Grand Duchy 36

Grand Duchy of Adventure

Session 36
October 26 - November 5, 2014

Onward to Xitaqa

Moldain 14th Flaurmont

Planning the Journey to Xitaqa

The members of the Grey Company crowded around a small table toward the rear of the great hall of Susikyn. Though the hour was late, the room was packed with people, mostly area refugees who have found their way to the homestead. Griffin pointed to the place on his map that the Fairy King of Horses had indicated as the location of the ruins of Xitaqa. The tower where Stephan was rumored to be lay some 40 miles to the north. There were a few possible routes to the ruins, and none of them sounded to be the best. Travel through the moor would require going through the swampy mire in the north. Travel across the plains included unknown territory and potentially dangerous river crossing.

“And don’t forget about the DRAGON!” Remar interjected. “That beast is on the lookout for us!” To punctuate his point, the howling wind outside picked up a bit and rattled the temporary repairs made to the roof of the homestead where the Dragon Argos had just earlier that day, ripped a hole.

Iris studies the map and points to a location just north of Sielo. “Here is where we should cross. The ford that we found just the other day. That should put us on the right side of the river just south of the ruins,” her words drifted off and she gazed off, away from the group, thinking about what the ancient ruins might reveal to her.

Pytor shuffled up to the group, his eyes were tired and his face was weary. “My friends, you have no idea how grateful my family and I are for your continued help. I know that on the morrow, you will depart for this place you believe my brother to be. May Halav give you strength, may Petra protect you and may Zirchev guide you way.” He lowers his head for a moment in silent prayer. “I own you much for all that you do, and in time, I will repay you, somehow. But this I must say to you. Our stores are nearly bare and with all the additional mouths to feed, I fear that I cannot provide you with much more in the way of travel rations. We have been foraging in the nearby woods, and that has been getting us by, but with the appearance of the Dragon yesterday, I fear to take these good people beyond the protection of my walls. We do have feed for the horses, and of course water and other supplies that you may need. I am sorry that I cannot offer you more. Your quest is valiant and important, but I cannot allow those under my roof to starve.

“You are doing the work of the gods here, Pytor, and they will smile upon you for it. In the same fashion, they will see us through if times become lean. D’jaea will not frown on us for our own foraging, and Patura will watch over this household while we strive to find Stephan”, says Draven, praying fervently that this be true.

“It may be that we must tighten our belts before we finish our tasks, but then so be it.”

Pytor nods and manages a weak smile at Draven, a quiet “thank you” escapes from his lips.

“Pytor,” Draven asks, “is there any means of getting word back to Kelvin of the situation here?” He looks to the others. “I don’t feel right leaving the place undefended - no offense meant to you and yours, Pytor, or your bravery - you’ve fought more than good people should need. If pressed, we might get a few men of stout heart and strong arm to come to their aid, by way of the holy church.”

“Barring that, we’d need to leave some of our own strength behind, and I suspect that Xitaqa may tax us enough that we will feel the sting of their absence if we do.”

Pytor scowls at Draven’s suggestion, “This is our land, our home. We live here by our own hands or we don’t. Petra has delivered you unto us, I will not deny that aid, but I will not go to uncaring Thyatians in their towns. Even if we DID ask for help, I suspect none would be given. We are inconsequential, unimportant to them.”

Draven tries to mend fences, placing a hand on Pytor’s shoulder. “They would not find you inconsequential, my friend, but also they would not be coming here because you asked for help but because I did - for I can’t be in two places at once, more’s the pity, and I feel beholden to help guard this homestead in whatever way I can. After all, what is a holy man without a flock - even if they are unruly Traladarans that think he is nice, but foolish and naive.” He finishes with a smile, hoping to win the settler back over.

He growls. They villagers need their help, and have little in the way of means to help themselves.  Do we need to start tomorrow morning? Or can we stay and help? Griffin wrestles with these questions as he wraps himself in a blanket and finds a quiet corner to sleep.

Draven tries to mend fences, placing a hand on Pytor’s shoulder. “They would not find you inconsequential, my friend, but also they would not be coming here because you asked for help but because I did - for I can’t be in two places at once, more’s the pity, and I feel beholden to help guard this homestead in whatever way I can. After all, what is a holy man without a flock - even if they are unruly Traladarans that think he is nice, but foolish and naive.” He finishes with a smile, hoping to win the settler back over.

Marcel is unusually quiet on that evening. He looks back at what the company achieved in amazement. The drab life of a brother carpenter is nothing but a mere rumor of the past. He is afraid that Argos will come for the homestead. However, he doesn’t find in his heart the fortitude to advise them to walk away. They worked so hard to make this place their own.

Marcel scans the company’s weapons and offer a quick maintenance on the blades. He doesn’t feel like talking to men and women tonight. When he closes his eyes, the picture of horrors like Bailask, Argos and the FKoH seemed etched on his retina.

“Anyone needs a silver retouch? I need some alone time tonight.”

Draven shakes his head. “Waste no more silver on my mace. It seems I am unlikely to make much use of it in my state. My holy symbol holds more power than silvered weapons, I suspect.”

