I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
The Sun will soon be falling over the horizon, in but an hour or so. You are within sight of Caer Garrion, your destination; a small village on the isle of Gwynneth,overlooking the Straits of Alaron.
You've been sent here to investigate sightings of foreign ships in the area, which may possibly be connected to the whisperings of spies regarding Luskan interest in mysterious Corriban Isle, one of the many islands in the Korrin Archipelago.
Are the two connected? You don't know, but sightings of foreign ships this close to home is not good news.
The King was clear that he trusted you, after all some of you have quite the reputation.
Two months earlier...
"Eee, Ynyr lad, tis good to see you. Artificer now I'm hearing. Grand that. Happen you'll be showing me how to make and mend and will be just like old times."
At first delighted to see Ynyr again and catch up on the news of five years, Healaugh soon finds that his old friend is not the cheery company of old. Lovelorn and introspective, the artificer shows an alarming tendency to go over and over his heartbreak and even Healaugh's healing powers are not enough to distract him.
Suggestions that the great goddess Brigid knows best and perhaps the girl Ynyr has lost was not for him after all are met with stony silence. Although Ynyr perks up enough to incorporate Healaugh's much cherished scrap of curtain material into a leather sling (the sole remnant of Brigid's former temple of the Isle of Viladel where the pair met), this is not enough to sustain his interest for long.
Casting about desperately for some way to entertain his gloom stricken friend, the halfling takes heed of the interesting goings on in Caer Garrion and suggests they journey there together.
"What tha needs is something to take mind of troubles, Ynyr lad." he announces firmly one morning. Brushing aside all Ynyr's protestations that his girl will see the error of her ways and follow him to Healaugh's any second now, he forcibly packs bags for them both. "No more argyfying Ynyr. Can't be doing with wailing and moaning and lass'll think no worse of you for being up and doing."
It is with some relief that he sees Caer Garrion come into view. "Nearly there Ynyr lad. Soon be finding out what's going on and then tha canst write to lass and tell her more than how tha's heartsick."
Darvyl idly leaned against the railing and watched Gwynneth grow nearer. He didn't quite know why the King trusted him, but why not give it a go -- gods knew he was bored enough at home.
"Well now, it might be that my Daelynn will be more interested in my doings of deeds that my protestations of ardour might it not? Do you think? Now I say it I don't know, do you know? But I can write to her of what I do as you say and mayhap she will read them, and mayhap she will like them. And mayhap she'll just tear them up. I could write each letter in a different language, could I not? Did you know I was teaching her to speak and talk in all my languages? Then she could learn from what I say and it might be that she doesn't tear them up so quickly, if you know what I mean. Shall I try that then?"
"So this is Caer Garrion is it now?"
Listening with half an ear to Ynyr, Healaugh looks around.
"Others should be here. Sent word to them."
More sympathetically, he pats Ynyr's arm. "Aye. Write to lass in fancy languages if tha wants. Can't harm. Tell her about new folks you've met and all. If they ever turns up."
"Am here.", Nechtan stated, sauntering forward.
The Krutne had come due to the ties of his blood-debt, so he arrived ready for war: his weapons freshly oiled and sharpened, his predominantly blue skin glistening with lanolin, and his hair newly formed into a halo of spikes by lime and guano.
He glares up at the two strangers. The artificer he recognizes from description, and quickly dismisses. The warrior he eyes warily, watching for signs of attack.
Ynyr looks a trifle alarmed at the appearance of Nechtan and turns to Healaugh.
"So now... Tell me about these people we are to meet again? I may have been a bit distracted the first time you said, you know?"
The town of Thorndyke lies 20 miles behind you, and it has been a pleasant walk for seasoned adventurers such as yourselves on this bright, sunny day.
You still await the arrival of Ddraig Goch, the mysterious dragon-man you have heard so much about, and his companion Greylan Mooneye, both dispatched from the court of the King in Caer Corwell.
Darvyl, not much taller than Nechtan himself, whistles as they walk along, sometimes spinning his scourge, half-listening to Healaugh's description of his soon-to-be-companions.
"Darvyl here is venturesome and mighty deft wi' weapons. Gets bored easy like and needs distraction like thasen to keep out of trouble. Nechtan and I have had words here and there, but we've found ways round that. He speaks our tongue now and can mebbe teach tha his own language if he's a mind. That'd impress your lass for sure. Nobbut him and five others speak it if'n I've understood him rightly."
He looks around. "Can't miss Ddraig and Greylan. Noticeable lads the both of them. Hoping our Greylan's leaving his rat at home. Dint much impress King last time running up trousers and rather not have to explain that again. Twas funny mind. Just not so respectful to royalty."
Healaugh canters over to Darvyl. "Good to see tha lad. Scourge is new int it? Don't recall seeing that before."
Healaugh canters over to Darvyl. "Good to see tha lad. Scourge is new int it? Don't recall seeing that before."
Darvyl grins, a bit pridefullly. "Ya, it's new. Good against kobolds and the like. Snakes, crocs, they don't like it much either."
Ddraig wished that he could remember why he had come to this strange place. His memories of his past were cloudy, and only afforded him the briefest of glimpses into the reason for his travels.
He knows that he has a mission to fulfil; some destiny that awaits him. What that destiny is, he does not know; only that he must show unfailing valour and dedication to his deity, and that his destiny will be revealed to him when the time is right.
And so he journeys, looking for adventure and wrongs to right.
"I am here" he said, carefully surveying the other members of the party. He was unsure as to why the King had placed so much trust in him and his companions - whilst he had performed some (in his estimation) small deeds of service, he did not consider himself worthy yet. That was something he would have to work on.
