Klenna smiles, then hugs Muli when she hears about Geir... Her eyes glistening with tears she whispers;
"Saddening news Muli. He will be missed so... Pater loved to talk with him of the auld days... they were both such géomann..."
She breaks the embrace with a weak smile pulls her cloak close and beckons you all into the villages langhús.
"Please... Bestapan... Pater and the gumþéoda of Kustnir await you... I shall stay here with the bearna until our wyrd is decided. I pray the cofgodas will finally favour us!"
With a reverent nod and a passing smile to Muli and Luke Klenna leaves you to the witenagemót.
Behind her curious latecomers file inside, as the low murmurs of the gathered throng slowly ebb to hushed whispers as you enter...
Luckily his beard and hair hide most of the blush on Muli face. He bobs his head to her kind words. He nods greeting to Luke as he approaches and gives a small wave. "Good to see ya Luke. Many months its been no?
When he notices the dog glaring at him, Muli's eyes narrow and he makes a playful 'gotcha' motion toward the dog before laughing. He thinks me a big mus. He find he not like the taste of Muli."
Luke claps Muli on the back.
Aye, friend, many months. Shall we see how we can help the gumþéoda of Kustnir?
Luke strides confidently into the Longhouse, and he nods respectfully to Pater as he stands in the middle of the assembled group.
Eyes still somewhat narrowed, Ragnar warily greets the newcomer before giving Liten Mun a ruffled mane. He then moves into the longhouse, seeking a spot towards the side.
Perception(Identify):
Perception:
Kevkul looks up from his meditative state after the knocking on the door.
Start of a new day, up and about.
Looking at the thick winter clothing, Kevkul gives it a dusting down and carefully folds it into his pack. He shakes out a common peasant's garb and dons it beneath his armor.
Already feeling the chill of the North, he prays the words of Endure Elements, which washes over him like the breeze over a cool tropical beach.
Wistfully, he packs up his belongings, shaking his head, unable to identify the strange tin traded for his last bottle of wine. Believing himself ready, he heads out the door.
Coming down, he notices the others gone already completed the morning's meal. Serving himself a dash of smoked fish, sprinkled with melted goat's cheese and eggs, he washes it all down with a mug of ale.
Outside, he notices from a distance the newcomer, hairy and raw. Nothing menacing seems to emanate from him though, as far as Kevkul could tell, prompting him to continue observing.
You are all ushered into Kustnir’s langhús by Klenna. The low chatter of the assembled villagers ebbs as you all file inside, their sudden silence preceding furtive glances at the arms and armour you bear.
Some, who recognise Luke or Muli, make a cursory nod or mutter their names and point, most however, stare silently…
The langhús itself is wooden building with some stonework; sparing fish oil lamps situated around the hall give added gloom to the Kustnir folk and their village’s plight.
Rising from the Ealder’s chair is an old man; with weary but kind eyes the colour of the icy lake. He wears fine but functional clothing; a woollen cloak dressed with a fox pelt and the fur cap common amongst fisher-folk. Before him he carries a gilded aurochs drinking horn, etched with monstrous fish that both consume and bear warriors upon their backs in equal measure.
“Wilcuma to you all who visit our humble village. I am the Ealder of this place; Pater Fisc, and as such have its voice."
He walks slowly towards you all, as the murmours and whispers of the fisher-folk of Kustnir rise again. The Eolder scowls and barks at the assembled throng;
"CEASE your hwisprian! These mægen are our selegiestas - MY selegiestas! I'll not have you dishonor me in my own langhús!"
He turns his stoic gaze back upon your number;
"As is sidu here we invite all our selegiestas to draught from “The Bittor Horn”... (Humbly he presents the drinking horn to you all) "...if your intentions at our hearth are fair, then the mead will not taste foul.”
“Please... drenc...”
He holds the horn out to the first who would take it...
Luke steps forward, with a head an shoulder bow, he takes the cup and drinks. Having already tasted before, he knows what to expect and is not bothered by the bitterness. As he hands the cup back to Petar, he says,
Andetnes Ealder Petar, I will geáscian of your áglác and act.
He steps back and motions the next party member forward while standing nearby.
Andetnes = profession thanksgiving, praise giving thanks
geáscian = hear
áglác = trouble
Ragnar takes the horn from Luke and drinks deeply before passing it on.
Kevkul receives the horn from Ragnar, feeling the horn's weight in his hands he takes a measured sip, savoring the mead's quality.
