Episode 1

A very slight breeze is blowing from the north, which suggests that the smoke smell is coming from the thicker clump of trees just north and slightly west beyond the flood shack grouping.

Everyone moves cautiously and stealthily into the flooded shack area. The most difficult thing about movement is that there are so few avenues to transverse without being either slowed, bogged down, or at least noisy.After investigating several of the shelters, nothing of worth is found and there are still no clear signs that anyone has been living here, except for the possibility of a couple of shelters that are closest to the northwestern corner, nearest to the large set of trees that has a structure that has yet to be fully perceived.

In two of the large conical center-stack cross-lean shelters, Thorn finds a few blankets, some fire poker sticks, a few cracked and worn wooden bowls and plates, a rusted old tripod. At a small flat space nearby there are a few stones for an old fire circle, but it does not appear to have been used recently.

Still, to Thorn something just doesn't feel right. He takes note that some of the water stains on the walkway planks seem irregular. There is wetness on some of the old boards and nearby ground that is not necessarily close to water. Was there something that poured the water there? Something wet that moved across these areas recently? It is very difficult to say definitively, but the pools of water that are peppered throughout the whole area may have been disturbed or passed through recently. Thorn points these telltale signs out to the group and explains the irregularity.

All the while the party is edging ever closer across the shelter congregation, traveling from the east towards the north and west, seeking to gain a better vantage point on the heavily covered high ground that is not too far beyond. Eventually, about half way through the rugged shelter area, it becomes clear that there is indeed a large structure beyond, tucked away in several large trees whose sprawling and above-ground root systems intertwine to make a large region of interwoven roots and pools of water, overlaid periodically with planks.

As the group gets closer, it becomes clear that the fire is coming directly from that structure and multi-tree area that remains partially concealed because of all of the low hanging tree branches. Soon, smoke can be seen floating up through the branches, apparently originating somewhere on the other side of the overgrown barrier.

Walking a little further on, coming out of the flooded shack and walkway section on its west side, the party rounds a corner enough to finally gains a good vantage point over the whole overgrown nook of tree growth. Enveloped in a wrap of trees, and built around the largest tree as its structural base, sits a huge multi-leveled wood plank hut.

The wood cabin is very old, banged up, no beauty of architecture, and largely covered with mold and lichen, but it seems to be actively inhabited. On it's higher deck, with no clear stairs leading up to, sits a large stone or pottery cauldron-like cylinder. Within the cylinder, burning on the high platform, is a fire. Smoke rolls up in the air from the cauldron.

Looking at the tattered flags and banners hanging from the awnings of the hut, Ivor recognizes the markings clearly. From traditions he has been away from for many years, but there is no doubt. This house is the dwelling of a practitioner of the dark arts of magic, the abode of a shaman, a sorcerer, a witch. The trappings and decoratives are both lures and warnings to almost any Dannein. They promise both knowledge and danger, blessing and curse, all depending on the whim and power of the one who dwells within.

Leading the way on their stealthy move through the shelter flood zone, Kray and Ivor are now standing closest to the hut, about 20 meters away. They are still separated from the rustic house by a large gully that bottoms out in another flood and mud zone, and rises again on the other side at the base of the house in a tangled array of gnarled roots and a rising trunk of the large dark trees around which the structure is built.

Talius and Thorn are several strides behind the party leads, Thorn moving away from his investigation of the large triangular shelter that housed some old supplies. Qiu is back a little further still, positioning himself on firm ground, a series of plank boards that sit over the top of muddy saturated grass that leads back into the conglomerate of shelters.

Qiu continues to scan the area. The hiding spots and options for concealment are endless in this place. The terrain provides cover, limits visibility, and likely gives those unfamiliar a disadvantage on managing mobility. A perfect spot for an ambush. The Alijanian remains vigilant, and for good reason.

Kray and Ivor are the first to notice, but quickly alert the others. There is movement on the upper deck. A tall, elaborately ornamented, older yet sturdy Dannein steps forward slowly out of the house, emerging onto the overlook, and halting deliberately to stand next to the smoking cauldron.


The large tall man looks out directly at the approaching party. His skin is mostly covered in blue paint. He holds an elaborate staff in his hand. Talismans, charms, and ornamentation of all sorts adorn him nearly head to toe. The details are not clear from this distance, but he is armed by some sort of handled tool or weapon at his side, as well as at least two knives that are sheathed on his belt line.

Standing high on the perch, the shaman knocks his staff loudly on the platform. "Who approaches the abode of the ancients? Who risks against the peril of magical doom? Speak quickly yet choose carefully your words, mortals. I am Fingol, Claimant of the Ancient Ways, Inheritor of the Secret Sigils of Nahrooma, Master of All Powers Over the Burial Planes, Speaker To the Dead. I will know your names, your titles, and your intentions at once!"

As the shaman speaks, the flames in the cauldron next to him begin to rise suddenly. A thick blue smoke billows upward into the air, weaving in the upper branches of the trees, but at the same time pouring out over the cauldron and clinging to the deck as well. Soon the house and its immediate support structure are encased in an eerie veil of wispy blue haze.

"A Kingsman looking for the spawn of a half-breed hex dabbler? You are strange travelers indeed," Fingol says, his voice heavy and booming. He laughs in a deep voice, rather condescending. "And it pains me to see this soft-handed craftsman speaking for The People. As I often see of late, the stock of the western clans is weakening. Each generation becoming more servile and diminished, subdued as lackeys of the Oceaneers."The fire pops and cracks in the cauldron. Fingol moves his hand out over the fire as if manipulating it. "Let me be the first to tell you, Youngster Mercon, that your mission is an impossible one to complete. Unfortunately for you. Were you aware that the impotent trickster called Rutcrana was declared a heretic and has since been slain in the old ways according to Bat Hannoc tradition? She rebelled against her own people and sought the ruin of her clan. For that she was sentenced to death by Norach Gorolach. She met her proper fate and doom. The girl that you seek was a victim of recent culling within the clan. Rutcrana's vile lineage was righteously purged for the glory of Nahrooma and the Enlightened Mind."

Now the smoke is thick in the area. Fingol is partially concealed in the mist, though his voice thunders through clearly. "The notorious whore had many daughters over ages, her willingness to bed foreigners legendary, so it is difficult to keep record of all of her half-breed spawn young and old. But I am certain that the line of the Brogh Hag through Rutcrana Gravescratcher has finally been ended - a praise to the sons of Ardent Hannoc, though certainly a disappointment to you, a soft man raised in a comfortable house of stone and pillows, a man who understands so very little about the land in which he stands and the people whom he has visited, in pursuit of this . . . fool's errand."