Marcel takes some time going over the weapons of the Company. He sees that for the most part, the silver plating is beginning to crack and flake off. With the exception of his spear, most of the weapons will no doubt be unusable as “silver weapons” soon enough. The shields are faring the worst and the longer blades next. The knives are not too bad, though. He does what he can to prolong the weapons, but he knows it is only a matter of time.

After several hours spent out in the tool shed, Marcel feels the strain of exhaustion pulling him toward his bedroll.

Griffin looks around the great hall. The goblin war has definitely taken a toll on the area, and unfortunately the Susikynites seemed to be bearing the brunt of it. He tries to catch Irina’s eye, but the weary look she gives him as she hurries to aid some of the refugee children tells him that she will have no time for him this evening.

He turns his attention back to the map. I wish we had some idea what Xitaqa was like. That Fairy King was less than helpful. Now what did Babaka say? Big, nasty hobgoblin named Vlack. “Old Skinny-Legs.”  Goblins with iron collars. And something about a “big map.”

Nytdain 15th of Flaurmont

A Hunting We Will Go

The following morning comes, and with it comes a cloudy sky, strong gusts of wind and warm rain showers. The sun is shining, trying to peek around the clouds, but the rains still fall. It looks like it will be an ok day for travel, despite the dampness.

As members of the Grey Company gather to break their fast, Griffin pulls them together for a quick meeting. “Okay, folks, I know we’re eager to get rolling, now that we have a destination.” He pauses. “But I say we’re not leaving today. We’re leaving two days from today.” He is greeted by looks of confusion around the table. “I know, I know. But these folks need our help, too. Here’s what we’re going to do. We are all going to hit the woods and bring in as much food as we can. Draven, Iris, since you don’t have weapons to hunt with, you’ll be going with Burik and Ree. Burik, you get to teach these two how to fish. Then Marcel, Akaios, Remar and I will hit the woods, try and bring in some game. When we leave two days from now, these folks should be a little better off, and we can still hunt and forage as we head to Xitaqa.”

He looks around the table. “I know that’s two days later that we want. If enough of you say so, we can still leave this morning.  What say you?” He leans back, bracing for the team’s response.

“While your plan has merit, Griffin, do you think we will manage to bring in enough extra food to even make up for the extra mouths to feed that we add to the supper table? I’m no longer a soft-handed city boy, but my skills with a fishing line are likely dubious at best.”

“Well, that’s why I want Burik to start teaching you. I think with two days of work, you and Iris can pick it up pretty easily.  Then we can leave these folks with a tidy store to ride out the next few days. I don’t know what their plans are, but they can’t just sit in here forever. Give them some breathing room, give Argos a chance to calm down and stop bothering them, and then they can hopefully send some of them either home or down the river to Kelvin.

“But point taken. Anything or anyone else?”

Marcel is eager to get started on this plan. He nods, smiles and asks what they are waiting for? Although hunting for him is a business that must be done in close quarters. Maybe he should bum a bow from someone and get at least a crash course and a few arrows out for a start?

Griffin frowns. “Well, okay, sure. Ask around and see if there’s a spare to be had.” He pauses. “If that doesn’t pan out, I suppose you could use Eran’s bow and quiver. They’re in the wagon with the rest of his things.”

He clears his throat. “Anyway, let’s get moving. Akaios, I’ll go with you and Marcel. Let’s put some distance between us and the settlement - we don’t want to hunt out all the game near them.”

While the group gets their gear ready, Griffin has a quick chat with Pytor. “Just so you know, we’re going to take a couple of days to do some hunting and foraging, get you some supplies to last you for a bit while we’re gone. I wanted to ask you about Taras’ sword.” He nods to where the blade’s hilt rides on his hip. “It was indeed helpful against the werewolves, and again against the ice demon of the mound.” He unbuckles it and hands it to the village headman. “Thank you for all you have done to support us.”

He turns away. “Of course, I’m sure it would come in handy in our mission to Xitaqa to rescue Stephan. If you would be willing to loan it to me again, I would appreciate it. In any case, don’t decide now - we’ll be leaving bright and early on the 17th, so I’ll be around.”

Griffin, Marcel, and Akaios head over the Susikyn Bridge and a ways along the road to Misha’s Ferry, into the western reaches of the Dymrak Forest. Best not to clear out the game near the homestead, and west into the woods is probably our best chance to avoid Argos if he’s still on one of his rampages.

Griffin ponders as he rides. Now if Argos attacked the Wolfskulls, and the Wolfskulls were working with Vlack kidnapping villagers, then it stands to reason that Argos was not behind the goblin raids lately. So Xitaqa may be the source of them. Which makes it likely a stronghold of bad guys.  Great…

Draven gathers Iris, Ree and Burik and the hooks and line that Pytor provides. “I make no promise to be a quick study, but you’ll get a solid effort out of me, Burik.”

“Where do you recommend we go, Pytor? Is the best fishing back at the river?”

