Chapter One: Winter's Shadow
It is a brisk autumn day; tomorrow is the High Harvest Festival, one of the five major holidays celebrated in the region. The local silos are brimming with harvested grain and bushels of apples are stacked high in barns. Everywhere in the village there are people making preparations for tomorrow's celebration.
The village square is being prepared for the Harvest Dance. Villagers are decorating the three great oaks with lanterns and garlands of holly. Nearby, long trestle tables are being set up outside the Huntsman's Rest with barrels of cider and ale. The smells of baked goods drifts on the breeze; various folk are preparing food for the feast, as well as for various contests that will be judged by the town elders. Children in masks run giggling through the lanes.
In the nearby field where the militia drill, the festival games are being prepared. There will be an archery contest, a foot race, as well as several games of chance and contests of skill.
Each of you has been given a a small gourd. The gourd is hollow and carved with an impish or ghoulish face that smirks, grins, or snarls. Inside each gourd is a small burnpot, which will cause the carved face to glow from the light inside. These are gifts from Old Tom, the village Warder. These tokens, when lit, are said to provide protection from the evil spirits that are abroad now that the season of life is over. They are everywhere, most sitting on doorsteps, in window sills, or hanging from the eaves above the doors of homes.
Your spirit lanterns are a bit different, however. In them, each of you finds a small note and a tindertwig. The note reads:
Your assistance is needed. Come to the house of the pearl after dusk, the day after the festival. One will be sent to guide you there.
The note is unsigned, but bears the symbol of a hand stamped in its bottom corner. This is obviously a missive from the Hand of Jorin. You know that the "house of the pearl" is code for the shrine to Daena hidden in the woods west of town. However, you do not know how to get there.
Illiana:
Surprisingly, you were taken in by a local dwarven smith, Azryn Grymlorn. Unlike the other dwarves, he lives in Three Oaks with the human community. He is gruff and demanding of you, but never unkind. He is bald, and the left side of his head and face bear runic tattoos. You know he is an outcast of the steading, and believe that the tattoos are a mark of his disgrace. You've never directly asked him about it though. The last person that did took a hammer between the eyes. Azryn is obviously rather sensitive about the subject.
Leya:
You have been looking forward to the Harvest Festival for some time. It has always been a favorite of yours. There has been a bit of a shadow over your enthusiasm, however, as Zach has seemed preoccupied the last couple of days. He has assured you everything is fine and that you should enjoy yourself, but you can't shake the feeling that he is worried about something.
Erius:
You've also secretly been training with the Hand of Jorin for about two years now. Your main service has been leaving secret messages about dwarven patrols, militia exercises, and the whereabouts of the local constabulary, to runners that take this information to higher-ups in the organization. Thus far, you've seen no real action as a militiaman nor as a member of the Hand.
You're hoping this message means a change to that. You desperately want the opportunity to take out your aggression against your dwarven oppressors, even as you guiltily remember the teachings of your instructors, advising you to remember that the dwarves are children of the gods as well, and only the wicked deserve punishment.
Saori:
You have visited Three Oaks many times, but always under the watchful eye of one of the Sisters, and only after being disguised by them--your hair darkened with unguents, your features hidden in the deep cowl of a cloak--so that your ancestry would not be readily known.
Now, for the first time, you are going to Three Oaks alone. You have been given a mission: you must locate three folk and bring them back to the chapel. You have been given physical descriptions of them, and of the unique carvings on the spirit lanterns they carry, so that you may identify them. Most exciting, however, is that you are allowed to spend two nights in the village, alone, having been given money for a room at the inn. You will be able to participate in the Harvest Festival and roam about of your own free will.
The Harvest Festival. It was one of the few times of the year that Leya felt truly happy. Just the energy in the air and the activities that transformed Three Oaks lifted Leya's spirits like nothing else. The halfling sighed as she walked the streets of the town. Zachary sure seemed busy lately... and even a bit worried. The obvious reason could have something to do with the dwarves that lorded over their town. But the seer couldn't shake the feeling it was something else.
