks up at Flamesaxe. "I am terribly sorry young master, but I do not believe we have met before."
Before Flamesaxe can reply, Captain Gravan suddenly shouts out in rage. "What exactly is going on here! This...ponce...appears out of nowhere, and all of you act like it's the most natural thing in the world! Meanwhile, I've got this, this...werewolf running around my ship--don't try to tell me differently, lady, my grandmother taught me how to recognize your kind--and monsters made of ice coming out of the sky, and cute little blue-skinned girls--does anyone care to explain any of this to the captain of the ship!"
Okay, the new characters have entered the story. This is the time for each of the new players to make posts introducing their character, and for the other characters to get to know them. A few snippets of private information follow:
[Floe] -
The small person is certainly strange. He looks sort of like a dwarf, but a bit smaller and not quite as stocky. You might think he was a Dwarven child, were it not for the white hair and wrinkles around his eyes. The way he is looking at you makes you nervous--there's an odd gleam in his eyes. It's hard to tell, because his accent is so bad, but you think you heard him speaking Sylvan at some point, before you were interrupted.
[Mong] -
Whoever this 'Balthazar' is, he doesn't seem like much of a threat to you. But you find yourself almost instinctively disliking the woman in the dark armor...something about her seems familiar...
[Rigel] -
You've just followed Flamesaxe off of the ship to meet the other explorers. You saw Balthazar appear out of nowhere, and you are surprised to find that there is something oddly compelling about him. You can't quite put your finger on it. Oh, and since you were discovered, the captain has thought that you were a lycanthrope. You have no idea why.
[Balthazar] -
What an odd group! This bitter captain fellow certainly seems on edge, but Quentin looks fine. You expected to arrive on the ship while it was still at sea--you're surprised to find it has landed. That's a bit ahead of schedule, then. Damn, but it's beastly cold out here. And what is that horrible stench?
Mong walks around the woman in armor suspiciously. As to the accusations about her being a werewolf, she calmly replies. "Snake. Not a wolf. I have no shame of what I am. And what does it matter as long as I perform it well?" she says, snarling.
"No, Mong," Gravan apologizes, "I did not mean to insult you, and I didn't mean to imply that you were a werewolf. She is the werewolf," he says, pointing at the woman in dark armor. "Can't you tell?"
The woman does not seem like a werewolf to any of you. Captain Gravan seems to be suffering from severe stress.
As the short one is inspecting and spewing languages at Floe, she begins to mime his movements, putting on quite the show to amuse herself. The flash of light and the appearance from nowhere of this figure surprise her, but in a moment she is once again caught up in the little ones inquisitiveness. "Hi!" she says in Sylvan, quite bluntly.
"Quentin! Capital to see you. Landed early, good for you." Balthazar pulls a scented kerchief out of one sleeve, and holds it up to his nose. "What is the beastly smell? Oh, no Boroman doesn't have access to that kind of thing. Poor chap came to me all in a dither, so I offered to help him out, gave me a chance to come see how you were doing, and to do a favor for Esravash d'Lyrandar..." he begins to say, when he finally notices the small blue woman. "Quentin...you've done it! Discovered a new race. Amazing. Does she talk?"
"Dear keptin, if I truly vere a verevulf, our shiny silver-flamed friend here would have dispatched me already!"
Rigel pats Flamesaxe on the back and moves up to just behind Balthazar.
"I hope your trip vas pleasant. And, yes, my Lord, she does speak. Let us find out vat she has to say."
Rigel ignores everyone else, moves over to and crouches down to face level with Floe. She pushes past some of her hair, which had fallen. Her eyes fail to contain their curiosity as the float over Floe's body.
[Sylvan] -
Vat brings you here? Have we attracted your people's attentions?"
She smiles, and tries to make it a warm one, but fails despite her best efforts.
Norderil has looked better. He seems a might upset about the death of the native Dwarves, and is unsettled by the sudden appearances. He withdraws from the rest of the group some and his eyes dart about as if searching for threats. He never did removfe his hand from beneath his cloak. After a moment he sighs, and seems to regian some of his composure. He approaches Barrandur and says softly to him, "Come friend, I am weary. I am unsure of your condition, but I know I could use a drink. Let us toast to the battle fallen, aye?
