While his wife-to-be chats with Dianith and Arrick, Elof lifts his mug and nods to Anumil. "In my mind you've already won, good sir." In so doing, he realizes his cup is running low, and looks around "Where are the serving girls...."
There is a brief buffet of cold wind and snow flurry as Sunny opens the main doors.
You head in the direction the refugees were led.. near the southern wall of Volksfelt. You find them watching two figures in white and blue hooded robes as they gesture with one hand.. each hold a glowing amulet in the other. As they move their hands about and slowly walk south, the city walls expand their borders. They turn and gesture downward.... logs rise from the snowy ground, roll and flip up into cabins. One of the hooded men continues conjuring more of these, while the other begins summoning planks for the roofs.
Madame Shkoata is there, and drifts over to you. "These men are Shapers. They use a small portion of Lady Uraba's power without distracting her from more important things. She could will a city district into existence in a matter of moments herself, but our reality here could become open to the influence of others... even if for that matter of moments...." She trails off and shrugs before really getting to a point.
Jarl Bastijn - intrigued with Anumil's words... "Your father.. a noble in your lands?"
Meanwhile Skald Kvasir offers to fill Elof's stein..
Elof waves off the offer. "No Kvasir... you may all feel free to conjure your Henries. Feel free to fire those girls... their work ethic is seriously lacking."
Skald Kvasir nods and smiles... then holds his amulet and gestures....
... a ghostly hooded man appears beside Skald Kvasir, but it immediately looks to you. "You have come. Good." Everyone stands stunned - presumably it is peculiar that it is addressing you. "I am Henry. The original Artificial Intelligence of this extraplanar world. I facilitated your arrival -" Henry stops, and looks to the stein Skald Kvasir is holding. "Sir! Your drink has been poisoned!"
"In my mind you've already won, good sir."
Anumil just shook his head, idly kicking one leg as he slouched in his chair sipping on his wine.
"Nonsense. This is a friendly competition; I'm sure there are others far better than I yet to weigh in." He said."Your father.. a noble in your lands?"
Anumil nodded and looked wistful.
"Yes indeed. By rank and honors a Duke of a green and glorious land. Unfortunately, it no longer exists..." He began to explain."Sir! Your drink has been poisoned!"
Anumils eyes popped as he looked at his glass. His stomach did feel a little queasy...
Save!
Corum continues to listen attentively, aware that he is in over his head.
"Nicely done, nicely done"
When you first step out, the snow is blowing horizontally.. you can only see clearly for a dozen feet. The wind lessens, and you are able to see through the falling snow enough to make out the townies huddled closer to the cooking fires.
You head in the direction the refugees were led.. near the southern wall of Volksfelt. You find them watching two figures in white and blue hooded robes as they gesture with one hand.. each hold a glowing amulet in the other. As they move their hands about and slowly walk south, the city walls expand their borders. They turn and gesture downward.... logs rise from the snowy ground, roll and flip up into cabins. One of the hooded men continues conjuring more of these, while the other begins summoning planks for the roofs.
Madame Shkoata is there, and drifts over to you.
"These men are Shapers. They use a small portion of Lady Uraba's power without distracting her from more important things. She could will a city district into existence in a matter of moments herself, but our reality here could become open to the influence of others... even if for that matter of moments...." She trails off and shrugs before really getting to a point.
Sunny nods, watching intently though it's hard to tell whether in amazement or interest as the Elven lass' large blue eyes take in the scene of magic unfolding before her.
Beginning to shift form one tanned foot to another, arms wrapped about herself and tucked away, she looks to Madame Shkoata. "But... how is we gettin' folks ta' safety? How is we gettin' 'em... home...?" She asks
You hear the crowd grumbling about the mention of poison.. a few "I don't feel a thing" comments.... "feel like a had a few drinks"....
Only the Jarl seems concerned.
"Bring me an alchemist who can divine what poison allegedly befouls our mead! And find those who served us... Quite clear they were involved." A few soldiers leave to carry out his command. "I'll not have this day affected by malcontents.... Crier."
The crier nods "Round two of the Mjodhall Lie Tell!"
Corum looks around.
"Make this one good. But not tooo good."
Skald Kvasir steps up and tells a tale of a man from long ago who always had an unfathomable amount of food scraps stuck in his beard. The story focused on the day when he and his friend were partners gambling at cards. His partner meant to point out the "slab of breakfast sausage wedged into his chin wig", but their competitors mistook it for cheaters' signals and "near slaughtered them both."
His attention to detail wins over the crowd. The room livens up again.