Everyone moves off and does their thing, hunting, fishing and gathering the bounty of nature. The rain comes and goes all day, not ever raining too hard, but making it impossible to stay dry. Each member of the team does its part and at the end of the long day of work, a considerable haul has been gathered. The food is returned to the homestead. Wide eyes watch as all the food is deposited. Quickly others take over and begin preparing the food for either a large meal or to save for later. The only problem encountered during the day was Ree twisting her ankle. A quick bandaging of her foot, keeping it from moving for a while was all it took to make it feel better though.

That evening, Griffin also realizes that the magical light on his necklace has gone out again. Pytor also announces to the large number of new people currently inhabiting Susikyn that any or all of them are welcome to stay on at Susikyn and has thought about plans to expand the homestead. He plans to begin the following day, assuming the rain stops.

Griffin seeks out Brother Draven. “So I noticed your spell has run it’s course on my necklace. Could you make some time tomorrow night to get all our various lights, um, I don’t know, ‘charged up.’ Better now before a few days of travel than when you might need your resources elsewhere on the road, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, best to do so before I take my evening prayers. A few days here leaves me freer of spirit than I’ve been in some time, and more closely aligned with the will of the immortals. Remind me again before bed and I will ensure that we’re well provisioned.”

After taking care of business, Griffin will seek out Irina. She is serving food to the refugees out of a great pot in the kitchen. Griffin slides up next to her and starts handing her bowls and plates and then passing them out to the grateful homesteaders. She smiles at him as she brushes a lock of hair away from her face.

The beautiful Irina

They work together side by side until all are fed and the kitchen is tidied up. “Well, I noticed you did not get a chance to eat.” He turns to a tall cabinet. “Oh, look, I found some food up here!” He smiles, and his eye twinkles. “You wouldn’t care to join me, would you? I know a quiet place with quite a view…” She punches him in the shoulder, but grins. He grabs a convenient blanket and some glasses and his canteen, and leads the way to the top of the tower. Bahaznic, standing watch, takes a look at the two and heads down out of the tower, rather artfully palming the silver pieces that Griffin slips him. The young man has a new post, standing watch at the bottom of the stairs.

The rest of the evening for Griffin is spent as best he could want it - good food and beautiful company, the stars blazing across the night sky.

Loshdain 16th of Flaurmont

The next morning dawns to what looks to be a much nicer day. The sun is shining and warm, the sky is clear, a light breeze brings the smell of wildflowers with it. The group again gathers in the open yard in front of the house. It had finally been all cleaned up since the Goblin attacks over a month ago. The Captain, finally recovered from the trauma he had received during the attacks comes and thanks the Company for their considerable part in saving him and helping to protect and care for everyone in the region. He shares plans that he is preparing to head back to Kelvin, taking Villie, one of his rowers and a few of the others with him. He plans to recover some debts owed to him in the city and attempt to rebuild his shipping business. Most of the others have expressed the desire to stay, at least for the time being.

Griffin shakes the good captain’s hand.  “Captain, godspeed. Mayhap in the we can catch a ride with you again.  Look for us in Kelvin!”

Draven entrusts a letter to the good Captain, asking him to deliver it to the church in Kelvin for

Draven's letter

him before setting out for the river with the rest of the fishing crew, and keeping an eye on Ree lest her ankle is still giving her difficulty. He does his level best to forget about how he ignominiously bullied his way into being the one who got to wrap her injury up, and just what that was all about.

“One more day,” he said instead, stoutly, “and we’ll leave with a few bites for ourselves, and a good stock of food for these good people.”

The second day of hunting and foraging ended even better than the first, resulting in the Company bringing in over 70 meals worth of food for the homestead. While it would only feed the inhabitants of the homestead for a day, it will still help stretch their current food supplies. With the rain stopped, and the Dragon hopefully gone, it will be easier for them to continue supplementing their own food. By the time the members of the Company return to the homestead, it looks like the repairs on the roof have been completed and quite a few trees have been felled at the far end of the clearing north of the settlement. Preparations are well under way to repair and expand the current living situations at Susikyn.

The mood in the great hall is much more relaxed this evening and everyone is able to have something of a good time. A hearty meal is prepared, music is played, songs are sung and stories are told. Everyone is very eager to hear the recent tales of the Grey Company. They all lean in close and listen intently as the exploits are retold over and over again.

Griffin smiles. He hangs back, letting the other members of the Grey Company bask in the well-deserved attention from the homesteaders. Inside, he knows that the mission to Xitaqa could well prove the most dangerous undertaking of the fledgling group to date. Some sort of organized effort to purge the area of settlers using goblins and hobgoblins? He fears that that hints at an effort by a power above his pay grade.

Still, the fact that they could do something for the folk of Susikyn gave him hope. They were proving that they were a force in the region, a force for good. And that meant something. Just trying to carry on the family traditions, Dad!

He makes one more sweep through the stores of the homestead, looking for any last-minute items that he will no doubt need as soon as they leave. His supply of crossbow bolts was sorely depleted from the hunting of the past two days, despite his efforts to retrieve them from his kills. He is afraid that his crossbow, while sufficient for the basic job of hunting up dinner, did not treat the bolts well as they flew. Most were warped or broken when he found them at all.