Healaugh turns to greet Ddraig. "Tha's not changed. Big as ever. Memory any better lad?"
He nods at Ynyr. "Ddraig's got a sad tale an' all. Tha' canst swap woes wi him if cheery banter gets too much for tha."
More generally. "Reet. Seemingly Greylan's a mite busy, so best we're on our way. Could be doing with finding out what's amiss here. Hoping it's not pirates."
Like a small, bossy collie, the halfling herds his companions towards Caer Garrion.
"Hey, wait!" comes a voice down the road. It is an elf, laden down with bags and assorted oddments.
"This fellow sets a rather quick pace," he says, indicating Ddraig Goch, "Greylan Mooneye, ambassador to the court of Corwell from the Queen of Synnoria. at your service. Ah, Healaugh, excellent!" he remarks upon seeing the halfling.
"Don't let me hold you up," he says hurriedly as he fumbles with a bag that sounds as though it contains clinking bottles, "Er, potions. Healing ones, that is."
"Tha's bought usual clutter I see. Left rat at home mebbe?" (ever the optimist)
"Hmm? What? Oh, er, yes." Greylan replies.
The village is now in sight, and the small settlement seems abnormally silent for the end of a workday. A thin plume of smoke rises from beyond the low rock wall that surrounds the hamlet. Two dozen buildings, mostly thatch-roofed, can be seen beyond the wall. The gate appears unmanned. The scene is disquieting among the idyllic low hills covered with fields of crops, and rock-walled pastures that surround the settlement.
A short line of trees to the east separates the rectangular hamlet from a broad beach where a dozen fishing boats are docked or pulled up onto the sand. The soft crashing of waves is amplified by the absence of the sounds of normal human activity.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Darvyl mutters, but shows no indication of taking the lead.
"Reckon tha's reet. Fisher boats should be out this time of day."
Healaugh goes to the door of the nearest cottage and knocks.
Healaugh spots a lone hut on the beach, and knocks on the door. There is no answer.
The surf crashes lightly on the beach, and not even the sound of a gull breaks the quiet.
"Odd that. Fisher boats in and no-one in cottage."
Shrugging, Healaugh heads towards another cottage.
Darvyl, meanwhile, tries the door on the first hut.
Darvyl tries the door and finds it to be unlocked, as Healaugh heads to find another building.
And on opening it, sees . . .
The young warrior sees nothing interesting in the hut, just some beds, a table and chairs; all evidence of family life.
The only other things on the beach are fishing boats, both upturned and right-way up.
"There seems to be no sign of life here" said Ddraig, tightening his grip on his sword in its scabbard. "Perhaps we ought to search the beach for the inhabitants?"
Ddraig was concerned that the area seemed to be deserted, and he could think of no good scenario that would have such a result.
Healaugh looks even more concerned as Darvyl opens the door and reveals nothing.
"Best look in town then. Not liking this."
"Mebbe all out rraidin. Other trribes got sheeps?"
"Tes a fishing village Nechtan. Tha' sees that. Not likely to be pirating wi'out boats. Better not be anyroad. Might be having words else."
"Not pirratin! RRaidin! Go and get sheeps and coos. Prroove uns livin an manly! Imprress lassies."
"Surely they would not take the women and children out raiding?" said Ddraig, somewhat disbelievingly. "I could believe it if it were only the men missing, but everyone being missing bodes badly to my mind."
"Not pirratin! RRaidin! Go and get sheeps and coos. Prroove uns livin an manly! Imprress lassies."
"Mebbe our Ynyr could be trying that. Not that I'm thinking he'll be much of a raider. Happen his lass might like it. Reckon Ddraig's int right ont mind. Not likely lasses and childer'd be raiding."
The people of Gwennyth are not raiders. It is not something they would be doing.
"Should check out yon big broch."
Healaugh (accompanied by Nechtan) trudges up the beach, heading to the north, where he spied some large buildings earlier.
He finds a large farmhouse (what might be thought of as a 'ranch'). The doors are wide open.
Ddraig
"Thinking this is getting odder." he mutters to Nechtan.
He goes inside. "Anyone about?"
Healaugh finds the farmhouse abandoned. There is a meal sitting on the kitchen table unfinished.
Healaugh
"Summat strange going on." the halfling points out needlessly.
Healaugh notes that the food is at a state of spoilage that indicates it was served almost 48 hours ago.
After poking his head in the ranchhouse long enough to see no immediate threat, Darvyl stands back outside, fidgeting with his weapons and watching for anything at all to happen.
Nechtan searches the table for anything still edible.
"Off to the toon, then?", he asks Healaugh.
"Aye. Don't be eating that Nechtan. Tha'll get collywobbles."
Ynyr, ha been following the Healaugh morosely for a while in one of his usual distracted moods. However, the oddness of the situation is beginning to bring his thoughts into focus again and. Dismissing fond memories of Daelynn, he turns his attentions to the matters at hand.
"Now do you suppose the whole village is deserted?" He says to anyone who will listen. "Could it be that they were frightened away? Or possibly put under some compelling urge, you know, to go and do some deed which they would not do if they were not urged? If you follow my meaning? Should we not go to the main houses and buildings and look into them? Might we not find some better findings there that might tell us what it is that has been happening?"
Looking at the food wistfully...
"If this is going to turn into one of those adventures where there is going to be nothing to eat. I shan't like it shall I?"
His hand goes absently to his pack which holds his rations, for some degree of comfort.
"There seems to be little of interest out here", said Ddraig. "I feel Ynyr's suggestion has merit, not least because the main settlement has a walled enclosure. Perhaps the inhabitants have sought shelter in their largest buildings?"