A young child ran laughing past Leya and snapped the halfling out of her introspection. Now wasn't the time for worry. It was a time for joy and happiness. With a weak smile, Leya headed towards her house, a light but chilly breeze ruffling her clothes and serving as a reminder that winter was not far off.
Upon reaching her residence, she noticed a yellow gourd had been placed on her windowsill, a grinning face carved into the flesh of the vegetable. A spirit lantern most likely. The halfling reached out to examine it further when she noticed a piece of paper inside of the object. Reaching in carefully with her small hands, Leya grasped the small note and pulled it out, squinting in order to make out the script.
Your assistance is needed. Come to the house of the pearl after dusk, the day after the festival. One will be sent to guide you there.
For a second Leya was confused at the vagueness of the message, and then she realized that vagueness and codewords were often the work of the Hand of Jorin. The fact was further enforced by the small hand printed on the lower corner of the note. So she was being called upon to carry out a task instead of delivering it for once?...
Leya was terrified.
She didn't know if she could do it. What if she messed up? What if she didn't find the one meant to guide her to the shrine? What if she never attended this meeting at the shrine? Her insecurity growing, Leya whirled around and headed towards the one place she always knew would provide help if she was in a bad situation. The Speaker's house.
While mingling about before the festival, Illiana notices the note. A series of thoughts and emotions shoot through her head.
"A message from the hand, do they have more information about my brother's death? No that is impossible I have tracked all the leads myself. I miss Kellen on days like this, we used to have so much fun during festival. Maybe they do have new information...
She shrugs off the deluge of thoughts and casts a smile at a farmer on his porch.
Leya: As you turn to head for the Speaker's house, a small group of children run up to you. Their faces are obscured behind masks. The masks are rather cunningly crafted, using paper mache, wood, bone, and animal hair. They are representations of goblins, monsters, and undead creatures. As they approach, the children shout, in unison:
"Treats! Treats for us! We'll bedevil your house if you put up a fuss!"
Illiana: The farmer raises a hand in greeting. "Hey there, young miss. Will you be takin' part in the archery contest this year? My boy Will's become a pretty good shot. He'll be there," he concludes, with a wink. You're reminded that Will is a bit sweet on you. The reminder that you're considered something of a spinster, being unmarried at your age, chafes a bit.
At this point, Azryn comes trundling out from the forge at the side of the house, chewing on the ends of his mustache and narrowing his gaze at the farmer. "Tell ya what, I'll wager a new set of shoes for yer plow horse against three of yer wife's lamb-n-leek pies that Illiana here beats the pants off yer boy in the competition." The farmer readily agrees and then heads into the house.
Azryn turns to you. "Best be practicin' yer aim, girl. I'm not wanting ta lose. Off with ye now, I've no work for ye until after the festival." Seeing the gourd in your hand with the sneering goblinoid face carved into its surface, he grimaces. "And take that ugly thing with you. I don't want it stinkin' up my doorstep." With that, he makes his way back to the anvil, and the rhythmic hammering starts up once again. You're glad at his insistence. You nearly forgot that you'll need to burn the note now that you've read it, according to Hand protocol.
Eruis, steadies his emotions,he must not get too excited, vengenace is not (a Jedi!! oops i mean) a Paladin concept!
Daena will show me peace,Daena will guide me,deana will bring me home
Eruis will wait patiently for his guide
According to your note, you're not due at the temple until the day after the festival, which is the day after tomorrow, so you've got two days, one of which is a high holiday, to get through before you leave.
Indeed it will, unless he finds some way to pass the time. Fortunately, the festival provides a number of distractions.
On a side note, let's keep posts here exclusive to your PCs. We can always use the tags for player asides.
Illiana smiles as she remembers the joy she gets out of beating the local young men at their games and heads home to tighten her bow, make sure her arrows are straight and clean, and get some practice in. I will stop by the inn tonight and taught them a bit, she thinks. Should get a free meal out of it either way. As she walks by the forge she drops the note in, never to be see again.
