Keildrithe nods at his companions, then reaches for his beldach. He speaks again briefly in the rushing, whooshing, and whistling tones of the Sylvan tongue.
"You never did say what you wanted from us, redcaps... what prize will you claim, if I should disappoint you? Each side's wager should be known..."
The Karand holds his drum in one hand, but refrains from playing it, apparently awaiting a reply from the redcaps. Keildrithe seems to relish the mounting anticipation prior to the performance... or is he delaying, for fear that his skills may not be up to the task and that his plan may backfire?
Sylvan:
One of the wee men in the rafters answers Keildrithe, and the others snort and snicker and grin evil grins.
Keildrithe translates the redcaps' wager for his companions.
“If I can impress them with a song, riddle or tale, then they will leave us be for three nights. If they don't find satisfaction in my tale or riddle, then they’ll take a purse of gold, a flask of strong drink, a magical potion … and one of us, to be nevermore seen in the world of men. They will let us choose who they will take. I am willing to accept the challenge... if anyone has reservations--or a better idea--speak now...”
Despite his declaration of confidence in his own abilities, a note of uncertainty is evident in the Karand's voice, and he is unable to hold the gaze of his companions long.
Kajetan pinches himself, just on the off chance that he is dreaming and the bard isn't gambling one of their lives away on a good yarn. "oouch," he mumbles quietly and rubs his forearm where, if the light allowed it, you would see a small angry red patch developing. "I don't know how much we can trust them to keep up there end of the bargain, but I am intrigued, so go ahead, I just wish I could hear the ta....." he stops himself mid-sentence, his jaw slightly ajar, as his now fully awakened mind realises he can do just that. He quickly casts a spell, finalising it by rubbing a pinch of salt and soot into his ear.
As an after thought he adds "it might be worth telling them the church, who are set on the elimination of the old magic and by extension all fey, are hunting us and they might turn up some time in the next few days, they might want to concentrate on making their life hell rather than ours, the enemy of my enemy and all that....." of course all this comes out in one string, as it tends to when Kajetan's brain is working faster than his mouth can keep up.
Nicholai raises an aristocratic eyebrow as Keildrithe explains the situation, and casts a speculative glance at the now-revealed fae.
He cannot help but grin when the young mage pinches himself, and it seems to relax the dandy a bit.
"Well, I confess it not my first choice of weapons for a duel. But then I'm not the duelist." He smirks at Keildrithe and gives an encouraging nod, then sits back down on his pallet and laces his fingers behind his head.
"I for one feel that we are in very capable hands. Go ahead Keildrithe, show them what a true tale-weaver can do! And if they pretend to be unimpressed, Pharris can spank them!" He says lightly. But his friends can see the cold tension in his eyes, despite his light-hearted banter.
He obviously doesn't trust these dark-looking fae either, but short of a full-out battle doesn't see another way. But the way he glances swiftly from one fae to the other shows that he's thinking about it.
"I'll be the sacrificial lamb, a few redcaps don't scare me. I trust Keildrithe with my life."
Anastasia steps forward slightly, her sword lowered but still in hand and takes a deep breath. She speaks up, with only the faintest quaver in her voice. "No. If one of us is to serve as part of the bargain, I will be the one." She looks towards Keildrithe and catches his eyes for a second, continuing somewhat more softly "I am devoted to my search to the truth, so let this be the proof of that."
Upon hearing the conditions of the deal, Laithe's uneasiness grows. It is not that he doubts Keildrithe's ability to deliver a tale that will win the contest, but more in the redcap's likelihood in sticking to their bargain. It also makes him realise that these are not just mischevious fae out for a bit of fun but truly evil creatures intent on harming them. He wonders how many other people they have stolen away in the past; perhaps the previous owners of this very cottage?
"Nonsense -- no one will be served up as part of the bargain," mutters Keildrithe to his companions. "And I too doubt that our little friends will play honestly."
The Karand looks around the room, taking in friend and potential foe alike. For a moment, he seems hesitant, unsure how or where to start. He then clears his throat.