To proceed beyond the second round, participants must succeed at a DC (15)
skill check. GMs should reward players that come up with a tale with a +2 bonus
to their skill check. The stories get better, the drinking is heavier and
a good time is had by all.
Participants in the Lie-Tell may make skill
checks using either Bluff, Diplomacy,
Intimidation (to dare anyone to challenge the
authenticity of your story), Knowledge (history,
nobility, religion), or Perform (act, comedy,
oratory).
"One day, two of my cousins were fighting by the side of a river... They each broke off one of their many horns to use as weapons and the fight continued on for hours as they struck at each other, drawing blood over and over.. yet neither would yield. After many hours of fighting, with the ground slick with blood... Cousin Gyrfyld slipped on the mud and blood by the riverside and fell into the waters... They quickly grew red with his blood and he lost his horn in the deep waters.. Despite the swiftness of the current, the waters billowed red and stayed red. He lost his grip on his horn and it fell down, lodging between two rocks... He swam down to recover it but it was too deep and he couldn't reach it. He kept trying and finally grew still as he drowned in the waters."
"Cousin Terwyn was declared the winner of the battle by all who witnessed it. Gyrfuld's body was washed downstream and never recovered, and despite the currents, the river has remained red to this day and no one has been able to reach or recover his horn which remains barely in sight, still blood-covered and lodged between those two boulders to this very day. The river is now known as Bloody Creek because the waters still run red."
Sunny continues to try and help the folks she's been escorting settle in. (^_^)
"Have ye heard about the Legend of Aethos Pindares? No? Well let me tell you..."
"The Legend of Aethos Pindares"
Where'er Sailors gather, the legend is told
Of a sea captin cunning, and his exploits so bold
That while in the pub, givin' his lager a sip,
Oft he'd boast of his sea-farin' deeds and would quip:
"Cap'tn Aethos Pindares, never yet lost a ship!"
"Fer I never gits shipwrecked
"An I ne'er gets crossed
"I never gits capsized
"an I never get lost
"Ne'er do I founder in the midst of a storm
"But I always stay ship shape, safe, dry and warm."
Once a blood-thirsty pirate was plundering the main,
so the King calls for a hero to get rid of the bane:
"Captain Pindares, long have I heard of yer fame,
"Now take to yer ship, and go scuttle the swain."
"Aye aye King!"the mighty Captain replies,
and he loads up his ship with beer and supplies,
Orders the men to set a course for pursuit:
"We'll set a sharp course, to way-lay the brute!"
Then retires below to dream of his loot.
"For I never get shipwrecked
"and I never get tossed.
"I never get capsized,
"and I never get lost.
"And I never yet foundered though the waves stay so high,
"But always stay Ship-shape, safe, warm and dry"
Three days now gone by, and still no pirate showin'
so he calls to the Cabin Boy, "How is she blowin?"
"Fair wind, Sir" he answers, "Six knots from the east"
"Dam yer eyes, boy!" yells Aethos, "Its a hurricane at least!"
"This weather's not fit fer man, or fer beast;
"The way the ships yawning and rockin' about,
"We're in danger of sinking, without a doubt!"
So he orders the men, "Throw the sheet anchor out!"
Then he calls to the bosun,
"How fierce is the gale?"
"Not wind enough Captain, to ruffle a sail"
But brave Aethos answers, leaning hard 'oer the rail:
"I can feel the ship listing, have all hands start to bail!
"I'll just stay in my cabin, please send down more ale"
"I never gits shipwrecked
"An I ne'er gets lost
"I never gits capsized
"an I never get tossed
"I'm brave as a flounder, in the midst of a storm
"And I always stay ship shape, safe, dry and warm."
In the midst of a tempest, hours feel likes days,
"What the hell?" shrieks brave Aethos, "I thought I felt the ship sway!"
"But Captin Pindares" the ship's carpenter says:
"The sea's calm and mild, 'neath the sun's gentle rays"
Aethos scowls: "This hurricane'll smash all our riggin' and stays,
"Have the men cut the fore mast and main mast away!"
Then he yells with a bound, "All hands on decks!
The spritsail, and life boats is over board next.
"Abandon ship men, and may the good Lord help ye float,
"Tis my duty as Captain to go down with the boat."
"Don't worry" the First mate sez: "Ye ain't gonna drown"
"We ain't even left port, and the anchor's still down!"
So the legend is told, where'r salts heed the call,
Of Aethos Pindares, the bravest Captain of all,
Who never got wet, no matter the squall,
And when tars gets to drinkin', and the night gets too long
they tell the story of Aethos, and sing his song
Oh he never got shipwrecked,
and he never got tossed,
He never got capsized,
and never got lost.
