It is late. It is raining. Everyone is tired and soaked to the bone. They had spent three days out searching for clues to the possible whereabouts of Stephan and any other captured folk, but then only thing that was found was wanton death and destruction at each of the settlements the group had investigated. The only signs of life were that of the crazed Captain Kalanos who seems to have suffered from some sort of emotional damage. Attempts were made to speak to him and help him, but he was unable to communicate very coherently and fled when he was able to. The only other interesting encounter was with a large black stallion in the rain. Marcel seemed to think this beast was the fabled Fairy King of Horses trying to call the group’s mounts to him.
Bahaznic sullenly leads the way down the dark, muddy track back toward Susikyn.
“I think that the horse was trying to tell us something”, states Marcel out of the blue. “I wonder whether we shouldn’t be dashing to Segenyev to catch fresh trails of the goblins.”
The crew around is very tired and isn’t really paying attention to his ramblings.
“Fairy King of Horses or no, my heart tells me the same thing, Marcel. But my head tells me to regroup first, reprovision, and strike out immediately thereafter. There’s little we could do in our current state to help, and might be throwing more lives into the fire if we did.”
“I hear you loud and clear, friend. But our heads have taken us for a long 3 day trip around the sticks for nothing. Anyway, I agree with you, and certainly doesn’t think that we can help Segenyev as it is probably too late. However, I hate to follow their tails from so far behind that all that’s left are ashes and insane kids.”
Marcel remembers the Captain. He was a good man but is now a lost soul. Having battled goblins for a day job for years, he tries to remember a time where someone was driven over the edge like this before. He can’t. His wandering through memory lane brings him back to the Maiden: a large pint, good company… he sighs.
“I fear for our ability to find any tracks at all, after this storm, even if we’d been there when they left. I wonder - we have a reasonable estimation of where the goblins make camp - might we beat this batch of marauders back, and catch them as they arrive, do you think? Or is that opening us up for more trouble?”
“I think that the jerks’ main base is somewhere South-East, and I think that there is something big coordinating the unusual raids. Without the elf, we’re just a bunch of kids running around. I sure hope that the elves to the East will be able to give us something to work with. Going towards the Goblin’s base sounds to me like a dangerous proposition since we can’t manage to keep track of them outside of their home territory.“, he pauses.
“Maybe we can enlist a good elf guide that knows the area inside out? Without this, I’m not sure that more food is really what we need the most.”
“What this place needs is the civilizing influence of the Church, and the holy warriors that would come with it,” Draven mutters, sotto voce.
Louder, he continues, “Does anyone know the standing of this land? All part of the Duchy, surely, but these small homesteads make me think that it’s still effectively the frontier, and up for grabs if all of the civilized folk can be driven away.”
Griffin, who has been quietly listening up to this point, chimes in. “As far as I know, it’s part of the Duchy. Susikyn will probably grow into a village or even a town given enough time, and if we can figure out what the heck is going on.”
He pauses, as the rain continues to drip off his blanket. Cold and tired, he responds a bit sharply to the soldier’s speculations. “First, Marcel, “the elf’s” name was Eranthil, and I would appreciate it if you would respect his death enough to remember it. Second, this trip around the nearby settlements was not “for nothing.” It confirmed something we’ve been speculating for a while - that the attack on Susikyn and the bandit attack on the river were part of a coordinated effort.” He sighs. “I’d put forth another theory that the enemy is based southeast. We see two goblin tribes there already - if they’re at all territorial, there’s not enough room for the Wolfskulls down that way. I’m thinking maybe up in the hills to the north.”
“But finding them is a crap shoot without more intel. So, we go back, get a good night’s sleep and resupply at Susikyn. Akaios should be back on his feet, so more muscle. Then we head east to the Elves and see what they can tell us, and then circle back south to check out the two gobbo hives that we know of. You like knocking them around for information. That would be a good time to get a shot at doing that.”
