Aldrùan 1-2, 653 DR: Eyes of Ilûwyr welcoming party. Hūdū in the Village of Nyl. Refuge in the Ilûwyr Inn. A chatty innkeeper. An indefinite stay. Guests of the Magstìr Nor Nyl. An audience with Azmàdym Kùmunu. Back at the inn. Lylàna’s business proposition. The Dwürden antiquarian. Memories of a red dagger.

Continued from Into the Wastes.

Alídor, 1 Aldrùan 653

The first three individuals stepped out of the lodge door and stood to one side as others followed, holding large dog-like creatures on doubled leashes. The beasts had the long thin legs of carriage dogs, but were covered in thick hair and scales that covered the their rear halves. The creatures wore no barding and were marked by gruesome battle scars. They struggled against their leashes, growling and bearing their teeth. Dammon began preparing Jyrik’s Rain of Icy Knives, Jak lowered a spear, and Fyrgol drew Skaeldythoel which was ablaze with oreche fire. Once the approaching group was arrayed, one figure walked forward with a dagger in hand. Nervously looking about for the reason of his sword’s fire, Fyrgol translated the stranger’s comments. “Welcome. I am Illàyma Ilân of Ilûwyr Erúsdur. What brings you to Nyl?” Fyrgol’s eyes darted back and forth between the faceless stranger and the slavering hounds. The person sounded female but he could not see behind her wraps and goggles. Fyrgol avoided the question, asking instead where they might find lodging. The woman asked again, “What business brings you to Nyl?” Fyrgol turned to get input from his companions. Finally he consented, “We’re looking for something.” The figure made an open ambiguous gesture, answering “Perhaps I can help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” Fyrgol was still distracted by Skaeldythoel’s flame, and thankful no one else could see it. At this point Dammon stepped forward and addressed the woman in Oðic. He explained that there were many things to do, but they were exhausted from their travels and sought only lodging this day. Illàyma turned her attention to Dammon and spoke with him in Oðic for some time. After some discussion, Dammon introduced his companions, all without talking business. Finally, Illàyma offered accommodations at the lodge. Zêla squirmed at the idea, she didn’t trust this welcoming party at all. Dammon stated that an inn would be suitable, so the woman directed them toward the village’s only inn which stood near the gate. A second figure walked up to Illàyma and whispered in her ear. The woman looked around warily and then retreated up the stairs toward the Ilûwyr Erúsdur lodge.

As the group turned to find the inn, Fyrgol spied a tall shadowy figure stepping between the buildings. Fyrgol yelled “Hūdū!” but no one else could see the long dark arm reaching over a nearby rooftop. Jak felt a bone aching cold shudder through his body as the phantom’s outstretched hand passed through his flesh. Fyrgol raced to Jak’s aid, cutting through the dark form with his sword. Instead of dispatching the creature, the Hūdū divided into two mirror images of itself. Fyrgol stepped back to observe this new effect. Each new shape was translucent, barely visible even with his Feyri eyes. As Jak recovered from his shaking, he found that he could see the monsters towering over him. Gripping his spear tightly, Jak its point into the apparition, just as everything went dark for him. Ērēus rushed forward as Jak staggered blindly about the dusty street, stabbing at the space Jak had attacked. Tressta swung her sword at the air as well, but couldn’t be sure if she’d hit one of the invisible attackers.

Jak found himself in a well-appointed ship’s cabin. There was a desk piled with maps and a spilled glass of wine, rolling back and forth with rolling waves. He could not act but heard a voice calling, “What’s wrong? What has happened? Where are you?” He recognized the voice as High Lord Rott’s, but before he could answer another shudder of cold gripped his body and he was back on the freezing village street, in the middle of combat, his spear in hand.

Tressta shivered in her leather wraps as a freezing touch passed close to her. Fyrgol appeared nearby, cutting at the air. A horrible shriek echoed through the village, causing windows and doors to open as the populace came to life. Tressta stabbed at the Hūdū, but couldn’t be sure whether she hit or not. Fyrgol’s sword blazed with fire higher than he was tall, its oreche flame highlighting every detail of the shadowy foe for him. The Hūdū swung at the Feyri, he parried to the sound of a second shriek and then buried his blade into the creature. The thing vanished in muted agony. The second Hūdū circled around and passed its hand through Tressta. The cold seized her bones and set her teeth to violent chattering. Turning on a heel, she saw the assailant for the first time, towering over her, swinging a long shadowy hand. As the hand came down everything went dark for the Taládan.

Tressta stood in a tranquil courtyard, the smell of flowers wafting through the warm air. Nearby, a fountain of crystal water tumbled down across the marble form of Amra holding a bouquet of marble flowers. It was warm and peaceful there. Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls music was playing, an old tune that she remembered from her childhood in Evermið. Sitting beside the fountain, Tressta found it easy to forget her troubles.

Ērēus and Fyrgol raced to Tressta’s aid. Ērēus slashed at the air but could not see what he was fighting. Fyrgol sank Skaeldythoel into the creature and a third shriek filled the village. The Hūdū faded from sight. The Feyri sword’s invisible flame flickered but refused to die. As Ērēus and Zêla helped Tressta regain her senses, the group turned once again toward the inn. Behind them, Illàyma Ilân, or some other anonymous stranger, reappeared on the steps to Ilûwyr Erúsdur. People from all over the village in fact, stepped tentatively from their homes and businesses to get a glimpse of the peculiar one-sided combat. No one that lived in Nyl questioned the possibility of a fight with invisible enemies, but all wondered how a group might survive such a thing. While they moved back toward the gate, Dammon’s Conscience informed him that another Hūdū was moving on the village’s far side. Fyrgol confirmed Dammon’s warning. Instead of seeking the creature, the group found and entered the inn.