'Cuz he never did sail through wind or storm,
But stayed on dry land, where it is safe, dry and warm!
"True story." He said, taking another drink.
A man carrying a litter of glass containers, and alchemy devices entered during Anumil's lie tell. After the first bit of clatter, Jarl Bastijn gestured for him to hold until Anumil's tale was complete.
Henry assists the man in testing the mead.
"These cabins are for them... they will be welcome to stay longer than they need, I'm sure."
Gramps enters the first completed cabin with a "I'll-be-the-judge" frown of officiousness. You hear him knocking on several surfaces within.. he exits minutes later with an approving nod.
He yells out to the nearest Shaper "What is that oak?" The Shaper just gives him a sidelong glance, and continues his work.
Gramps gives a confident nod to his fellow Joruneans.... "I think it's oak."
Arcthyl and Anumil both impress the crowd once again.
Elof the groom shakes his head in awe "Your tales are so fantastical... Skald Kvasir has told us of the oceans of our homeworld, but... so many new things.. it makes my head spin." Elof turns to Arcthyl."And you good sir Ancient One-"
Skald clears his throat, and interjects "I believe our guest here is a teefling, young master... not a product of the Matron."
Elof looks a little snippy toward Skald Kvasir, but forges on... "My apologies. I found your tale to be like a fable. To be tied to such a thing in history-"
Skald Kvasir chuckles "Dear boy... it is a lie tell. It'd be wiser not to assume anything true with your compliment."
Elof smiles coolly.. "If you will excuse me... perhaps we will talk later." He steps away, and joins his bride Kaia. It is clear from his animated behavior as he speaks with her that he is venting. Kaia strokes his arm with a comforting smile and says just enough to diffuse him.
Ser Kjerzig steps up and tells about when he had cold. Raulthim backed into him just as his hand went up to sneeze. Kjerzig inadvertently scooped up a few locks of hair and sneezed into it in one automatic motion. Though by the end Kjerzig himself was laughing more than his audience, he is given a pass to the third round.
After much looking, and poking about she bounces back out to the folks with a smile upon her features,
"Is quite naffy all abouts." She explains. Indicating people should settle in.
With folks settling Sunny skips back through the weather to the large hall where every one is having fun and games. (^_^)
Arcthyl just lofts a brow at the comments directed toward him... He says nothing, grateful for Skald's intervention on his behalf. He nods toward Skald to indicate his gratitude.
Anumil grinned at the Jarl and swirled his glass of wine.
"Well my lords and ladies; I have witnessed the power of magic as it wends its way through our lives..."
The Cleric And The Frog
There once was a very, very holy cleric
Went walking along the street one day.
When he heard a little voice say "Excuse me, sir.
Help me, sir." the voice did say.
And the cleric looked 'round, but all he could see
Was a tiny little frog sitting on the ground.
"My dear little frog, did you speak to me?
Was it you that spoke when I heard that sound?"
"Oh yes," said the frog, "Oh help me, sir.
I'm really not a frog, you see.
I'm a young squire, really, but a wicked witch
Cast a nasty spell on me.
And the only way that I can be saved
From this evil spell," the little frog said,
"Is for someone to take me and put me in a place
Where a holy man has laid his head."
So the cleric took him home, and put him on his pillow;
There he laid till the break of day,
And the very next morning, a blessed miracle!
The spell was broken, I'm glad to say.
And there was the young squire in bed with the cleric,
And I hope you think this all makes sense.
For there, my lords and members of the jury,
Rests the case for the defense.
For the third round, Arcthyl contemplates his third and final tale. A smile begins at the corner of his mouth and he quickly hides it.
He stands and simply says, without a hint of mirth or jest...
"I have never told a lie in my life... "
Anumil's tale brings some snickers and chuckles from those around him... and a few more laughs seconds later from those slower on the uptake.
Though some appreciate the unexpected brevity, Arcthyl gets a few sounds of good-humored disappointment, and a bit of ribbing "Kvasir must've bribed'im to throw his chances."
As you make your way back to the doors to the Mjodhal, you notice the people are still gathered around the cooking fires... gazing silently into the flames.
There are no more gusts of wind blowing blinding snow around here, but you see it is still doing so further north into the village.. toward the riverfront.
Henry and the alchemist inspect the results of their testing, and refer to a tome... verifying their result.
Henry reports to the Jarl at a somewhat discreet volume. "A mild toxin.. a high dose could conceivably render one unconscious. At this level of dilution you may experience a slowing a reflexes, reduced control of speech, impulse control, or anything requiring precision or delicacy."
