Two Hundred Years of Winter

[Mothman]

Long ago, when the grandfather of the grandfather of my grandfather’s grandfather was a boy, this land was very different. The sky was blue, not black; bright, not dark. A great circle of fire burned high in the heavens, called the Sun – she cast light over the whole land. When the sun slept, her husband, the Moon, and their children, the Stars gave light instead.

In those days it was much warmer. Only in winter did it snow. In summer, men and women could walk outside naked and not feel chill - do not laugh so young Lajos, I said they could, not that they did. Trees wore crowns of green and bore fruit the size of a man’s fist. Rivers flowed with liquid water rather than flows of ice. People tamed the great herd animals and made them docile with abundant grass and grain; the herds did not roam and were easily killed for food.

Seven great tribes, each with many dozens of clans and ruled by mighty sorcerers, dwelt in this land. They lived not in tents but in the great stone cities, which were once alive with song and people. They wore clothing spun of spider silk rather than furs; they wore armour of worked metal rather than hides; and their spears too were of sharp metal rather than stone.

Then came a day when another fire appeared in the sky – small and red where the sun was big and bright. But this new, angry red light grew larger and brighter until it was brighter than the Sun. The people were frightened by this new light, and they appealed to their sorcerer kings for answers and protection, but the kings had vanished. Soon came the day that fire and stone rained down from the sky like snow. The earth heaved and split, cities crumbled, the forests and fields burned. Thick dark clouds of smoke and ash filled the sky. They hid the Sun, and the Moon, and their children the Stars. The land grew dark.

For days the clouds persisted, and it stayed dark. For seasons, for generations it stayed dark. Soon it grew cold, and colder still, until it was winter always. The rivers froze, the fields and forests that had not already burned now died, and the people and their tame herds starved. The cities that remained became places of death. Many people died. Those that survived left the cities to find a place that was still warm, where darkness did not have such a hold, but no places like that remained. The people asked the gods for help, but they could not, so they cursed the gods who would let all the lands turn to darkness and ice and forgot them. They asked the apprentices of the sorcerer kings for help, but they could not, so the people killed them.

With no fields and no tame beasts, the great tribes could not feed themselves, so the people who remained split into many smaller tribes. These tribes followed the migrating herds, and some of them survived. To survive, the people learnt to be good hunters and good scavengers, but this took everything and the people forgot much that they had once known.

- Velko the Storyteller

[Mothman]

Our people, the Kindred of the Red Branch, are descended from the people of the seven tribes, from before the darkness. The mighty axe of red steel that our chief Jolek wields – the Red Branch – has been passed down from father to son for many generations. It was once worn by a mighty lord of the seven tribes. But this tradition may soon end – no young Lajos, fear not for Jolek, he is recovered in the most from his sickness, and though it may take some time before he regains his prowess as a warrior, he will survive to lead us for many seasons more. It is of his new young wife and whether she will bear him a son that I speak. Jolek is strong still, but past his prime after all.

So our clan you know well: strong chief Jolek, bearer of the Red Branch; his wife Rhyala; her brother Hauk – both siblings adepts well in tune with the natural world; Torunn – the fair, the strong, the fey foundling – Jolek’s adopted daughter, already a warrior equal to any of the young Black Paws … perhaps she will become Jolek’s heir if Rhyala does not bear a child soon; Esia the Inquisitive, Bokyo the Woodcutter and the rest.

But what of the other clans who make up our tribe? United under Jolek’s leadership but set apart by language, culture, race … the Dust Fox Kin are the newest additions to our tribe. Perhaps they too are descended from original inhabitants of this land, although few of the tales I know of the ancient tribes speak of halflings. At any rate, they speak our tongue, and their traditions are not dissimilar to ours – they are hunters and have magic in their bloodline, particularly among their women. Leesh Goat-Footed and Dolla Beast-Singer lead that extended family, and most of the rest are their children or nieces and nephews: Soren Raven-Eye; the siblings, Firoda Gloom-Stalker and Raheen Log-Runner; Glosna Bird-Friend, Kata Fox-Hair and more.

