"Ehehehehehe! Ye wanna know about the goblins," the Voice laughs. "The spirits, they tells me things, they does. Me tells ye for big frogs. Shows me frogs, then talk."
After showing the Voice of the Great Log the frogs in the other baskets, the voice cackles with glee.
"Me eat good! Big frogs. Juicy frogs," it mutters to itself before calming down enough to remember what was asked of it. "The spirits tremble and quiver. Goblins join handses. Bugwump, Stickfoot, and Manylegs under new chief's banner, yes. Yes! Me remember! Me remember ye, Daughter o' Hosskill. Daughter o' dead chief! New chief want you dead for Big Mama! Works with old lady o' the moon and the Gruls he does. They will fight. No way to avoid fight. Wait for Bloodmoon. All chiefs meet with lotsa goblins under blackened tongue's eaves and skull of the Moon. Will be big fight no matter what you do."
The hand reaches out and grabs the baskets one by one. It pauses on the last one, it's fingers tapping the top of it as if its owner was thinking.
"Ye two," the voice snaps, pointing at Ethulfel and Grobradon. "The gnomeses and the orcses, keep yer wits about ye."
With its final warning said, it takes the last basket.
Moon grabs a frog from the second basket before the Voice can snatch it. "Final frog for this... The 'Gruls', are they big big folk? The lady o' the moon... is she a witch or a hag? Why orcses need wits?"
Once she has the answers, Moon hands the frog through the bush. "Thank you, Voice of the Great Log."
The Voice hisses as the last frog is snatched from its reach.
"Tricksy elveses. Always want more ye does," it growls. "Gruls big like longshanks and bigger. The lady o' the moon powerful magic. Ye no need know why orcses and gnomeses need wits. They will know. Me have no more answers for ye!"
"If I live, I'll bring you frogs in spring. Make up for tricksy ways." She looks to the others, "Ready to go? We can chat on the journey."
Moon glances at the men the Voice had mentioned specifically. She understood why a gnome needed to be cautious around goblins. There was a deep-seated enmity there. But she didn't get why Grob was called out.
"Ehehehehe, good luck, elveses. Me hope ye does."
Meep is shaken as she leaves with the others. Whether it is by the news that her father is dead or by the news that whomever the new chief is wants her dead is difficult to say. She leads everyone to a small clearing about an hour away from where the Voice of the Great Log is. Snow falls more heavily as the sky darkens. The night promises to be a cold one.
The little goblin insists on cooking supper, and proves to be a pretty good cook despite the brevity of her time learning. Fixing the simple stew soothes her and helps bring her out of the malaise she has fallen into.
"What do you think the Voice meant by all of that," she asks the others as the stew simmers.
"You could do the same if you would just stick to your studies instead of getting distracted by your shiny metal toys, Betz." Maidie says in a teasing tone before adding more somberly: "Holgast let me have a look in some restricted spellbooks he managed to keep hidden from us. No wonder he did not want us experimenting with this kind of magic before we were ready."
To that, Betzolte nods, her face equally somber.
"Damn right, Maidie. The old man said 'A mage's worst enemy is their own overconfidence,' and if we weren't ready to treat these tools with respect, they'd be the death of us and probably a lot of the folks we care about."
Betzolte holds her tongue as Moon smooths over whatever feathers her sarcasm had ruffled with the Voice. And then rolls her eyes as it speaks.
"Of course they eat the frog offerings," she mutters.
She waits for the group to take their leave, offering a polite "Thank you" on their way out. Her expression softens a bit as Meep asks what they thought the Voice meant.
"Well, seems we were right that Lugruk took over the Bugwumps and he's organizing the other local chiefs, as well as outside help from these Gruls and this "Old Moon Lady" to come after you and Kassen, and that the attack will come whenever this "Bloodmoon" is. Sounds like the Gruls are some kind of giant-kin, my money'd be on ogres, since they're the likeliest to intermingle with shorter peoples. The Old Lady of the Moon? Likely some sort of witch or maybe even a hag. In short, we got a few useful details, but the Voice mostly just confirmed a lot of what we already knew. Except they also warned Grobradon and Ethufel to be ready for something, and that is what makes me suspect that no matter the Voice's actual nature is, they DO have some kind of prescience or magical power and aren't just a quack trying to scam passersby into hunting down snacks for them."
"Ye two," the voice snaps, pointing at Ethulfel and Grobradon. "The gnomeses and the orcses, keep yer wits about ye."