Expecting a bitter taste, partly from the given name, it surprised him to taste such good, sweet high quality mead and he takes a longer gulp before passing it on.
Meeting his eyes with the eolder, Kevkul gives an appreciative nod.
Muli takes the horn. He seea the looks of some and knows that want him to taste the bitter brew, but once again they are disappointed whenhe drinks the sweet mead from the horn.
After Muli partakes of the Bittor Horn, Disa accepts it next. The shieldmaiden raises the Horn high, then drinks a deep draught of mead... before raising it again with a cry:
"Werod!"
The eolder smiles, clearly relieved that you all have passed the test of The Bittor Horn.
"Then we should begin... For some time now we have been plagued by the attentions of a nihtegesa – a terror in the night. We all have our notions and fears of what this terror may be…"
(this comment prompts murmurs, mutters and whispers from the assembled villagers)
“Some say it is a wraith or scinn that rises with the night, others that it is one of us, maddened by the Old Cults. A few whisper of the attentions of a clengan or what some call a skolkur; the fell assassins of the ancient Cyclops. While more still, including myself, openly see the wicked little hands of the puca in our misfortune…"
The eolder gestures for silence as he continues:
"All we do know is that whatever it actually is, this nihtegesa comes periodically to our village, murders such animals and folk that are unable to defend themselves… and makes off with food, trinkets and goods. It took the life of our village preóst in one of the first incursions to our village. Preóst Milos was a good man, a steady hand and a defender of his flock… Without him we had little guidance and no healing or wards to help us."
"Yet we learned what to expect from these fell visitations; we stay vigilant, and our folk sleep in the hall when possible… Our few warriors stand guard as the late autumn haar rolls in from the Lake, further masking the nihtegesa and further stirring the pot of rumours… Yet of late we have become increasingly fearful at its actions… The creature, whatever it may be, will kill a babe one day and spare another the next! Tho it leaves no doubt it may kill again if it so wished… "
Pater pauses, a grave expression upon his face;
"It... it has taken to entering our village more and more frequently, and at odd times. The haar and fear masks its coming and perhaps most worryingly and it has also started to deface our walls and floors with fell scrawls in blood, using letters that we cannot read..."
With an emotional tone he finishes by pleading;
"Your arrival is like the answer to a prayer. We wish to be rid of this nihtegesa, but we fear it is demented, and we have not the skills or the strength to fight it. I implore you for the sake of us all in Kustnir, will you rid us of this menace?"
Ealder Pater, has anyone been able to or tried to lástweardian the threat after a kill?
lástweardian = keep the track of follow closely
Ragnar takes heed and listens as Pater speaks of haar and fear in the darkness. "I will slay your níðgæst, and drag it's body before this hall skäggig buried in it's héafodbán" said plainly without boasting.
"Have any actually seen this nihtegesa? - so we might ken the best way to trap it"
Kevkul hears the eolder's story with empathy. Since our arrival, it has not struck yet, has it?. It must be andgietful and near enough to keep close watch. Evil has taken root, we must sought it out! Show us this wall writing you speak of, may that we have means to Þeódend it.
Stroking his beard in his peasant clothing, Kevkul seems thoughtful.
"Yes. It is from this writing that we may come to name this skolkur. I have seen signs the puca are active, but writing dire letters is not puca."
At Luke’s question Pater shakes his head;
”Nei. Some of our hunters tried, but even those blessed with a keen eye for féðelástas could find no trace of our nihtegesa. They claim it must therefore be a níðgæst with scinncræft”
The villagers assembled look to some of the hunters, gathered in a corner, Gilstur amongst them, nod sagely and mutter.
Pater smiles weakly at the Northman’s staunch promise
”I have no doubt you will brave Ragnar, while none of us have seen it, the deaths of our folk, of our bearn, the sárcwide it leaves show this is an evil not to be trifled with. But we are simple fiscere-folk, you have axes, bows, arcane and divine blessings and the earmstrang to wield them.”
He looks hopeful for the first time since he spoke out;
”Aye the symbols... of course... of course. They only appear when no-one is slain... There are monegum, written in blod, and make no sense to any who have seen them... Klenna will show you those scattered round the village... should you possess the ken to read them...”
The eolder looks once again at you all proud in his eyes, but pleading in his tone;
”We are poor fiscere folk, with little wealth. But save us and it is yours. Free lodgings and food at our wínærn of course, and we possess some items that may help you with your gefeccan...”