Our longest allies have been the Black Paw Clan; old Angmar the Crafter, their headman has long been one of Jolek’s chief advisers. The Black Paws are not from these lands, and their tongue and traditions are not our own, but by joining our strength with theirs, both clans have benefited. They come from the far north, a land even colder than this one if that can be believed. They are a warrior people, and the bond they have with their wolf pack helped them survive their trek south before they met us. They have lost many of their best warriors in our recent troubles, but they still have wise leadership in Angmar and his wife Yala of the Healing Hands, and many strong if inexperienced young warriors: the mad dogs Faust and Balkur; the fiery brothers Angvelk and Magnus; the hunter Kraven, and the others.

And then there are the Frost Fangs, those of mixed blood, descended from the seven tribes, and from the fair people of the north west, and, it is said, from the elves that once walked this land, before the darkness fell. Driall Unkur and his children – yes, they are all his children to my understanding; Driall is far older than he looks, as is oft the way with those with elven blood. Our chief Jolek trusts Driall’s counsel and his magic, but I would be wary about him if I were you – there is a darkness to him. His eldest children – Cendre the healer and Ash the hunter – take much after their father in looks but not in temperament, and both prefer the company of the Black Paws to that of their father. His younger children … well, who knows much about them, as they little leave the Frost Fang tents? Magic runs strongly in Driall’s bloodline … I suspect many of those young Frost Fangs take after their father in magic and in other ways.

- Velko the Storyteller

[Mothman]

Times have been hard of late … well, times have been hard for generations, since the darkness came, but you know of what I speak; the coldest winter in living memory, the loss of the herds we had followed, the attacks by enemies such as the Nidar, the death of some of our finest warriors – I will not go into detail. In response, Chief Jolek led us far from our traditional hunting grounds. The trek through the spring – what passes for spring in these chill times – has been just as hard, and many more have died on the long journey through the cold darkness. We find ourselves in this new land, unfamiliar to us – and just as dark and near as cold as the one we left behind.

But do not imagine, young Lajos, that we should have stayed, for had we stayed then surely our tribe would be no more. A change is coming, I can feel it. Jolek has a plan, one that will see us survive – prosper even – if we trust each other and work together. Despite the hardships we have faced, despite the differences between the clans, we must trust, we must strive. Things will be hard, but they will get better.

- Velko the Storyteller

[Mothman]

A journal of our current campaign: Two Hundred Years of Winter - a non-standard Pathfinder game of survival and kingdom building set during the Age of Darkness after Earthfall.

Game Master: Dementrius
Main Players: Chubbs McGee, Kraken, Mothman (others from time to time)

Resources:
• 100 members in tribe (each stat array is 3d6 in order)
• All tribe members begin play at first level
• 60gp worth of equipment per tribe member
• Stone-age level technology (with a few exceptions)
• Races allowed: Human, halfling, half-elf
• Classes allowed: Adept, Commoner, Expert, Warrior (and see below)

Technologies:
• Warrior Code (grants Barbarian class and General leadership role)
• Beast Training (grants Ranger class and animals)
• True Religion (grants 0 and 1st level divine spells)

[Mothman]

1 Sarenith
Ash Fareer

After wandering long in the cold wastes – too long, and too cold for travel, many have died – the weather begins to grow warmer. Jolek has decreed that we will strike a camp here for the summer. Summer! My father says that long ago summer meant bright light, green plants, warmth … now it is snow, ice and darkness like always, but warm enough that I can hunt dressed in warm furs without much risk of freezing to death. Many of the hunters of the Red Branch and the warriors of the Black Paws can even go without the warm furs in summer, but there is a weakness in my blood – curse Driall! – and although I am hardy enough I feel the cold more than some. I am not alone – even some of the full-blooded humans feel the cold as I do, and the small folk of the Dust Fox Kindred barely made it through our long spring trek. Their goats have all perished, but old Leesh says he has seen signs that there may be more in this area.