Illiana: You gather up your bow, discard the note, and head over to the field used as the festival ground to get some target practice in. Your spirit gourd has a leather cord attached to it, allowing it to be carried much like a lantern or just attached to a belt. You find several of the townsfolk busy setting up booths and tables. The archery range has already been completed, with targets already in place. One of the local deputies is overseeing those that have come to get some practice in before tomorrow's contest.
Deputy Conley is a talkative fellow with a mop of sandy-blond hair and a smattering of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks. He says the contestants will be paired off and take three shots at their target. The archer scoring the highest points from their three shots will be declared the winner and move to the next round. This will continue until only two archers are left in the final round. Apparently there is a special prize to be awarded to the winner of this year's archery competition, but it is being kept a secret. "I reckon that the Constable is the man to beat this year. Jerron's got deadeye aim."
Erius will enter any of the (melee)combat related games that he can, although he is not one of the better achers in the village, it is the weapon of his goddess so he will have a try at archery too
Erius:A stroll through the newly constructed fairground shows many different options available. In addition to the archery contest there are also unarmed combat events taking place, including boxing and wrestling. The stone toss is another popular event, in which contestants take turns hurling a head-sized stone for distance. There is also a mock combat with padded staves, in which one contestant attempts to knock the opponent off a log into a mud pit below. The final competition for tomorrow's festivities will be a footrace. They are not only looking for contestants, but also path-markers, people to stand along the route with flags. Path-markers make sure the runners stay on course and discourage cheaters from taking shortcuts.
Entries into the various contests are being handled, as they are every year, by Gargin Farlander. He's a local tailor, and has a knack for bookkeeping; in fact, he's rather fond of it. So the village lets him deal with keeping the event rosters straight for the games.
Erius will go and find Gargin Farlander, he will enter the stone toss, the archery and the mock fight with staves.
After shooting a dozen arrows, Illiana seeks out Gargin to enroll in the shooting competition. "So Gargin, what new beautiful clothes did you create this week?" She says trying to charm him a bit for the follow up question. "I would like to register for the Archery competition. How many have signed up already? Is there anyone I should be concerned about?
Gargin, a gnomish resident, stands chewing on the end of an inkpen before a small table laden with ledgers. His shock of white-blond hair stands straight up off his head, and his green eyes seem to stare through the books to a place far beyond.
At Illiana's question, he looks up suddenly, apparently taking a moment to remember where he is.
"Oh, hello! I've been quite busy the past few months, yes. New dresses for women and girls wanting to impress at the Harvest dance. Oh, and costumes! Quite good ones at that, if I do say so myself, yes. Nothing lately, though. All done for the season, unless someone needs something mended.
The archery contest you said? Very well, let's get you marked down." He picks up one of the ledgers and scribes your name in. "Jerron Wellard's taken the prize the last three years running. He'll be tough to beat.
Erius arrives at this point. Gargin readily puts you down as a contestant in the events you wish to participate it.
A sly look comes across his sharp features. [i]"Erm, I've staked the odds of anyone beating the constable at two to one. There is always a good amount of friendly betting going on. If, erm, you'd be interested, I can also take any wager either of you would like to put on any of the contests."
Erius smiles at Illiana, (turning to Gargin) I will place 50 silver on Illiana winning the archey competition
Raised in the chapel of Daena and secluded from society as a result of her race, Saori is cautious as she walks amongst the people of Three Oaks. Her graceful steps are barely disguised by her overlong cloak, forcing her to be more self-conscious of her body as she strolls down the main street of the town.
Alone for the first time in her life, Saori is almost unable to contain her nervous excitement. She takes time to observe the bustle and press of the townsfolk preparing for the beginning of the Harvest Festival. As she nears the town square she ensures the cowl of her hood is up at all times and tries to avoid any encounter that may force her to lower it.
Focusing on keeping herself inconspicuous, her mind far from the task she was sent here to achieve, Saori is startled by the sudden appearance of a party of dwarves as she turns a sharp corner - almost colliding with the lead dwarf. "M-my, apologies, sir," she stammers, keeping her head low, making her away around the group of staring dwarves.
