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Ever since you left the last lowland town of Ebbersdorf the day before, you have been traveling through the Endless Hills, a region of rolling highlands covered in high grass, heather, thistles, large ferns and juniper bushes. You have heard that it is easy to get lost here, as one hill looks very much like the rest. Because of this, you have stuck to the Old Escadaran trade route markers, each one placed within sight of the next. These pillars, carved of a light stone, are easily visible against the otherwise dark background of the hills. Each of them is topped with the carved symbol of Old Escadara, a heron in flight, and has guided travelers in this part of the country for centuries.
Around midday, the Magalies Escarpment, a long cliff that stretches from horizon to horizon, comes into view. Hundreds of feet in height, it dips down to a mere hundred feet or so here, and the Old Escadaran trade route winds its way up the escarpment in switchbacks. The canton of Velders lies just atop of the cliffs, but nothing of the settlement if visible from down below.
At the base of the cliff, a few hundred yards from the trade route, lies the ruin of a small castle abaondoned long ago. It crumbling central tower is a nesting place for crows, and you remember that the place is strenuously avoided by locals.
As you get closer to the base of the cliff, you can see a wagon that has stopped at the foot of the switchback path. It is multicolored and is drawn by a team of two oxen. A man and a woman stand next to the wagon and seem to be repairing a broken wheel.
As you get closer, you can see that the man is a middle-aged human and the woman is much younger, perhaps not out of her teens. The woman sees you approaching and waves to you in a friendly manner, as she taps the man on the shoulder and points you out to the man working on the wheel.
Dolion tried to keep his eyes on the broken wagon ahead but his gaze kept returning to the ruined castle. He had the feeling of being watched and walking this close to the ruin made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He quickened his pace, Damn the bards and their accursed story’s, he thought as he tried to look away.
”Damn crows,” he muttered while he kicked a small stone off the path in frustration. He stopped for a moment and stared at the castle’s remains and decide it was definitely creepy. What remained of the walls were covered in moss and despite the noon day sun shadows hung over the menacing structure. The young thief tried to peer into the distant gloom of the keep when the sudden screech of a crow startled him from his task.
He cursed the crows again and started to hurry toward the disabled wagon. But his thoughts kept returning to the castle and the stories surrounding it.
Their are many tales told iacross Gulluvia about the ruined castle of Lord Orrik. The most popular is the ballad “Orrik’s Folly” but regardless of the song, prose, or story the tales all shared a common theme…. the crows.
Some say Lord Orrik made a deal with a witch and couldn’t keep his end of the bargain. Still other tales tell of a vengeful Druid taking revenge for Orrik’s deprivations against the fair folk of the forest. While the stories differ in detail they all end the same, with his court being killed by some fell magic as Lord Orrik and his family are transformed into crows to feast on the remains of his former subjects.
Over the years many people have disappeared in the vicinity of the broken citadel and every so often their corpses are found picked clean by crows.
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As they approach the multicolored wagon Osseus notes the symbol it bears - a spoked circle with a combined sun and moon as its hub.
They travel under the sign of the wheel of life - not something I’ve seen before in Gulluvia. He smiles to himself. What’s the phrase? ‘As all rise so too must they fall?’ Not a sentiment generally popular with the aristocracy. In the east, though, it’s common enough among farmers and philosophers alike.
As the wagoners pause their labors to note the group’s approach, a frown creases the priest’s face. A wagon marked with the rota vitae suffering a broken wheel at the border of Gulluvia. An ill omen marking our arrival? A warning of what we’re to find within? Osseus notes Dolion's discomforted gaze towards the castle ruins. Or another tale to add on to the castle's legend?
Either way, the sight has drained away any happiness Ossues might have felt at returning to his homeland.
Kymil looks towards the escarpment and is reminded once again that these are human lands and that he needs to be respectful of their customs and ways. He is glad that the weather has finally broken and clear skies shine down upon them all. The last week or so had been miserable, with rain and cool temperatures. The old path through the hills was particularly treacherous and several times the party members had slipped and incurred a minor cut or bruise.
"It will be nice to spend time indoors with a nice warm fire and decent food for a change!"
As you approach the wagon, you can see that the man has a full head of white hair that he keeps under a wide-brimmed leather hat, a full salt-and-pepper beard and piercing blue eyes, while the woman has waist-length red hair that is woven into countless braids decorated with ribbons and beads. Both are dressed in well-made traveling clothes designed to keep out the cold and rain. The wagon itself is narrow but quite tall and covered in animal skins, while countless pots, pans, and other cooking and gardening implements hang off of it. Two large oxen with long brown hair are harnessed to the front of the wagon, but are currently preoccupied with some light grazing.
