To Klenna: "Aye, that would seem prudent"
You trudge back through the early afternoon mist as Klenna escorts you back to the village langhus. Although potential saviours to these folk, most villagers still avoid you and observe the “Outlanders” from afar.
So far so good. Give yourselves 200 XP each and the “Outlander” achievement trait below:
OUTLANDER (Achievement Trait)
As an Outlander you are both respected and feared in equal measure by the insular folk of Kustnir.
The proud people of Kustnir begrudgingly accept that outside help is needed for their beleaguered village. Yet their inherent mistrust of outsiders and strangers means until you free them you’ll not be totally accepted.
Benefit: While in Kustnir and the surrounding area you gain both a +1 on Diplomacy checks with exponent villagers and a +1 bonus to Intimidate checks against any belligerent locals.
Your concentration and the quiet of the afternoon is broken by first the low growl of Liten Mun, and then by the familiar hacking voice of "Gehylced” Gilstur;
”Hehhh… Afternoon all, if ye don't minden ‘ave some business with the dweorg preóst here…”
The crooked old hunter sways a little and holds the empty bottle of wine traded with Kevkul. He is obviously in his cups, but he clearly has a bone to pick:
”Traded me stánbucca micga for me linament so he did… This ain’t a tasty drop… tastes like eced so it does! Reckon I’m due some compensation Outlander! And don’t think I came alone… brought me some local mægenwuda so I did!”
Behind him two large fishermen loom; one fat, red-haired and ruddy, the other bald, squat and blunt like a henge stone. Both grasp gutting blades in their hands. Some of you vaguely remember them as being amongst the dissenters in the langhus moot.
All the while Gilstur smiles, one eye dull, the other leering and taps the handle of his large boning knife absently…
At the return of the hunter, Ragnar draws to his full height and moves to intercede between Kevkul and the fisherman, though not blocking Kevkul's clear view of Gilstur. Axe still resting handily across his shoulders Ragnar settles his gaze upon the fisherman, almost begging them to start trouble.
Liten Mun takes a single look at his master and kens that the situation is tense, backing away to a safe distance.
Luke quietly steps to the side of Kevkul and loosens his great axe to thumb the blade. He seems at ease, but his stance looks as if he is ready to move, quickly, at a moments notice. He speaks to Kevkul while not taking his eyes off of the the three interrupting locals.
Kev, seems we have a torngeníðla.
torngeníðla = angry opponent
The afternoon mist imparts a refreshing sheen of watery film on Kevkul's face as he glares at the half-elf before him.
Aye! It took your twisel to empty a bottle of my finest coltemære before saying stánbucca micga is what was drunk. And yet barely holding his drink he comes, asking for more.
Kevkul steps forwards, closer to the half-elf.
If stánbucca micga is enough to addle your mind, then I hope you will enjoy dweorg micga too, a tankard sure enough to splatter your brains. Perhaps your mægenwuda would mind a taste.
*pats warhammer lightly*
Intimidate:
Ragnar bares his teeth and growls at a low ebb, staring down the interlopers.
Intimidate (Aid Another):
Kevkul’s quiet threat does its job as Gilstur’s expression changes for sour to hesitant in an instant.
Faced with a belligerent huscarl, the two fisher-thugs, back off; “bald and squat” drops his knife and fearfully turns heel into the shadows while “fat and red-mopped” trips in his haste and flounders in a panic like a freshly caught salmon…
Without his thugs Gilstur drops to his knees before Kevkul, his head bowed and arms open in the peace sign;
”Gemiltsian! Gemiltsian my brytan! Just an old dræfend in his cups! Nei worthy of your time nor æfþanca… Gemiltsian!”
Ragnar walks to where the squat fisherman stood, kneeling to pick up the dropped knife. As he stands he leans close to Gilstur and takes an exaggerated sniff "You smell like micga, best go take a hringmere" before fully straightening and walking away.
Liten Mun rejoins him at his heels as he strides.
Luke replaces his Great Axe through the loop on his back where it rests along his bow. he brushes close by the groveling drunkard as he passes in route to the Longhouse.
Hmph...mind your manners, Gilstur.
A senseless waste of inebriation, half-elf. Resist being frightened sober and choose less yellow bellies before tying a shake down.
A word in passing with a sneer as Kevkul passes along, heading back towards the longhouse. Gilstur does not receive a second look before the dwarf disappears round a bend.
Gilstur struggles humbly to his feet and waits for the group to pass, then spits in their direction and slinks maliciously back into the light lake mist...
Klenna speaks openly to the group as the return to the langhus;
” Gehylced isn’t one to let an anda go... you rightly forbigen him... but watch your backs fore he is a snaca that one...”
As you walk, Klenna points out small scrawls of similar blod text upon walls, doors and mentions that in many (but not all) places where æbæremorþ was committed, the writings were also found.
