As you approach nearer to the town, you notice groups of armed men moving up and down the path. Most of them are farmers, but a few are clearly from the Threshold town guard; wearing mail and brandishing swords. Search parties. Just like the ones that were gathered when Serghei's daughter went missing. The ones formed when something bad happened...
Whispers in the Woods
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As you approach nearer to the town, you notice groups of armed men moving up and down the path. Most of them are farmers, but a few are clearly from the Threshold town guard; wearing mail and brandishing swords. Search parties. Just like the ones that were gathered when Serghei's daughter went missing. The ones formed when something bad happened...
"It's Stefan. He's gone missing. The lad left early this morning to gather some plants for Humphrey's potions, but he hasn't returned yet. He should have been back a long time ago, especially with the sun starting to set. Humphrey is worried sick about him" he pauses and sighs "After Mia's murder, and the goblin raids, we fear the worse"
He gestures down the road, where the path continues northward "Humphrey down there, if you want to talk with him"
"Oh. you've come… you've come to help too?" His eyes drop to the ground as he sighs "I shouldn't have sent him alone. Not with the goblins on the prowl, and... not with the killer still at large. What was I thinking? If something’s happened to him..." he left the rest of his words unspoken.
"You HAVE to help" he addresses Anton in particular "He is a member of the guild! We have to find him, before it gets dark"
"I... I knew goblins were raiding the area these past few weeks. But they never attacked during the day. They're cowards, hiding in their caves, afraid of the sun. They usually come out at night, when they can skulk around and do their damage without being seen. I don’t understand this—why would they attack Stefan in broad daylight? It just doesn't add up." he shakes his head "Goblins are stupid, sure. But even they know that killing a human like this... it’s not the kind of thing you do if you want to stay hidden. They know what’ll happen. Every able-bodied man in Threshold would be hunting them down"
Maybe Humphrey was trying to justify his decision to send Stefan to the outskirts of the woods that day, but maybe there is something in what he is saying too.
Will turns to his companions. A shrug and a look upon emerald eyed face seems to say, Well I guess we’re up and moving again!
Rolls
Hunting (Wis 10) - (1d20)
(17) = 17
When Will scans the ground, he notices some of the undergrowth has been trampled, stems bent and wildflowers crushed beneath someone's boot. The tracks lead deeper into the woods, but there is no certainty they belong to Stefan's.
What do you do?
Along the way, you find subtle signs that your quarry paused to rest: apple cores tossed into underbrush, patches of trampled grass where someone once sat down. As the hours pass, the tracks merge with an old, nearly forgotten trail, barely more than a trace in the undergrowth.
The path leads into an even darker part of the forest, where dense stands of ancient fir trees cast everything into near-night despite the rising sun. The ground here is soft and spongy with thick carpets of pine needles, killing most plant life save for clusters of pale fungi that thrive in the damp.
Then, through the mist and branches, you see it, a ring of thorny brambles, twisted into a crude palisade fence. Inside, nestled in the clearing's center, stands a massive gnarled tree with windows like hollowed eyes and a heavy wooden door carved straight into its trunk.
You find yourself back where you started, but this time, the wall of brambles has parted, and a narrow archway opens before you. Standing in the arch is a grotesque figure: an old, round woman with sagging jowls, warts blooming across her face like fungi, and small beady dark eyes. When she opens her mouth to speak, she bares her rotten, yellow teeth to you in a disturbing smile:
"Well now," she croaks "we rarely get visitors out here. Who might you be, and what brings you sniffing around my grove?"
Flanking her are two men, or things shaped like men. Their skin an unnatural, smooth gray, completely hairless, with long limbs and eyes like polished obsidian. They watch silently, unmoving, their expressions unreadable beneath the inhuman sheen of their faces.
She tilts her head, as if considering something.
Then she sniffs.
Once. Twice.
Her nostrils flare wide as she inhales deeply, leaning forward just slightly, the tip of her nose lifting toward Anton like a hound catching scent of something familiar. Her eyes narrow with sudden interest.
For a long moment, she says nothing at all as she watches him.
Then she stands upright again, as if she has made up her mind.
"Oh yes. Stefan arrived here just a few short hours ago. He’s my guest."
Behind her, the gray men remain still as statues.