Swiftly, she makes haste from the small party and walks between two wagons that effectively block her from sight. She sits for a moment on a large crate that appears to be filled with even more decorations for the festival. Saori rests her head against the side of the wagon, looking up into the sky, enjoying the cool wind on her cheeks...
"I believe you are sitting on my crate!"
Startled from her reverie, Saori looks up to see a handsome young human male, blond and tall, standing between her and the exit from the V-shape made by the wagons. Sudden panic wells up in her breast, but she forces herself to show only calm on her surface. "I-I-I," she stammers, before taking a deep breath and regaining her composure, "I was merely taking the opportunity to rest, I have walked a long way this day and only desired a quiet place to catch my breath."
Smiling, both hands held wide at his sides, the young minstrel appeared unperturbed by her defensive tone, "I did not mean to startle you, my lady, and you are certainly welcome to use my crate to rest your feet. However, I am now required to perform a song or two for a barroom of dwarves, who would much prefer to listen to my voice accompanied by my lute!"
Staring at the young man, his blue eyes bright in the morning light, Saori is all too aware of his gaze travelling the length of her body. Nervous, she notes with some annoyance that she stands too quickly, moves forward too desperately, fear instilling a cold need to be rid of this stranger as if trouble was bound to visit at any moment.
"Are you here for the festival?"
Saori notices that he is standing between her and the freedom of the street. "Yes, yes, I am!" She stops before him, then moves the left, attempting to slip pass him.
Effortlessly, he blocks her from escaping, with a slight move to the left and smiles, "Well, before you run off, promise me a dance tomorrow night? In exchange for resting on my crate?"
"I'd rather pay you a copper and call our business to an end!"
"We have no business, I was simply asking for your favour!" Bowing at the waist, extending his right arm towards the street, Saori passes the minstrel and back on to the street.
"My name is Halloran. Yours?"
Turning, her nervousness becomes tingled with a warmth of other emotions, she gives a half smile and says, "Saori", and then continues her journey down the street. Smiling despite herself.
Quickly returning to the inn, Saori reminded herself of her duty in Three Oaks. However, even as she decided that she would have to once again head out to begin her search, her mind began to wander back to the promise of fun that tomorrow would hold for her.
[Saori will spend most of her time wandering around Three Oaks, enjoying the events and continuing her search. She would definitely be interested in listening to musicians or storytellers as they would capture her imagination. She might also take in one or two of the martial events out of simple curiosity].
Erius & Illiana:Gargin's eyes widen and he gives a low whistle. [i]"Well, lad, that's quite the princely sum! Are you sure you want to make that wager? I'll take your money, but I can only cancel bets up until tomorrow morning. Once the festival starts, all bets are final." You notice that even while he is giving you the warning, he brings a wooden box up onto the table and, producing a key from his pouch, proceeds to unlock it.
Saori:
You make your way to the Huntsman's Rest, the local inn. It is a solid stone & timber affair, two stories with a high, peaked roof and a long porch that stretches the entire front of the building. Out front are set long trestle tables, one of them hosting several large casks, as yet untapped. A large, hand-carved wooden sign rests above the doorway, displaying a hunter napping under a large, leafy tree.
Saori:The sign is rather well crafted and also appears to be old, as the wood is dark with age. You appreciate the craftsmanship, but nothing else catches your attention. Entering, you find that the common room is fairly full for so early in the day.
You approach the bar where a balding, pot-bellied man with a drooping mustache is busy giving instructions to a young man. Upon seeing you approach, he pauses to address you.
"Good day, lass. I don't recognize you. Are you newly arrived?"
You answer affirmatively to his question and request a room.
"You're in luck; I have a room left. It'll be two crowns for the room, and I expect you'll be wanting to purchase supper tonight. There will be plenty of food and drink to be freely had once the festival starts tomorrow. Here's your key. Enjoy your stay at the Huntsman's Rest. If there's anything you need, ask for me. Ouryn Dunmont's the name. Oh, and you'll be wanting a little something for the festival.