We are far from our old hunting grounds, and do not know this region. We must hope that we are far from the hated Nidar, and that there are herds in this area that will provide good hunting. Jolek has sent out scouts to search the area around our camp. He has sent his own wife, and my father Driall accompanies them … what does he seek?

The rest of us set the camp, tend to the weak, forage for what food and wood we can find. I direct the foraging and hunting parties. I trust Jolek, but can only hope that his Grandfather Elk has sent him the right signs, that these will be good hunting grounds.

[Mothman]

3 Sarenith
Nalchael

We set out to scout as our chief, Jolek decreed. With me were Rhyala, the wife of the chief; Balkur, a warrior of the Black Paw clan; and Driall, the half-human witch who leads the Frost Fangs.

We had travelled a day and a half from our new camp when we encountered five riders within the dead remains of a forest. By the flayed flesh on their faces and the bone piercings through the flesh of their riding beasts – ‘horses’ they are called – we knew them as Nidar. Their beasts give them an advantage, but they are not as ferocious as Balkur’s wolf, and their bone spears are no better than our stone spears. Rhyala and Driall called on the spirits for magic, and using witchcraft were able to confuse and separate the group. Balkur and I fell on a group of three and killed them, although we suffered several wounds. The other two riders fled into the darkness – we could not catch them on their horses.

Wounded, we returned to camp to tell the chief that the Nidar have found us.

[Mothman]

4 Sarenith
Ash Farseer

The scouts have returned with ill news. Nidar! Either they have tracked us to this region or already have a camp nearby. The scouts fared well against them, and Jolek has decided that we will stay for now. He will send the scouts back out once they are rested. Perhaps we will take a stand – my heart wishes to take the fight to the Nidar if we can.

Apart from the threat of the Nidar, this area seems good for a camp. Moss, tundra grasses and small animals are plentiful, and there are dead forests for us to gather much wood. The halflings are on the trail of some goats. If we can deal with the Nidar this will be a good place for the summer and perhaps beyond.

[Mothman]

11 Sarenith
Ash Farseer

The scouts have returned again, and this time with good news. They have seen no further sign of the Nidar, but have made a great discovery – a lake, unfrozen, with steam rising from the surface! Many plants grow near the lake, and a large herd of beasts grazes there. My father described them as ‘rats bigger than the horses of the Nidar’, but chief Jolek’s wife says that they are more like the pacaranas we have come across before in our old hunting grounds, but much larger and covered in thick hair.

Jolek has called a council – he has included me along with the elders; my father, Angmar the Crafter, Yala of the Healing Hands, Leesh Goat-Footed and Jolek’s wife Rhyala. I am surprised – I have become a leader amongst the hunters recently, but I did not think that Jolek would call on my counsel. Does Driall have a hand in this?

Rhyala says that the beasts are skittish, and that our normal hunting methods might bring us enough food for the summer but will drive off or scatter the rest of the herd. I had told Jolek of a large, dead-end canyon that the foraging parties had discovered, a day from our camp, in the direction of this lake. Jolek’s council have come up with a plan to drive the herd of pacaranas into the canyon and pen them there, where we can butcher them as we please. This way, Jolek thinks the herd will feed us through the winter or beyond. But before committing to this plan, Jolek wishes to see the herd and this unfrozen lake for himself, and will return there with the scouts, now that the camp is well established.

[Mothman]

12 Sarenith

Jolek, Balkur and Driall return to the warm lake and observe the herd of rodent-creatures. After some discussion, they agree to the merit of driving the creatures somewhere they can be captured for future food instead of simple opportunistic hunting that would drive away the remnants of the herd. The trio follow the warm water back upstream, where it eventually disappears in to the hillside at its source, a small bubbling warm stream of sulphurous water. Around the area, the trio find a few stone remnants of the ancient ruins. They decide to follow these traces around the base of the hill.