While Marcel regales the group with the story of his conversation with Argos (or maybe the Fairy King of Horses - some of the details seemed to be getting jumbled), Griffin pulls Bahaznic aside. “So, we’re going to need a few extra hands to maintain a base camp in Sielo, protect the horses, that sort of thing. Flat rate, unless you see action, then standard contractor share. Think you and a couple of your friends here would be interested in making some easy coin?”

The young Traladaran’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, “Yea, that sounds great. I’ll talk to some of the others. How many do you need?” He looks around for some of the other guys. “Is this place you are going tomorrow, this Xitaqa, is this the place where my father is? Are you really going to find him and save him?” The young man is getting quite worked up and excited.

Bahaznic talks to a few of the others and 2 young Traladarans, Serg and Bori, agree to the terms and conditions of working with the Grey Company.

Griffin mentally checks off that task, then wanders around collecting the items that the Grey Company usually has Draven’s magical light cast on. He seeks out the young priest and lays them out on a table. “Here are those items for your blessings, Brother! See you in the morning!”

Once again, his duty done, he makes time for some quiet moments with Irina.  He is heading out into danger, and does not know when or if he will return. For a few moments, though, he tries to forget the trials ahead, and takes comfort in the arms of another human being.

Soladain 17th of Flaurmont

On the Road to Sielo

The members of the Grey Company rise early, hoping to get a good start toward Sielo before the homestead gets too busy. Pytor is already awake and looks as if he has been for some time. He holds his family sword and gives it to Griffin. “Please, bring my brother back.” Without saying anymore, he turns and heads outside. All the gear and horses are ready to go in the barn outside. Bahaznic and the other youngsters are already there, impatiently waiting to embark on the adventure.

Before joining the rest of the party, Draven takes time to delve deep into prayer, intoning the liturgy until he gets some sign that he has been heard, beseeching the gods of hearth and home, and of girding on of weapons, to protect the homestead in his absence.

After carefully studying the map and speaking to as many folk at Susikyn who had information to share, it is believed that the journey to Xitaqa should take more than one day. It will take the better part of the day to travel to Sielo and set up camp. From there, on foot, it may take as long as two days to actually reach the ruined tower, though much of that depends on the veracity of the information they have, the actual terrain and the weather, and barring anything else out of the ordinary.

The journey through the familiar forest to the lumber camp of Sielo takes longer than anticipated. Ree and Burik both experience trouble with their mounts and Draven has about the worst day of riding he has had in a long time. He managed to fall off his horse once and his saddle and gear kept coming loose, causing the group to have to stop multiple times to get him strapped back in. Hunting and foraging along the way did not turn up as much as would have been liked on this perfect day, but it would help. Ree also had some trouble as well, managing to re-hurt her ankle again when the group had stopped for a break around midday.

Griffin sighs. Well, this is not getting off to a great start, is it? How can we make up time tomorrow? Two more days of hiking to Xitqa will force us to divert resources to staying fed, possibly impact our ability to scout quietly.

Maybe Bahaznic and his friends could ride with us til noon tomorrow. Then they can lead the horses back to the base camp at Sielo, and we’ll have had half a day without  carrying our stuff ourselves. Yea, that works, I think.

He tries to remember the map - would the ford come before or after that half-day mark? He looks at the one-handed priest. Do we want to ride across the ford, and then let Bahaznic deal with getting the horses back across, or ford ourselves and leave the horses on the east side? He tries to remember how easy or hard the ford was to cross before.

Well, we will find out when we get there. Once beyond, I know that I want to get up on top of the bluffs as soon as we can. The fact that they are hard to climb means that the Xitaqans will be less likely to expect us to approach that way. Hopefully, we can take our time and scout things out a bit - find out where the enemies might be hiding, that sort of thing. Maybe even get a chance to snipe a few before we get into the thick of things.

Camping at Sielo

It was just after sundown when the group arrived at the lumber camp and though everyone was tired from traveling during the hot day, they quickly got working on setting up a camp. Griffin directed a comfortable campsite with good lines of sight of the surrounding area. Watches are set and the group beds down for the night.

Cast of Characters: 

Garrett "Griffin" Constantine, a Thyatian rogue of a gambler from Penhaligon rolled by +Arne Jamtgaard 

Marcel Maas, a homely but sincere wielder of spears aspiring to cooking greatness commanded by +Christian Blouin 

Draven Rickart, a Thyatian Acolyte of the Church of Karameikos ministered by +Jason Packer 

Iris Varda, a Thyatian explorer and historian searching for answers and adventure guided by +Alex Safatli  

and +Jason Woollard as The DM

Grand Duchy 28

Grand Duchy of Adventure

Session 28
August 13-25, 2014

The Keeper of the Circle

Lunadain 11th of Flaurmont

The Keeper

The strange Human stops about 15 feet away and throws his hands in the air, calling out in Traladaran, “I said, what are you doing in my storehouse!”

Griffin tosses the bundle of herbs he carried out of the cave behind a bush. He looks at Marcel with a shrug and a quirked eyebrow. You want to field this, or do you want me to?

