In answer, a new voice rings up from the stairs across from you, beyond the bull.
"The Knights of the White Tower...
as in walks what appears to be a human man, possibly in his 50's or 60's, but still heavily muscled and hale. He wears ancient looking chain mail of a dark grey iron. A sword hangs at his side, short and square tipped. A great white beard hangs to his waist and is tucked into his belt. His eyes seem almost to glow green, but that is probably a trick of the light.
are the guardians of, well, the White Tower. And this...is the White Tower. Or perhaps this is a symbolic representation of the tower. It's never been clear to me exactly which came first, the forest or the building. One suspects the forest, but one must be careful what assumptions one makes here in the Fair Lands, neh?"
His accent is difficult to place. It is almost certainly Eastern European, but from where you cannot guess.
"My name is Giewont. It would appear that you have awakened the Golem, and fled into our Refuge. Based on what your guide has told me, you are fleeing some sort of attack. We can certainly give you Refuge or Passage, as we did Julian and his people before this. The Forest beyond is clear of threats as far as I know, and we can guard you here. The tower has not been taken by enemies since it came here.
As to your question, Julian, your parents used this passage to usher your people away from danger, just as their ancestors did years before. You came along to guard them, and when the round ups ended a few years ago, they put you into a sort of resting state, as I understand it."
Kishan eyes the newcomer, looking over his person and his gear. The iron maille would seem to indicate a mortal.
"I take it you are one of these knights? We are not fleeing any specific attack, only avoiding unnecessary conflict. As for Julian... awakened the Golem... are you talking about the Golem of Prague? Are you saying that he is the same creature?"
"No, of course he isn't the Golem of Prague. The Golem of Prague was smuggled to your United States in a coffin aboard a ship along with a young man a bit before Julian came through. Julian is the Golem of Warszawa. As for me, I am indeed one of the Knights, or rather the Knight, the White One, The Waking Knight. Guardian of the White Tower, Protector of Grail (or rather one of them, or rather two of them, in sequence but not concurrently, and currently none of them)."
He bows deeply.
"My name's Aaron." he says and bows back.
"I've been here before? You know me? Know...knew my parents? What did they do? How did I--ROUND my people up? You can't be talking about.... I'm 18!? Why don't I remember any of this?"
"Aaron, he says, but surely you, too could use some appellations. Dragon's Blood, unless I miss my guess. Sword Bearer, though I'm not sure which one. My guess would be something made by old one-eye, the way it looks at me.
And yes, onetime protector of the Holy Grail, or perhaps more accurate to say two time protector of a Holy Grail. The first a sort of ram's horn, and the second a simple clay cup. The second was here until quite recently, but was lost, alas, into the cthonic depths.
And as for you, Julian, you are no more 18 years than I am 20. You, son, are a Golem. Most recently known, though that not widely, as the Golem of Warszawa, though long before that as the Golem of Levi. You are the 13th Golem, the Master from which all of the others were made. Devoted to the protection of the priests, squabbled over at the splitting of the nation of Israel, and buried deep within Solomon's Temple. Recovered by my fellows during one of the Crusades or another. Your "father" was a young Knight of the White Tower. The Tower woke him and he left to gather as many as he could and bring them through this Way here to safety. You were of much use in those endeavors, but afterward it was decided that he, and you, and your "mother" would return to the world and guard one end of the Way. All that mess in your head about Julian is just a story, I'm afraid."
Aaron practically holds his breath waiting to see how Julian takes this news.
"I think I'm having some trouble following the crossover of traditions here... The Golems are a creature of Jewish folklore; specifically of Ashkenazi folklore. You've mentioned 'his people' several times, and them using these passages as an escape from persecution, so I presume you are referring to the Holocaust, and other similar ethnic purges of Jewish peoples that occurred across Europe throughout the late medieval and Renaissance periods. But what is your connection here? You've mentioned the Holy Grail, which is a fairly distinctly Christian bit of iconography, and has no similar equivalent among any of the Jewish traditions I've read about. That implies you follow a Christian tradition. That in and of itself is not unusual, as many Christian groups have sheltered and protected Jewish populations during the various purges, just as other Christian groups have occasionally perpetrated them. May I ask, what tradition do you follow, and what is your connection to Julian and 'his people'."
"I have followed a few traditions across the years, Warden. I was born under the eternal blue sky, and have prayed to it in war and peace. From there it was a short step to see the Blue Sky in the God of Storms worshiped by the Khazars and your Askenazi (he struggles with this word). I carry the Sword of the War God, and I have spoken his name in battle. On occasion I've prayed to the Queens of Winter and Summer, and once I'm pretty sure I talked to Baba Jaga. I have never prayed to Christ or his cadre, though I do enjoy some of the Crusader's curses. The Crusades were something, and in those I have fought on both sides, or rather two of the three.