Grobradon turns at that, tempted to ask for more details, but... Moon is ahead of him. He gives her a grateful nod for that.
But then grunts as it comes to naught.
****
Later, "I'm not sure of that Betz. Maybe that's the time we can strike while they're all together? "
Then he admits, "I feel like I'm supposed to be clued in to something with that 'gnome and orc' talk. Only thing I can figure? The animals ... we can both, by different means, talk to them. Maybe that's why WE need to pay attention. Maybe they're the warning signal we'll need? I'm not sure."
He thinks hard if there was any religious messages in the symbols and talk the Log Voice said or for that matter , natural ones
"Bloodmoon is one of the tribes." She remember Betz. "The ones who change into wolves, no?"
"And perhaps this Old Lady of the Moon is the old woman who turns goblins into toads?"
"Wait, you're right! So more likely they're waiting for the next full moon so they can strike in wolf form. There's a lot of old women who can turn things into toads, though...the question is if they're merely mortals like us or some kind of otherworldly old lady."
As the green arm disappears for what seems to be the final time, Ethulfel calls out, "Stenna, jekk jogħġbok, Vuċi tal-ġurnal il-kbir. Il-Gruls, jimxu fuq żewġ saqajn jew erbgħa?"
Ethulfel listens as the others suggest theories as to the Voice's meaning, and weighs them before offering, "The Voice is a goblin. The size and color of her arm are, obviously, a hint, but more than that- she speaks the common tongue with a bit of a goblin accent. Alone that might not seem like much, but 'grul' is the goblin word for growl, like the sound a wolf makes, so that certainly adds somethin' to Betz's theory." His goofy grin undercuts the seriousness of his words, but he nods and says hopefully, "that could be the key to beating 'em. If they need the bloodmoon to transform, they're probably not really in control; maybe we can turn them against the other goblins?"
"Two. Now go away," the Voice snaps, answering any more questions with silence.
Meep looks confused as Ethulfel keeps calling the Voice a she.
"The voice doesn't sound like a goblin woman," she says. "Unless..." She looks worried as she ponders something, then looks up with a worried look. "D-do I sound like that?"
”Well, maybe formerly a goblin,” Eth answers with a shrug. “And, no, Miss Meep, your voice is far lovelier than that.”
"What do you mean," Meep asks innocently.
"You're overthinking the Bloodmoon tribe. Meep said they are a ten-day walk from the Bugwumps. Call it twenty days before their tribe could be here. It's been fourteen days. If we're lucky, we have six days before the Bloodmoon join forces with the rest of them."
"The Grul must be the 'big folks' - ogre-sized or bigger - that Meep mentioned. And the moon woman, she's the caster and we know they are all meeting at her home... which Meep marked on the map. As I see it, that's the situation. Now, what are we going to do about it?"
Betzolte facepalms.
"Thank you, Moon. Overthinking IS something we wizards are famous for."
"You're welcome, Betz. Just trying to keep eyes on the target."
She continues, "As I see it, the other bad news is that the Voice said that the meeting - in addition to the moon woman, Gruls, and three goblin leaders - is filled with 'lotsa' goblins. A raid to kill the leaders may not be possible. And if a 'big fight' can't be avoided, we need to consider tactics. For instance, before the Bloodmoon get here... can we draw some of this army into a fight? I'd rather bleed them before they are at full strength."
"We did not learn much new information, but the few things we did could be very important." Maidie says as the walk away from the log.
"First, we found out that Chief Hosskill is dead - that likely means that Lugruk is the new chief of the Bugwumps. He likely secured the support of the tribal spellcasters to take over."
"Second, we know that all the clans are gathering, including the Bloodmoon. As Moon calculated, that should give us at least 6 more days. Let's not waste them."
"Third, we learned that the chiefs plan to meet under blackened tongue's eaves and skull of the Moon. We need to find out where that is as soon as possible. Meep, do you know this place or what it might be?"
"Fourth, we confirmed that the tribes are securing the aid of non-goblin allies, both larger monsters and a spellcaster. That's bad news. Perhaps we should consider forming alliances of our own? Kassen won't be the only community affected if the goblin tribes suddenly rise to power. How about the druids of the Fangwood or good-aligned intelligent magical beasts?"
