Reign of Winter #29: The keys to the hut secured, Demon worshiping centaur Vsevolod defeated, necklace of bone devil and centaur carcasses for a white dragon!

Diary of Zaaz Bloodfortune

Another chapter of my life is done. As the maiden becomes the mother, as the mother becomes the crone, this journey has seen me enter the midpoint of my life. Though I have often called upon the threefold aspect of the crone, inside I still always felt myself the maiden. I knew with a thought I could banish the trappings of the elderly me and return to what once was, but no more. No, Artrosia has aged me and I will never again know the true innocence of youth.

We started the day with a quick trip back to town, my magic making it the work of a moment. Our goal for the trip was to see what we could learn of the Pit and if any preparation would aid us. In town we asked around and went to see a centaur priest of Abadar, the powerful Procalarenti. Trading some wealth to her to help the poor of the town, in thanks she cast a spell of divination, but with no effect. The gods were silent on what we needed or some magic of the place defied the call for help. Thanking her for trying we went about our business selling our loot and asking after age related spells. Direct to the bar a drink we shared with one of the Centaur Druids. To him I described the battle we had with the bloody centaur priest and learned that it had been a centaur priest of legend and good riddance for his evil. He and I discussed the pit and what I might encounter, but little help he could give besides his best wishes. A curse of age he felt it would be and little that could protect against it.

This is what I learned of the centaur priest:

Born the only son among the children of the high chieftain of the largest clan of Tsolniva centaurs in the Ice Steppes, Vsevolod was destined to succeed his father as ruler of his clan. On Vsevolod's fifteenth birthday, he rode off with a band of warriors under the command of his older sister Myrkara.  The centaurs marched deep into the Ice Steppes to drive back an encroaching horde of frost giants, but during the raid, a violent blizzard drove down from the north, separating the centaurs. Some were fortunate enough to escape, but others became stranded and hopelessly lost­ including Vsevolod.  Days after the blizzard broke, the giants hunted down stragglers and slaughtered them mercilessly. Vsevolod hid among the dead, and when his food ran out he was forced to eat the flesh of his own slain kin. Eventually, even the corpses ran out, and he resigned himself to death. Yet when the spring thaw came, Vsevolod had by some miracle survived.
Almost a year later, Vsevolod found his way back to his clan, though things had changed. His father had died, and without a male heir the leadership of the clan had passed to Myrkara. To protect her new position, Myrkara immediately accused her brother of working with the frost giants to ambush the Tsolniva warband. How else could Vsevolod have survived the winter, if not for the aid of the giants? Myrkara was well spoken, and her eloquent words swayed the clan elders, who sided with their new chieftain. Vsevolod was branded a traitor and kin-slayer and exiled into the wilderness.

Seething with rage at his sister's betrayal-for was it not she who had abandoned him to the blizzard?Vsevolod headed north to where he'd endured his long ordeal, looking for some kind of sign. What he found was a lone frost giant encamped at the site. The giant, a priest of Kostchtchie named Geflaugr, greeted Vsevolod as a brother and said he'd been waiting for the centaur's arrival. Geflaugr invited Vsevolod to share the camp and tell his story, promising that Kostchtchie had great things in store for the exiled centaur.With nothing to lose,Vsevolod shared his tale with the frost giant, and by the end of the night he had become Geflaugr's disciple. If Vsevolod couldn't find acceptance among his own people, then perhaps he would find it with the source of his condemnation.
Vsevolod was adopted into the frost giant tribe, and learned the brutal tenets of his newfound faith. The following spring, Vsevolod led the giants in a savage raid upon his old village. In revenge for his exile, Vsevolod put to the sword those men of his clan who had sided with his sister Myrkara, and any who refused to convert to Kostchtchie's worship, and enslaved the clan's remaining women. But he saved his most savage vengeance for Myrkara herself. Before her eyes, Vsevolod killed her sisters, husband, and children in a bloody sacrifice to his demonic patron. He then entombed his sister in a cave of ice with their bodies. As Myrkara had abandoned Vsevolod to the blizzard and forced him into cannibalism, so would she be buried alive in the ice, forced to eat the corpses of those she had loved most if she wanted to survive.  She screamed "Khaaaaaaaaannnnn!" as he sealed her within the cave.  

When Geflaugr died not long after, Vsevolod was appointed the tribe's war-priest. The centaur became infamous throughout the Ice Steppes for his brutal raids and the bloody sacrifices of both his enemies and his allies, all in the name of Kostchtchie and vengeance. 

Returning back to my companions I discussed the task at hand and decided if the task be done, best to be done quickly. Down I flew into the pit, quick as I could, immediately feeling the magic striking at me. First, I could feel myself aging as I went. My body changed as I flew, hips aching as they readied for womanhood, face losing many of the remaining trappings of youth. From the young maiden I grew to the girl on the edge of womanhood. Then a ripping at my mind that I fought and struggled against. I centered myself and focused on my purpose, faster and faster I went down the spiral and to the bottom of this place. There at the bottom I found a single dragon scale, glowing with magic. Fast as I could I grabbed it up, but once again I could feel myself grow older. Gone now all the trappings of the maiden. My bosom grown, my hips ready for a child, my face lush with knowledge of the flesh. A woman ripe and in her power was I. As a part of me processed this change in my body I readied to cast a spell again as I felt the magic once again tearing at my mind. Again I tried to focus my defenses, but this time something ripped lose. Before it could take me away I finished the spell and stepped through the dimension door and back to my companions.