You sense that while Pater’s words regarding the items you can use are sincere, there is perhaps more to tell regarding them
Andgiet is key to defeating this evil. Aye, I should see all of the blod writings.
Sense Motive:
We could use all the help we could get. What items do you speak of eolder? I sincerely hope that whatever cræft you lend us does not leave you open to further attacks. You have suffered enough already.
Before the eolder can answer Kevkul Disa steps in with a compromise, the tall shieldmaiden setting her spear and jaw in equal resolve;
”Nei stalwart dweorg Kustnir shall not be orwige! I shall, if needbe ábídan to áweardian the village should this nihtegesa return…”
There is much mutter and clamour after Disa’s proclamation of intent, and it seems the presence of an Ulfen shieldmaiden and scop will satisfy the need for added security to the village.
Addressing Kevkul's intent and caution directly Pater Fisc adds;
”Of the cræft we shall sundorspræc further once you have seen the blod rúna. Klenna will show you around as my scancan ache so these days. I will await you here, for our sundorspræc... if there are no other áscung of course...”
The eolder humbly nods to you in turn, and then beckons that the doors be opened...
As the buzz of chatter intensifies again, the langhus doors are opened and light streams in. Beyond them the familiar figure of Klenna awaits as she plays with some bearns.
Luke leads the party out the door and greets Klenna,
Klenna, take us to the blod rúna so that we can begin the huntung!
blod rúna = runes/writings in blood
huntung = hunt, chase
Ragnar strides out behind Luke with confidence, freeing skäggig from it's bindings and walking along with it resting across his shoulders holding it in one hand. Liten Mun falls in behind at his heels for the walk.
"Lead on Klenna, I would see what has you all brégyd"
Muli hefts his pack, "Better bring this. Muli never know what might be needed." He plods out after the others.
Klenna pulls her cloak close and huddled begins to lead you through the quiet village. There is a light misty haar, but nothing that obscures your eyes.
Her conversation is idle, mainly asking about those of you unfamiliar to her, from whenst you came, and if you all plan to aid and free Kustnir.
She explains that the blod rún have been found throughout the village, with no discernable pattern. Perhaps the best examples lie upon the walls in the home of Preóst Milos…
Klenna takes you to one of the small, turf roofed dwelling houses. She visibly shivers as she opens the door, unremarkable save for the bundle of snow heather and fishbones that serve as a symbol of the Green Faith in Kustnir.
”Few have visited here since our dear Preóst was found crang. He was found inside, bound with his throat cut… He had been bled… sleghrýðer like an animal…"
The young healer grimaces before continuing;
”… Some of his blod soaked the floor, some had been used to daub the rúna on the walls, ceiling and floor… most… was… gone. Where I don’t know, nor wish to… drenca some say, stulor others mutter.”
She lights the fishoil lamp in her hand, and hesitantly bids you enter the abode…
Even though he has been told it was alreadyt tried, Luke carefully examines the room to determine if he can pick up any trail left by the perpetrator of the crime.
Perception:
Ragnar crouches and makes eye contact with Liten Mun, telling him to "Stay". He makes sure to touch the heather bundle before moving through the door.
Inside, the once home of Preóst Milos is at first glance a simple, somewhat unremarkable example of a fisherfolk dwelling. An empty cot sits in the far corner of the one roomed abode, between a well used firepit and a wooden desk piled with ymlan and writing materials.
Simple wood carvings of fish, fauna and fey both litter and decorate the place. The musty woody scent of the place is tempered with the faint irony tang of blood and another scent that you cannot place;
You place the faint scent as something akin to soured milk…
What is both macabre and remarkable is the blod rúna of which Klenna and others have spoken. Daubed in what can only presume is the dead Preóst’s blood are strange, complex writings and symbols. Their spider trail leads down walls, across the floor and up to the ceiling beams of the ærn.
In a pensive voice the pretty healer asks ”What do they say? Can any of you tðcnáwan their fell meaning?”
In addition to the above Perception information, you also discover some dried strands of filament or fibre of some kind... give me another DC 15 Perception check please and a Knowledge: Nature check as well for good measure...
Perception:
Ragnar sniffs the air within the ærn and takes in the runic writing though cannot ken any of it's meaning. While the others attempt to discern them, Ragnar moves about the interior looking for aught else he might find.