She bows slightly and says, "That is most gracious of you, my lady of the grove. May I ask how we should address you, my lady?"
"And how shall I call you?" she asks as she leads you into the dark and gloomy clearing. All around you, gray-skinned men move in silence: hauling water, scraping hides, stirring cauldrons. Each one is identical. Same smooth features, same obsidian eyes. None speak. None look at you.
The woman ignores them, walking on, unhurried, toward the massive hollowed tree at the center of the clearing, gesturing for you to enter. The smell inside is the first thing you notice: sweet, like dried flowers and honeyed herbs… but beneath that, something else. A faint, sour, almost pungent smell. Almost subtle enough to doubt it's there.
"My mother and my daughter are indisposed right now, but we will all meet at dinner. Would you like to rest in the meantime? Your travel has been long, and you look exhausted."
"It is nice to meet you, Magda. My name is Boudica, of Traladar. I am happy to stay for a time, but I hope not to tarry too long, as Stefan's friends are worried about him, and we promised to find him and return him to them when we could. Is there anything I can do for you and your family to help facilitate that, and to reciprocate your kindness and hospitality?"
Boudica does not believe this woman has the best of intentions, but she suspects that they might be able to bargain or barter with her for Stefan.
"You will see Stefan at dinner, if you decide to stay. He’s been quite content here, actually. It's sweet of you to be worried about him, but I doubt you will be able to change his mind into leaving"
At the top of the stairs, she pushes open one of the wooden doors and gestures you inside. The room is plain and somewhat cramped, clearly used more for storage than hospitality. A couple of soft mattresses have been laid out with woolen blankets. A small table holds a bottle of water, a chipped ceramic cup, and what looks like a bundle of herbs drying on a string. In one corner, a stack of wicker baskets and an old iron coat rack suggest the room sees many purposes.
"I must apologize. I don’t have enough mattresses laid out for all of you at the moment, but if you decide to spend the night, I can make arrangements. It's no trouble."
She nods at you, and stares at Anton in particular "Would you like anything to eat while you wait? A bit of stew? some bread and cheese, perhaps?"
Once the strange woman leaves them, Boudica says, "So… this woman is not human, right? And do you think that Stefan is under some spell?"
"Hopefully Stefan will listen to us about his affairs back in town, and return with us. Hopefully he'll see reason" once again two words punctuated oddly, listen, and see. He was worried there might be magics here that could allow Magda to spy on them. He had begun to study a spell in the tome from Mistamere that would allow just that.
The first is little more than a seamless panel of wood. No hinges. No handle. No keyhole. Just a slightly darker grain marking its outline. It doesn’t budge when Will presses on it, but judging by the curvature of the floor, there must be another room behind it.
The second door is half open, behind which lies a well-kept room. There is a neatly made bed beneath a small window, with a fluffed pillow and a thick woolen blanket. A simple vanity table stands against the wall, with a bottle of perfume, and a comb on top of it. On a low stool next to the window stands a wicker basket holding several folded garments.
But it’s the paintings that draw the eye.
They’re pinned with care along one wall, each rendered in vivid color and lifelike detail. A waterfall flowing over mossy stones. A baby deer peering from behind the trees. A bright and colorful songbird on a tree branch. Whomever painted these pictures clearly had a great love for nature - and patience, to capture all these details.
Will begins fighters ascent upstairs. Unless someone has another idea.
I’ll cover you, Will says to Anton, readying Icy Bronze.
It is also a living room, like the one Magda has set for you, but it also serves as a storeroom. There are bundles of dried herbs hanging on a string crisscrossing the walls with a thick scent of sage, poppy, and something else you can't quite identify. On the wooden shelves are cloudy glass jars with floating animal parts inside the murky fluid. The table below the shelves is cluttered with more jars, a wooden mortar and pestle, and cloth bundles tied in a string.
And near the window is a low bed, on top of which is the young boy not much older than twelve, tucked beneath a wool blanket. He is sleeping, though he breathes very slowly and deeply. Around his bed is a carefully arranged ring of salt - not a grain out of place.
"...Is it time for dinner already?" he murmurs. He doesn’t move to sit up. Just lies there, groggy and dazed, as the bell rings again from somewhere deeper within the tree. And above you, the slow creak of footsteps descending down the stairs.
