Marrin looks at the reindeer and shivers.

"Been an experience Ironroot, Quietwalnut. Be safe."

She'll listen to whatever answer IR provides Jan, but it isn't like they are just going to turn around.

She'll ask Soren,

"Do you think we have time for a break? I need a second to try and get the image of flying killer demon orcs and that they were the last thing I was possibly going to see out of my head."

((She wants a short rest if they can still make it before dark.))

Ironroot and Quietwalnut slip into the forest, the trail closing quickly and quietly behind them.

Soren elaborates on the horse people.

"What they call the horse people are the Nar; Horse riding nomads not centaurs," he adds with a laugh. "Though that would be something. From the stories I've heard there used to be a magnificent empire up here but it collapsed long ago. You can still find ruins of castles and towers sprinkled around. I suspect Mak’ral’s tower was one of those."

He looks back to the woods as if expecting the orc to show up.

"The Nar are pretty tribal and whether they cause us any trouble is going to depend on which group we run into. If nothing’s changed, this area usually falls under the control of the Harthgoths. They tend to be curious about outsiders and look to trade. They’re not bandits."

He looks off north, into the distance.

"The Ulyoon control Peltarch. They see outsiders as a source of trade too," he says but then pauses for a long moment. "But the Qu’encesta, well they’re a bit more hostile. It’s really going to depend on whether the Hargoths are on the plains ahead of us or not. If they’ve moved west, the Qu’encesta will have moved in. They’re not great fans of foreigners. But they almost never travel north of the Long Road so we just need to get there without drawing too much attention."

He looks around and spots a few boulders.

"Those should give us some shelter from the wind."

Marrin heads over to a boulder, sits down, pulls out her lite and strums angrily for an hour with her eyes closed.

The party does its best to huddle out of the cold wind and get some rest. About 15 minutes in, the sky darkens and a few snowflakes fall down on to shoulders, settling in hair. The brief snowfall doesn't last long and the heat from your bodies doesn't let it stay long in your hair either.

In the distance, Avaria catches movement and spots a small white fox sitting on low ridge. It appears to be watching the group, maybe deciding if you're trouble or not. It eventually lies down and rests for about 15 minutes, never taking its eyes off the group. Eventually it moves on, disappearing over the ridge.

The wind remains steady and relentless, and the small herd of reindeer moves off north.

-------------------------------------------

Short rest for everyone. Go ahead with any conversation, or plans for heading across the plains to the north towards Peltarch (or elsewhere).

Marrin finishes with a flourish, stands and shivers before shoving her hands into her armpits.

"I need better gloves. Let's get moving before we turn to ice."

She wraps herself up and huddles in the saddle, ready to go.

((@rod, assuming that was Song of Rest?))

HP: 14 plus 5

((It was an angry song of rest! Meant to write that...

@everyone, add a d6 to your healing.

3Hd: 7+3+3+6 + 3))

((Any other HD being spent before moving on?))

((It looked like Stark rolled in the log?))

(Oh I did!  She was in bad shape.)  Used all hit dice for 39 hp + 3 from the song of rest.

Seeing they could take a short break, Ava stopped hiding her limp and hobbled over to the rock to sit with her back against it.  She closed her eyes and just sat as she caught her breath and once she felt she had a handle on that, tried to wipe away the worst of the blood and bandaged up what she could.

As her own spell of False Life wears off and she once again begins to cough from the vile gases of those zombies, Ethel also sits down to rest and collect herself.

[Rolled 3HD in the logs to recover back to full health.  Also used Arcane Recovery to regain a first and a second level spell.]

She sighs wearily at the talk of crossing frozen plains while avoiding potentially hostile horse lords... but what is there that can be done about it now?

As the group gets going again, Avaria once more spots the white fox watching them from the top of a low hill in the distance. It makes no effort to come closer, nor does it follow when the party moves off towards the north.

The ground is hard from the cold temperatures, which you suspect is actually a blessing as the vegetation looks like it would get soft in the summer and make travel difficult.

The air lacks any appreciable smells. All you notice is a crispness and sterility to it. It’s a marked change from the constant pine you had smelled in the woods, or the aromatics of the cities and towns you have been in; not to mention the pungent body odor and other unmentionables of your stay on the Hargrove’s island.

They day moves on and so far you’ve not noticed any riders of any kind on what is quickly becoming tundra.

Soren pauses after a couple of hours of travel to look at the mountains in the distance and the low hanging sun to make sure you’re still headed in the right direction.

The momentary pause and accompanying quiet leads to Geffroi exclaiming, “Do you hear that?”

He turns slightly to the west. “It’s coming from that direction. It sounds like someone calling for help.”

You can all hear it now. It sounds like someone scared and desperately in need of help.

Marrin looks in the direction of the cries and says, without enthusiasm,

"Another trap?"

She turns her horse but looks to Soren before moving,

"I guess we still have to check?"

"It sounds genuine," Soren says but he looks like he could be convinced to keep going.

Geffroi and Hammerdasher, however, having not dealt with Mak'ral in the tower are firmly in the "We have to go check," camp.

Ethel glances meaningfully at Marrin when she mentions a trap.  But when seeing Geffroi and Hammerdasher's exuberance, she sags her shoulders and sighs.  

"Very well.  Lead on, brave heroes.  Let us continue our mission to confront every ne'erdowell and rescue every damsel between here and Peltarch."

"Onward to glory."

Marrin chimes in with as much excitement as Ethel.

"Let's go."

Decision made, she does actually try to get to the cries with a bit of haste.

Seeing the fox watching them again, Jan will as K to circle up invisibly and keep an eye on the creature and report back.

Seeing that the decision has been made, Avaria turns in that direction as well.  She does try to keep her eye on the white fox, intrigued by it and watching for others.

Geffroi and Hammerdasher, goading their ponies along, get a head of the group but they stop when they come to a low ridge and look down. They look at each other, clearly unsure of how to proceed. They wait for the group.

As the others reach the pair, they can now see what has captured their attention, and what appears to be the source of the cries for help.

A very thick, large head looks up at everyone from the ground; dark ruddy brown skin, black eyes, and black hair over a sloping brow, but it's so much larger than any head you've seen before. At first it looks like it might be just a head resting on the ground, but then you notice a neck, and relatively freshly turned dirt, rock and snow.

"Help me out," the head says. A slight quaver in the voice indicates fear, but the tone is more bullying. "Help me out or smash you."

-------------------------------------------

K watches the fox as it heads off to the east, loping along a low gully between two ridges, pausing to investigate something that looks like a rabbit hole. Coming out without prey, it continues it's journey east.

Marrin chews on her inner cheek a moment then says,

"The quality of damsels seems to be dropping the further north we go."

She'll then call down to the head,

"Quick question, how did you manage to get buried up to your neck?"