Then he admits, "I feel like I'm supposed to be clued in to something with that 'gnome and orc' talk. Only thing I can figure? The animals ... we can both, by different means, talk to them. Maybe that's why WE need to pay attention. Maybe they're the warning signal we'll need? I'm not sure."
"That's good thinking, Grobradon. Perhaps we are not the only ones who have enlisted animals as scouts and spies. Keep a sharp eye out for unnatural behavior, and ask you feathered friends to do the same. In fact, we should get as many treats and shiny objects as we can to bribe every crow and raven within 20 miles to join our cause. We need all the information and advanced warning we can."
Her face grim, but determined, Maidie increases her pace as the group moves into the woods.
Grobradon still looks troubled. This talk of shapechanging and bloodmoons
Olmira was unusually forthright when it came to discussing the various were-beasts and their traits. Thinking back on it, she probably knew something about the Bloodmoon tribe.
Were-beasts are hardy and can shrug off most attacks, however, silver causes them harm. Some have more control over their transformations than others, being able to shift at anytime and not just on the nights of a full moon. Those tend to be were-beasts that were born that way. Those that can only transform on the nights of a full moon tend to be those afflicted with the were-beasts' curse.
Were-beasts can pass on their curse by biting or sometimes by clawing their victims. Wolfsbane can help someone break it before it sets in, but it has to be administered before the night of the next full moon. Curing someone after that usually requires powerful magic or even divine intervention, something that your mentor wasn't too pleased to admit.
As you recall all of this, you also remember that Olmira started haring off somewhere ever month around the time of the full moon about a year ago. How strange.
Night falls as you all talk. The clouds cover the sky, but before the winter snows came, the moon wasn't quite half-full. Those versed in the basics of the lunar cycle realize that there's only five days before the next full moon.
"We're gonna want wolfsbane and silver weapons." Then a troubled look at the thought of Olmira's vanishing.
Betzolte nods as she thinks about what they're discussing, especially where that skull of the Moon and blackened tongue's eaves might be, if anything like it was described in local legends or history.
You can't recall anything about the Skull of the Moon, but wasn't there something about some crone called Black Tongue that your mother and father warned you about when you were little?
As you mull over the phrases "blackened tongue's eaves" and "skull of the moon," you remember something from your early childhood. It was the first time you remember your father and mother showing fear. A couple boys from the town had wandered deep into the Fangwood. The elder of the two had run back into town terrified and screaming. He raved of an ancient and bent crone with a tongue as black as pitch and a gaunt face that shone like the moon. Ganny Black Tongue she'd called herself, he whimpered. The other boy was never seen alive again. A pile of bones and his bloodied clothing were all that the frantically searching men could find after two days. The elder boy went mad and a year later ran off into the woods never to be seen again. For months afterwards, you had nightmares and often woke to find your father or your mother holding and comforting you.
Could Ganny Black Tongue be the old woman that Meep had spoken of when telling you all about the goblin tribes and the other dangers near Kassen?
"Wait..." Betzolte says, as suddenly she shudders a bit. "I remember something about those words. It was...back when I was a kid...like a really little kid, most of you hadn't been born yet. Two boys went out into the Fangwood, and only one came back, raving about a crone with a black tongue and a face that shone like the moon. He called her 'Ganny Black Tongue.' They found what was left of the boy who didn't come back a couple of days later. Just bones and some clothes. Drove the surviving one mad and he ran off about a year later."
She pulls her cloak around her a bit more tightly.
"It was the first time I'd ever seen Mama or Papa afraid, and after hearing about Ganny Black Tongue I knew why. I had nightmares about her for months after that...and I think my parents were worried too, because any time I woke from one, one of them was already holding me, keeping me safe. Meep, you think that old woman you mentioned might be Ganny Black Tongue?"
"She could be. Any goblins that might have seen her never came back," Meep answers.
“Is wolfsbane something that we can buy in town or should we be looking to gather some while we’re out here in the woods?” The uncharacteristically quiet gnome asks.
The only bloodmoon you're aware of before Meep's explanation is the one that happens to most humanoid women once every 4 weeks or so. Something that you became acutely aware of after spending some time with Orellia.
"We're gonna want wolfsbane and silver weapons." Then a troubled look at the thought of Olmira's vanishing.
"I have been researching lycanthropy and working on ways to counter it since we first discovered the wolflike goblin remains in the crypt." Maidie says and pulls a pair of small packets from her satchel.