At first glance these two appear to be tinkers, people who travel between settlements repairing iron goods and selling small manufactured items that rural people have difficulty making themselves. You remember having seen tinkers in the Barony of Gulluvia countless times before, but you don't think you are familiar with these two.
The man stands up from where he has been crouching next to the wagon and waves in a friendly manner, while the young woman stands behind him, observing you all suspiciously. As the older man begins to speak to you, the young woman puts her hand on his shoulder and whispers something in his ear that you cannot hear. He shakes his head and waves her off in response, then calls out to you: "Greetings, travelers! I see you are on your way to Gulluvia. We are as well. Might I ask you a favor? We are about to climb the steep, switchback path to Velders, and although my oxen are up to the task, I would certainly feel more comfortable if I had a few extra hands to help push the cart around the tight curves and over any rocks on the path. This would be a huge favor to my daughter and myself, and I could even offer a small payment if that is not an insult."
Dolion shuffles his feet not willing to commit to the arduous task and the delay of reaching a warm fire. Looking for an excuse not to help he asked, ”What’s wrong with the wheel? Might be a bit dangerous to be behind your wagon if there is a problem.”
The man shakes his head and smiles. "No, the wagon and its wheels are in good condition and should not present a problem. I was just checking them to make sure of this before attempting the ascent. You're welcome to take a look at them yourself if you like."
The thief lets out a sigh, frustrated that he created more work for himself.Now I’m a wainwright, he thought as he stood still, reluctant to move toward the wagon. He looked down at his flaccid coin purse and sighed again, ”a small payment would be nice.”
Dolion approached the wagon and made a show of inspecting the wheels. While at the same time taking note of any valuables left unsecured by the tinkers. As he examined the wheel he remembered his manners and offered, ”Well met travelers. I’m called Dolion and these are my companions.” Dolion stands from his inspection and introduces each of his companions before returning to the task at hand.
Dolion jumps up with a smile and confirms, ”It looks to be in good working order.”
Osseus looks over the wheel for himself and nods his agreement with Dolion, breathing a small sigh of relief. Nothing so portentous after all!
”Payment for services is never an insult, so long as it’s commensurate to the task. And I think our business is not so urgent that we need deny fellow travelers assistance.” The priest holds out his hand towards the man in greeting. ”I am Osseus Mercari. Best if we begin as soon as possible, to take advantage of the light and fair weather while they last.”
The older man's face brightens upon hearing Osseus' words. "Wonderful!" he exclaims, clapping his hands together, "I will take advantage of your strong, young legs and backs!"
He then shakes the priest's hand. "Greetings Master Mercari. My name is Lamdamon the Tinker and this is my daughter, Zappora. We are traveling tradesmen who crisscross the land, and are on our way to Gulluvia."
The red-headed girl gives a polite nod at the mention of her name, but does not make eye contact.
Ky watches the others interact with the old man and the young girl. He is finally getting used to seeing the differences in the humans and their ages, but sometimes still gets it wrong. Leaving his hood up, he stays in the background and just listens. Hearing the couple are tinkers who travel the land, the young elf gets excited and steps forward.
"A tinker! That is very interesting...so where have you been? What people have you visited? What lands have you visited?"
Now that it was settled, that they were going help with the wagon, Dolion wanted to get moving and further away from the shadow of the forsaken castle. He walked toward the back of the tinker’s wagon, ”Osseus is right best we get along. There will be time for talking along the way.”
Sorry, was lost in my own thoughts there. Sure... the wagon looks fine enough. Horses could use a few days fattening but they'll hold up.
Sorry, was lost in my own thoughts there. Sure... the wagon looks fine enough. Horses could use a few days fattening but they'll hold up.
Lamdamon looks a bit confused at Knuckles' comment.
He looks back at the pair of oxen grazing at the side of the trail and then back at Knuckles.
"Well, I would certainly have to feed them something strange to turn them into horses, or perhaps you don't call them oxen where you come from?"
The warrior gives a grunt that is part laugh.
Shows you where my head is at, eh?
The warrior will alternate between keeping a watchful eye out and keeping his distance from the daughter. Frankly? He doesn't need a worrying parent or any suspicions that he is less than 100 percent than NOT a bandit or scumbag.
Dolion looks at knuckles with a leering grin and an overt wink as he motions his head toward the tinker’s daughter, ”I think we know where your head is at my friend. But let’s focus on the task at hand, I don’t fancy getting run over by this wagon so close to a hot meal and a warm bed.”
