Episode 1

Previously...note="Xorthan"]...
Rutcrana is very pleased to get Fingol's bag. She says yes, she can use this stuff. Most of it is hers anyway and she is glad to get it back. She got all of her home back, thanks to you.

She is surprised, but pleasantly surprised, that Thorn asks about the ritual material. She explains that the deck is set up as her Seance Field, using the icon towers on the four corners. The icons represent the Sun (called Morha), the White Moon (Dascha), the Broken Moon (Anu Sinda Vaden), and the Stars of the Dark Tapestry (Sa Nosh'u Diam). She was able to wield ancient words against Glaaki earlier, a language that he thought that no one knew. Glaaki is powerful, but he is not the only power that comes from the Sky.

She asks Thorn if he knows any hexes, or if his mother or perhaps any of his aunts knew how to write sigils. She asks because she can tell that he has a remnant of arcana in his voice. That means that one of his female relatives blessed him under ancient symbols soon after the time of his birth.

She can tell that Thorn is a cunning man. A Yuoric who has mastered Dannein better than any foreigner she has ever heard speak.
A man whose eyes and ears let nothing go by unnoticed.
"You have the mind of a savant. Perhaps so far you have focused learning the arts of war. There are other things that a man of talent like you could learn though, Thorn. Secret ways. Words of power. Methods of mastering the elements, beasts, even men.
Even women. Have you thought of learning the true world about you, battle master? In the way that the enlightened warriors of old knew it?"

Needless to say that she is, as always, deliciously alluring as she speaks.

She seems fascinated with Thorn as he talks. Becoming drawn in by what is perhaps an unexpected intellectual depth in a man of such physical prowess. As she listens to him. She caresses his face and asks, "Who are you? Are you toying with me, beautiful stranger?"

Her brow turns to concern. "If you have a spell to hook me with, then do it, but know that I will never forget that I am her mother."

She seems a bit angry now, and then her face breaks with sadness. Tears well up in her eyes. She turns away, wipes her eyes, and then stares back at Thorn with puffy eyes and a pleading but resolute look.

"Thorn of the Western Wall, my savior. My doom? Whatever you must do to me, please do not take my daughter. Do not deliver her to the hands of the devil."

[/note]

Guessing the above was supposed to be a note for Xorthan?

The large bull alligator comes up to the edge. He has already eaten all of the body parts thrown into the murk. From the water, the beast stares in stillness and quiet at Maeriks on the shore.

Then it paddles forward. In a blink it is sliding through the grass on the shoreline and up the small hill. With a fast waddling dash the huge monster makes it way to Maeriks, then slows.

It opens its mouth wide in a jerk, lets it sit open for a while, and then slowly closes. With that, the alligator slips around and comes to Maerik's side. It crouches down beside the big man, its belly sinking onto the grass. With its legs now loose and relaxed, it breathes out a few heavy puffs. It blinks its eyes slowly, looking out towards the water of the lake in silence.

Previously...note="Constablebrew"]...[/note]

Previously....note="Constablebrew"]...
Roughly that is correct, although I have not published that anywhere previously. Boat to the north east shoreline, which is east of the cabin.

Here's my longer process of why:

Maeriks would have been leaving from Driftwood, west of here. So from Driftwood he paddles towards the east. He sees Old Island from the west side of it. If he rows right in to the closest landing, he would come to ground on the west side of the island. But I did not think that is what he would have done.

Rutcranna's cabin is at the northern coastline, not quite at the north most pinnacle, but close. Offset slightly to the west. Her little pier with boats is in a small inlet right there nearby, very close to the north pinnacle of the entire island. That is where Fingol was killed. I do not envision that as the landing point of Maeriks, mainly because Thorn would have seen him earlier when he was there.

The mercenary party paddled around and docked on the north east side of the island. I had some thought that Maeriks may have watched them from a distance, followed them, and maybe docked near the same place, possibly even finding their boats and checking them out before he walked towards the cabin on his own.

Knowing the lay of the land and better at picking swamp routes, I thought Maeriks would have gone around more to the north and then east to end up at Rutcranna's cabin faster, using the high ground of the north coast line, instead of slogging through the flooded village of the low slump in the central northern area following the lure of structures.

All of that route would have placed him where he was, watching the cabin from the north and east, not from the south approach where the mercenaries came from. He then would have heard the battle, ran up to get a closer look, actually saw Phantom come gliding over the building, injured and puking near the supply cabin maybe, and then hooking himself up to the recharge station at the Grey Flesh Tree.