Marcel take a glance at Griffin. The man is tired and better left alone for now. “Eranthil was a good man… elf. You know.” His voice trails. Maybe Marcel should just shut up. He kicks the spurs and takes Pepito to a trot, than a gallop, leaving the crew behind. He doesn’t really want to deal with folk at this point and set upon himself to refine his rough riding skills: it looks like he’s going to need it and starts to fancy himself as a cavalryman: wasn’t he touched by the FKoH after all?
Draven lays a hand on Griffin’s shoulder as he trots along beside him. “Don’t take his words too harshly. We’re all stinging from these raids and our inability to make fast work of them.”
Griffin shrugs. “I know, I know. He’s a good man. I just miss my friend. This was supposed to be the beginnings of a grand adventure. I didn’t count on any of us getting killed.”
“None of the tales we took in on our fathers’ knees made much mention of the risk of death, did they?” Draven shakes his head ruefully. “Even the stories of the Immortals are notably silent on the soldiers lost, the homesteads and villages that were lost, in the past - the mudsill upon which we build such civilization as we have today. But take heart, he was a good fellow, and died in the service of good will. He’ll have taken his place at Vanya’s side, to fight in her van against all that stand against those who fight for the right.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I don’t know much of the Elven gods, but you’re right. He,” gulp, “ died defending folks for no more reason than it was the right thing to do. That’s got to count with most deities, whatever the flavor.”
He straightens, moving on from something painful to more cerebral. “So, would you agree that there’s something going on here? That this is not just random stuff?
“Two raids by two different tribes at the same time? That could be coincidence. Three tribes in five raids or more over a span of a handful of days speaks entirely of some guiding hand. The goblins have found a heretofore unknown benefactor, or perhaps a fierce new leader.”
“And it’s not just gobbos. I think it extremely unlikely that a purge of the humans in this area and an attack on the riverboat are unconnected. So, bandits who were set up before we ever got on that boat means it’s not us.So, it’s something about this place. When we get back to Susikyn, we need to talk to the old priestess. Why here? Is there anything unique about this region? What could the boss want here? Some hidden treasure? A staging area for an attack on the duchy?”
He stretches, then cracks his neck. “What have I forgotten or overlooked? Do you know anything about the area?”
“Little more than you, I’m afraid, and most of that learned from listening with the local folk, or seeing it for myself these last few days. It does make sense, though, that someone has an ulterior motive for clearing this land of any who might lay claim to it, or otherwise solidify the Duke’s claim to it.”
Griffin sighs as he looks at Marcel’s back slouched on Pepito as he rides out ahead of the group. “Well, interesting thought about the Duke - not sure clearing folk out lessens his claim, but it could be political. Hmmm…” He digs his heels into Lucky’s flanks. “I better go talk to Marcel.”
He gallops ahead and slows as he approaches. “Hey, Marcel. Sorry I snapped at you, tovarisch. You’re a soldier. Maybe you’re more experienced with this sort of thing. My friends and I are just starting out.”
Marcel let out a sigh of relief as Lucky’s hooves clattered on the stony path behind. He slowed down and glanced at Griffin. Griffin’s lips are moving, but he barely pays attention. He wish that he has the words to tell Griffin that he has seen so many good folks die at the hands of goblins that he still is numb to this day. You give them names and it hurts more when they go. He wish that her could tell Griffin that yes, he is a soldier, but a soldier of his stock makes it through by learning to put a foot in front of the other, knowing that there is a friend on either side in case that you fall.
The two friends ride along for a brief moment. Marcel reaches up to the branches with his spear tip and rips leaves off the season’s green growth. “I can only deal with what’s in front of me”, he almost blurts if he could find the words. He can form a line and call the shots when it is time to cross steel. Making decisions beyond the next few minutes are out of his realm, maybe even more than it is for Griffin. Where is the captain when you need one.
“I’m a soldier alright.”, he replies in a half-tone. “I’ve got your back, tovarisch.”
They ride in silence for a bit. Draven catches up ahead of the others.
“I’m tired of battles. I want war. I wish that we could stick it up to the gobbos, fill the place with good folks like Pyotr and Stephan, push them gobs back beyond the mountains. Win that war and do away with them. I think that there is a real bad guy underneath all this.”
“I can deal with gobbos, but I’m at a lost on dealing with evil.”