It looks like he is completely unaware that he walked for the entire day, and the night that followed "My legs are killing me..."
Miyana, who is standing outside the room with her bow ready, now sees the bloated Magda walking down the stairs, behind her follows another figure: an ancient, hunched woman in a black robe, her face mostly hidden beneath the cowl, though a few strands of bone white hair spill down over her shoulders.
Will gestures at the door, and readies Icy Bronze.
He looks around the room, the alarm in Boudica’s voice failing to register. "I don’t... I’m so tired..." He swings his legs over the side of the bed, but his movements are slow and clumsy. "I just need a minute... everything’s spinning..."
From outside the room, Boudica can hear the sound of an incantation...
"My daughter is not to be threatened" comes a brittle voice from behind her.
The robed crone lifts one trembling hand, fingers curled like claws, and begins to chant in a voice full of old spite
Magda mirrors her mother, raising both slightly, wrists bent, and whispers
Rolls
Initative for Madga - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Initative for Veinia - (1d6)
(3) = 3
Rolls
Init - (1d6)
(1) = 1
Mace - Atk. - (1d20+1)
(3) + 1 = 4
Mace - Dmg. - (1d6+1)
(3) + 1 = 4
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(2) = 2
Icy Bronze - Atk. - (1d20+4)
(6) + 4 = 10
Icy Bronze - (Known Dmg. - (1d8+4)
(2) + 4 = 6
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Miyana bow attack - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (13) + 2 = 15
1d6 : (3) = 3
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(3) = 3
Will's and Boudica's attack missed.
You can take roll initiative and take your actions for the next round.
Rolls
Magda Initiative for round 2 - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Veinia Initiative for round 2 - (1d6)
(5) = 5
Jump to:navigation, search
1st Level Cleric Spell
Duration: 12 turns
Range: 120’
This spell has three usages:
Conjuring light: In a 15’ radius. The magical light is sufficient for reading, but is not as bright as daylight. The spell may be cast upon an object, in which case the light moves with the object.
Blinding a creature: By casting the spell upon its eyes. If the target fails a saving throw versus spells, it is blinded for the duration. A blind creature cannot attack.
Cancelling darkness: Light may cancel a darkness spell (see below).
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(2) = 2
Rolls
Save vs. spells (16+) - (1d20+1)
(17) + 1 = 18
Initiative - (1d6+1)
(5) + 1 = 6
Attack and damage - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (15) + 2 = 17
1d6 : (2) = 2
Rolls
Init - (1d6)
(3) = 3
Sword - Atk. - (1d20+4)
(8) + 4 = 12
Sword - Dmg. - (1d8+4)
(4) + 4 = 8
But Magda never takes her eyes off Miyana. Burning hate on her face, she whispers as her clawed fingers twist in the air. This time, her incantation doesn't falter. Your hair rises on your arms and the back of your neck. A low, humming vibration builds, and you can almost taste the metal in the air.
@WhtKnt - I need another spell SV from you.
@Madclergy - you still have an action from round 1, and you can take a turn for this round as well.
Veinia's spell fizzles, as she was hit by Miyana before she could get it off.
Rolls
Saving throw for Veinia (light spell) - (1d20)
(3) = 3
Secret Roll
The light burst detonates like a miniature sun, an unnatural radiance that burns though the gloom of her cowl and clings to her like a brand. She shrieks and claws at her own face, reeling backward, trying to put as much distance between her and the warrior brandishing the sword.
Veinia failed her saving throw. She is blinded and can't attack (or target anyone with a spell).
Rolls
lightning bolt! - (5d6)
(45532) = 19
Rolls
Save vs. spells (16+) - (1d20+1)
(6) + 1 = 7
He then took the opportunity to heave a dagger at Magda s a follow up!
Throwing a Dagger for round 2
Rolls
Magic Missile Damage - (1d6+1)
(3) + 1 = 4
Dagger x5 - Atk. - (1d20+0)
(3) = 3
Dagger x5 - Dmg. - (1d4)
(2) = 2
Magda thrusts her hands forward, and a jagged bolt of lightning erupts from her finger. It slams into Miyana, the force lifting her off her feet and sending her flying backward to the ground. Her muscles seizes instantly once the electric current passed through her body, and for a moment, she can't move, or even breath. But before Magda can savor the moment, a streak of arcane energy slams into her chest. She staggers backward with a snarl, looking up at Anton who emerged out of the room.