Then Maeriks sees Thorn come in. Sees a couple rounds of battle between those guys in the clearing around the tree. After summoning up the courage, Maeriks bull rushes into the clearing from the east to lay down the Action Surge Wrestle Slam combo. [/note]

As the afternoon shifts to the evening, the group talks to one another, prepares gear, and gets ready for a move off of Old Island after nightfall. Rutcranna continues to busy herself throughout the cabin - cooking, packing, mixing, shifting through cabinets and drawers, pouring elixirs into clay pottery vases with cork tops, wrapping powder mixes in leather and paper wraps tied with twine.

She advises the men to steal some hours sleeping if they can. They will need the rest and may get no other option to sleep during the night. With the tough day of hiking through the swamp trail, rowing across An Tulecheo, and then fighting in mortal combat, the advice is difficult to resist because everyone is exhausted.

Soon afternoon shifts to evening, and then evening to night. The night of the swamp seems more foreboding than ever now, with the knowledge that such horror lurks within the darkness. The temperature drops rather abruptly and a considerable chill takes to the air.

Everyone begins to get to the real task of preparing for departure, having heard a general plan, but not knowing exactly what will come next. Groggy from short naps and a heavy meal, the men work mostly without talking for a time. But overall it was good to have gotten the food and some time to recover.

Rutcranna, wearing an open neck blouse and a thin silk skirt, equipped with a large basket woven backpack, speaks out to the men."It is time to depart. I will light the fires out on the deck. Then we must go quickly to the abomination growth at the old tree.
I have a fluid to insert in it that will help cover our escape. Then we will meet Maeriks at the piers, he has readied the boats."

She picks up another shoulder bag and a tall gnarled walking stick.
"Steady yourselves and follow my lead without delay as we cross An Tulecheo. This is the most dangerous moment of our gamble: getting across the Murk. Once we get to the shore on the far side, we can regroup. But from the time that we get onto the water until the time that we land, we must act in complete silence and without the smallest hint of light or smoke. If anyone must speak, let it be me only - and then in only a soft whisper will I speak guidance."

She moves out to the deck and lights several fires in cauldrons. Smoke begins to fill the air outside. Strange smells flood through the cabin. Rutcranna douses the fires inside at the two chimneys and blows out all of the candles.

"Steel your resolve. Let us move through the forest in the silence of the elder stags and slide across the lake like slickback otters. These monsters who seek to devour our bones will not see us this night. We will disappear into the ether and their senses from the stars will fail them."

With that she turns to depart, exiting the cabin to the north end, heading towards the old dead tree covered in the wretched grey flesh.

Previously...note="jabes.plays.rpg"]Rutcranna passes Ivor while out on the deck as she is getting supplies out from her outdoor tool shed. She looks down at Ivor's wrist, apparently staring at his Druid-wrought torc that he recently won at the Stone Circle.

She looks up with a questioning look at Ivor, "Do you wear that so that the druid can always know where you are, and so that he can sicken and weaken you if he comes to think of you as an enemy?"

"How long have you been wearing this, Champion? If you do not know already, that is a tool for the druid who gave it to you, not a harmless decorative or charm for you. Have you ever felt that you were being followed?"

Then she shakes off the line of questions, and resets.

"I do not mean offense, Ivor. Forgive me. You are from the north, somewhere near the Huskan Forest, are you not? I have tried to recognize your accent, so perhaps I am right, but perhaps not""If you were from that region, then I suspect you know of what the Black Druids did to the people there. To the Canuchans and the Dunlev Snow Owl Clans? To those People, it was seen as the greatest of betrayals. To us who know about the true nature of the druids who write the Sigils of the Broken Moon, we hear of such a tale and wonder why it was a surprise to anyone at all. Those silver-tongued tattooed wretches have no truth in them, and they are always work to bleed the clans who seek their help. When the Vaden Druids look upon their own people, instead of a flock to care for, they see a feast laid before them - a feast that they will gladly partake in year after year."

"I would cast that torc into the lake if I were you, Ivor Connal's Son. But it is yours to retain if you choose, I am clear in understanding that. Each man must discern his own path."
[/note]

Ivor, Kray, and Thorn follow Rutcranna out of the door, over the ridge past the north clearing, and into the scrub forest on the way to the grey flesh tree. With little break in stride, Rutcranna walks up to the side of the tree and downloads her weave basket backpack to the ground carefully. She takes a long slender wooden funnel out and without hesitation inserts it into the deadened flesh glob. Using a free hand, she uncorks a jug of fluid and pours it directly into the spout.