After a short while they come across an area where the stone remnants are more plentiful and, in a small cleft in the hillside, discover the broken remains of a paved plaza. Broken statues lie scattered around and mosaics mark the floor. At the far end of the plaza is a gap in the hillside, an ancient archway filled with ice-rimmed webs. As they investigate, the flames from a torch ignites the webs and they burst into flame, emitting a cloud of fumes that makes all of them light-headed and disoriented. With the webs burnt away, a staircase can be seen descending into the hillside.

At the base of the stairs is a small antechamber and beyond a massive chamber, its walls lost in darkness. Nearby are several large piles or nests of webbing and what appear to be large pulsing, vibrantly coloured eggs. Scuttling about between the piles are spiders the size of large dogs. The spiders scuttle forward and the tribesmen hold the archway, smashing the creatures as they surge forward. Jolek is bitten by the creatures numerous times and becomes staggered and disoriented by the venom surging through his veins.

Inside, the room is massive, with great columns rising to the ceiling. A ring of several stone steps leads down to a sunken area which dominates the centre of the chamber. Jolek, Balkur and Driall slowly move through the underground complex, exploring and uncovering several nests of spiders. In several rooms throughout the complex, they find pools of warm and hot water, fresh, though with a faint mineral taste to it. Throughout the complex carvings and frescoes of the ancients line the ceilings and walls.

The skeletal remains of ancient inhabitants are found in several rooms, along with a few trappings of wealth. In one strange room, among the scattered remains of broken furniture, a tattered journal is discovered, filled with strange symbols. This room seems to stay mystically dry, despite the warm moist air filling the rest of the complex. Driall takes the book, hoping to decipher it later at the camp.

Upon entering one chamber, a massive horse-sized spider drops from the ceiling onto Balkur, biting and grievously wounding the Black Paw hunter. Dragging the wounded warrior with them, Jolek and Driall withdraw and the trio barely escapes the complex with the spider close behind them.

After several long hours exposed in the freezing wilderness, they make a small camp and rest before returning to the main camp.

Thanks to Kraken for this session summary.

[Mothman]

13 Sarenith
Ash Farseer

Jolek, Balkur and my father have returned, the two warriors seriously wounded. Chief Jolek is obsessed with the underground complex they discovered, and despite his wounds he is filled with a frantic energy. He has called his advisors together (and once again included me in that group) to discuss his plans. With its natural warmth, fresh water supply and secure, hidden location he sees it as a place where our tribe can survive in security the coming winter, and he further speaks of it as a place we can turn into a permanent home. Driall is in agreement with him, but not everyone is convinced – it seems this place also holds many dangers given the wounds Jolek and Balkur have suffered, and how will we survive staying in one place for so long? Though of course that is where the pacaranas come in.

It is agreed that another member of the council should return with Jolek to further investigate, and given the danger posed by the giant spiders, I volunteer. We will leave as soon as Balkur and Jolek are recovered from their injuries.

Two of the hunters are sent to keep watch on the herd of rodent-creatures, to ensure the herd does not wander from the lake. Rather than the canyon, Jolek now plans that the steep-sided plaza between the lake and the underground complex can be a place to contain the creatures. Angmar the Crafter takes Bokyo the Woodcutter and several others to harvest sturdy logs from the dead forest to form a barricade across the opening of the plaza and a fence to channel them into the space.

Rhyala and Yala tend to Jolek and Balkur’s injuries, and say that they will be ready to return in a day or two. In my tent I sharpen the stone heads of my axes and arrows in anticipation.

[Mothman]

15 Sarenith
Ash Farseer

Having seen now for myself the lake, the giant pacaranas and the wondrous complex of the ancients, I find myself in agreement with Chief Jolek and my father – this could become a home for our people.