Muli takes his pack off before trying to go through the door, then drags it in behind him. He pokes at some the the wooden effigies to set them to spinning as he goes by.
Upon seeing the writing, (assuming it is not cyclops or giant which he can read) Muli opens a pouch on the pack, "Time for Muli to get to work". He fiddles with a small pouch and then a flask. Finally he sets to shaking something in his fist, throws his head back and drinks....from what seems to be the open mouth of a small stuffed owl.
He quickly tucks the bird away, "Now let's see what wisdom my friend shows Muli." When he turns back to the group, his eyes are larger than normal with bright yellow irises and large round pupils.
Black Dow:
Watching as the hairy human concocts and quaffs, Kevkul watches as he pours and examines the grisly writing.
Ragnar watches Muli's concoction preparation with a jaundiced eye, and after Muli drinks he mutters "What níetencynn are you...."
You all briefly search the dwelling before pausing to watch the unusual sight of Muli imbibe from his owl flask.
As you take in the countenance of the small dwelling it becomes clear to an armsman of your experience that there are little or no signs of combat taking place.
Quite simply Kustnir’s preóst did not die hard: The blod is pooled in one area, and save for the encrusted script lacing the walls there is no blod elsewhere.
Inside the door hangs still a sickle edged with silver, its leather binding worn by use. On the table, amongst numerous papers detailing village affairs and registers of birth/disease and death lies as scrap of vellum (goatskin you reason) delicately wrapped in twine.
As you scan the room with a critical eye, you notice more traces of the desiccated filament stubbornly attached to all the points where the bloody script is found. These filaments also have traces of the wilderness upon them, leaf, bracken and soil fragments.
As you mull over these fibres, your ken of the flora and fauna suggests these filaments to be similar to the webbing of the Giant Coldwood Spiders, yet not quite…
However tied to the curdled smell, you remember wilderness tales of creatures that bind their prey, live underground, but hunt those above… Fell servants of the Cyclops empire… called many names… Hinderlings, Skolkur in Ragnar's Northman tongue and the Ætfelgan. Their fell presence only ever betrayed by a sour stench...
Muli’s owl-like eyes dilate as he scrutises the blod rúna further…
Your eyes adjust, the script dances and reforms as the gen of the words and their connotation are revealed to you...
The language is Aklo, an ancient language and cipher known to be spoken by inhuman or otherworldly creatures and some evil fey.
The words literally are translated as:
DANGER... MALEVOLENT FORCES GATHER... COME TO ME...
FREE MY POWER TO COMBAT EVIL...
HASTEN OR BEAR WITNESS TO DIRE DESTRUCTION...
I AWAIT THE COMING OF A BEARER...
I AM THE SENTINEL...
EVIL GROWS STRONG... HELP ME OVERCOME... DANGER CLOSES
These words and script are repeated several times over, sometimes complete, sometimes incomplete.
Ragnar's brow creases as he is turned to thought, moving to where the blod is pooled he scrapes some up with a finger and tastes it.
Knowledge (Nature):
Perception:
Something, a dust mote perhaps lands in Kevkul's eyes. Feeling it water, he instead casts Detect Magic, trying to ignore Muli's obvious emanations he looks for other magical tell traces.
Luke motions the group together in the house and holds up a peice ofthe dessicated filament that he found,
Here is what I been able to Tðcnáwan. This here filament is all left over the blod rúna, and they have traces of the wilderness upon them. This filament is akin to Giant Coldwood spiders, but not exact. There is also a stench of somethin' sour or curdled here. I have ken of fell servants of the Cyclops empire… called many names… Hinderlings, Skolkur in Ragnar's Northman tongue and the Ætfelgan. Their fell presence only ever betrayed by a sour stench.
Tðcnáwan = discern
blod rúna = blood runes
Hinderlings = mean, sneak, wretch (cave dwellers)
Skolkur = skulk, sneak
Ætfelgan = sticker, cleaver, adherer
Yup definately human... rough guestimate would say late Mature, early Old age category... with a hint of... yes definately Old Faith in there... ;)
You discern a faint emanation of an aura of transmutation coming from a bound piece of vellum where Ragnar is investigating...
At the mention of Hinderlings Klenna's eyes widen in fear and her hand touches the bundle of fishbone and snow heather on the door.
Good Klenna, what say you of Preóst Milos belongings? Who now owns them? There maybe useful cræft amidst. I would not break æriht taking what is not mine.