He reaches down behind the bar and pulls up a small crate which seems to be filled with masks. He rummages around a moment and then pulls one out and hands it to you.
"Ah, here you are. This should do nicely." The mask is of smooth white wood and very light. The face is angular, with almond shaped eyes and two long, slender ears sticking up on both sides of the face. An elvish face.
Saori pales as he hands her the mask, she looks at him directly searching for meaning in his expression. "Th-thank you, Master Dunmont" she stammers as she takes the mask and looks down upon its smooth surface.
Turning away from the bar, Saori runs her thumb over the soft smooth wood and wonders if the mask would actually be enough to disguise her. Worried suddenly, she turns back to Master Dunmont, smiling and says, "May the blessing of Daena be upon you".
i'm new to this betting lark! i do have trust in my friends ability to win though, out of curiosty do i win back double what i bet and my original wager back, or just double what i bet
Saori: You note nothing but a cheerful expression on Master Dunmont's face. The choice of mask seems to be nothing more than coincidence. Your blessing, on the other hand, flusters him, as his face reddens slightly and he reflexively begins to chew on one end of his mustache. His eyes glance over the common room quickly, as if to see whether anyone has overheard your remark.
"Oh, aye, lass, and Baal's blessing upon you as well, this Harvesttide, he says, with more volume than he used in conversation. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've other customers to attend."
He then moves down the bar to refill the mugs of another pair of customers.
Erius: "It's quite simple, lad,"[/i] replies Gargin. [i]"You put down your fifty silver. If the young woman wins, upon your return I shall give you one hundred and fifty silver. Why, you could take a year off from work and go touring the Marches for a year, with that amount of winnings." Gargin laughs at his own joke.
"Wow 50 silver on me to win, that is very sweet. I hope I don't disappoint you." she says as she flashes a smile. "Thank you Gargin, maybe one day I will be able to afford one of your beautiful dresses."
Illiana decides it is time to find the constable and see how drunk she can get him tonight, maybe a splitting head will counteract his aim a bit.
Leya stops short of the chanting children, at first mistaking them for a group of fiends. Her urgent demeanor dropped and she took a few steps backwards in fear. But the words of the children calmed her apprehensions, and brought an embarassed pout to her face. I can't believe I thought they were monsters... there wouldn't be any here in Three Oaks anyways...
"Ah, I'm sorry, but I don't have any candy for you... perhaps someone else will?"
Illiana heads to the local inn where the constable would most likely be for dinner and heads to a table to watch.
Erius:
Leya: At your pronouncement of a lack of sweets, the children let out a groan in unison. Then, getting back into character, they raise their hands and begin to approach, giving out growls and cackles. They take three steps towards you, then one little girl in a goblin mask suddenly stabs a finger towards the carved gourd hanging from your hip and gives a shriek.
"Aaaah! A spirit lamp! Its light burns! Run!" At this, the group of children shriek in chorus, turn, and run shrieking and giggling off into the village.
Illiana:You stroll back toward the center of town, dead leaves crunching underfoot, and make your way to the Huntsman's Rest. Passing through the doors, you find them doing brisk business. As you deduced, the Constable is here, along with two of his deputies. Many of the single men in the village take their supper here. They appear to be sharing a moment of mirth amongst themselves. As you make your way to a nearby table, you pass the Seer on his way out. You greet him, but he does not appear to hear you, and hurries on out into the dusk without answer.
Saori:Having secured a room for your stay in town, you order a meal and seat yourself in a quiet corner with a warm mug of mulled cider. As you sip your drink, your eyes gaze over the room, unused to so many people about.
thank you Gargin i will take the dress, can you give it to Illiana but dont tell her its from me, say its from an admirer!
Erius: Gargin replies, "As you like, young master Erius. I'll deliver it first thing tomorrow. So you know, the games start tomorrow at midday. Don't be late."