The four of us faced and slew the great spider that had come so close to killing Balkur, and continued to explore the complex. We encountered and overcame more of the smaller, but still monstrous spiders and clouds of stinging insects. In one chamber was a walking corpse that tried to murder us, until I skewered it on my spear. We discovered more chambers with tiled pools filled with warm, fresh water; pipes of metal that bear the water from one place to another; all manner of strange carvings and pictures from ancient times on the walls; and too, bones and skeletons that indicate the people who once dwelt in this place died of violence. From the hands of one such skeleton my father took a dagger of dull metal, its blade still sharp after so many years. Driall says that the blade is called Incisor, and that there is magic to it, but that it bears a curse of hunger as well. We discovered other treasures of the ancients also. Jolek almost drowned diving for treasure at the bottom of a deep pool, but we pulled him up and all was well.

We are in agreement that this will be a good place to settle the tribe and return to camp to make plans.

[Mothman]

17 Sarenith
Velko the Storyteller

Jolek and the others have returned from the lake and the ancient complex they found near to it. There was some trepidation but also much rejoicing when Jolek announced his plan to the tribe, to shelter there for many winters to come. Long into the darkest part of the day, the last dregs of fermented goats milk were drunk, ground polopok seeds were smoked, and some even inhaled the burnt fumes of the dreamspider webs brought back from the expedition, although Jolek forbid it.

A few remained awake to guard the camp after sleep had overtaken most – Raheen the halfling and Kraven, a hunter of the Bear Paw clan; and myself, an old man, too excited by the prospect of Jolek’s news to sleep, despite knowing better.

We were patrolling the part of the camp where the Dust Fox Kindred had pitched their tents when the dead fell upon us with little warning, the clack of bone on bone dulled by the gore that covered them. Only the smell of blood on the wind alerted Raheen to their presence just before they fell on us. The halfling hunter fought off the nearest blood dripping skeletons with his spear, but the weapon did little against the bony horrors, he backed away, taking out his sling as he went. Kraven is man enough facing a wolf or even a Nidar warrior, but the unnatural unnerves him more than most, and he fled rather than fought. I used my staff to try to hold off the long dead man that tried to claw out my eyes with bony fingers, calling out for help.

While several of the skeletons pursued Soren, Kraven and myself, others burst into nearby tents where halflings lay dreaming. Soren, young with sharp senses awoke before the undead monster entered his tent. He managed to cut his way out of the back of his tent, then collapsed the hide structure on top of his assailant. The skeleton flailed about within its temporary prison. Raheen’s father Leesh was not so fortunate; a skeleton fell upon him and almost ripped him apart – it was only by fate or halfling luck that the skeleton moved on for more prey leaving Leesh still clinging to life.

By now the camp was roused, warriors beginning to emerge to fall upon the bloody skeletons. Jolek himself led the charge, naked as the night he was born despite the eternal cold, wielding Red Branch against the undead invaders. Eventually the skeletons were smashed to pieces by our furious warriors … but even then fresh blood pooled on the snow where they fell and the broken bones began to knit back together as the skeletons tried to rise again. We kept smashing at the bones with staves, clubs, spear butts until they were ground to dust mixed into the snow. Jolek called for cairns of rocks to be piled on top of the spots where each skeleton was destroyed, and for Cendre, Hauk and the other adepts to cast spells of blessing over each cairn.

Perhaps this was a happenstance encounter – the unquiet dead seem more plentiful in these new lands than in our old haunts … but the way the skeletons were entering the tents almost made me think they were searching for something. The hunters tracked back the prints and the stain of blood for a mile before they were lost beneath a fresh flurry of snow – but they seem to have some from the direction of the lake and the ruins that Jolek wishes to move us to …

[Mothman]

20 Sarenith
Kata Fox-Hair

After the skeletons attacked the camp and near killed my uncle, Chief Jolek sent out another scouting party to scour every hill, nook and crevasse within miles of our encampment and the underground complex, to ensure that there are no more monsters lurking nearby. They have not returned as yet, but with Balkur and Ash Farseer leading the group I am sure they will come back to us safely.