She points out the her own dwelling where she can administer healing should any of you have need, and also Droosts Smokehouse should any of you be partial to a kipper or two. Then finally you arrive at your destination as once again this day you enter the langhus of Kustnir...
This time the hall is surprisingly empty as the fisherfolk go about their business. Pater Fisc awaits you at the table, as nervous servers furtively set bowls of soup and drinking horns upon your arrival.
Face still dark, but eyes hopeful, the eolder first looks to his daughter then bids you all sit at his table and share with him what you have discerned...
A snaca and rightly so. He was spédig I let the insult áléoran, else half-elf's head would find within a notable depression.
Sitting back at the table, Kevkul awaits Muli or Luke to start off with their findings and observations.
Though in his mind, Kevkul thinks a trip to the woods may be a good idea.
Pater, here is what I áfunden. There was a filament attached to the blod rúna . This here filament was left all 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. I áfunden this piece of feldswam gill attached to the filament. 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?
blod rúna = blood runes
Hinderlings = mean, sneak, wretch (cave dwellers)
Skolkur = skulk, sneak
Ætfelgan = sticker, cleaver, adherer
áfunden = found, discovered
ásecgan = tell
feldswam = mushroom
byrigenstðw = burial place, cemetery
Muli goes into his pack and pulls out a wrinkled sheet of velum, a bottle of ink, and a quill.
"I want to write this out so as to get the exact message and not put too much Muli into it."
After scratching out the message shoves the sheet across the table.
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
"It was written in an old dark tongue. Muli is at a loss as to why this 'Sentinel' would kill to write this message...unless the message was written after the murder as a means to prevent more...Muli not sure on that. Muli not sure what a 'bearer' is either."
"I say again, no seelie fae I know of would write in blod." as he begins to eat and drink.
The eolder takes in your findings, conjectures and thoughts with eyes of concern tempered with the occasional nod.
He thoughtfully looks to the glow of the firepit before answering;
” Fullhál… Fullhál indeed my friends. But you bring ærende in many forms…
He sips at his mead horn before continuing
”Of this “Sentinel” I know nothing. Our village has never had a guardian or angel... tho I wish now we did! Perhaps the council of the ealdwita Quern will glean us more on this cryptic runa… However your findings also point to the involvement of fey or perhaps even the Puka holed near Hálbriden. However Master Ragnar is correct what fey would partake of these ill tidings?”
He shakes his head, and wearily looks to you all;
”As is so often the síþfær is never a clear path!”
Luke nods and looks to each of the others and then to the elder.
Pater, mayhap a síþfær to the southern Storith Wood's byrigenstðw and Hálbriden is in order to investigate the Puka and Fey involvement?
síþfær = journey
byrigenstðw = burial place, cemetery
Eating his soup methodically as Liten Mun chews on a kipper picked up from Droosts earlier, Ragnar is thoughtful.
Responding to Luke's suggestion "Aye, let us come upon the Puka with ceorfæx and stíele. At best we find the source, at worst we remove their wamm on Kustnir."
Kevkul listens to his companions words and eagerness that mirrors his own. However, tidings of a learned sage in the village perks his ears more. He takes a long draft of mead before speaking out.
Eolder, tell me more of the ealdwita. What has she foretold of the current stæl? It is prudent to take up wise words before undue conclusion is made.
The eolder smiles wryly then looks to Muli, before answering;
”The ealdwita Quern is a he not a she…” he smiles, then adds with a note of caution ”… here in Iobaria friend dweorg, beware the wisewoman lest she be the Bheur or one of her gedohtra …”
He mulls the implications of the question.
”Quern is a hermit sage who dwells some distance from here. In a cave near the foothills of Little Icerime I believe… (looks to Muli and Luke for affirmation) ”… Muli and his departed master knew him better than me, but aye we have sought Quern’s council on this þeódegesan. We sent a runner, Petrik, to seek Quern’s aid over a week ago. He was to journey across the Lake by boat, then across land by foot… but we have heard nothing back…”
The eolder’s face darkens
The region near the Icerimes is fraught with egesan. I fear the worst for young Petrik, but pray he reached Quern and even now they journey here to us… Quern may know of this “Sentinel” that the runa speak of… but to me they merely sound the ramblings of the brægenséoc or worse…”
He takes another draught of his mead-horn, then adds his final thoughts through a scowl;
”As for the Puka. While they may not act alone, I do feel the woad-goblin’s wickness plays some part in all this… Too long have these fracoþan creatures been a þorngeblæd all of Berghof!Perhaps a journey south to pay them a long overdue visit would net the best catch at present nei?”
You know Petrik as he is of a similar age to yourself. A decent fisherman and outdoorsman he was fleet of foot, but a little too full of himself and thus keen to take risks
You know Petrik as he is of similar age. He was often one to tease Muli, you and your master thought him an able but uneducated lout.