Illiana buys a round of drinks for the sheriff and his constables. After the drinks are delivered she wanders over to their table with her own ale in hand and begins to raise cheers as well as challenging them to drinking games.
Illiana: You ploy seems to be going well. The men at first notice that you aren't drinking and work to correct that problem. After that, they're too far into their cups to notice your subterfuge. You get them to a good drunk, enough that you break even on the various drinking games to cover the costs of ale.
However, before you can get them to a falling-down drunk, the door swings open and a sudden hush falls quickly over the common room, with the exception of your table, as the inebriated constabulary are too involved in the revelry to notice. Through the door come dwarves, heavily armed and armored. Four are in chainmail and carry heavy crossbows at the ready, though they do not proceed to raise them. They are lead by two others. The first is in full plate, a dwarven waraxe hanging from his belt; his black beard is braided and decorated in silver wire. The other wears a breastplate emblazoned with the symbol of Baal. He wears open robes of red and gold, a warhammer hanging from his belt.
The black-bearded dwarf scans the room briefly, his eyes settling on your table as his mouth pulls down into a frown. Then he moves in, the others falling in behind him.
"Constables! I am Morgrim Thrallhammer, captain of the detachment sent from Stohlvan Fastness. We are to relieve you of your duties during the festival." At this he eyes the empty mugs littering the table and his eyes narrow. "But I see we are too late, and you have abandoned your duties early. I suggest you explain yourself, and quickly."
You're relatively unaffected by the ale you've consumed.
Jeron Wellard and his deputies jump to their feet, one of them knocking over a half-full tankard that spills its contents across the table. Jeron is a lean, lanky man, just over six feet in height, with a long face and a beaky nose, made younger looking by the smattering of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks. He can usually cut a rather imposing figure, but seems sheepish and child-like in front of this dwarven warrior.
"Begging your pardon, Captain. My boys and I were just relaxin' a bit. Perhaps we got a little carried away with the drink...I suppose the spirit of the season was upon us is all."
Morgrim, standing head and shoulders shorter than Jeron, gazes up at him with steel gray eyes, fixing the constable with a hard look for several long seconds, until Jeron finally averts his gaze. Morgrim's mouth sets into a thin-lipped smile.
"Very well, Constable. In the 'spirit of the season,' as you put it, I'll overlook the lapse. Consider you and your crew relieved. The Jarl has decided that there will be an armed presence in the village until after the festival, in order to ensure that there are no...incidents. You can have an extra evening's rest, though I think you've had more than enough to drink. Go home and sleep it off."
At this, Jeron demurs; he and his deputies take their leave, making a quick and clumsy exit out the door. At this, Morgrim turns to the bar.
"Innkeeper! We will be quartered in the Constable's office for the time being. Bring us hot food and a skin of mulled wine."
The dwarves turn to leave as the innkeeper hustles to comply. Morgrim's eyes scan over the room, seeming to take in every detail.
at suddenly being alone and in the center of attention, Illiana looks sheepishly around the room for a friendly face or another competitor to buy drinks for.
erius comes in, seeing illiana all alone he wanders over and offers to buy her a drink
Erius:The dwarves make their exit, passing you in the road. Their leader's steely eyes mark you as he passes. An involuntary shiver goes up your spine as your eyes meet, and you lower your gaze to your feet as you pass.
Once inside the Huntsman's Rest, you seat yourself next to Illiana, providing her some needed camaraderie. Both of you note that the general company is much more subdued since the arrival of the dwarves and seems set on staying that way.
erius just chills out, enjoying a drink or two, he is very attentive to whatever illiana has to say!
"So Erius, why do you think they have upped the guard here in your little town?"
That said, you're still glad to be able to enjoy the Harvestide festival before you go. It is a comfortable time here in Three Oaks, one where you can forget your troubles for a day and enjoy the communal spirit of your fellow humans. Other than necessary morning chores, the duties of you and your fellow ranch-hands have been put off until after the festival, giving you a much appreciated break from the drudgery.
Remy makes his way to the liveliest tavern in town, to watch the enjoyment of the festivities.