The path opens up to familiar ground as the winding brook slither on the far end of a clearing. The stone tower of Susikyn stands tall down the vale.
“Hmm… Where you want a war, I want answers. We can fight goblins all day, but that’s just a symptom. You’re right that there’s someone behind all this - cut off the head of the snake and it dies. There’s something about this place, something that someone needs all of us cleared out for. Find out what that is, or who that is, and we can fix this. Two questions. Answer either one and we will be much closer to solving this.”
“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, Marcel. It may be a small one, but this is turning into a war whether we like it not. I just hope that Griffin is right, and we can figure out who is at the bottom of this new evil and well-coordinated behavior. Could save us a lot of trouble, all around.”
Draven ponders for a moment. “I wonder if we should plan to kit out that wagon of ours for this trek to the east. Might be a more comfortable way to travel, for our recently injured comrades, plus give us the wherewithal to bring more supplies along with us, or stock up when we find patches of civilization.”
“We have just about as much punch as to chop the snake’s head if we get to it quietly.”, replies Marcel. “I think that there is an argument to be made to have a baggage train if we were guaranteed to be road-bound. However, the baggage will weigh us down and make an easy target if we ever get detected.”
Marcel twiddles with his spear some more. “We certainly could use a camp hand to make some chow at some point.”
“I think that the wagon would slow us down if we try and take it through the woods as we explore. We can carry enough supplies to last us for a longer trip next time out.”
He turns up his hands. “Personally, I think the next time we’ll need to move the wagon is when we drive the horses to Rifflian.”
He shrugs, “Well, we need to catch up Pytor and the rest on what little we found. Marcel, you may want to ask Kuzma about the Fairy King of Horses - she seems like a lady who would know.”
Griffin catches up with Bahaznik. “So, Nick, what’s our next move? Head out to the Elves to see what they know, then swing back through the Viper and Redskull camps to clear them out?”
The young man mumbles something, but doesn’t pick up Griffin’s bait. “Hey, look, we didn’t find him. Frustrating, I get it. Still, they took him prisoner for a reason. They’re not going to hurt him. We’ll find him, don’t worry.”
“But speaking of which, can you think of any reason someone might want to take your dad prisoner? Is he unusual in some way? Travels a lot? Knows people? Has he mentioned anything lately that he thought was strange?”
The young man just pulls his hood down over his head. Griffin realizes that Bahaznic may have had unreasonable expectations for this scouting mission. He had hoped to find more himself - troops of goblins running through the woods should have left more of a trail. Again, he feels the pain of Eran’s absence. They could really use him right now.
He ceases his attempts at conversation and rides in silence at the head of the troop as they descend into the vale to the settlement. He smiles and waves as he sees Irina keeping watch from the tower, and makes a “no results” gesture. At least in this case no news is not bad news.
By the time they made their way to the corral entrance, most of the settlement was somewhere nearby. Before Bahaznic could share “bad news”, Griffin spoke up. “We searched Hokol, Sielo, Ilyanka, and Cherkass. The gobbos hit them all.” He nods to Villie and Gregor. “We saw Kalanos at Ilyanka, but I fear he’s gone a bit mad. It’s my hope that he follows us here. He needs help.”
Griffin leads Lucky to a rail and begins removing her tack and gear. “What we didn’t find was any sign of Stephan. For whatever reason, he’s important to the gobbos. They’ll keep him around for a while.” He rubs his horse down well and moves the tack to the shed. “There’s more, but we can do that inside. Let’s get the horses taken care of first. Pytor, we’ll need you there, and Kuzma, too, but we also need to get ready to head out again tomorrow. Probably need supplies for at least two weeks.”
He raises his voice to be heard over the hubbub. “Okay, get the horses settled and meet up in the hall in fifteen! Sooner we get a plan, sooner we can relax and rest up before tomorrow.”
