Snow falls

As we headed south from Plentyblood after the Encounter with the Staywood knights, we considered our options. It seemed unlikely that we could skirt around the Town and Keep (which we began to discern in the distance as a shadow on the horizon) as the surrounding grape fields (at first I thought the wooden Structures hop racks, but they were arbors) were covered in snow too deep for even the warhorses, not mention Philomena's cart. We considered such options as bluffing our way through Town as Pilgrims or merchants, but no good Plan came to mind. We decided to just head to Town and see what lay in store for us, improvising a Response as needed.

Any Strategy proved ultimately unnecessary, for in the end we were denied entrance to the Town at all! We approached the small walled village, its Keep looming over the road, and Puck knocked on the locked portcullis with his hammer to gain Attention and Admission. After a short and fruitless Conversation with some sort of official, we were sent away as "Strangers" and denied the Thoroughfare. What followed was a long afternoon of slogging though the snow around the lee wall of the village, under the suspicious eyes of Town Watch or Guards of some Sort on the Wall, burning much daylight to traverse to the south end of the Town - what could have been a short straight drive through main street became a wearisome Trek. On the bright Side, no one tried to kill us. Perhaps the popinjays we defeated were the very cream of Staywood, and the remaining townsfolk had no desire to venture far from their hearths.

Once regaining the road, our progress became much better, and Philomena found many a clear Trace to follow on the snowy surface. We espied some smoke rising from the top of a Hill a few miles before us, and decided to make for it rather than to camp the night on the Road. It turned out to be a wise decision for several reasons that later revealed themselves, but as we made our difficult way up icy switchbacks in the gathering Gloom, we were hard-pressed to convince ourselves of that Wisdom.

Our hard Work was rewarded with a night at a most comfortable inn or way Station - a large building with common stabling and fresh fodder for the Animals, a large dining hall with a palatable Stew and some sweet Mead for us, and rooms to let - although our late arrival kept us from enjoying those, and a place by the hearth was all we could manage. It served well enough to warm our Bones and let us rest in the arms of Vaksyrna.

(It turned out to be Puck's birthday that very evening, but I am afraid he got not his natal day Wish: his bedroll was his only sleeping Companion, much to his Disappointment.)

Morning came early, and the proprietrix woke us at dawn-break with Urgings to depart quickly. What we first thought was ill-will turned out to be a Boon - there was apparently no love lost between the innkeeper and the knights of Staywood, and when she spied some Riders coming along the road from Staywood Keep toward the switchbacks, she presumed they were meant for us - the only armed Party in the inn that night - and bade us make Haste to leave afore we were catched. As much as I appreciated her Assistance, I think she gave it more to injure the knights than to aid us.

Whatever her motive was, the party got horsed and I got ready Philomena's cart and we made to put Distance between us and the eight or ten pursuers our Benefactor had described. The road down to the south was easier than the road up from the north, despite the almost two feet of new Snow that had fallen overnight, so our Confidence grew by degrees that the Chase had been abandoned when by midday we still had not caught sight of our Hunters.

Of course, Nahlolago's dice then gave us another surprise.

We should be able to recognize the smoke of a burning Caravan by now, having encountered so many, but there is always that period of Hope that it will merely be a farmhouse unusually close to the Way, or a campsite tucked in a bend of the Road, before grim Reality reveals itself. As we crested a Hill, we saw below, just off the road, two overturned carts with a Blaze between them; one Giant; two human Corpses slung over the monster's shoulder as easily as Mel would carry two sacks of grain; and two great Wolves - not white this time, thank goodness.

Remembering our last Treatment at the hands of Giants, we prepared this time - my fellows mounted the warhorses armed with Lance (except for Aldwin) and I took the farm horse with long Spear at the ready. We meant to charge the beasts in a Surprise, but two elements deterred us; first, the newly fallen snow made fast Movement all but impossible, and second, the Giant's lupine companions had caught Scent of us as we made ready to attack, and were ready for us.

There followed a horrific Battle, all the more harrowing for its moving so slowly, like a river choked with Silt or a runner in dream. The wolves were overlarge, and ferocious, but in the end no Match for experienced butchers such as we have become; with much Credit to Mel, one was slain and the other fled yipping, tail between its legs, abandoning its Master. The giant himself was another Matter. First flinging a barrel at Puck, then laying about with a Club the size of a small tree, then grabbing and squeezing near the Life out of me (he would have if I hadn't wriggled free!), and then using a frozen Corpse as a Weapon, flinging it at Aldwin as he peppered the monster with arrows from afar, the villain came close to killing Puck and I until Puck's blade found a Vital and put the Beast down. Our victory toasts were healing Tonics, and drink came not a moment too soon.

The small caravan appeared to be transporting several Barrels of salted fish and Staywood wine southward; we salvaged a Barrel of each for the cart. We also found a small box whose Lock deterred me only a Moment; it contained a sizable amount of Specie and Gems, as well as some sort of Manifest that I attempt to reproduce here.