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*sigh*
Oft misunderstood, that's me
Osseus will stay near Lamdamon if feasible, preferably with a clear view of the trail.
I suppose I should find out what I can of these folk, for my father's sake if no other reason.
"Why Gulluvia, Lamdamon?"
The elf smiles at his comrades as they gently jibe one another. He remains in the background, as elves are not well known in this land, and some still have ancient (for them) prejudices against his people. At 5'1" and slight build, he could easily pass a young boy, and Ky has done this many times in the past.
.
Having volunteered your help, everyone takes their place around the tinkers' wagon and begins pushing it in the direction of the switchback path that threads its way up the escarpment. The team of oxen do most of the heavy pulling, and Lamdamon uses you primarily to keep it away from the edge of the trail and to maneuver over and around any large rocks along the way.
The air becomes cooler as you climb and you can't take your eyes off the view of the grassy Endless Hills stretching out below you that seemingly go on forever.
Every half an hour or so, Lamdamon stops to take a rest and give his oxen a break while Osseus strikes up a conversation with him. Turns out that Lamdamon and his daughter have been making the trek to the Barony of Gulluvia for the last few years, arriving in the early spring and leaving again before the first snowfall to spend the winter in the warmer climate to the southeast of hear. They rent a small barn on the outskirts of the town of Gulluvia from a farmer during their time there, but spend most of their time traveling around the various villages and homesteads in the barony.
At the mention of the Baroness D'hmis, Lamdamon gives a heavy sigh and confirms what you have heard in Bernadette's letter: she has caused widespread fear throughout the barony as she raised everyone's taxes and enacted strange laws restricting the freedoms of everyday people. Most are terrified of her baronial guards, although they seem to confine their activities to the area around the town of Gulluvia. During the conversation, the tinker also inquires about your own history, and what brings you back to the barony.
Once you arrive at the top of the cliff face, Lamdamon thanks everyone perfusely for their help and presses a silver piece into everyone's palm in payment. He states that he will let his oxen rest and graze here for an hour or so before pushing on to the village of Velders so that he can reach it before nightfall.
The view from the top of the Magalies Escarpment is amazing, making you wonder if you could see to the end of the world from here on a clear day. To the north, west, and southwest you can see the dark edges of the Abaddon Woods. The village of Velders is only a few hours walk from here to the northwest.
Shrine to Lacormius... Patron saint of Travellers. Walked across the land on bare feet. Every time someone gave him boots, shoes or sandals? Gave em' away to the first beggar he saw.
With that he sits on one of the stone stoops, takes off his boots and rubs his feet.
Felder slips the silver piece into a pocket on his pack and leans heavily on his walking stick, already out of breath.
"Quite a view. I can see the appeal in building a tower or fortification in a location near here," he says. "Aesthetic as well as defensible."
Ky takes the coin he was given and places it in the collection box located at the shrine at the top of the path.
"Lacormius was a funny old man, but he was certainly dedicated and helped many a poor person with his donation of shoes!"
Lamdamon nods, "Yes, this would be a good location for a castle, although they never did. Well, they did build one down below, so I guess that's something. This part of the world was a pure wilderness until about 100 years ago, so who knows, maybe some day they will?"
Ky takes the coin he was given and places it in the collection box located at the shrine at the top of the path.
"Lacormius was a funny old man, but he was certainly dedicated and helped many a poor person with his donation of shoes!"
Gives me the willies when you speak of fellas dead for a hundred years or more like you had a beer with him the other day, he grunts.
Felder says, "Perhaps, perhaps," in reply to Lamdamon, then strokes his short beard a few times. "Hmm. Still, far from the usual routes... no real reason to build a large fortress. But a remote tower, an isolated trading post? Something to serve on the boundary between settled lands and the monster-haunted wilds."
The magician takes a temporary seat on a large rock, shifting uncomfortably. "Still, the village is close enough nearby to be available for food and supplies. Though I wonder what sorts of things might crawl out of the Abaddon Woods if someone chose to set up a house here."
Ky smiles at Emmett.
"It was not I that personally met the saint, but my uncle. He told me of Lacormius' as my uncle travelled with him for several years."
Dolion quickly pocketed the proffered silver piece and listened to their conversation. With a raised eyebrow he offers, ”Wouldn’t this be a better discussion to have in a warm inn with a cold ale?”
Thats what I'm planning on using my silver shilling for but... , he shrugs then starts to pull his boots back on. Gotta do what ya gotta do. Doesn't do to piss off the gods or their prophets.
He straightens.
Got enough troubles as is... fortunately this place is remote as f@&%. Be surprised if Petros has his bully boys out here.