As for THE Grail, I know of at least three, only two of which are Christian and only one would be accurately described as the Cup of Christ. The Cup came her with Harold from Angland, and left, as I said, only a short time ago, just before what your are calling the Holocaust. It might have been of great use during that darkness.
When I say "his people" to Julian, I mean whose protection is entrusted to him. Of course he isn't a person.
As for my connection, I followed a group of Khazar's here shortly after the reign of Li Ye, and founded with them and some of the Ashkenazi the Knights of the White Tower. The White Tower being, strangely, the name for the forest, in which there is only sometimes a White Tower. I have protected Hebrews and Jews and Christians in various forms of exile."
Thoughts flit rapidly through Kishan's mind as the strange knight speaks. This is somewhat obscure stuff; The 'Eternal Blue Sky' sounds like Tengrism, a religion common to most of the Steppe regions of Asia. The Khazars were a Western Steppe culture in pre-crusades era that some traditions hold converted to Judaism around the 8th century, though evidence of that is sparse and heavily contested. The Sword of Mars was supposed to have once belonged to Attila the Hun, and having originally having belonged to Ares was according to some legends was why he was undefeatable in battle.
His telling of history seems a bit skewed from the accepted narrative, but is that because of his perspectives, or are the histories the ones that are incorrect?
"Sir Knight; is there a name we might know you by? Perhaps we have heard of you by reputation. If not, what is it you would like us to call you?"
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Jarrod was completely lost (as well as his player) at all of the historical references brought up by the strange, possibly immortal, knight and the warden. While he didn't exactly slack off in school, history wasn't his favorite class. Besides, American history classes, even world history, always tended to focus on American or Western European history. "Wait, you mean you're older than most historical records?" he asked the knight.
"It is difficult to keep one's age here in a place where the seasons are more a matter of influence than the passage of time, and where the sun and sky are ideas, but Brother Terrance believes that I am a man of about 70 years. How that is possible beside the longer march of history, I am not philosopher or magician enough to say, other than to know that time flows more quickly here in the tower than in the mortal world.
"I'm not sure you would have heard of me, but the folk call me Giewont, and tell tales of sleeping knights waking in times of need."
In any case, I would really like to post, but I feel like surely the PCs would like to say something...
"Honestly, sir Knight, that seems like a horrible existence. Put away in a storage shed until you're needed, brought out to be used, and then put back? For millenia? I'm surprised you're so accepting of it."
[b]"Time does not pass so slowly here as it does outside, so the years slip by. And there are devotions and training. It is enough to serve. But what of you, where shall we send you? There is the Forest beyond our gate the Way through the wreck above will take you back to the Americas. Or do we need to aid you in your battle back into Julian's home. "[b]
"If time is passing at such an altered rate between here and the mortal world, then we'd best not stay long. It would be better if we not discover a decade had passed while we were away."
"We'll be brief with further questions as we'll have to leave. It appears that the Fomor or someone like them have killed Julian's parents, or at least destroyed their home in the aim of doing so; we did not see their bodies. Any chance they escaped to here before the missile struck? I believe we should be fine to return to Boston on our own. May I ask the reason for all the mines in the stairwell?"
"We have a novitiate, Harry, who brought those with him during your last World War. Calls them butterfly bombs. Dropped them by the thousands out of a flying castle, if you can believe that. We had some problems with some Snow Ogres poking around upstairs near the Rough Beast, that's the thing Aaron there stabbed.
As for Julian's keepers, they did not come this way, but they could have come through and headed across the ice without us noticing, probably."
Aaron pats Julian on the shoulder, the poor kid stunned to silence by the revelations.
"Do you guys still want to see what more is here, or get home quick?"
"The movement of time is concerning. Given a mortal man has survived more than a thousand years here, each minute could be a day back home. We should go."
"Agreed. Come on Julian,we need you to walk. Pretty sure you're too heavy to carry."
Before you depart, the ancient knight takes Julian aside and whispers something in his ear. The two are huddled together for a moment before Julian returns to you.
You make your way back up the stairs, forgoing further exploration. What, or who, exactly, sleeps below will have to wait for a later date.
The Knight's final words ring in your ears, "Perhaps you will come again, and we can spar with those fine swords of yours..."
You make your way quickly across the ice to the frozen ship. Climbing through a hole in the hull, you find yourself on a rocky outcropping swept with waves. Climbing quickly in between two massive stones, you find yourself back in the NeverNever, this time blasted by heat and humidity, surrounded by ancient, crumbling stone walls. A quick run through a maze of stones and through a stone arch brings you back into the Phipps Street Burying Ground, just Northwest of Bunker Hill Monument. Bunker Hill Monument is a large obelisk that sits at the nexus point of three Ley Lines, and one of the most important arcane sites in Boston.