In the meantime the tribe prepares for the great pacarana hunt!

[Mothman]

21 Sarenith
The Pacarana Hunt

A group of over thirty tribespeople head out, slowly encircling the giant rodents and forming a long strung-out line over the half-mile from the lake. At the far end of this path, a low fence of timber and stones has been constructed to funnel them into the confines of the narrow plaza. Each of the tribes-folk hold blazing torches to frighten and drive the herd. All starts out well, but after a short time, a small group breaks away from the main herd and looks likely to escape. Luckily, Jolek had posted scouts on the outer perimeter of the area and they manage to drive the creatures back into the main herd.

At the end of the path, Jolek himself stands ready to drive the pacaranas into their new pen. As the herd rushes past him into the plaza, he realises something else is frightening the creatures into a panicked rush. Behind him a trio of strange cat-dog creatures are stalking closer. As they near, the skin pulls back from their faces revealing their bare skulls and they emit horrifying howls. Jolek stands his ground long enough to wound one of them, before he is overwhelmed by supernatural fear and he flees into the midst of the panicked herd and is trampled by the huge rodents.

The rest of the tribe starts to close in, and realising there is a problem, two of the Black Paw warriors, Anvelk and Lomar Red-paw charge forward with their wolves to fight the monsters and draw them off from the herd. As they engage, a fourth, much larger, creature stalks into the penned herd. Driall and Boyko are nearby and try to fight it off, hoping to save Jolek who is lying unconscious and helpless on the floor of the plaza. Neither manages to make much impact on the creature and they are forced to withdraw before it.

Finally, the tribal warriors manage to kill the three creatures they are facing and close in on the alpha beast. Seeing it is about to be surrounded, the alpha withdraws, dragging the body of a pacarana with it. Before it can completely escape, the Black Paw warriors close on it and quickly slay the creature, surrounding it and attacking from all sides like a wild wolf pack.

Finally, the rodent-creatures are penned in, Jolek is rescued and the four face/skull beasts are skinned. The hides are claimed by Driall, Jolek, Anvelk and Lomar. Jolek has a cloak made from his and gifts it to Boyko for his valiant attempt to rescue the chief form the alpha beast.

Thanks to Kraken for this summary.

[Mothman]

25 Sarenith
Esia the Inquisitive

The arts of reading and writing have largely been lost to the clans that make up our tribe. I can understand why to a degree; being able to write doesn’t make you better at hunting elk, or scavenging for moss, or keep you warm in the cold dark … except it does in a way. With the lack of reading and writing our knowledge of magic has atrophied – the pitiful spells I know are as nothing compared to the powerful magic of the ancients – they can’t conjure food from nothing, or give a man the form of a bear, or make a metal weapon appear in one’s hand.

The other thing that our lack of writing may lose us is knowledge of our own history. Velko will argue that history does not need to be written to be remembered, that it is passed on as stories and songs … but Velko, who knows all of the Kindred of the Red Branch’s stories and histories is old and will be dead by next winter – or the one after that or ten after that. His apprentice, the one Velko passed all these stories on to died, and with her perhaps, the hope for our history. I have had Velko teach me all he can remember of history and all but forgotten knowledge, but I am no storyteller – so what then? If these histories were written down they would be there to read for centuries to come … as the runes carved into the walls of the complex our chief Jolek discovered are still there.

Jolek intends to turn that ruin into a lodge for the tribe, but he – or perhaps it was sly Driall’s idea – has instructed that us few who know a little of reading should investigate these carved runes, and those written into a book that was found within the place, to see if there is anything that would benefit us.

Both Velko and Driall I think were taught something of reading when they were young, many years past. Their skills at such things have atrophied with long disuse – I have tried to have Velko teach me, and while I have learnt a little I know he struggles to attach remembered meaning to the runic shapes – but they are not entirely gone. So the three of us pore over the book, argue about meaning, try different combinations, compare the runes therein with the ones carved into the walls. Many of those accompany pictures, whose meaning can be guessed at … it is slow work, but we have made much progress.