Osseus accepts the tinker's coin with a nod before dutifully performing the observance to Saint Lacormius.
"Still, the village is close enough nearby to be available for food and supplies. Though I wonder what sorts of things might crawl out of the Abaddon Woods if someone chose to set up a house here."
"Aye, Abaddon's a better deterrent than any fortification would be. Building any notable defenses would mean Gulluvia was rich enough to afford them, which would likely garner more aggression than it would dissuade. As it is, it's cheaper for the Principalities to buy our crops than it is to conquer and manage us, so long as crops is all we have." 'Us.' Listen to yourself - still parroting back father's words. How easily I've slipped into my old ways at the first sight of home.
As Emmett puts his boots back on Osseus follows suit, scowling as he fumbles with his own footwear before finally getting them mostly on. "I wonder who helped who more in the end? By giving away shoes he'd never paid for himself, a bevy of beggars got booted while Lacormius became a living saint." The priest stands up and stomps his feet to finish the job. "And got feet calloused enough to make putting anything on them redundant, I'd wager."
"Shall we continue on to Velders? I'd prefer not to see what sorts of things might crawl out of the Abaddon Woods if we chose to still be outdoors come nightfall. And once he gets his ale, perhaps Emmett might tell us who this 'Petros' is."
No mystery there... Dolion saw a lot of it, though my own memory has a large hole. Look, it was one bad night on bad booze in a bad brothel bar. Big damages, and so I owe Blackbrow a bigger debt. Problem is that he doesn't want just gold to settle the issue. Then this whole Jeremiah and the farm thing came up and I sorta put that debt on the back of the stove to stew a bit, though Petros Blackbrow may beg to differ.
Zappora, Lamdamon's daughter, for the first time notices that Kymil is not human. Her eyes grow wide and she runs over to him before dropping to her knees in front of him and lowering her head.
"I am sorry I didn't recognize your radiant presence earlier, my Lord. Please forgive me for my lazyness and do not punish my father for my rudeness!"
You're a Lord? Since when?
Ky looks embarrassed by the young woman's reaction to his appearance and smiles at her as he moves to help her stand.
"Nay my fine lass, I am no lord, just a simple elf is all. There is nothing to forgive as your father did nothing to insult me."
He now removes his hood to show the tinker and his daughter his very elven features. He gives a pained smile to Emmett.
"Some still think us strange and powerful creatures of the Fey...old stories sometimes are hard to live down!", he mutters the last to his friends.
Felder coughs a few times and says, "Just give me a couple more minutes to catch my breath, then we can head onward."
No mystery there... Dolion saw a lot of it, though my own memory has a large hole. Look, it was one bad night on bad booze in a bad brothel bar. Big damages, and so I owe Blackbrow a bigger debt. Problem is that he doesn't want just gold to settle the issue. Then this whole Jeremiah and the farm thing came up and I sorta put that debt on the back of the stove to stew a bit, though Petros Blackbrow may beg to differ.
Dolion nodded in agreement with a lopsided grin on his face, ”It was quite a sight indeed.”
”I’m sure bards will sing of it long after we all pass,” he added mockingly. He taps the side of his head with his finger, ”but what would they call it this sonnet?” He pauses dramatically, ”Barroom Blackout Brawling Because a Brothel’s Bad Brew.” He smiled at his friend”let’s hope the ale tonight is a bit better.”
"Nay my fine lass, I am no lord, just a simple elf is all....old stories sometimes are hard to live down!"
"Yes, just a 'simple' elf." Lucky for us. While the old tales may not quite be true, I still shudder to think what a complicated elf might be like.
Osseus sits back down to fiddle with his bootstrings while the wizard recovers from their wagon-pushing ascent. "If memory serves, Dolion, the ale will undoubtedly be better. The mood, however, will likely be darker."
He glances askance at the tinkers. "But no need to burden our new acquaintances with the troubles of our old. Fare thee well, Lamdamon and Zappora - may your way in life still be on the rise."
Funny bastard aren't you, he says deadpan but without anger or rancor. I probably could have used a hand but I was reliably told you were giving a running fight commentary to a giggling barmaid while you two snuggled under a table.
He nods at the priest.
You're right again Osseus. As usual. Let's get a move on.
Dolion gave a knowing wink at Knuckle’s banter and later nodded in agreement, ”Aye, let’s move on while we still have daylight.”
Zappora seems a bit confused and embarassed as she takes Kymil's hand to stand up again. "Oh, you must not be one of the Brucha elves from up near Thorold then. I apologize for my ignorance." She then walk over to the team of oxen and begins helping her father untie them from the wagon.