There is no sound, but there is a noticeable heave or shift in the flesh. Rutcranna holds steady though and empties all of the contents of the jug. She puts the cork back onto the jug, packs it and the funnel back in her bag, and then nods to the group. Without delay the group is walking next towards the small piers nearby.

There at the piers sits Maeriks. When he sees everyone approach, he gets up. There is a startling sound of rustling through the grass and a soft splash into the water in the darkness behind Maeriks, but nothing can be seen in the darkness to confirm the sound. Maeriks however pays no mind to it, nor does Rutcranna. They both move to load into the boats.

Rutcranna Maeriks and Thorn get in one boat. Ivor and Kray in another. The only sounds heard are the squeaking of the old wood planks on the pier and the groan and knock of the travelers getting into the boat. Then the gentle stroking sounds of oars against water as Maeriks begins to row the lead boat out away from the pier. Ivor and Kray fall in line, traveling to the side of and just behind the other boat.

Within a minute's time, the group is well away from the landing and surrounded by the dark waters. The light of the stars and moon reflects down onto the water, but visibility out at a distance is limited.

It is soon clear that a large alligator is trailing behind the boat. On closer look, another one is ahead. Rutcranna sees this and seems to accept it. The group is soon to see why.

After several minutes of rowing, Rutcranna bends down beside Maeriks, putting a hand on his shoulder as he rows. Bringing her face down beside his, she points off to the side. Maeriks sees another alligator angling in towards the boats from a distance.

The original trailing alligator breaks off course and moves to directly intercept the other alligator approaching from afar. Soon there is an alligator fight on the surface of An Tulecheo, the protective alligator versus the threatening one. As the fight rages, the boats keep paddling. Soon the splashes and thrashing becomes more and more distant.

The same thing happens again. The other ally alligator previously in the lead trails off to the side to engage in direct battle against another of its kind that is approaching. This battle rages on as well. The boats keep moving. Now the northern shoreline is visible in the distance, a cloudy outline of gray trees. The rowers press on with new vigor.

Soon a third alligator is seen approaching from the rear. Rutcranna peers out to look at it. She signals for Kray to ready a bow, but hold fire. Then she signals to notch an arrow and prepare. But then, when the threatening alligator is only about 40 feet from the boat, a huge splash and thrash of water from behind it - an ally alligator emerges from the depths behind to snap it's opponent's tail! Again a water battle ensues, with noise levels spiking up and then going back down as the group gets further away.

The cloudy images turn into true forms of trees as the distance recedes. Soon the ground is approaching again and it becomes apparent again just how fast the boats were traveling.

Rutcranna gives a signal to move on and quickly. The boats slide into a landing and the boaters jump off with the kept momentum. Transitioning to a quick march and drag, the group slides the boats up and into the bushes. No time is squandered on extensive camouflage, the vessels are just tucked under foliage.

With a quick step, the group glides through the dark trees at the shoreline, deeper into the woods. After a short trot, Rutcranna stops the group and kneels down beside a medium sized tree. The others follow suit and kneel down, huddling close to each other in a small oval formation looking outward in all directions - watching, listening, smelling, feeling the environment around them, letting their senses adjust and restabilize after the sprint of action.

They hear the natural chirp and croak of the swamp. They hear their own heavy breathing at first, and then they work it down, slower, steadier. Soon that sound is gone too.

They see nothing around them but old, thick, black trees - large sharp-angled branches that hold few leaves. Already the thinning crescent moon is nearly hidden from view behind to canopy cover above.

After the time in silence of sensory reset, Rutcranna stands up walks around to each man and whispers an update, leaning in close and still committed to the effort to minimize all sound.

She passes along the message, "We have flown from then enemy's strongest clutch, now we must move entirely away of his earshot and eyesight. Let us press on into to Black Goatswood, to many a dread but to us a hope. Travel with weapon in hand, ready to fight if we must, but do not charge and slay just all who would come near us. Wait for my signal before fighting; it is important now to correctly discern friend from foe."

She puts a hand on each man's shoulder or arm, "Once we ford across an old slow brook to the north, we will be able to lower our guard by degrees. Well done thus far. Follow on close behind me, be vigilant, and we will yet make good our full escape."

The group follows Rutcranna what is initially north. Over time the trajectory seems to shift to the east, but in truth it becomes difficult to track azimuth, distance traveled, and direction. The darkness is oppressive. Visibility of the stars and moon is intermittent at best.