You almost instantly notice that it is just before dawn. You went through the door in Julian's basement just after 4 pm. 7 days ago.
Aaron grips his hair and pulls on it after seeing a newspaper tumble by.
"MY SHOP'S BEEN CLOSED FOR A WEEK!?!" he screams, and then calms.
"All right, no big deal, we open back up tomorrow like nothing happened. I won't go bankrupt. Probably. Right?"
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Jarrod was rendered dumbfounded at realizing the current date. "Seriously? We were stuck in magic land for a week?" he asked in shock. Shaking his head, he looked at the others. "Listen, I've gotta check my apartment, see if there's any messages or something. Sounds like Aaron needs to check on his store as well. Julian, feel free to come with me or the others if you want. I've got a couch that's comfy enough. Let's just meet up somewhere tomorrow after getting our bearings. Sound good?"
"And I'll have missed my lecture last Thrusday. The Dean will be pissed. Not to mention the extra headaches to manage if anyone reported me missing to the police. The Faculty may have, I suppose, though I hope not."
"I wager we will each have affairs to attend to. Shall we separate and meet back at the shop this evening? Jared, with the explosion at your parent's house and your subsequent disappearance, you are no doubt a person of interest to the authorities. I would suggest you either take a low profile, or keep company with one of us for now. Keep in mind that the Fomor may still be looking for you, and perhaps the rest of us too."
"Let's see, if it is a Tuesday today I'll have a lecture at 10. Perhaps we should head to the shop together just to make sure everything is safe, and we can split up from there."
"If you need a place to stay Jarrod I'm sure John wouldn't mind you using his bed until he turns up again."
Current Local Stories:
Gang violence blamed for deadly shooting in Bunker Hill neighborhood. Three dead in shooting yesterday.
Football Star and Family Killed in Tragic Accident
Bodies recovered in what Fire Investigators say was a gas explosion, killing local football star and parents. Memorial today.
None of our homes, stores, John's shop, etc. have been damaged or suffered any sort of retaliation.
Obviously, you've been missing for 6 days, so people may be looking for you. And Julian is sort of dead.
Jarrod tracks down his truck in an impound lot. He has 4 or 5 calls inquiring about following a cheating spouse or tracking an employee who is stealing money. The kind of thing that pays the bills.
There is one interesting call:
A woman's voice...
Um, hello? Detective? I am attempting to track a lost item and wondering if you would be able to help. Um, it's an art object. I'd rather not go into too much detail on the phone. Just give a call back, I guess. Thank you. And she leaves a number.
If you call the number back, she asks to arrange a meeting at a place of your convenience.
Aaron goes home and opens the shop, taking a bit to check all his backed up mail in the process. Thankfully, no urgent orders had needed filling, but he was coming up on a deadline for shipping one, so he got it packaged up and made a little trip to UPS. If he hadn't missed a crippling amount of business in a week, an hour wouldn't hurt.
Kishan makes sure her comrades get back home safely and then starts making her own series of investigations, checking in with various people and locations, both to make sure they're safe, and to assure them that she is as well.
She visits her home, a rented house on the grounds of a wealthy family's estate, at one time being their gardeners home. As a stonework cottage that predated electricity, it worked for her quite well. Finding her home unmolested and her landlords unaware of any troubles, she catches a cab to the University. She makes it in in time to prep for her lecture, and checks in with her colleagues there. She's pleasantly surprised to find that Gregory, her most senior grad-student, had been present at the lecture she missed, and having been familiar with material was able to more or less fill in for her. However, her main job at the University being research, she discovers that other than a few overdue correspondence, her absence was mostly unremarked upon. Gregory and a few of the others always seemed bemused by her requests that they print her emails for her and send replies on her behalf, but seemed to accept it as a quirk of tech-incompetence, and took the extra credit in stride.
Once details local life were settled, she made a few calls, checking in with the Wardens and explaining her failure to check in at the expected time this week. After that she calls Father Jim and asked after Set, wishing to know if he was still safe.
Once returning her messages, catching up on paperwork, and paying a few bills, she runs out of time, and heads back to Aaron's store for the evening rendezvous.
Aaron goes home and opens the shop, taking a bit to check all his backed up mail in the process. Thankfully, no urgent orders had needed filling, but he was coming up on a deadline for shipping one, so he got it packaged up and made a little trip to UPS. If he hadn't missed a crippling amount of business in a week, an hour wouldn't hurt.
There is an inquiry from Aaron's website (I'm assuming). I am interested in reviewing any original copies in your possession of Barrie's Peter and Wendy, only the first issue binding with the gold and green jacket. If you are in possession of any of these rare originals, I would be extremely interested in making a purchase.
A 1911 first issue binding Peter and Wendy, by J. M. Barrie, was worth $15-$30 thousand dollars.