Muli steps in close and moves along the wall reading each line. Finished he turns and blinks at those assembled.
"Most elhygd...this is not a behát, it is a warnung...a plea. It claims to be the Sentinel. It awaits a Bearer, so that it might be freed to help fight the coming Evil. By its tone, the bróga is not here yet." He blinks again and looks around at all the blood.
"It is written in a dark tongue, not spoken much outside of caves and shaded feldswam circles...and by those whose price for help might be some blood."
Muli holds his eyes shut for a few moments and opens them to reveal his bright pale blue eyes, returned to normal size. He turns to Klenna. Are there tales of this town having a guardian spirit or sentinel."
elhygd = strange
behát = threat
warnung = warning
bróga = danger
feldswam = mushroom
At Kevkul’s question Klenna shakes her head;
”Nei, his belongings are hwa… éower should you behéfþ them. Though I know not what you might behéfþ…”
She then considers Muli’s question and again shakes her head with a frustrated sign;
”Not in my hearth-stories, but perhaps Pater will remember something of a engel-weard or such.." (she gives an ironic laugh) "If such a heordreedenn did exist, surely it has deserted us, for are these deaths not sign enough Kustnir is áwiergan?”
Muli, the dark tongue is in line with the filament from the Hinderlings, Skolkur in Ragnar's Northman tongue or the Ætfelgan.
Hinderlings = mean, sneak, wretch (cave dwellers)
Skolkur = skulk, sneak
Ætfelgan = sticker, cleaver, adherer
With the assurance of Kleena's words, Kevkul saunters over to the bound vellum before unfurling it.
Muli nods his head in agree ment with Luke. "That sour stench had been at the Ferry too, Muli has been told. But what Heordreedenn kills what it wants to protect? And why write, what the village cannot read, Muli wonders?"
Spitting out what remains of the old man's blod in his mouth with a grimace Ragnar straightens. "I like it not, to write in blod is not the way of the seelie"
It is indeed writing – a scroll of divine magicks written on the vellum bound with fishing twine.
Spells are:
Deep Breath (new spell) – see campaign info for details.
Remove Sickness
Both spells have CL: 3
BTW remember Muli is an alchemist… he might be able to ID that magical liniment you came by…
As she huddles by the door, stroking Liten Mun’s head, Klenna nods at Ragnar’s words;
”Nei, no seelie would act this way… only those brægenséoc or a déofol would! And what of Preóst’s blod? His body had so very little, even with some blod on the floor and… on the walls… he was so æblæce… Why oh why does it do this!?”
She shivers a sob and pulls her cloak close around herself
Knowledge Nature:
Knowledge Geography:
Knowledge (Nature):
Having seen all he needs of the room, Ragnar strides back outside into the cold - a consoling hand laid on Klenna's shoulder as he passes. He quietly states "That is why we are here, so no more need árænan this."
You remember some vague hearth tales of evil fey and monstrous humanoids collecting blod for their own wicked reasons. Nothing else springs back at you as particularly important, but your keen eyes notice the significance of a piece of a mushroom gill affixed to a filament.
Not just any mushroom however, but a wild “fey’s grave” fungus found only in the southern part of the Storith Wood. Logger folklore suggests where these ghostly pale mushrooms grow is said to signify the location of a fey’s burial place.
Klenna forces a smile at Ragnar’s words of encouragement.
”Perhaps some warming mead and further æht with Pater will áscýran our next actions?” she suggests
Æht = council, deliberation
Áscýran = make clear
Muli sees the silver sickle. "Might be good for collecting herbs, but won't be too much use for the unsellee."
He puts his hand to it, put then pulls his hand back. "Nah. Does not feel right to Muli to take this."
Luke bends down and picks a small item from the floor. He sniffs it, holds it up close to his eye to inspect, and walks outside deep in thought. When everyone comes outside, he gathers the group.
Before we return to Pater, I have somethin' further to ásecgan. I found this piece of feldswam gill attached to the filament from before. This is not just any feldswam, but a wild “fey’s grave” fungus found only in the southern part of the Storith Wood. Logger folklore says where these ghostly pale feldswam grow is the location of a fey’s byrigenstðw. This could be the origin of problem?
ásecgan = tell
feldswam = mushroom
byrigenstðw = burial place, cemetery
Kevkul dawdles about, being the last to leave. Almost as an afterthought, he fingers the silvered sickle before stuffing it his pack, hoping that his travel companions would not have any objection regarding it.