I held up the scale in triumph and then began to scream. The voices in my head I had heard so long screamed for their freedom and I was lost. First one spirit within grabbed control of this shell, then another. Insanity is a word that distills the incomprehensible horror of reality torn to something people can understand. I cannot begin to describe the horrors my spirit experienced. Even now it brings me to the edge of becoming a gibbering wretch. I am simply lucky my companions realized I was not of my right mind. The spirit in control began to call down terrible magic upon my friends and quickly they put me to sleep before I could hurt anyone.

What happened next I describe from my companions accounts. Tavum quickly went off his own way, claiming he could bring back magic that would restore me to my right mind. The rest of us, feeling we were done with Artrosia began the trek back to town. At the bottom of the hill we me Sancho, Don’s companion who was waiting with the rest of his arms and armor. 

 Just as we began the trip, with little notice, we were set upon by the white dragon we had heard resided in these parts. Swooping down he snatched Don from his steed and began to fly back to his lair. Snori, tiny creature he is, was able to grab on to the dragon and ride along with it as it flew off. Yoska let loose a fireball, offset to burn the wing, but though hurt the dragon went on. Dalomar also used his own to follow after to try to track the beast.

Snori worked his way up the dragon to its neck and did something that shows that sometimes insanity can be a benefit. Taking heavy rope he carefully tied two of the items he had shrunk together and tossed them to either side of the dragon’s neck. Releasing the magic, suddenly the dragon found itself carrying not only Don the Paladin and Snori the annoying, but also the heavy and massive carcasses of a Bone Devil and a dead centaur. Unable to keep itself airborne and panicking, the dragon dropped Don and Snori immediately used his shrink spell on him. As the dragon plummeted from the sky, struggling to remove the massive burden from its neck, Snori shot down, grabbed Don, and slowed his fall. The dragon managed to free itself as it crashed, but still sustained much damage. Done with this unexpected turn, the dragon flew off back to its lair, unsuspecting that Dalomar’s Owl still tracked it.

Don thanked Snori and the two headed back to the party, Snori telling Don that he now owes him his middle name. The Owl followed the dragon back to his lair and stashed itself carefully where Dalomar would be able to find him later. The group headed on back to town and there met Tavum who through the use of a scroll of heal was able to bring me back to myself. I was now older and wiser and raw inside my mind from the experience. That night I spent time on reflection and discussion with Grr on all that had happened in the lair of Baba Yaga. I had become much more powerful in my short there and spells were open to me that I would never have imagined being able to cast. Though the lore I had hoped to garner there was minimal at best, perhaps just the experience of her lair was the reward I searched for.

The next morning we gathered our things and said goodbye to Sancho and Don. Though facing a dragon would be a serious temptation for any adventurer, we knew Don simply wasn’t ready yet for the task. Following the path Dalomar’s Owl and set us on, we traveled to the lair. Along the way we needed to skirt a group of Taiga giants. The party of them had captured and hung from a pole a Centaur who, from the colors of his clothing we recognized was probably from the town. Going invisible I flew quietly up to the prisoner. Then, activating my dimension door made good our escape. The Taiga giants searched for our party, but quickly we were away.

At the lair, we retrieved Dalomar’s owl and then made our way into the cave. Cold and craggy, stinking with the fetid stench of dragon and carrion, we made our way in. Snori and Dalomar took the point again, stealthily making their way to the massive cave that held the creature. Still nursing its woulnds from Snori and Yoska, the beast hung in the back of its cave. Springing to the attack, Dalomar let loose at it. Snori, casting dancing lights, signaled to us that the battle was begun. The fear inducing bellow of rage from the beast was more than enough signal by itself, I thought. Moving forward and calling my magic, I spread a circle of ash upon the floor and began to call forth a Cuestodaemon to do my bidding. Dalomar attacked again, but to little effect. Yoska ran forward and summoned light for us to see by. Sadobras and his warg raced forward into the cave, moving like the wind, and let a bullet fly from his sling. Tavum moved forward bringing his arrows to bear as Snori somehow turned his sword into a sword of Dragons Bane. Clawing its way from the pits of another dimension, my Cuestodaemon in its firey malevolence rose from the ground. Ordering it to do battle with the white dragon, I could see its eyes fill with the joy of battle. It raced off to attack. The dragon adjusted its position and blasted Snori and Dalomar with cold. Snori certainly leads a charmed life as he kicked up a stone to take most of the damage. Blasting the Dragon with a lightning bolt from across the cave, it doesn’t seem to harm the beast, the spell not getting through its inate protection. Tavum shoots the dragon again with a fire arrow and then before the dragon knows what is happening Sadobras charges it again. His weapon slams into the dragon skewering it and ending its life. With a cry of rage the Cuestodeamon shoots fire towards the ceiling in frustration at the lack of battle, then fades away as I banish it back to whence it came.

For hours we carved the dragon up, taking pieces to eat and sell. Snori shrank its entire head to bring as trophy and proof of our deeds. Grr did feast upon its flesh till the greedy gut was sleepy and sated. Once done we headed back to town and once again encountered the Taiga giants. Hiding the centaur we approached them and offered to trade them the dragon head for what treasure they carried. The Taiga giants in the area known for being mortal enemy to the dragon, we know they would revel in its death. Still, they were reluctant to trade with us, so I used my charm hexes on them to make them a bit more pliable. In the end, they traded us the gold and a few magic items they carried in exchange for the head, parts of the body, and a promise to keep a box from Snori that they must not open for a year.

Now we are ready to head back to the hut of Baba Yaga and I do not know if we are really any closer to finding her. Battles we have fought, mostly and won. Knowledge and power we have grown, but where is the crone? Where is the witch we are quested to seek. I suspect our journey is not over, merely entering another chapter…..