Marcel lowers his spear and turns to the man.

“This is a storehouse? Well, this makes sense. I’m very sorry about this.”

Marcel motions the other to keep quiet while he appeases the man and figure out more about him.

“My name is Marcel, traveller who can’t resist exploring cracks in cliffs. For this, I apologize.”

Feigning a cough to avoid laughing at her companions’ shenanigans, Iris smiles at the strange and dirty stranger. “Is this really your storehouse? That’s so incredible! So, you must be very old then. Or you pass down as progeny from one of the caretakers of this religious site.” She stares right at the man and quirks an eyebrow, “What’s your name?”

Not yet joining in on the conversation, Draven takes a moment to pull his armor back on over his head and settle it into place. He listens in for the fellow’s replies, especially keen to see just how he manages to keep himself so clean, but also wondering a bit about the bones in the water off to the north.

The man stares at the companions then cocks his head to the side as if thinking, “I am the Keeper of the Circle,” he says matter of factly. “My name is, um,” he pauses for a moment and scratches his rough, bearded chin, “it is, well, oh yes, my name is Wyrtung. And what are your names, and what are you doing here?”

Marcel steps back into the foreground.

"We are the Grey Company, travelers stumbling here by accident. Our business is not with you, but we must admit that we are most curious about the circle and the reason why it requires a keeper. I hail from a Traladaran family, yet I have never heard of this wonder."

He invites the keeper to get seated on nearby stones and encourages him to talk.

While listening with half an ear, Draven crosses the ruins toward the stream that runs there to wash his hands and face, cleaning up from the dirt of his travels and from crawling through the fissure.

The strange man cautiously approaches the group while Draven excuses himself from the immediate area. “Everything needs a keeper. Your shield, his boots, her family, his gods, they all need keepers. I am this place’s keeper. That is what I am. Why have you come to this place, you say you have business elsewhere, but you are here.” He smiles an awkward smile then grimaces as his stomach audibly growls. “Ahh, excuse me.” He starts looking around on the ground near him. He pats the waistline of his ratty pants. He puts his finger to his mouth, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you seen my pipe anywhere?” His stomach growls again. He holds his stomach and then looks over his shoulder to the eastern horizon. “The moon will be full tonight. I must bathe.” With that he stands and drops his pants and starts to walk toward the steps leading to the top of the mound.

From his place next to the bubbling brook, Draven is drawn from his washing by an astonished gasp from his companions. He turns around to see Wrytung striding toward him completely naked.

The moon would be full that night.

“So, Iris, still want to talk to the guy now? Maybe you should take your pants off?”, Marcel adds in a mock. He remembers the bucket with the pipe that he left on a rock atop the mound and heads for it.

“Full moon tonight hey? I guess this is what we’re here for. We are looking for Bailakask and Kalkask. Are they for real? Are they causing you trouble?”

He follows the keeper up the stairs to see where this bath will take them, and recover the bucket to give it back to him.

Griffin grins as his Traladaran friend interacts with the hermit. Yea, but when we get to town, it’s my turn. He keeps an eye on the hermit, but he’s really curious about the rest of the place. “Hey, um, Wyrtung? Okay, if we keep looking around while you… bathe? This is a really cool place.”

Bath Time

Marcel realizes that this Wyrtung is heading up to the top of the mound, possibly to get his bucket. The Marcel follows the naked man. Just at the base of the stairs, the Keeper of the Circle stops and turns abruptly, bringing his hand up, as if to make a point. Marcel, who had been following just a bit too closely, ends up more than face to face with the fully naked man. Wyrtung crosses his eyes slightly, then huffs a mouthful of hot, sour breath into Marcel’s face. Marcel blushes and quickly retreats out of arm’s length of the man and steps to the side. Wyrtung composes himself a bit and then says, “You speak of Bailakask. I know of her.” As he speaks, he subconsciously puts one hand on his left elbow, hugging himself. “She does not come here, nor does her vile spawn, Kalkask. But that is why I must be here, must be the Keeper. I keep this circle and this place, but I also keep them out! But stop pestering me, it is time for me to bathe. I must bathe, for I am hungry.” To punctuate this last statement, Marcel can hear the man’s flat stomach growl again. 

Wyrtung turns and continues up the steps. He seems to have no problem with the Company hanging around the Circle and Mound while he bathes. Marcel follows him to the to top of the mound where he finds his bucket and pipe. “Ahh, yes, that’s where I left it.” He smiles and, from some unfathomable place, he produces a flint and steel, huddles down and lights his pipe.

Iris grimaces and decides to excuse herself after the strange hermit decided to undress. She looks for Griffin and tries to find somewhere the two of them could discuss this place and possibly throw ideas to each other regarding its use and relevance. Her deep red face seems to contrast with her relatively calm attitude, but Iris thinks she manages to keep herself together despite the awkward circumstances.

Griffin chats with Iris about other areas to check out, excluding the storehouse and Wyrtung’s cave. “Maybe there is more to the pool with the bones, or the crack with the weird mist coming out of it. I have a few questions for the old man. Out of respect for your delicate sensibilities, perhaps you could check one of those other areas out while I chat with our bathing hermit.” Iris nods and wanders off, but not too far.