The horses and gear are quickly stowed and everyone hurries back inside before the next wave of storms blows in. Pytor is quite upset with the news that all of the other nearby settlements had been attacked as well. When told of the smoke coming from the east, he concurres that it is probably Segneyev as well and agrees that heading that way to at least look for survivors is the best course of action. He feels that a trip to the east would be well served by trying to find the Vyalia Elves that live near the Lake of Lost Dreams. “Be wary, though, these Elves may not be like other Elves you have know. Your friend Eranthil was a Callarii Elf. They populate the central and western lands. They are hardy and down to earth people. the Vyalia Elves are quite different. They are, um, dreamy. Nice enough, though sometimes it is hard to follow a conversation with them. They seem more interested in the way the dew drops shine in the morning sun off a plant leaf than anything practical. Some say they are aloof, I just think they are not as concerned with the same type of things most folk are concerned with. They are a nice enough bunch. Peaceful and even tempered. I have never had bad dealings with them, though I don’t often have reason to deal with them in the first place.” Pytor gives some descriptions of the things to look for to seek them out past the south-eastern shores of the lake. “While you are there, you may seek out the Seer as well. The Elves may know where to find him or how to contact him. He is a wise soul. A protector of the forest. I have only met him once, many years ago. He is Human, but they say he is long-lived like the Elves. He may be able to shed some light on your search.” In closing he says he will pull together whatever supplies he can for the trip.
As everyone gets settled back in the main hall, Marcel approaches Kuzma and asks her about the Fairy King of Horses. She smiles a wide grin and and beckons everyone to gather around. She is about to tell a story. She tells of a beast that can appear as a mighty black stallion or a large Centaur. He is a Chevall, a magical beast that can speak to and control horses. He is a friend of the Centaurs that roam the moors and hills nearby. He is not a friend of the Humans in the area, as he hopes to have all horses roam with him on the plains. He can be summoned, though and for a price, he has been known to aid those in need. She says that in order to call the Fairy King of Horses, one must go out into the moors, three nights in a row, and stand atop the Crying Rock, on one leg and whistle the Song of Zirchev. She says that after three nights, the Chevall will appear. Then she warns, “Do not take your horses, for he will take them back and set them free!”
Irina and Masha serve the group bowls of warm stew and hard bread while Kuzma tells her story. After feeding the group, Masha heads back to her room above the stables. Akaios follows saying he wants to make sure she is safe out there alone with the baby.
Griffin watches as Irina moves around the dinner, again struck by her simple beauty. Ah well, business before pleasure, right, Dad?
“Pytor, Kuzma, Irina, if I could have you for a few moments more after dinner?” When he gets nodded assents, he finishes his stew and moves to the kitchen, where he strips to the waist and hangs his armor and undershirt in front of the fire. He grabs a rough blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, then makes his way back to the great hall.
“Ah, that’s better. I was feeling like I’d never get dry again.” He smiles at Irina, who has lingered at the long table with Pytor and Kuzma. “Now, we have a plan for tomorrow, but there may be another way you can help us with this. I’m trying to use this,” and he taps his forehead, “to maybe save us some time and effort.”
He leans in closer. “The fate of the other settlements makes it clear that this was not an isolated attack. And the ambush on the river suggests that this is not just goblins on the warpath. The ambush took time to set up, and probably was coordinated by the same person who got the gobbos all riled up.”
“That leads me to two questions. Who? and Why? You say there haven’t been any strangers around, so you probably won’t know who. I’ll keep working on that.
“But why? You three might know why this mysterious figure would have initiated these things? What is there about this area that he could be after? Is this part of the forest of any strategic or political significance? Or could there be something here he want to find? Do you know of any legends of mysterious treasure? A star, perhaps? Or a powerful weapon for the unscrupulous to uncover to grant themselves undeserved power? Or something else? You would know the legends of this area far better than I, an outsider. If we can puzzle out what this foe wants, we stand closer to thwarting him, rescuing Stephan, and getting on with our horse business.”
He looks at the three intently, hoping for some clues to answer the questions that plague him.