"Fool! I would have let you live! Now you'll die here, with the others!!!"
That's 19 damage from the lightning bolt [ref]
You can roll initiative and for your actions for round 3.
Magda is fairly hurt, and Veinia is currently incapacitated, though the two hags continue to chant
Rolls
Magda Initiative for round 3 - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Veinia Initiative for round 3 - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Rolls
Init - (1d6)
(4) = 4
Sword - Atk. - (1d20+4)
(20) + 4 = 24
Sword - Dmg. - (1d8+4)
(5) + 4 = 9
EDIT: Forgot my initiative roll.
Rolls
Attack and damage - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (20) + 2 = 22
1d6 : (2) = 2
Initiative - (1d6+1)
(2) + 1 = 3
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(1) = 1
Rolls
Mace - Atk. - (1d20+1)
(8) + 1 = 9
Mace - Dmg. - (1d6+1)
(4) + 1 = 5
Initiative - (1d6)
(3) = 3
The two witches didn't live to their ripe old age by fighting adventurers to the bitter end.
Will’s strike forced their hand. Veinia mutters a quick incantation, and dark shadows spill from her fingers, swallowing the light that had been blinding her. Magda, in the meantime, heaves with a gurgling, wet sound, and with a sudden lurch, hurls a mass of sticky webbing from her mouth. The webbing unfurls in an instant, coating the staircase in heavy, sticky spider web strands - but not before the two hags took a couple of steps up, retreating as the web blocks the only path forward.
The two hags decide to escape. They already spent most of their spells, and are pretty hurt.
Will - your sword sapped the very life essence from the hag, and you feel rejuvenated and elated. gain 1d6 temporary HP.
What do you do now? Would you like to pursue the hags upstairs? Leave with Stefan? Explore the rest of the tree house?
Rolls
Temp Hp - (1d6)
(3) = 3
Will looks at his other companions for their druthers.
While they decide, Boudica stows her mace and pulls out a tinderbox and torch, and begins trying to light it. She comments, "In case we decide to clear these webs…"

"Wh-Who are you?" She takes an instinctive step backward "What are you doing here?"
"I… I’m Magda’s daughter. She's...." she stammers, looking for a moment at the apples at her feet, as though she regrated saying anything at all. She clasps her hands together, fidgeting nervously, then looks up at Will again.
"You’re here to take him away…" her voice drops to barely above a whisper "Can I come with you?"
Rolls
Moar healing! - (1d6+1)
(1) + 1 = 2
Her hands fidget again as she looks up "Please. You have to get me out of here. I don’t want to end up like them."
She sizes up the girl and sighs. "I'm ok with bringing her along if everyone else is. I would rather err on the side of compassion than suspicion." She turns to the girl and asks, "We will try to get you to safety. Can you tell us how to pass the hedge wall outside?"
She recoils slightly when he suggests she joins them to confront the witches, looking behind his back as if she expects to see them appearing out of the shadows "I... I’m not sure about that" she stammers. "I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to leave."
She continues to fidget restlessly, more so the more she realizes they haven't quite delt with the witches "We need to get out of here. Before they come back," she lowers her voice to a whisper "There are potions in their ritual chamber. One of them… it can dissolve the hedges."
"Through here" She hesitates as she stands at the edge, clearly reluctant to go in. But staying behind, and risking the hags' return, seems like the worse option. Swallowing hard, and trembling, she steps forward and begins to walk down the tunnel.
The passage is tight. The walls are lined with tangled roots, the floor is uneven, and in some spots, spongy, like walking across old, wet moss. You have to duck as the tunnel narrows, brushing past strands of hanging moss and the occasional bone charm swaying in the stale air.
At the end, the tunnel opens into a vast, hollow chamber beneath the heart of the tree. It wasn't carved by tools; it feels as if the tree itself hollowed and rotted from the inside, then was repurposed for darker needs. The chamber is dimly lit by the same firefly-filled lamps seen upstairs, casting a cold, blue glow across the interior. The centerpiece of the room is a massive cauldron - wide enough to submerge a grown man. The tables around the cauldron are stacked with grim materials - open jars of body organs, dried animal parts, strange powders and bottles filled with swirling liquid. A heavy ritual tome sits open on a plinth nearby, its pages inked in what looks like blood.