Crossing the brook mentioned earlier turns out to be quite an ordeal. The bank is steep and slippery. The flow of the water is considerable. And the water is extremely cold in the cool night air. After making it to the other side, the entire party is chilled to the bone and soaked. Soon they must make a stop to recover and regroup. Rutcranna stops, sets her bag down, and says in a normal volume voice, "We stop here. Maeriks, we need a sunk fire. I have a spaid."

Soon there is a nice fire burning in a pit. Logs and rocks are stacked on the outside to limit light projection, but the warmth generated is a welcome boost. Everyone is able to dry themselves and some of their clothing.

Rutcranna takes out a bag of dried leaves and crisp brambles. She tosses the assortment in the fire. The fuel burns like the rest of the sticks and brush, but a noticeable aroma now permeates the area. A not unpleasant one, a sort of mint smell.

"We are likely already being watched. And if not, we will be soon. We will be joined soon by a group that we must make an appeal for cooperation. We cannot afford confrontation or even indifference, so avoid threatening behavior and be careful of your actions when we are approached," Rutcranna says. "The Tochoans are a suspicious race. I will only get one chance to convince them to hear our appeal.""Know this, bold men," Rutcranna says, crouching down close to the fire, "Even if Scachan Lamh'ard followed you and was watching out from the water or from the woods at all times previous, he would not dare to come into these realms. I suspect that this might be your first moments away from his oversight. For that I am pleased, and you should be too whether you know it or not. And whether you believe it or not."

Dannein translation note: lamh ard means "high hand".

Previously...note="Oxbox"]...
In the middle of the night, Pumji stirs Bryn from his slumber. Sitting up on his low reed cot, Bryn looks at the tracker and waits. Bryn has quit trying to initiate conversation with Pumji. The little man will only speak if he wants to, but he may go most of the day in silence, using only hand motions. Bryn wonders which it will be this night, and why.

"Prepare yourself. We must run. Come." Pumji says in Dannein, with body language telling Bryn to get dressed and equipped.

It was not worth arguing or asking more. Bryn just gets dressed and ready to run. An odd hour, but he soon finds himself welcoming the activity. It has been three days since he was last invited on a hunt. Maybe he will be able to see more of the land, maybe spot a boat or a main waterway with good flow that could tell him which way was downstream.

And if not, maybe there was at least a chance to score some good game, run a good cook for morning, and get his mind off of the monotony of staying in this most recent Tcho-Tcho camp.

His gear in place, Bryn steps out of the small wigwam. Pumji, Kwing, and some of the other bola hunters are staged up outside. All of the little men wear only loincloths. They carry bolas, spears, and javelins, stone and bone knives.

And also Nolp was in the line up?! That was something new. Bryn had never seen the elder leader gear up for a hunt. Could the old fire tender keep up at the hunt run pace?

The question is soon answered. Nolp sprints along just like all of the others. He does not seem elderly now. The Tcho-Tcho continue to be a mystery. A withered little man dashing through the dark forest with the speed and quickness of a young stag.

Bryn's dark-skinned companions, none of them more than a few inches over four feet tall, all tear through the forest at full sprint, making only the slightest of sounds and never faltering once in there step.

The darkness is near total. Bryn is running as fast as he can to keep up. [/note]

The men wait for a time there at the fire site, looking outwards into the darkness, seeking a sign of an incoming party.

From the edge of the range of light, a small movement. Then he steps forward into the light.

It is a man, but a very small man. Short in height, about 4' tall, and also thin in frame. He wears nothing but a loin cloth. His muscles are tight and strong, with his small frame he looks like a bunch of tightly wrapped ropes. His puffy hair is dark, thick, course, wavy, and has a bright sheen to it in the fire. He has no facial hair and a pug looking scowl of a face, with broad cheeks and angular thick lips, and thick bushy eyebrows. In his hand he carries a small spear and has it held at the low ready as he approaches cautiously in the light.
In real world description, picture something like a mini aborigine, but his face is a little harsher and more abnormal looking, more scowling.


Rutcranna gets up and steps to the fire. She scoops her hand into a bag, gathers a handful of shavings, and tosses them into the fire. They are apparently a flammable agent. The small pit fire swells out and surges, casting a huge glow out into the night.

The border line of the light suddenly surges out into the darkness. A wide wave of light washes out into the surrounding trees.

Now bathed in the expanding firelight, dozens more of the little men pop into visibility. It is now clear that the site is close to being surrounded. The small brown skinned men are everywhere.

Everyone is prepared for anything, but clearly they anticipate a parley. Rutcranna speaks out, breaking the silence. Her voice is firm and clear, loud but not overbearing. She speaks in a strange tribal tongue, a language that sounds entirely different than Yuoric and Dannein.