"I have already produced two doses of weapon blanch that can be used to coat weapons and give them the same properties as silver. It only lasts for a single hit, so it is most effective on arrows and other types of ammunition. I can make a dose a day and Tang Ibbleting is helping me make more."
She draws the mithril dagger from her belt sheath and lets the shiny blade reflect in the forest light.
"Mithril works just as well as silver when it comes to injuring lycanthropes, so this dagger will come in handy. Perhaps one of you should carry it? I would prefer not to get involved in close combat."
"Good work, Maidie." He says, then adds "I'm not a warrior so I'd suggest someone better at hitting their target take the dagger than I."
"Mithril works just as well as silver when it comes to injuring lycanthropes, so this dagger will come in handy. Perhaps one of you should carry it? I would prefer not to get involved in close combat."
"Hun, let me tale a look, please? I'm not sure the handle will properly fit my hand..."
Moon merely listens to the conversation while she regards their surroundings.
With hags now on the mind, Betzolte thinks on what their weaknesses are.
During this, Grobradon keeps an eye out for wildlife acting ..differently than usual.
Ethulfel begins to grow antsy as the conversation meanders far more than their feet. "If we think we know where they're going to meet--or, maybe more importantly, who they're going to meet--and it's near to here, why don't we head straight there? Maybe we can get there before the goblins and question--or even capture--this 'moon-woman' before there's anyone, or any thing, there to protect her?"
"And, even if they do beat us there, we could at least get a look at what we're up against- or those of us who are good at sneaking could?"
Meep shakes her head.
"I've never heard of a Moon Woman before. I just know that an old woman lives in the woods somewhere. It could be the same person, but if the goblins are working with her instead of killing her, she has to be strong. She may not need anything to protect her." She shrugs. "I don't know where either of them live, exactly. I never wanted to run into her after the stories I heard."
After a little bit, Moon and Meep go off to hunt up some frogs and head back to the Voice of the Great Log.
Sadly, the only thing you can recall about hags is that the are old crones that eat children. There was something about them being weakened by sweets, you think, but you can't recall exactly where you picked that bit of information up.
Searching the trees around the camp, you do spot a couple of animals watching you and Ethulfel. Based on the vibrancy of their eyes and coats, you believe that they have been touched by the First World, the realm of the fey. They're not creatures that are likely to work with goblins, so who sent them?
This area of the Fangwood is rife with wet lowlands between the hills. You easily find a good spot to find frogs, or at least it would be if the weather were warmer. After about an hour, you only manage to find two more frogs. The sun is riding low in the sky, and it'll take at least another hour to make it to the Voice of the Great Log and then back to camp. It's almost a certainty that it'll be dark by the time you make it back to camp either way.
Twilight has set in by the time you arrive at the clearing where the Great Log lies. When you leave one of the frogs on the stone in front of the Great Log, a familiar, gnarled hand snaps out and snatches the frog into the shadows. A deep throaty chuckle comes from the darkness.
"Hehehehe. Well, you elveses has come back so soon. Come to makes up for your trickses has you," the voice asks.
The trip back is, mercifully, uneventful. The weather continues to be cold and gray, the chill sapping energy from all of you as you trudge through the wet snow and icy leaf litter of the Fangwood. By mid afternoon on the fourth day, you walk past newly grown thorny brambles and through the gates of Kassen's wall. A chance to warm up and wrap yourself around a hot meal sounds heavenly, unfortunately, some of you have meetings to keep.
You arrive back at the copse trees where the two of you and Meep had encountered the raven with a few ribbons that Dimira and Agatha had lying around. Sitting on one of the lower branches is a raven with ruffled feathers. It looks at you impatiently.
As you walk home, you run into Olmira, Garth and Lizzie. The three of them are heading towards you as fast as the heavily pregnant Lizzie can waddle. Garth says nothing before rushing forward and wrapping you up in a tight hug.
"Maidie, I'm so glad you made it back alright," he says as he nearly squeezes the breath from you.
Betzolte grimaces as she thinks about some hags being weakened by sweets.
"That can't be right," she mutters to herself. "If it were true why would some use gingerbread and stuff to lure in gullible victims?"
Frustrated at her lack of headway, she follows Meep and company frog hunting again to take her mind off the forces arrayed against them. As they find their new offerings, a dark thought crosses her mind.