Griffin heads up to the stonepit where Wyrtung is bathing. “Um, excuse me, would it be alright if I asked a few questions? I was wondering what those herbs in your storehouse are. And who do you trade with? Do folks stop by here often? Has the field of tranquility inside the circle always been there, or does it come and go?”

Wrytung looks at Griffin with an odd look, “Sure,” he says while munching on something in between puffs on his pipe.

Marcel heads back down to the others.

“I think that the guys is busy. I think that he is nuts too, but maybe I’m reading too much into this.”, the others grin.

“He knows about the werewolves. There is a mother and a son. The circle keeps them away or something like this.”

Marcel stare to the West. “He is all yours, friends. I’m going to get the others now.”

And Marcel leaves along the cliff’s, keeping an eye on the ground in case that he makes interesting findings.

As Marcel leaves, Wyrtung keeps himself busy. He takes his bucket from the grass on the top of the mound and then climbs back down the stairs. At the base of the stairs. he turns and wades out into the shallow, bubbling pool. There he crouches down and fills the bucket with water, an uncomfortable sight for those keeping an eye on him. He heads back up to the top of the mound and then climbs down into the stone lined pit, disappearing from sight to those still on the ground below the mound.

Griffin talks with the strange man as he performs his bathing ritual. Wyrtung climbs down into the 6 foot deep pit then pulls his bucket down. He sets his pipe aside then starts taking handfuls of water out of the bucket and scrubbing himself vigorously.

He explains to Griffin that the herbs are cyldwort, or wolfsbane. He plants and harvests it here as a hobby. He tells Griffin that he is involved with no trade with any others and that he keeps to himself as much as he can, though it seems that many others seem to want to intrude on his solitude quite often. As for the Circle, he says that it has always been ‘hushed’ up there.

Griffin perks up when he hears the mention of ‘wolfsbane.’ “Wyrtung, how could we use that in our fight against Bailakask and Kalkask.” He hesitates, “Assuming you might be willing to part with some, of course.”

“Even a little could keep them from entering our camp, were they to approach while we were scouting out theirs, right? I’m trying to so what I can to protect our horses. I hear they will be a liability if we try to take them with us to the werewolves’ lair.”

“Well, its all mine. You can’t have it! Why would you want to go to the Wolves Lair? They will eat you, or worse yet, Bailakask will put her mark on you!” He holds up his left arm, turning it out to reveal a dark purple scar on his elbow.

Griffin takes a few steps back. “Wyrtung! Are you a werewolf, too?”

“No, of course not. Are you? Why would I have all this wolfsbane here if I were a werewolf? Not all bites from a Werewolf turn you, you know. But EVERY bite from Bailkask leaves a mark. She is something MORE than just a Werewolf, though I know not what it is.” He turns back to his washing, scrubbing his nether regions.

“Oh, wait, I think you missed a spot… Well, could we trade for some? What do you need so much for, anyway?”

“I have need of very little here, I am able to take care of myself. But if you are so inclined to go after the Wolves, I can give you some advice.” He pauses for a moment, then continues, “Don’t!”

He then bends over and starts laughing. “No, really, they are dangerous and I do my part to stay out of their way, they leave me alone, but Bailakask has some desire for this circle, which is why I protect it. I grow and harvest the cyldwort and keep it here in such supply that they cannot come. The other wolves, the normal wolves, are for some reason kept from this place as well, though if I venture too far afield, they find me quickly. If you are going there, you would be best served to leave your mounts here. I will watch them for you.”

Griffin smiles. “We would indeed appreciate that, Wyrtung. And I wish I could heed your wisdom, but we are charged by the Fairy King of Horses with this task, and beyond that he promises to help us find a friend kidnapped by Goblins. So we have little choice.”

“There is always a choice. Which is why I refuse to join the others in their “worships” on the mound. They have no idea what they are doing. I think they are under the sway of the Wolves. I think they want to set the evil spirits free. I cannot let them do it. I have not seen them in some time. Usually they would be here, on the day of the full moon. I thought you were them. I thought they were going to try to clear my storehouse. I could give you some wolfsbane if you like, to help you in your quest. Remember, though, when you kill that bitch, you MUST use silver. Or throw her in lava. That would work too.” He finishes his washing and dumps the remainder of the bucket over his head. “Can you give me a hand out, it’s getting harder and harder to get in and out of this thing.”

Griffin offers a hand and helps the old man out of the pit. “You could grab one of those bigger stones and toss it in there as a step to get out, couldn’t you? Or bathe in the pool down there. Why do you come up here instead?”

“No, no, no! The Pool of Gefeoht must remain pure. It is what gives it its power. It protects me from the Wolves!” He starts to shiver and shake as he says this. He calms and then goes on to explain the pool, “I was drawn to this place when I was very young. I am not of these parts, I am Heldanner, from far to the north. A vision sent me here. I traveled for almost a year, not really knowing where I was going. When I got here, many years ago, I found an old man living here. He greeted me invited me into the circle. By that evening he had died. I was sent here as his replacement. Sent to “keep” the Circle and Mound. Sent to keep the Embrenu Sætung safe. Those are the evil spirits trapped in the lava down below, you know.” He points over to the dark fissure in the side of the mound.