Kray at first does not recognize the language, but then there is some familiarity. Though it is not the pure version of the language, he hears remnants, words, and styles of the Gaeirmundi. He tries to shift his mind to that way of speaking - it has been quite some time since he was around it.

Rutcranna seems to finish her statement, and pauses as if waiting for a response. After a moment of silence, one of the small men, the one who first entered the closer ring of light, begins to speak in return. His voice is low and rough, and hoarse. Perhaps it seems too husky for a man of such small frame. He talks back to Rutcranna in the same language. His pace is even, deliberate, measured.

There is a back and forth between the two for quite a while, probably two minutes.

Previously...note="Ezeriah"]...
Kray cannot pin this down entirely; the language used is a different language. But it is clearly based from Gaeirmundi.

The man seems to be talking about the possibility of the more travel and relocation. Then he says the group must come somewhere... to the ... some word is unknown. There is something about uncertainty and decisions by elders. They are definitely mentioning the bad guys and a time of fighting...they definitely talk about alligators and deep water. Then there is some talk of a great black something. Not familiar with the work. The black horse? No that does not seem to fit.

Other vocabulary and maybe names are peppered in the discourse Kray thinks. Two of them that rise to the top are "Chim Nolp" (like normal English ch sound, not Dannein which is always like a k from the back of the throat) and "Kognaur Fown."

Kray interprets that Rutcranna is agreeing to move with the little men, the Tochoans apparently, to another site near here.

At the end, he can tell Rutcranna asks the speaker's name. He gives his name: Pumji[/note]

As the group looks around, watching the little tribal warriors, out at the edge of the light stands a normal man. This man does not seem exceptionally huge, but he is definitely a full-framed man of familiar type. He is not dressed in loincloths, but instead he wears the garb of a Dannein traveler. To Kray he looks just like many of the Dannein rakes who can be seen on the streets of Poyam or Lanberis.
Will talk later sidebar on what that term rake means. It's a Yuoric slang word.

The Dannein man looks directly at the group. Like many Danneins, his facial expressions are difficult to read. He is armed with two forward-curving kukri blades, sheathed on both sides of his belt.

Previously...note="Constablebrew"]...

Maeriks instantly knows who these little warriors are. They are the fable tcho-tcho.

The tcho-tcho is sort of spoken of in Bat Hannoc culture like we talk about a rare race, maybe a mythology, like dwarves or leprechauns.

But Maeriks knows tcho-tchos are real. He has seen one for sure once before when he was a kid, and then he thought he saw one later in life, maybe 3 or 4 years ago.

(this is the old childhood story about tcho-tcho that Maeriks was told by his father Mahan when he was a boy.)
A sighting of a tcho-tcho is said to be a precarious thing for any man or child. It can lead to either good luck or bad luck.

If you see a tcho-tcho, what you should do is be careful to not threaten him. If you chase after him, you are likely to fall in one of his pit traps, because they are really good at setting up pit traps.
Then, if you want to get good luck and avoid bad luck, you should take out some sort of trinket, treat, or gift. You take the token offering, and you creep up slowly, and put the token down nearby. Ideally it should be on the other side of a tree or bush, and maybe covered up with a stick or a leaf or two. And then you go back and wait for a while.

During this time the tcho-tcho will obviously pop out of sight and be hiding. So you wait for a while and look away in another area, turning your back on the token offering. After a short wait, you go back to check on the token that you left.

If the token is gone, that means that the tcho-tcho took it and you will have good luck. Usually for as long as a full moon cycle.

If the token is still there, that means that the tcho-tcho rejected your token and you will have bad luck. Most of the time it means you will be in an accident or you might fall into a pit or something.

When Maeriks first saw a tcho-tcho, he was around 8 years old. He was with his dad who guided him through the process. They offered a sizeable length of good tight twine that was wrapped around a carved stick. After the wait and looking away, his dad showed him that the tcho-tcho had taken the gift, so he was happy to see that Maeriks would have good luck. A couple of days later, Maeriks found an old obsidian arrowhead. So that was good luck. Then later, he caught a huge catfish, the biggest he had ever seen. And then, he had won a climbing race against some of the other kids. Seemed like the luck worked.

Later when Maeriks was an adult, he thought he saw a tcho-tcho, so he offered a small spoon. The spoon was still there on inspection. Maeriks was worried about the bad luck. Sure enough he tripped several times over the next cycle. And he also got his hand stabbed pretty bad by a sharpened barb spike. A swinging tapir trap failed to set correctly and it sprung loose by accident when he was setting the trap. It went almost completely through his hand.
[/note]