"It is difficult to know where to begin -- with riddle, rhyme, or tale--for this could very well be my last telling. Not because I fear that you will judge me harshly and that I will lose the bargain, but because the hounds of Arton pursue us and could be upon us at anytime. They seek to stamp out all heretics and shapers of magic, whether they be human or fey. If we have a common enemy, it is the Artonites... but I am glad to be able to entertain, if this one time only, new friends with whom we share common ground... For make no mistake, all of our days are numbered, should the church come unchallenged...
Keildrithe looks around again at the redcaps, then grasps his beldach and begins to beat his drum softly.
"Before I recount the epic tale of our stand against the devils that walk the earth, and of our journey among the ancient dead who to this day guard their secrets and treasures in the underworld but a few days march from here, permit me to open with an ode that came to my heart and mind as I travelled with my companions over the past few weeks. I composed it with the fey folk in mind, as the Dying Season falls upon us, both figuratively and in actuality... For that which is today, may soon no longer be..."
The aspiring hedilye begins to hum a mournful melody, his gaze lingering briefly on Pharris, before reciting his verses over the beat of his drum. Those who are not accustomed to the Sylvan tongue find their companions's new vocal style rather unusual, yet melodic and moving... perhaps even enthralling...
Laughter... music in the air
Still they will insist that you're not there
But I ask in return "how can that be
When I sense you standing here in front of me?"
Haunting... a living memory
Hand in hand together walk
Through burning fields of dreams
Into a fortress made of autumn leaves
You're falling with the snow
I hear you whispering in the trees:
"Won't you stay with me
In the arms of the dying season"
As the Karand recites his poem with ever greater passion and intensity, he also weaves words of power into his performance, attempting to enthrall his redcap audience
Howling... The hounds are at the door
Soon our sanctuary will be no more
This timeless reverie is all but done
Now the Inquisition comes to blind us with their sun
You're falling with the snow
I hear you whispering in the trees:
"Won't you stay with me
In the arms of the dying season?"
Fragile dryad... I bring my hopes to thee
Cradled oh so gently in my palms
Sunlight filters gently through the leaves
Can you feel its promise in your soul?
As Keildrithe nears the end of his first ode, he attempts to read the mood of his fey challengers, trying to determine whether he has indeed enthralled his audience, and whether it is safe to whisper some suggestions into his performance...
The aspiring hedilye begins to hum a mournful melody, his gaze lingering briefly on Pharris, before reciting his verses over the beat of his drum. Those who are not accustomed to the Sylvan tongue find their companions's new vocal style rather unusual, yet melodic and moving... perhaps even enthralling......
Laithe also watches the hedilyeand the Red Cap's closely while he plays, waiting for a sign to spring into action.
The redcaps all lean forward expectedly as Keildrithe begins speaking, and soon appear somewhat enthralled by his melodic voice and the steady beat of his drum. A few seem merely intent, while others appear almost entranced by the bard’s words.
Even those of you who cannot understand the words can feel the subtle power in the bards rhythm. The lilting cadence and measure of the musical language suggests the form of a poem.
Keildrithe:
Keildrithe repeats the refrain a few times, letting the words fade gradually as he makes the transition from poem to tale. He then proceeds to recount the group's exploits as if he were reliving them (and, of course, enhancing them)--starting with his own downtrodden past and the group's deeds in Barg and the Valley of the Snails. He then tells of their first encounter with Pharris and the gnolls, their hunt for the chain devil and his minions, their latest confrontation with Vorn and Atrek, and their exploration of the ancient barrow.
"The Inquisition comes... it has trampled my people, the Karands, who honour the fey and the old gods. The Inquisition hunts the fey and comes this way. The Inquisition seeks to stamp out all magic that does not come from their one god, Arton... The Inquisition is blind..."
Keildrithe maintains a hypnotic tone and cadence in his voice.
"Channel your magic against those who would do you harm, against the Inquisition, not against those who would honour you... If you will not aid us, then allow at least to pass through your territory unharmed... The Inquisition deserves your wrath, and should learn to fear and respect the might of the redcaps..."