“I didn’t, but thanks for the heads-up. We’ll give that a wide berth.”

“Bailkask has been taken by one of the spirits I believe. One of those stupid people who came here several years ago, the ones that “worship” in my garden, he climbed into the fissure and upset one of the receptacles, releasing the spirit. That dark spirit found the darkest and most evil being to inhabit, Bailakask. You must kill her! I can help you. I know a way to approach her lair secretly and safely. I can give you wolfsbane to protect you. I will watch your horses. But don’t get bitten by her and she MUST be killed by silver. The killing blow has to be silver or we are all in danger. Or at least YOU are!

“We’ll gladly accept all the help you can spare, Wyrtung. I hear these Weres have been a plague on the area for a long time. It would be great if we could rid the area of them for good.”

After some time, Wyrtung comes climbing back out of the pit. He smiles and stretches his arms and legs out wide, giving everyone the opportunity to fully see him. This whole process takes nearly 30 minutes, and just as he is coming back down the stairs and putting his filthy pants back on, Marcel calls from the other side of the mound. He has found Remar, Ree, Burik and Akaios and brought them to this site.

Marcel leads the others to Griffin, Draven and Iris. He points out that the place would be somewhat safe tonight and fish for opinion on where to camp the others.

"The werewolves will be out hunting tonight", he stares. "I think that we know where we should be, but how about our friends? Our horses?"

“It might be that this is a safe place for them to be. It is a place of holiness, after a fashion, and perhaps will continue to serve in such a capacity even for more modern and worldly peoples than our naked host.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Wyrtung moves about the area doing his own thing, really paying no attention to the members of the Grey Company except to nod and smile at them as he passes. He happily converses when spoken to, but continues to act just a little odd, as if sometimes forgetting they are there or what he had spoken about previously.

He seems content to have the group there and even happy at times for the company despite his lack of social skills or understanding of others. Eventually, even the Elves show up at the site, though they seem uninterested in conversing with the strange Wyrtung.

Marcel kinds of like the keeper and show proper deference to his ways. Griffin fills him in on the his conversation with the keeper. It looks like we’ve found a haven for the mounts, and a friend in these parts. “I say that we split, build a camp and catch some z’s before nightfall. We then take the safe way to the lair and then we…”, he gives a sideways grin “improvise until they are both dead.”

“Something in me suggests that we should be making better use of this protective place. Are we worried at all about them worshippers that the keeper thought we were?”

Hesitating slightly, Iris sighs and agrees that Marcel’s logic is sound. It doesn’t help that both the strange man and this place were incredibly enrapturing. “I think staying here is definitely the best course of action. Something about this place calls to me.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Let’s find a quiet corner and set up camp.” He quickly makes some suggestions for watches and turns in.

A comfortable camp is made with good lines of sight throughout the area. As the camp is being finished the Elves do a bit more scouting of the wider area and report that they find frequent wolf tracks, of varying sizes, nearby, though none closer than about 500 yards or so. Something is keeping the wolves at bay.

Story Time

Wyrtung agrees to part with just one bundle of Wolfsbane per person, he says that it will hinder the Werewolves, but it is not a guaranteed deterrent. He also suggests to approach the lair along the old road leading away from the mound. He says that the road is “thrice blessed” and “one cannot meet enemies while walking upon it.” Wyrtung also tells stories from his youth, about the strong and severe Heldannic Knights, about his people, a rough and hardy mountain folk, he tells of his travels from this far northern land. Unbelievable tales of survival and luck. He often retells parts, giving different accounts each time, most of the events he describes are outlandish and very lethal, lending continual credence that the man has lost whatever weak grip he once held on reality.

Initially hoping to add to the greater knowledge of the church, Draven began writing in his hesitant left-handed scrawl of what the old fellow had to say. As the stories deviate and mutate along the way, he continues to make notes, but with occasional side references to indicate, for any future reader, just how outlandish it all seemed at the time.

He does occasionally prompt the old fellow into talking more about the faith of the old times that founded this sanctuary.

Draven is very curious to hear that when Wyrtung speaks of faith, some of it is familiar to him, though much is foreign. It appears that Vanya, the Girder on of Weapons, is the primary Patron of the Heldannic Knights, the rulers and protectors of his homeland. He tells of a time when he was very young, before he embarked upon his quest, that the “Knights from the South” arrived at his homeland. He says they moved in quickly with their weapons and warships. They battled the many wild hordes of evil humanoids and even some native Heldanner resistance. Within a year the Knights had placed themselves in charge. Wyrtung makes it seem like these Knights were actually a good thing for the Heldanner people. “They brought order where there was none. They made peace through war.” He also speaks of some other Immortals such as Odin, Thor and Frey, but reminds himself that these gods are now outlawed and the enemies of the Grey Lady. He nods to the nearby mound, “This circle is of Odin and his brood. Built long ago. Many before me have kept this place. The wind blows strange, I feel that maybe it is no longer time for this place.”