And then there are the cages.
They dominate the perimeter of the room, maybe a dozen of them, woven from twisted roots and reinforced with bone. Each one holds a wild creature stolen from the forest above: foxes with matted fur and lifeless eyes, wounded badgers licking old scars, ravens with clipped wings, and even a pair of snakes coiled in tight, sluggish knots.
As you pass, a few snarl softly or hiss, but most are too weak or broken to react, not able to do much besides blink at you with hollow, hopeless stares.
Moryana stands still amid it all, looking dejected at the pitiful menagerie. She only snaps out of it when she notices Boudica walking toward the tables.
"I...I think we can save them" she turns and joins them. Hands trembling she leans in closer to inspect the row of bottles on the table "That would dissolve the hedges. And anything else it touches" she warns Will, before handing him a vial filled with black ichor. Then, with a relieved sigh, she reaches out for a bottle with a pinkish swirl "It’s a potent regenerative potion" she looks back at the animals "They’re small. Maybe if we let each of them drink a little...."
Will gently picks up the wounded raven in gauntleted hands, and places it back in the cage.
Anyone not ok with that?
Will takes the potion, and heads over to begin dissolving hedges.
When the emergency from the tree and see the gray skinned men, she looks to Moryana and asks, "Can you control them?"
Will quickly estimates 24 grey-skinners. Emerald eyes glance at his four friends, and he adds, Unless we each want five of them, I think we need to return into the Tree, and find a way to break the spell keeping them guarding sentry.
Our fightery fellow looks at Moryana and says plainly, I think we'll have to deal with mother and grandmother.
The fox in her arms was growing heavier by the second, and it looked like it was running out of patience of being carried by someone. With a reluctant sigh, she crouched and carefully set the wounded creature down.
"The potion will burn through anything, yes" she replied to Boudica. She had no idea what kind of 'web' she meant, but if the ichor could eat through stone and steel, it would likely handle a web just as easily.
She paused, and glanced up
"Some of the potions in their lab… maybe they can help you. But they are dangerous. All of them"
What do you do?
Will helps secure the potions from the lab. Then, eventually with his friends, he goes upstairs.
There are also more disturbing vials: one that ‘summons’ a giant centipede ('it grows inside your gut'), a resurrection potion that revives the dead ('but you wouldn't want him back'), another that turns the drinker's blood into corrosive acid ('will harm anyone or anything who cuts you'), and Blisterwine—a grotesque concoction that erupts the skin with swollen, throbbing warts, each leaking a toxic gas.
One of you want to throw the Blisterwine at them? I’m more a straight-up fighter, myself.
What do you do?
She rears back and begins to smack the first door with her mace.
Almost immediately, a wave of foul, humid air rolled out of the room.
The den inside was filthy. The ‘bed’ in the far corner of the room was basically a lump of rotting meat, crawling with so much maggots it looked like it was in motion. The floor around it was stained dark with grease, and the stink was overpowering. There were plates, bowls, pots and pans littering the room, some piled with scraps of meat, others picked down to the bone. None of them have ever been washed.
There were tattered garments scattered everywhere, most of them soaked with grime. A table at the center, overflowing with collected junk, had a grotesque, warty, bulbously toad sitting a top of it, right next to a melted candle. The toad doesn’t blink. It just watches you, even as the swarm of flies buzz around it.
The witch herself, however, is nowhere to be seen.
What do you do?
Rolls
Attack and damage - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (9) + 2 = 11
1d6 : (3) = 3
If victory smelled bad, I’d be celebrating right now, Will quips. But seems our villain has given us the slip once again.
What say you, friends? Close this room back up, and explore the tree’s underbelly a bit? Or run the damsel and Stefan back to town and double back?
There is silent for a moment. Before Boudica could find a volunteer to break down the second door, it is flung open with violence, and the two hags emerge from the darkness.
"You killed my sweetling! Now I’ll take your tongue for this!!!"