Pytor begins to say that he has not heard of any strangers in the area. Winter has just ended and much of the area is closed off to travel during the harsher winter months. Captain Kalanos’ boat was the first such excursion into the area this spring. He does say that he had heard that some folk from Cherkass had come across a stranger wandering in the hills to the north a few weeks ago but he is interrupted by Remar, explaining that it was probably him they were talking about, as he had recently passed through that way over the mountains from Thyatians to the east. He had met up with and traveled with a band from Cherkass at about that time. Dismissing that, Pytor says he knows nothing. As if waiting for her cue, Kuzma launches into a loud and nearly incomprehensible list of possibilities of the evil brewing in the area. Argos the Worrier, the mighty Green Dragon said to lair to the east. The Centaurs of the moors and hills concocting a plan to rid the area of the Homesteaders. The dreaded Witches of Dymrak, a coven of 9 witch sisters said to haunt various parts of the forest. Yuri the Death Knight and his undead Dragon mount. Orcs or Giants from the mountains. Vampire Lords from ages past. Thyatian political machinations.The People of the Night returned. Beastmen of the Goat. Plots of the Church of Karameikos (though she shares this one quietly and with her eyes down as she peers at Draven, clearly her view of the church has changed somewhat slightly in the last week or so). She rambles on and on, listing a good ten to fifteen more possible evils.
Taking notes on a purloined bit of parchment, while he’s not writing up the events of the last few days in a missive to his superiors, Draven looks up at Kuzma on this last thought, looking at her as though over the top of non-existent spectacles, one eyebrow raised sardonically. “I feel comfortable in assuring you that the church has not hired on goblins to cause you grief. Though I might hire one myself to come here and chase you around some, if you persist in such nonsense!” He waits for whatever smattering of laughter he might get for his jibe.
“The most likely of the bunch is that dragon in the east, or I miss my guess. We’ve seen no signs of centaurs, though there was definitely something afoot in the moors across the river from the lumber camp, but they don’t seem the type to be in league with goblins. Your death knight sound proper for the role, but no sign of him just yet, nor these witches or vampires. All conjecture, but for that dragon - if he’s still there in the first place.”
He returns to writing his letter, poised to take further notes from the conclave as it proceeds.
Pytor puts his hand up and stops his mothers ramblings. “Mother, that's enough. You can’t just go blaming every old folktale for our woes. It’s Goblins. Someone or something has prodded them to attack. Happens. These kind and brave folk are trying to help us here, so we need to let them. Don’t confuse them with every story you tell to the children to scare them in the night.” Kuzma puffs out her cheeks at her son and glares at him then hikes up her skirt and heads to the tower.
“As my mother said, there are plenty of culprits for the evil doing in these parts, and then again, it could be something else as well. But as for why, I could not tell you. This is the life I have chosen for myself and my family, as my fathers did before me, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone ELSE would want to choose this life. I see that it is hard. I like it, it works for me, but I can see that it would not be the goal of many others. There are riches in this land, for sure. The trees, the animals, the water, even some mineral wealth under the ground, no doubt, but nothing in enough abundance that it would call for this type of action. At least as far as I know. If someone wanted the animals here, they could come hunt. If someone wanted the trees here, they would come cut, if someone wanted the bounty of the earth, they could come and dig. But that is not the case. Something else is afoot here, but I cannot see it.” He ponders for a minute, the continues, “but if you can find my brother, maybe those who captured him will know more. As I’ve said before, the Goblins are not known to take slaves like this. They kill and steal easily usable goods, but they are not slave takers that I am aware of. Your descriptions of the other homesteads and camps are distressing, because it does not seem as if they wanted to steal either. I give you my word that I will help you in your quest in any way I can, though our stores are threatening to run low. I hope we can finish this business quickly and get on to the sale of these horses and get back to life as usual.”
Griffin leans back, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “Of course, I look forward to that as well.” His head is spinning with all the possibilities. And a dragon? Yea, better hope that’s not what’s going on here. Sheesh!
He rubs his neck, trying to dispel the tension that’s been building up there all night. Suddenly he feels soft hands push aside the blanket and begin to massage his shoulders. “Oh my, lass, you are a wonder. Remind me to show you my gratitude, in about fifteen minutes or so.” He hears a giggle behind him. He keeps his eyes closed and lets go of planning and strategizing for a while. Let tonight be tonight, tomorrow would come soon enough.