Draven files that snippet of supposition away for a later time. Places of great sanctity remain sacred even after the gods to which they were ascribed have forgotten about them. This might a place to serve as a foundation for the spread of the true faith in these lands.

While the hermit rambles, Griffin brings up “The Star of Sairalindë.” “Have you ever heard of it, Wyrtung? It’s supposed to be lost around these hills somewhere.”

“Star of Sairalindë, you say. Why yes, there is a full moon tonight. Good night to hunt wolves! Visiblity will be high.” Wyrtung states. He makes no further comment about the “Star” and completely ignores Griffin when asked again.

Also intrigued by the wealth of information this man held, Iris takes the time making an accounting of his stories and comparing them to what she had learned from her research back at home of the histories of this region. Briefly, Iris wondered if her guardian would take stock in the sort of man Draven appears to be. She knew Draven definitely reminded her of him.

As Iris writes down the stories of old Wyrtung, she reminds herself that many of these stories are from the hermits past, before he came to Karameikos. He talks of being a Heldanner, from the Heldann Freeholds far to the north, past the great Ylari desert, through the Dwarven mountains of Rockhome and across the vast plains of grass of the Great Khan of Ethengar.

Wyrtung comes from far in the north.

While they wait for sundown and the imminent battle against formidable foes, Griffin takes time to get to know the Elves that accompany them. He asks about Rifllian and what they might know of this strange place. At some point, he awkwardly asks about how they handle honoring their fallen comrades. He shares the story of Eranthil, killed at the Battle of Susikyn. “I think he said he was from Rifllian. Did you know him?”

The Elves confirm that they knew of Eranthil, more directly they knew his mother, who still lives in Rifllian. Seldanna is her name and she is one of the village weavers.

Marcel wakes up from a nap to find the lot in chatter as if it was a strawberry social. He does the rounds and polishes the silver on everyone’s weapon to make them smooth. “May they find targets tonight.” He prays to the best of his abilities as he buffs, trying to engrain a little bit of the gods in the silver with this vigorous meditation.

“Halav, in this silver, imbue the just cause.”, he intones for each weapon.

Seeing Marcel’s attention to the silver reminds Griffin of the mad hermit’s warning. “Marcel, for what it’s worth, you’re going to be taking point on this one. Wyrtung says that Bailakask, the werewolf queen, may be possessed by some evil spirit from this place. He says the killing blow must be from silver. Going in, let that be your mission, okay? We’ll help, but I’m thinking you’ll be the one facing her anyway.”

“Point taken”, he replies. He wonders whether he shouldn’t have stuffed a small blade in his belt in case it comes down to a skin-to-skin contact.

Dining with Wyrtung

The afternoon progresses quickly and finally the night falls. Wyrtung is invited to dine with the Company and he remains much quieter throughout this meal. As soon as it is done he leaps up, gathers his bucket and proceeds to repeat his bathing ritual as he did earlier in the day, all the while fretting about “too many meals” and “must cleanse and protect.”

When he is done, he looks around, seemingly startled by the Elves, who have been in the camp for several hows now. “Where did these Elves come from?” he asks, though does not wait for answers. He talks about them a bit, though never speaking directly to them, and ignoring the few attempts they make to talk to him. After a while, the Elves just start ignoring Wyrtung all together.

Eventually, the sun sets. Wyrtung gives each member of the Company a sprig of Wolfsbane, though he does not give any to the Elves. When asked about this, he says he does not have enough to spare, that even the small amount he is giving away is potentially catastrophic.

Again, he points out the ancient road leading to the east. “The road is thrice blessed, you will never meet an enemy upon those stones!”

“Okay, guys, let’s get rolling. The Fairy King of Horses said that the werewolves should be out hunting, so if we time this right we’ll get a chance to get in and clear out a few wolves before they get back. Then we can set up a decent ambush!” Griffin makes sure that he has the traps he prepared at Susikyn in his pack. “We’ll be on foot, so let’s keep it quiet. The goal is us surprising them.” He looks at Thallan. “Perhaps one or two of your troop could take point?”

He turns back to his comrades. Now, we may not have a lot of time once we get there.  Are there any questions you need answered now?”

Thallan the Elf nods, “We will scout ahead, secure the perimeter and watch behind as well.” He goes on to explain a series of whistles that sound like bird calls that the Elves will use to alert the Grey Company of anything they find.

Cast of Characters: 

Garrett "Griffin" Constantine, a Thyatian rogue of a gambler from Penhaligon rolled by +Arne Jamtgaard 

Marcel Maas, a homely but sincere wielder of spears aspiring to cooking greatness commanded by +Christian Blouin 

Draven Rickart, a Thyatian Acolyte of the Church of Karameikos ministered by +Jason Packer 

Iris Varda, a Thyatian explorer and historian searching for answers and adventure guided by +Alex Safatli  

Remar Umerus, an Alphatian battle mage that escaped forced service in the Thyatian army conjured by +Ben Lipe and currently in NPC mode. 

and +Jason Woollard as The DM