Rolls
Initative for Madga - (1d6)
(4) = 4
Initative for Veinia - (1d6)
(4) = 4
Secret Roll
Rolls
Init - (1d6)
(3) = 3
Sword - Atk. - (1d20+4)
(18) + 4 = 22
Sword - Dmg. - (1d8+4)
(6) + 4 = 10
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6+1)
(6) + 1 = 7
Attack/damage - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (1) + 2 = 3
1d6 : (2) = 2
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(5) = 5
Mace - Atk. - (1d20+1)
(4) + 1 = 5
Mace - Dmg. - (1d6+1)
(3) + 1 = 4
@WhiteDwarf - let me know if you'd like to drain some of Magda's lifeforce when you slashed her with the sword you picked up from the wraith.
I'll give @Madclergy a chance to roll his action to interrupt Veinia's action before we move to the second round.
Rolls
Dagger x5 - Atk / Dam - (1d20+0, 1d4)
1d20+0 : (14) = 14
1d4 : (1) = 1
initiative for Anton - (1d6)
(1) = 1
Rolls
Save vs Spells, DC 15 - (1d20+1)
(19) + 1 = 20
Boudica managed to resist the spell, but both she and Miyana missed.
You can roll initiative and for your actions for round 2.
@WhiteDwarf - you gain another 1d6 temp hp, and drain a level from Magda
Rolls
magic missile - (3d6+3)
(222) + 3 = 9
Initative for Veinia - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Initiative for Magda - (1d6)
(5) = 5
Reeling from missile damage, yet breathing in new energy, our fightery fellow swings Icy Bronze at Magda once again!
Rolls
Energy Drain - (D6)
(5) = 5
Sword - Atk. - (1d20+4)
(13) + 4 = 17
Sword - Dmg. - (1d8+4)
(3) + 4 = 7
Init - (1d6)
(1) = 1
Rolls
Initiative - (1d6)
(6) = 6
"Impossible!!!" The older hag whimpers with disbelief. She, too, felt the bite of the life draining sword, and now her hands tremble as she raises them slowly
"Wait" she rasps. "Spare us, and I’ll make it worth your while. Treasures, knowledge, secrets... we will do everything you ask" she then delivers a warning, looking at you with her milky-white eyes "You don't want to kill a hag of the forest. Our dying curse will rot your luck till the end of your days"
So…we take your treasure, or we take our chances in life. We’ll do both.
Will swings his blade at the elder hag!
Rolls
Attack and damage - (1d20+2, 1d6)
1d20+2 : (14) + 2 = 16
1d6 : (6) = 6
Initiative - (1d6)
(5) = 5
Magda's death is less dramatic; the bloated hag is sprawled on the floor in an unnatural sleep when the single arrow jerks her from her slumber. There is a low rattle from her throat, and then she too, goes silent.
The room darkens when the last breath leaves the hags bodies. The light of the fireflies flicker, a heavy gloom descends upon the room, and a cold wind seems to blow from the stairway.
Once you claimed what you can and descended back down the stairs, you find Moryana and Stefan huddled in the shadows near the basement passage – where you left them. Moryana stiffens a little when she sees you, especially at the sight of black blood on your weapons, but says nothing and falls behind you as you lead the two outside.
It is still dark from the dense canopy of woods, even though it should be noon by your reckoning. The grey men which previously blocked your way are now standing silently in the field with vacant eyes and blank faces, like living statues.
A moment later, the swelling in its eyes begins to recede, the inflamed skin calms, and even the color and luster to its fur returns, until it seems health and lively again. The fox rises to its feet, and after a hesitant look it bolts away, pausing just once at the edge of the trees to look back at you before vanishing into the woods.
One by one, Moryana feeds the potion to the rest of the injured animals. The snakes slither away quickly through the grass, the badger following in their trail. Even the raven manages to flap its whole wings again, and with some initial effort, lifts itself into the air and flies away.
She trails off, then hugs her arms around herself as he looked away
"I’m sorry" her voice was barely a whisper "My mother was cruel. Even worse than you can imagine. She and Grandmother… they had plans for me. I think you stopped something terrible." Her voice raises a bit "It’s better this way. I know that. But…"
She doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, she reaches up and nervously strokes her long hair, twirling a strand around her fingers. It takes her a few moments to compose herself.
"I'm sorry. I was never allowed far from the glade" she manages to focus again "But I don’t think their power went far. I think we’ll be safe, if we’re careful."