All the redcaps sit silently for some time after Keildrithe finishes his tale, their tiny twisted faces inscrutable in the dim light. Finally, one of them looks about at the others, and a series of nods and grunts and shrugs pass between them. Then, almost as one, they stand from their spots, or hop nimbly down from the rafters, or straighten themselves where they had been leaning against walls. They form into a line and file past Keildrithe, bowing slightly to him as they pass, and then head for the front door. They quickly form a small fey pyramid to reach the door handle, open the door (letting in a blast of frigid air), then file out into the snow-clad, pre-dawn yard, literally fading from view as they pass the threshold.
Keildrithe bows his weary head and sighs in relief, clearly exhausted from the performance and burden he carried on his shoulders...
There is no further sign of the fey as the first light of dawn brightens the cottage. Snow continues to fall softly outside.
"I'd better head into town to buy some winter boots and clothes of my own before we hit the road. Anyone interested in joining me, or need me to pick up anything else while I'm down there?"
Kajetan claps softly and lies there reliving the story in his head for a while speechless.
"Isn't he good!" Keildrithe gets a big hug and a peck on both cheeks.
Nicholai stretches back out slowly on his pallet, truly relaxing this time as he gazes thoughtfully at Keildrithe.
"Yes. Yes he is."
Keildrithe blushes slightly and stammers as Pharris gives him a peck on both cheeks, putting his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly as she does so. For a moment, he seems far happier than he has been in a long time. He then releases the elf maid, with thinly veiled reluctance.
"Th-thank you my friends... It was nothing... Really..." He looks again at the snow falling gently outside, then back at his companions. "So? Town? Anyone joining me, or need me to pick up anything? I guess not... most of you went yesterday..." The bard seems in a hurry to get away...
Kajetan watches the PDA and looks as embarrassed as the Bard, "I wouldn't mind going with you, be nice to see a local village where they are not trying to kill us." He stands up, looks at his back pack for a long time before deciding to empty it of most things and bring it with him.
Just before everyone leaves for the village, Pharris changes her mind and asks for winter clothes too. She shows her lack of understanding again and pulls out a handful of ancient gold and silver to offer up.
"Here, take some of these."
Just before everyone leaves for the village, Pharris changes her mind and asks for winter clothes too. She shows her lack of understanding again and pulls out a handful of ancient gold and silver to offer up.
"Here, take some of these."
"That won't be necessary, Pharris" responds Keildrithe with a smile as he closes her hand over the proffered coins. "I can only hope that I'll pick an outfit that pleases you!"
Of course, Keildrithe will want to buy the nicest, yet still functional outfit he can find for Pharris. ;-) He'll also look for some small discrete gift to buy her, like some scented soaps, or perhaps some cottage craft shaped like a flower.
It takes about an hour to get back down from the cottage to the main trail, and then along the winding trail to a ridge overlooking the small valley that houses the village. Looking down from this vantage, you can see that the trail winds down into the valley (another fork from here leads further into or through the hills). Small cottages and farm houses dot the gentle near slope of the valley wall, some of them by the main trail, others connected to it by meandering paths. The village proper lies near the base of the valley, on one side of a small river that flows through, and seems to consist of a couple of dozen houses and other structures centered about a small village square.
Approaching the village in the morning, you see smoke rising from many chimneys, and goatherds and farmers working in some of the tilted fields on the slope. A guard in a watch tower near the (unwalled) village notes your approach, but makes no obvious hostile moves. You notice that one of the buildings surrounding the village square appears to be a small Artonite church – a wooden star adorns a sort of gantry at the front of the building, which looks rather run down and ill-kept.
No one challenges you as you walk down the winding trail, down the sides of the small valley and into the village proper, though you get plenty of stares; apparently they are not very used to visitors here. Men stop their work to appraise you warily, whilst women hold their skirts and bonnets close about themselves and pull their children away from the street.
The buildings you pass are of varying styles, mostly small cottages, some of timber boards, some of mud or clay bricks. Some have steeply sloping timber shingle or thatch roofs, whilst others (especially on the hillside) are built in the style of your cottage, partly recessed into the ground and with turf over their roofs.