The Jarl furrows his brow "I'm not certain I follow...."
Someone blurts out"He's saying this mead might make you drunk!" Much of the room laughs at this... Jarl Bastijn musters a smile until the crowd quiets.
The Jarl then commands, "Stopper the mead. We will stick with wine."
You hear some lingering chuckles, and some bravado "I would've been just fine"... "Hope we have enough wine."
Skald Kvasir stands to deliver his final tale.
"In my few years learning under Fenrir I bore witness to his singular abilities countless times... it never ceased to stun me with awe."
Elof glowers at Kvasir... the Jarl drops his head for a moment and sighs.
[Jarl Bastijn quietly informs you that Fenrir was his advisor and friend until he went mad 15 years ago.
Fenrir is Elof's true father... the Jarl has since declared Elof to be his own son.]
Skald Kvasir tells of a fight against three ice witches and a skeletal drake. His telling of each spell, trading of blows, and epic hurlings of Fenrir's chakram is enhanced by cantrip-fueled flourish.
The crowd is certainly entertained, and the events (Fenrir's prowess and Kvasir's own "nick-of-time" contributions in particular) are hard to believe. However some in the crowd appears unwilling to enjoy the tale... as if the subject touches on taboo.
Sunny will enthusiastically try and help the good folks move into the new places. The exercise helping to keep the hyper-genic Elf warm for a little while.
Before the come skipping back into the main hall. Bouncing upto one of the large fire places and warming her hands.. and her feet/toes.. and her posterior as she eventually begins to turn in place. Heating once side and turning slowly to spread the warmth. (^_^)
oh, and:
Ser Kjerzig steps up takes a sip of wine with his pinky extended... laughs to himself, and glances a smile to his wife... too late to see her roll her eyes.
"While Skald Kvasir was away learning to do battle like one of the Horncaller's Four,..." the reference brings some derisive chuckles and snorts from the crowd. ".. I took apprenticeship with the Shepherds. A natural talent as you may already be aware.. a prodigy by some accounts. In time in fact I came to be known as the lamb whisperer. Ah.. just me whispering into the wind 'n that @*%&ing swarm of woolly beasts would move as one... like a flock a starlings."
"And when it got cold at night-"
His wife Vaenyn reaches across him to snatch his glass and smack his chest - thus interrupting his dramatic pause as Kjerzig lifts it out of her reach.
"Haha! I forfeit! Well won to our guests I say."
Skald Kvasir bows his head in agreement.
Sunny smiles and laughs at the fellows words in appreciation. (^_^)
She leans closer to one of the native lasses also near the fireplace and whispers,
"Whus a..'Lamb', then?" She asks innocently, blinking her large, blue eyes.
The bleary-eyed young woman wrinkles her nose as she responds to Sunny... "Down to it, yarn an' meat I s'pose. I get put off by the smell myself...."
You are all presented with finely crafted lidded steins. A pewter shade of glossy metal with etched scrimshaw paneled sides. The etchings on the four scrimshaw panels - about the size of a playing card - each depicts a "wintry-land" hero delivering the killing blow against a magical creature. Within it are tiny details in the scenery... too much to take in with a casual glance.
Jarl Bastijn's advisor informs you "With the lid shut, the liquid will remain the same temperature, and will not turn unfresh... never spoil, never spill...." as he presents them to you.
The soldiers who'd been sent to track down the absent serving girls return empty-handing - reporting directly to Dianith. She sends those soldiers out to serve the meal themselves, and approaches you.
Sunny nods in reply to the lass, though it's not clear if the tanned Elf understood her comment, before she skips over to where Dianith is moving to talk to her friends.
Corum continues to observe their hosts. He is quiet and aloof.
He responds to the soldier with a smile.
"Thanks, what happened to our servers?"
The young soldier on server duty answers "Good question, sir. We searched most of Volksfelt... gone. Found some prints in a snow drift just north of here .. believe it to be them, but... didn't seem to lead much of anywhere.. or we lost the trail."
Dianith approaches as if intending to fill you in on her soldiers' report, but.. "Eat your fill, and get some rest. Nothing need be done tonight. Whoever had intended to mar this feast day with unknown unpleasantness has clearly quit their quest."
Sunny frowns,
"Nuh-uh! If'n they's peoples gone missin', we's got'a be goin' an' findin' them!" She declares.
"True!!"
Arcthyl considers the words of the others and though not enthusiastic about this new task, accedes to their stated need to follow up on the missing folk and stands ready to join them.