"I’ve heard of the Lady of the Forest. Old Misha used to tell stories about her, back in Threshold. Said he once went looking for her when he was a younger man" he pauses as he tries to remember the old man's exact words "He said he found her. Or maybe just caught a glimpse. It was enough. He was blind by the time he stumbled back to town. Claimed he’d seen such beauty that his eyes could never bear the sight of anything else again." He shakes his head as he remembers the old blind man "He said her voice could do the same to your ears. Not because it was loud, but because it was perfect. Like… once you heard it, you’d never want to hear another sound again"
He didn't know if it was just tall tales of an old blind man or not, but since Moryana did mention her, maybe there was some truth to it.
"Misha said she’s older than Halav himself! As old as the first groves... She can grant wishes, if she’s in the mood. But she’s fickle. Like the seasons; warm and gentle in Spring, cold and harsh in Winter"
The forest wind whispers through the trees when he finished talking, as if you were being listened to.
When Stefan speaks of the Lady, Boudica whispers a prayer to the Three to guide her. Like most Traladarans, she reveres the wild places, especially forests, but she does not know the ways of worshipping being such as the Lady. She only hopes the goodness of her heart and furness of her intentions protects her from any ill will the Lady might bear.
Except for Will.
When he tries to drink, the water tastes like brine, so salty it burns his throat going down. The food is just as bad. The bread, the dried meat - they all taste like the ashes scraped from the bottom of a long-dead fire. Every bite is a punishment, and he has to will himself to eat to satisfy the pangs of hunger.
And when he looks up, he notices they are no longer alone.
A man sits across from him, just beyond the reach of the fire's warmth. He is tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps in his forties, with a thick beard of black and iron-grey. His eyes are dark and intense, fixed on Will with a knowing, unreadable gaze.
He says nothing. Just watches, as if he's been waiting for Will all along.
"You are Halav. You made a vow, long ago, to return when your people needed you most. A thousand years have passed. The beastmen stir in their old warrens. Their cries will soon echo through the forests again"
The man slowly rises to his feet:
"War is coming. The time has come to fulfill your oath… and lead Mankind once more"
The Lawgiver has been gone since the dawn of the Dark Age, friend. So, again, I ask, who are you?
"I already told you who you are" he insists " You are the Lawgiver. The Shield of the People and the Savior of Traladara. You have returned, just as you swore you would, as a man, born again into a world you once died to protect"
The man turns his head lightly, to get Will’s attention to the two handed bronze sword he retrieved from the burial mound:
"You have reclaimed your sword. Your armor will find its way back to you, too. The memories will return. Nothing is gone, only buried beneath time. And now that the beastmen stir again, it is time for you to rise and remember your oath. You are Halav, and the world has need of you once more"
Will shrugs his shoulders, still uncertain if he’s dealing with an illusion…or, perhaps, something else!
Emerald eyes glance over at the bronze two-handed sword.
I’m not sure yet, Anton. Have you ever had someone try giving you a messiah complex?
Turning back to his apparition, our fightery fellow adds, Thank you friend, this is very interesting. Where might I find these beast-men?
Is there anything else, dear unnamed spirit, we should know at this time?
Will turns back to his friends and says, You all may want to sit down.
Our fightery fellow leads his friends over to the campfire light, and spins his grandiose yarn.
A fellow who wouldn’t give me his name, told me I’m King Halav, having just retrieved the two-handed sword from the burial mound. I guess that sword was his. He went on to tell me, the beast-men stir deep in the forest, and with rest and time I’ll find my armor and shield, and then I’ll need to face the beast-men in order to save the day, make the world a better place, all like that.
Will’s tone of half-hearted skepticism suddenly turns a bit dire. He casts emerald-eyed gaze upon Miyana. He also said, I must journey to Lav. There, he suggested I’ll find a powerful relic, capable of healing me… and also to heal you, Miyana.
Then, he disappeared, and that was it. Will exudes pensive pregnant pause, and then adds, He did have a very chic gray beard.
Maybe a trick of the hags…but for what purpose? They could’ve made life hard for us in a number of other, more direct ways.
Healed of…well…everything I eat tastes like ashes, and I simply have to force-feed myself, to keep from starving.