We took the strongbox and its Contents for Safekeeping. Further search revealed nothing of Interest save the mostly-devoured Carcasses of horses buried in the snow. Puck once again insisted on cleaving off and taking the giant's Member; I would not allow it in the cart and bade him convey it on his own Steed. He complied. We laid the Teamsters to rest as respectfully as we could and continued our Journey.

Towards Nightfall, we reached the next community on this fantastic Road. As we approached, my companions remarked at how similar it looked to Aerser, their Home; I saw nothing but a small anonymous community, the likes of which are found all over Graymore: a cluster of small buildings dominated by a large manor House and a somewhat smaller inn. The only distinction lay in the Banner over the Manor - a flaming hammer. Aldwin was of course intrigued, thinking the local Lord a Devotee, like him, of the forge-god Orbaak, but some local said it was a Sigil of his war-weapon only, not his Religion.

We secured rooms and a Meal at the inn, which were given free gratis by the keeper when casual Conversation revealed that the pillaged caravan we had encountered had been intended at least in part for him. We allowed him the salvaged Barrel of wine, and in return the slightly querulous old man granted us room and Board for a night. Based on our newly-minted Amity, we probed him further for news of Wayfinder's Keep, and he proved himself a font of useful information, to wit:

It was well known (the innkeeper told us) that Erochoel (he of the original Five) had long ago returned to Wayfinder's Keep, two days' further journey in good weather, with a mystic Stone, and that upon his return he had brought peace to the region. But even Elven lives run out of thread; Erochel passed, the stone disappeared, and a schism grew among the Nobles over the rule of Wayfinder's Keep. It was this civil Dispute that had caused the stream of refugees and the rumours of further war that we had encountered as we made our way south from Buhrost. But something like two or four months prior, the Lord Kharsis (he whose name appeared on the Document we had salvaged from the caravan) had returned to Wayfinder's Keep from some sojourn, bearing the stone, ending the Dispute, and once again bringing peace to the community.

While we were welcome to hear the News that for once our destination was not presently under Attack, we were puzzled. Our Conclusion to this point had been that the Stone we had wrested from The Butcher was Erochoel's Stone, stolen by him to abet the siege of Buhrost. But if this Kharsis had returned that Stone to Wayfinder's Keep, which was the Stone that Mel now awkwardly wielded?

For my part, I also began to wonder whether this Kharsis would - or could - give up his Stone for the greater Need that we had of it, to counter the threat of Rettoraxil, servant of Rhakin. I began to fear that further conflict lay ahead for us.

So, we passed a pleasant Night and even had a chance to bathe. In the morning, after breakfast, we prepared our party and made to stop by the Manor to pay our Respects to the Lord. We found the place apparently abandoned except by a Child, who taunted us through the Door and assaulted us with missiles made of Snow. Aldwin made an Offering at the smithy we found on the Grounds, as is his wont, and we departed the village without having made our Courtesy.

As we made our way south, thinking we had four or five days' journey because of the snow, I espied an overlarge Bird, like a Raven, flying high overhead. I was a bit afrighted, as it put me in mind of the Birds which had seemd to follow and observe us earlier in the Journey, one of which we saw killed by a Wyvern and whose Eye, seemingly sighted even in death, Puck had plucked. In any case, it was too high for bowshot even by keen Aldwin, and soon left us.

We made camp by the roadside and Puck once again wanted to attempt to have a Vision by eating some of the mushrooms he had acquired in Plentyblood. He prepared a Stew at the Fire and the others of us made ready to keep watch. After drinking the Soup, Puck began to fondle his Stone, and writhe in an unnatural Manner, moving sinuously in ways that were both effeminate and serpentine; he was clearly in the Grip of some dream.

It was then, of course, that we were attacked. A giant Worm breached the ground quite near to us, if I may call such a thing a Worm that was more a slimy Entrail given Consciousness, a disgusting, seething mass of Rot and Filth somehow made solid, that spewed Decay and Death. At once, the battle was joined.

Puck disappeared from sight; I had some sense that in his Stupor he had burrowed into the snow, but he was gone from our eyes. Aldwin began to lay into the beast with arrows, but it first covered him with a spray of Vermin, then a gout of Acid, and then closed on him, biting with a foetid Maw filled with score of sharp Teeth; quite quickly our Bowman was hors de combat. Mel joined in fearlessly - as is his usual Custom - once he had sight of the beast in my torchlight, but it was a bitter Struggle. I attempt to capture the Extent of the demon in this Image I had occasion to set down later:

For my part, I just tried to stay alive long enough to drink a Potion we had acquired - one that Aldwin had determined would render its drinker unseeable by any Eye. As I manouvered, Puck burst from the Snow in an inhuman Display of Strength and Agility, grappling the Worm, making to ride it, and attempting to rend it with his very Teeth. Clearly a Madness was upon him: the Worm's acidic muculent Coating was doing great Harm to him every moment of contact, but he seemed insensible of it. His attack served to distract the horror long enough for me to close unseen and deliver a telling Blow. The Potion apparently worked - the creature had no notice of my presence until my steel was within his Flesh.