Aye, Petar, I think the South and the Puca are our best síþfær, for now. Petrik's ádwínende troubles me. I knew him, and we may yet be able to find him later. What say all of you?
Luke looks to his companions for their thoughts while formulating a plan for the trip South and one to the East in any eventuality.
síþfær = way
ádwínende = vanishing
Friend Luke, I strongly believe we should seek out this hermit sage. Andgietful gleaned would better prepare us to deal with the creature behind this. Finding out what has happened to Petrik would be welcome news to the village and gain further créda.
Aye, Kev, either síþfær is fine by me. What say the rest of ya?
síþfær = journey, way
"Feh, while Skäggig does hunger - if he must wait until after you have talked to the sage then so be it" Ragnar shrugs as he speaks, before putting a finger to the axe's edge where it sits propped against the table.
"Aye, with Gier gone, Quern is the one who might know. Though it not likely to be the same andcwissi Geir would have gave. But an andcwissi, that is more than we got now."
At mention of Petrik, Muli rolls his eyes and seems to consider his words. "Best if Muli and the others set out to find Quern. Might lose too much time waiting. Petrik very good at running...He likely outruns any egesn, but he might also run right by Quern's cave."
Pater Fisc smiles at Muli's wisdom on Petrik then slowly drains his horn;
”tis settled then, you seek out Quern first… then the Puka…”
He continues with a warning as the fish-oil lamp light dances throughout the langhus;
”Muli knows were Quern can be found… he lives in the shadow of Little Icerime, the furthermost dún to the Northwest… The Icerimes are a ceald nest of many atolu my freówineas, some even say the dúna themselves are accursed... Be Þurhwacolan! Tarry not lest trow or jotunn catch wind of you…”
He grumbles as he stiffly rises and leads you back into the crisp afternoon;
”Make what arrangements you need for the trip. We can supply some dried rations, ale and equipment should you need it. Klenna will arrange anything you require. Luke will know the best route to take. May the metedas guide you and protect us in your absence!”
Black Dow:
Here are some checks to confirm that, if necessary:
Survival (Take 20) = 26
Geography:
You could go that way, would take you close to the Storith Wood as well [two birds with one stone nei?].
A quicker option that is purely keyed on reaching Quern's hermitage would be to take the Nirras Ferry [southwest of Kustnir] then proceed West to Little icerime [its the topmost/Westernmost mountain in the Icerimes - I'll update the map to show it by name]
Your sharp skills idicate it would take perhaps a days travel via Cisewella to reach Quern, while half a day via the ferry...
Reaching out to clasp arms Ragnar assures the Pater "Our thanks ealdorfréa. When we return it will be with the súþwind at our backs"
The Spédig Wésa will guide me on my faru Eolder. But being ill prepared would hincian any attempt we would make. I would take your offer on necessary equipment to aid our ærende.
Going through his pack, Kevkul notices the linament tin traded off the old half-elf as well as the magical scrolls he found at the blood-runed home. He addresses Muli whilst handing him the tin and scrolls.
Friend Muli, could you be of service and discern the properties of this linament? I have a spell scroll here that would be of interest to you too, in aiding of preparing new concoctions. I would not probably need them but if you have not yet knowledge of them, then I would gift it to you.
[ooc]Spédig Wésa=Lucky Drunkard
faru=journey
hincian=hobble
ærende=mission
Muli takes the tin and opens it. He gives it several quick sniffs, his nose visibly quivering with the effort. He then dabs a finger in the ointment and touches it to his tongue.
"Ah, this is a tin of....<insert answer here>".
Taking the scroll, Muli holds it close to his eyes and looks it over. "I think Muli can learn much from this first passage. The ability to take a swóretung like a stánbucca, but this other Muli canna read. Let muli have this tonight to learn from then you can keep the second part."
Luke nods to the Elder, and he addresses the group.
We have two possible routes to Quern. The first, and hwílsticce, is to take the Nirras Ferry, southwest of here, then travel due west to Quern's hermitage. This síþfær would take a half day. The second route is overland, the síþfær Kevkul and I took to Kustnir. We would have to travel southwest to gewæd just north of Cisewella and then northwest to Quern's hermitage. This síþfær would take two days to travel. I scýe the Nirras ferry, thoughts?
hwílsticce = short space of time
síþfær = journey, way
gewæd = a ford
scýe = suggest
"Aye, It would be good to follow Petrik's síþfær and pull him out of any snowbanks on the way."
síþfær = journey, way
Before it passes from my mind, I have heard of rumors of rokk trow at the Icerimes, do they really resemble boulders and are difficult to wálá?