Soon enough you find yourself in the village square, a neat little place paved with cobbles of varying sizes, and decorated with clay pots filled with bushes that will no doubt flower brightly in the spring. Patches of snow nestle in the hollows between stones. The square is bordered by several buildings, some of them likely houses, but some no doubt serving different purposes. The Artonite church is small, little more than a chapel, with a steeply pitched roof and peeling timber boards for its walls. The front doors are open, but the interior is dark and the building looks neglected.
A large, simply built hall faces the church across the square, it too with its doors open but apparently empty. You imagine it serves as a market or a town hall (or both) on certain days.
Several old men watch you closely from the covered porch of what must be the village tavern. A nearby building’s sign proclaims it as a General Store. From somewhere nearby you hear the loud rapping of hammer on anvil.
You don’t see anything that looks like open hostility, more wariness mixed with curiosity – something you might expect in many small villages when armed strangers come calling. You don’t see any signs of obvious danger. A few of the locals bear staves or have daggers at their belts, but none seem particularly well armed. The guard in the watchtower has a bow, but he does not have it knocked.
---
general store. Walking through the front door causes a small bell to ring as you enter a fairly small waiting area with a wooden bench to sit on and a counter ahead of you. Behind the counter several objects – tools, a bucket, some kitchen utensils, a few tunics, a coil of rope, some barrels, some candles and other similar everyday items are on display on shelves, hooks on the wall or stacked on the floor. It is clear that this is only a selection of the shop’s stock, the rest must be stored out of sight.
A door in the wall behind the counter soon opens and a heavily built, middle aged woman with rosy cheeks, a bosom like a shelf and strong looking arms bustles through. She stops in momentary surprise upon seeing her customers, but soon recovers, smooths her skirts, smiles and moves up to the counter.
“Good morning strangers,” she says, pausing and looking at you closely. Upon realising that (at least some of) you understand her Thuringian, she continues in that tongue. “Welcome to Spindlethorp, I am Margeet Hotham. How may I help you today? We have rations for travellers and clothing for this cold weather if you are after such.”
---
The main taproom of the tavern is dimly lit and mostly deserted at this time of day – too late for breakfast but early yet for lunch. A grizzled old fellow stands behind the bar, talking softly to an equally old looking patron who sits at a stool in front of it. A couple of other patrons, dimly seen in the gloom, hunch over drinks or talk quietly at tables placed here and there – the tables near the warm, inviting looking fireplace that provides much of the room’s illumination (windows being small and grimy) being surprisingly quite free – the room is quite warm after the chill outside and perhaps uncomfortably so near the fire.
** spoiler omitted **
Keildrithe:
Keildrithe will keep the conversation to a minimum, especially since he is dependent on Kajetan for communication. He'll pay straight coin and won't bother bartering or trying to sell any of the "loot" they've picked up during their travels.
Keildrithe will buy four days worth of rations and a full cold weather outfit for himself as well as Pharris. He'll also buy her a scarf, bonnet, and brooch. He'll ask Margeet (through Kaj) if she has any musical instruments in stock.
He's not particularly interested in going to the inn. If candy is not available at Margeet's shop, he'll look for a candy store.
Keildrithe, the general store does not have any musical instruments for sale, although the proprieter suggests that some folk in town own various instruments such as drums, rattles, pipes, lutes and flutes, and may be willing to trade.
She does sell some hard, sweet candies, and points out that the town baker makes various sweet biscuits and pastries (you can spend as little as a few coppers to buy sweets or several silver pieces for some of the nicer pastries).
Keildrithe, the general store does not have any musical instruments for sale, although the proprieter suggests that some folk in town own various instruments such as drums, rattles, pipes, lutes and flutes, and may be willing to trade.
She does sell some hard, sweet candies, and points out that the town baker makes various sweet biscuits and pastries (you can spend as little as a few coppers to buy sweets or several silver pieces for some of the nicer pastries).
Laithe chooses to spend the day relaxing at and around the cabin while the others venture into town to buy extra winter clothes and other supplies, content for the first time in a while that the group is under no imminent threat.
Alton will also buy a cold weather outfit and 6 days worth of rations, handing over coin for the items
The night passes uneventfully at the cabin after those who spent the morning in the village return – there is no further sign of the Redcaps.