The book seems to be what Velko calls a ‘journal’ – a personal history and series of notes made by one of the ancients. Mostly the ink is faded beyond our ability to see or restore it, but a few of the entries we have translated thus:

"Received the replacement servitors from Castrovasticus (t)his morning and they have already proven more resilient. Sold the old cadaver slaves to the i...n mines to the west. Note. Change their orders to mop the floors backwards to avoid unsightly bloodstains.

Our supplies of Shiver are running low one spider may not be enough. Perhaps I should purchase another and create a breeding pair to service the demand from our customers.

. . . most entrances collapsed with the impact. The servitors are killing everyone the control magic must have failed with the strike. I wonder how bad it is outside? I hope Freina is all right. I am safe in the office for now, but I have to get out.

Screams from the women's rooms again. Every few hours another scream. They seemed well secured when I locked myself in here. There will be hell to pay if the Baroness Xerriock's cousin is hurt . . .

I'm getting out now. Through the boiler room is the best way and I'll skirt back around to the main entrance to see if I can avoid the undead waiting in the Palaestra . . . "

There are many wall carvings and frescoes within the complex. Some seem to depict this bath house at its height, with images of men and women in fine clothing or various states of undress relaxing, bathing or cavorting. Other images show strange landscapes or settlements filled with humans and other beings, some of them most strange in form or size. The beings depicted often appear to be engaged in bizarre, dangerous or taboo behaviour, such as fighting, over-indulging in food or drink, or copulating in public or with beasts. A seven pointed rune appears prominently in many locations. Some of the runes carved about the place seem to describe the function of the chambers, such as ‘cold baths’ and ‘hot room’. We see the name ‘Aanstrian’ in some places, which we think may have been the name of the clan that once used these halls.

Two adjacent chambers feature domed ceilings, both of black stone with mosaic images set into them. The first depicts swirling patterns of white dots overlaid with images of fantastical figures and creatures. The images are interspersed with circles labelled in harsh runic script. We manage to interpret them with names like ‘The Rider’, ‘The Lantern Bearer’, ‘The Thrush’, ‘The Mother’, ‘The Pack’. We think that the white dots are stars. Velko says that the stars used to form pictures in the sky.

The other domed roof has a large yellow circle at the apex, with concentric circles around it. Most of the concentric circles have a smaller circle somewhere along its length with labels like ‘Castrove the Evening Star’, ‘Akiton the Red’ and ‘Bretheda the Cradle’. Velko says that these are a type of wandering star called ‘planets’, and that the big yellow circle is the sun that once gave light and heat to our land.

Another large fresco consists of five wedge shaped images in a circle around a large central image. Each is labelled with runes. The central image is of a powerful man with a long beard and wearing a winged robe, labelled ‘Hawfrey’ – we think this may be either the leader of one of the ancient tribes, or else some sort of celestial being. The images around show: men leading horned herd-beasts to slaughter (‘Gorryan’); men and women milking similar looking but non-horned herd-beasts (‘Inib’); women carrying some sort of containers or drinking vessels (‘Aanstrin’); men and women working in fields of tall plants (‘Chivvik’); and warriors hurling corpses ahead of them (‘Xerriock’). We are sure these must be the names of the various clans that made up this tribe, and show that each clan had a different craft.

An image on another wall depicts a creature with a woman’s torso, the lower body and tail of a serpent, six wings, and the seven-pointed rune in place of a head. The runic script underneath reads ‘LISSALA’. I recognise the name and image as a reference to a god worshipped by the ancients, one associated with rune magic, fate and obedience – and with a dark reputation. I notice Driall spending a long time examining the carving.

Fortunately we have almost finished with our translations, as the rest of the tribe is beginning to move into this bath-house and the area around it.