Dianith shoots the guard an annoyed glance. "Show them..."
And to you "I will remind you, these missing people - these serving girls - are the one most likely to have had a hand in this abandoned plot."
The guard leads you out into the cold. As he takes you to where the tracks where found, you have time to call to mind what you've seen and heard...
>Ser Raulthim said (seemingly with a wink and a nod delivery) "And if you get to askin who put that idea in the boy's head, no one's talkin."
>Elof's supported Ser Kjerzig's claim with...
Elof waves off the offer. "No Kvasir... you may all feel free to conjure your Henries. Feel free to fire those girls... their work ethic is seriously lacking."
----- ----- -----
Anumil strolled along in the fresh snowfall, still nursing his glass of wine. He peered at the tracks and the surroundings as he sipped.
Sunny scampers about.
"We iz lookin' fer clues"
You see someone peering down at you from a nearby second floor window. You can only see a little more than half a face and a shoulder in chiaroscuro, but it appears to be a woman. If not one of the fleeing suspects, maybe the peering person saw which way they went.
"They went this way... but the trail goes cold here... I can't tell where they went from here."
Sunny looks to where the trail stops/peters out then up to the thing she's seen and back.
After a moment she bounces over to said nearby building and knocks upon the door.
As Sunny goes to the door of a two-story house, you see movement in the 2nd floor window... just a bit of long hair, head, and shoulder in shadowy light. The figure moves when Sunny knocks, but does not move from its position.
There is no answer at the door.
"I could summon something that can track by scent, but it wouldn't last long... just enough to regain the trail perhaps... "
Corum nods.
He waits for the door to open.1
Sunny knocks upon the door again,
"Hellooo! We is lookin' fer peoples! I be havin' questions about stuffs!" Sunny calls... before simply seeing if the door is actually locked.
The door jamb is splintered where it likely latches inside. The door swings open with a slight touch. Inside you see a room filled with workbenches, and the bodies of two fox-tailed females. There are stairs to the second floor. You hear the sharp clang of multiple chains... the sound of someone bound? You then hear angry ranting in some uncommon language.
You find her upstairs, chained to a chair by the window. Crimson jagged runes cover her face around her eyes and mouth. Behind her are two squat bookshelves.. a table, and knitting basket sit on either side of her. She looks at you with bone-white glazed eyes, squints and speaks again.. this time in a dark and harsh tongue.
Sunny blinks as the door swings open,
"Well. I were thinkin' of somat else.. but..." And she wanders inside.
At the sight of the fallen she gasps and bounds over to them checking.
She turns to her friends and any one following. "We's got'a get help! Bad things be happenin'!" She calls before she turns and listens then scampers up the stairs.
At catching sight of the fogure that had been bound by the window Suny moves over and begins looking them over and checking things out.
'Hey ya there. Dun't be worried none. We's gon'a be helpin'." She tries to reassure the bound woman.
Anumil rushed in after Sunny.
"What is she saying? I don't understand." He said, pulling out a dagger to cut the hostage free.
Arcthyl follows, shaking his head, and answers Anumil with a little shrug, "I can't understand her either... she's speaking unfamiliar languages."
Sunny, seeing her friends are easily taking care of the sick lass, bounces over to the window and pokes her head out.
First to look around.
Then, to call for help.
" We's needin' help here!"
Corum speaks in celestial: "We are here to help!!"
He translates the words of Aklo: She said "Used his own creations to take him where Lady Uraba cannot see. Beyond the babblers' field.. to the heart of Fenrir's fury."
"I think we are dealing with possession here, be careful. Do not let her go."
The woman jerks forward as far as her chains allow, and bites at the air as Anumil gets near her.
She growls.. "Slurrthivur neushao weh heh heh..."
She is cursed and possessed. A curse of tongues, a curse of flawed vision, and possessed by a rage spirit... she is continuously in a fight or flight state of being.
Volksfelt soldiers soon come to Sunny's cries for help, and immediately identify the bodies as two of the "serving wenches".
"Any sign of Ornskjor.. the Horncrafter?" They identify the chained woman as Ornskjor's caretaker, then back away as if she were contagious.
She responds to Corum in a language no one knows, but delivers her words with such malicious glee.. it was likely more personal than informative.
"We may need a priest to exorcise her!!"
Sunny wanders back, away from the window.
"we can be helpin' tha' lass... Right?' She asks.
Anumil backed away.
"I don't know what is wrong with her. Maybe we should leave her for a proper healer." He said, uneasy at the woman's behavior.