Reminds you in texture, smell and (possibly??) taste of dog or wolf saliva![/ooc]
[spoiler=DC 16 Knowledge (Nature) check]
Rokk Trow it could be, but sunlight turns these brutes to stone... they prefer to lair underground, so it is unlikely but not impossible that Kevkul's rumour regards these earthen jotunn...
Klenna asks if they are any other requirements for equipment, before she heads to retrieve the desired items.
"The ferry sounds behogod. Are we to leave afore cwildseten?"
Klenna looks to Luke and Muli regards their thoughts on travelling;
”Niht[i] travel is a dangerous in these lands as Muli and Luke will attest to. You could [i]giestian overnight at the Ferry…” (she smiles a little) ”… Old “Dour” Durwin the ferryman always likes a visit…”
Your deliberations and preparations are interrupted by the appearance of Droost the Kipper and a tall strapping Northman. The dwarf wears his familiar expression of having just stepped in something, while the warrior has the air an Outlander…
Droost scowls as he addresses yourselves and Klenna;
”Feh. Another”hearding” come-a-calling on Kustnir… and another Ulfen to boot!”, the grumpy fish-smoker looks up at the new arrival and gestures towards the assembled party;
”Klenna here is the eolder’s daughter and will keep you right. Looks like yer fellow frecan are finally about to try and free us from our curse! Heh! 140 years I been here and seen plagues and jotunn, hell even worked at the Old Keep for a spell as a lad but never, never seen bad business like this… Dark feckin days…”
The dwarf idly spits and stands ready to oversee your departure.
Seeing another Ulfen arrive gives Ragnar unwelcome memories of where he has come from. Drawing up to his full height Ragnar moves to stand before the newcomer looking him up and down before talking bluntly "De är inte alla karlar som bär byxor. You come from the ealdoýj, yet you are not gebearded? Did you bring your cildféstre with you youngling?"
Skølrykk stands his ground, leaning easily on his tall spear. There are plenty of leaves in the þiccet, I need not bring them with me everywhere. A beard is slow and grows fynig in the sea, ieldrafæder. He says, grinning and looking at Ragnar's beard critically.
Aye, the hwælmere is my cildféstre, and yours?
He turns back to Droost. Ic thank you, Droost. Are you in efestung to go somewhere?
Is this some sort of Ulfen greeting þénung that Ulfen tradionally do? Or are you comparing pintels? If it is the latter then worry not, for I am a practiced healer and an just judge of such.
Looking at both of them from head to toe, Kevkul alerady has an idea what's what.
Forgiefnes, dweorgman. Skølrykk says, extending his hand. I am called Skølrykk Dråthenborn, of Rykka in the Land of the Linnorm Kings. I am cuman to offer my þræcwudu to aid the village, for I have heard of strange gelimp here. I don't know much of it, though. Atellan me what is goin' on, exactly?
Taking in Skølrykk's response before easing his stance away from aggression "It is akin to one hund sniffing the other's ærs Kevkul, nothing more. And as to the gelimp, we know naught but blod runa and tall tales. We are off to visit an elder before slating our þyrstan for battle on some puka"
Ha ha! Aye, jus' like Hunds, we are! Skølrykk chuckles. I am Skølrykk, he says, now grasping Ragnar's hand in apology for the traded insults A cwémnes to meet you, Norseman. May I accompany you then?
Were that I prepared my spells better I would have welcomed you with a drink courtesy of the Spédig Wésa. But it is not to be. Come with us and we all shall share a drinc. Morgen, we shall depart.
during the early stages of the night's drinking, Luke approaches the newcomer during a moment when they can speak. he extends his hand.
Skølrykk, I am Luke Falgren, I am a local by birth and weard of these parts. I cunnan the land like no other, and I will be yer ládmann. I welcome yer spear because bróga is coming.
He smiles awkwardly and clangs tankards with the newcomer.
Ragnar passes the night drinking outside, sitting back against the bunk house and keeping company with Liten Mun. He does not invite anyone outside with him - though welcomes the company if anyone chooses to share it.
Inside Kustnir's meduhús; The Kelpie's Net, your group sit and prepare for the coming morn's journey.
As you've come to expect Wym Wínmann, the Net's innkeep, is ever the willing host, horns of medu and meals of fish soup and bread come quickly to those that wish them.
Unlike before no locals, save Droost the Kipper, share your company. The curmudgeonly old dwarven fishsmoke-warrior sits apart but within earshot, listening intently to your cant while keeping his own council.
As he prepares and serves Wyn cannot help but comment that in the two days since your band answered Kustnir's call there have been "...no incidents of the bealudæd that blighted the village prior to your ofercyme"...
Droost shakes his head "Our being freed is a blight to others... Why just today I heard from some loggers that they seen strange, fell things: Mottled, áþrunten líca o' woad goblins floating down-river past the bridge near Ciselwella... Tis like I said, there's evil afoot across the land. Ain't just us... whole o' Berghof is accursed!"