And so the night's respite began once again with a corpse at our bedsides.

Walking the Borderline

After our ill-considered attempt to raid the lair of some Hill Giants and their hobgoblin troops, we camped for the night and in full daylight returned to our Journey southward toward Wayfinder's Keep. This Western land is full of surprises: some pilgrims we met on the road told us the next community we would encounter would be Plentyblood Point, indicating it was some sort of Memorial Spot protected by Truce, where steel will not be drawn.

Of course, before we could reach this place, trouble once again beset us. As we struggled through the bitter cold and snow, our caravan - Puck, Aldwin, and Mel on the horses we had acquired from The Butcher's camp, the annoying Vaelorn on the horse we had picked up along the way, and me in the wagon pulled by Philomena the Stout - was set upon by wolves. Not merely normal wolves, although there were three of them, and not just giant wolves, like the ones we killed in Penbridge on the way to Riverdale, but giant white wolves that talked.

These Monsters demanded our horses, I imagine as some sort of tribute for crossing their territory. Mel, Vaelorn, and I were ready to pay the toll, but the bellicose Aldwin (typically) precipitated Combat by doing that thing that makes fire come out his fingers. The battle was joined, and eventually we bested all the creatures, but at the cost of one horse - frozen solid by a blast of frigid air from one of the great wolves! - and substantial injuries to ourselves. Vaelorn proved useless in Combat, falling from the cart in an attempt to work some Magicks upon one of the wolves, but he did provide some healing energy afterwards. In the aftermath of the battle, there was some contention in our ranks as to the relative honor of paying tribute to Monsters, but we soon formed up and moved forward once again.

Plentyblood Point, when we reached it at nightfall, turned out to be some sort of bizarre community that centered on a huge bonfire tended by giants (they seemed tame). There were camps and compounds from all sorts of countries, religions, and other groups, flying their ensigns and regalia overhead. I made us a pennant of five precious stones disponed on a field (all I could do with my meager materials) and flew it proudly. The community was mostly composed of pilgrims coming to this sacred spot to honor or cremate or mourn war dead from battlefields all through the region, but a thriving Society had established itself there, with commerce and all sorts of intercourse.

We took advantage of this respite to convert all the miscellaneous armament we had acquired from our travels into gold and to re-provision. I had butchered the dead horse into several nice meals, so we seemed well-stocked with comestibles, but the pile of armor and weapons, as well as the giant drinking cup we had acquired and the giant's severed Manhood that Puck had insisted on taking, were converted in monies that could bring us better gear. I sold the goods to a party of my countrymen in service to Dessyn; I think I made a fair trade, and took the opportunity to prevail up them to convey some of my journal home. Of course, I distributed the proceeds evenly among my mates.

Puck was acting rather oddly, even for him, during this layover. He had gone to the camps of the different sects that embraced the teachings of Rahkin, whose terrible Power lies at the root of the great Evil which is the engine of our quest. He said he was spying and gathering information, but come back talking like an acolyte newly-converted and questioning our mission. He and the others reported that their Stones were dormant and unresponsive in the place, we we thought it wise to remove ourselves forthwith, particularly with Puck's strange Behaviors.

We each made acquisitions of improved tools of our bloody trade - including Puck, who once again infuriated us by converting everything he could could lay his hands on, his and ours, including a very valuable poison and a potion of Hastiness that I had given him as a gift, in order to purchase one Magical Sword. He even released Vaelorn from our service in return for some of his gold, but that made no one overly sad, although we made outward protestations. That sword had better be terribly Magical for all he went through to get it. I also acquired some goods, including a better sword, as did the others.

Given the nature of the place, we each in our own way made time to pay tribute to our fallen and risen Comrade, Taila.

As we settled for the second night in Plentyblood, we were paid a visit by a mysterious figure. Some sort of representative of Rahkin, he had noticed Puck observing the camps and came to both advise and warn and threaten us that there was trouble ahead. Puck seemed to want colloquy with him, but the rest of us had not the patience and sent him on his way. To know that there would be more blood in our future took no Divination.

Mel and Puck ate some mushrooms that were meant to give them Visions; each reported that they were unable to connect mentally with their Stones. Then we slept.

Hardly had we left Plentyblood to the south the next morning when Trouble once again overtook us: three knights flying the colors of Staywood accosted us and made to take us. We charged them and handily dispatched two; the third surrendered and suffered a Clouting at the hands of Mel before Puck began orating and posturing, meeting the pretentious bastard on his own Terms, with fulsome Courtesy and false Respect. Pfui. In the end, we left the knight alive, with one companion who would recover and one dead. We took their weapons and horses but left them armored and with two horse. The knight warned us that though we had bested him, the entire Keep of Staywood, some ten miles to the south, would likely raise Arms against us were we to try follow the road to Wayfinder's Keep.

With that thought in our minds we proceeded forward, leaving the knight defeated in the snow behind us. At least everyone's Minds seem clear once again.

Placeholder &c.

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