"Moon, Meep, do you think the Voice is telling us everything it knows? You don't think Lugruk might have...gotten to the Log first and bribed the Voice to not give away his plans, do you? It might explain why most of the information it gave us was stuff we'd already sussed out ourselves, maybe it withheld the most crucial details and told just enough truth that we didn't notice it was hiding stuff?"
"It probably isn't, but I don't know if Lugruk even knows where the Voice in the Great Log is, if he even cares to find it. I had to look for it a lot before I found it," Meep says.
Searching the trees around the camp, you do spot a couple of animals watching you and Ethulfel. Based on the vibrancy of their eyes and coats, you believe that they have been touched by the First World, the realm of the fey. They're not creatures that are likely to work with goblins, so who sent them?
He nudges the gnome, pointing out the hare whose dark coat seems to collect light like a raven's feather, "Fairie touched, or so I Suspect. I wonder who they're working for? You want to talk to one of them, or shall I?"
He coaxes the rabbit, not superclose, but to get its attention and show he means no harm.
"It probably isn't, but I don't know if Lugruk even knows where the Voice in the Great Log is, if he even cares to find it. I had to look for it a lot before I found it," Meep says.
"So you think it's playing that 'you need to ask the right questions to get the answers you're actually looking for' game?"
"It's cold out here tonight, would you like to join us by the fire?"
Ethulfel's smile stretches wide at the sight of the crow, and he quickly focuses on awakening his ability to speak with animals. "Welcome back, Missus Crow," he says with flourishing bow. "I'm glad to see that you've made it back safely. What did you learn in your flying around?"
The raven-furred rabbit hops closer then looks towards Maidie and Erigga to see if they're paying attention.
You see a raven-furred rabbit hopping towards Grobradon and Ethulfel before hesitating and looking your way. Whether from study or experience with caring for livestock, you've learned a thing or two about animal behavior, and this rabbit is acting more than a little oddly for a wild animal.
Who cares if the boys are playing with a rabbit? It's only a rabbit, how much harm could it do? It'll dart off on its own any moment. Best to focus on more important matters, like tending the cook fire and preparing for your watch latter that night.
Now, where did Betzolte, Moon, and Meep get off to?
Meep shrugs at Betzolte's question.
"Maybe, but he also provided that advice to Grob and Ethulfel," she points out.
The voice cackles at Moon's question.
"She's told ye o' them has she," he howls in amusement. "The learned ones calls them lycanthropeses, the spirits tells me. 'Ware ye are not bitten or clawed by the Bloodmoon. The beast ye become thirsts for blood, hungers for fear." The voice turns manic as two eyes, one far larger and rounder than the other, glow red in the shadows of the log. They fix on Meep, causing her to shrink back from their baleful gaze.
"But this ones! This one callses Meep, a true traitor of the tribes she is become. Kills her the goblins willses if they catch her, but slowly, to hears the screamses they will. Lugruk and Rooshi willses give her to Big Mama, Lamashtu, only after her life becomings nightmare. What fun! What fun! Another casteded out by the small-minded chiefs and their puny priestses! Tellses longshanks of the tribes so close to their homeses, she does! Callses them friends she does," it madly laughs.
"More questions? More fun questions ye havings for me? Ask! Ask, elveses!"
The raven gives Ethulfel a glare that should have, by all rights, killed the gnome when he calls her a crow.
"Raven! I am raven, no screechy crow nor greedy magpie," she squawks. "Late! Late you is. Four days past. Four days you said."
She harumphs waiting for an apology.
"Hey, isn't that...a completely normal rabbit? Forest sure has a lot of animals, even in winter."
Maidie returns his brother's hug just as fiercely, then pulls away and looks him square in the eyes. There is deep pain in there and it is caused by more than just war memories, she now realizes.
"I think we need to talk..." she says quietly, glancing at Lizzie and Olmira. How much do they know?
That was an unusual rabbit for sure, both in color and behavior, so she watches it openly. "Hum, no? That is a completely strange rabbit. Black fur in winter? A blind owl would have eaten it already, specially if it is fool enough to approach predators as big as Grob..."
"Yes we do," Garth says equally quietly.
The four of you walk out a few minutes into the woods to a small grove of trees that turns out to be Olmira's home. A small fire crackles merrily to life in a pit in the center of the grove as the druid has a number of animals running about gathering what she needs to make some tea. You also notice what can only be fey as their tiny heads poke out from their hiding places.
"Alright Maidie, Do you want to start," Garth asks as Olmira puts the kettle over the fire.