Inside they found a dim room with heavy timber beams and an inviting stone fireplace. A number of guests sat around the room in comfortable chairs, some reading, some puffing on pipes, others asleep. As the group entered, all conversation stopped for a moment, as they were scrutinized by the other guests. A bearded man at the far counter motioned them in and bid them shut the door. The conversations, smoking, and snoring resumed as soon as Ērēus closed the door behind them. The innkeeper was an older man, frail in his years and missing more teeth than he had remaining. “Welcome to the Ilûwyr Inn,” he smiled, opening a large book on the counter. “My name is Barádas. How many rooms will you be needing?” The group reserved three rooms on the upper floor, but couldn’t tell the innkeeper for how long. “It’s no concern,” the man explained. “Winter is upon us, there won’t be many more coming this way.” While the group settled, Dammon and Fyrgol asked the innkeeper about the town. The man spoke a heavily accented form of Ildûnic which Dammon could almost understand. Dammon directed the conversation toward the lodges. Barádas pointed through the front door, describing the village’s center as her were looking through a window. “The nearest lodge is Nor Nyl, sign of swords. The lodge head is Azmàdym. It was founded long ago by a Ðard. I don’t know much more. They’re like hunting lodges you understand, only I don’t they do any hunting, not anymore. The next lodge around the circle is the Burning Hand. That’s the newest of the lodges, not the lodge itself, but the people within. They seem well-funded. Many wagons have carried supplies to the lodge in the last couple years. The building was abandoned for some time, so I presume they’re doing repairs behind the sail. The central lodge is Ilûwyr. Nasty group, be careful of them.” Dammon and Fyrgol looked at one another. These were the people they’d met in the courtyard. Perhaps it had been prudent to decline their invitation? “The fourth lodge is the Old Guard. All the years I’ve been here, I’ve never talked with them. I don’t know what they do. The last lodge is just a building. Some villagers believe it’s haunted. People go in from time to time and either are never seen again or immediately leave the village. I’ve never ventured in myself. Who would want to?” The two then asked Barádas about the rest of Nyl. “The only other building of interest is Overlook Hall. It’s on the western point of the village and is considered neutral. The Lodgemen sometimes have meetings there, but mostly it is empty. It’s popular with visitors, gives a good view of the Great Death. Who wouldn’t want to see that?” The man whistled to himself through his gapped smile. Dammon asked for a messenger through Fyrgol. A minute later a stable-boy arrived and Dammon sent him to the Magstìr Nor Nyl, the first lodge Barádas had described. The group thanked the innkeeper for his help, collected their things, and went to their rooms.

In their chambers, Fygol drew his sword again and found tiny comfort that the oreche flame was barely a flicker along its edge. After resting a short time, there was a polite rapping at Dammon’s door. The stableboy explained that the lodge head Azmàdym had extended his welcome. While the stableboy waited, the group wrapped themselves up again and left the inn. The young man led them between a number of smaller houses and then up the stairs of the first lodge on the left. The group followed warily, watching for reactions from the diminutive form of Fyrgol who remained very alert as they walked. Climbing the two tiered stairs, they came to a cast metal door depicting battles between Yrūn soldiers and skeletal Undying. The stableboy opened the door without hesitation and motioning for the others to follow. Once Ērēus was inside, he closed the door and undid his goggles and head-covering. The group stood in a tall atrium that once had a large round window that brought sunlight into the hall. Now the glass was patched with heavy wooden boards that creaked overhead with each gust of wind. The walls were covered in moldered tapestries and headless hunting trophy plaques. An elder gentleman in old-fashioned entered the room, bowing his bald head. “The Lodge Head will see you now,” he announced.

In the next room they found a large wooden desk flanked by giant tusks. The walls were cluttered with barren trophy plagues, chipped paintings, and a large stained glass window depicting a ring of swords. Everything was covered in years of dust and spider webs. As they entered, another older gentleman stood from behind the desk. As he stood, he grabbed a sword from atop the desk and pulled it from its scabbard. The gentleman introduced himself as Azmàdym Kùmunu, Head of the Magstìr Nor Nyl. The chalky skinned Dammon directed the conversation, asking first about the Ilûwyr lodge. Azmàdym sighed and his shoulders drooped with resignation. “They are troubled of late,” he summarized. He explained that the Eyes of Ilûwyr lost a few of their numbers recently when they attacked a swordsman, newly returned from the Great Death. Believing the man to be laden with treasures, they ambushed him and many were killed. They lost a number of their members In response to questions about the dagger, he claimed no knowledge of the artifact, but offered that a great many interesting objects pass through the village. Regarding the Old Guard, Azmàdym explained that its head was a man named Sadàys, and that the lodge was the oldest in Nyl. He knew little more than Barádas regarding what they did. Regarding the Burning Hand, Azmàdym explained that they arrived last year and have been very busy. His understanding was that they belonged to a Lyrasti trading guild of the same name. He had no idea what business they had in Nyl. When asked about the exploring the Great Death, Azmàdym only suggested that the group find help. Regarding the lion creature that nearly claimed Jak’s leg, Azmàdym knew very little except to say that there were many abominable creatures roaming the region. He did know; however, the story of the chained ghosts. Azmàdym explained that they were refugees who tried to escape the Catastrophe that reshaped Ilûwyr, but they were hunted down and slaughtered by the Eylfāe. The pillar was erected some time later to memorialize the place where they were killed. The Lodge Head found it curious that the group had seen ghosts bound to the spot; he didn’t recall hearing that before. He did say that the Undying were numerous throughout the Great Death, like a kingdom of lost souls. After an hour or more of discussion and stories, the group returned to the inn.

Back at the Ilûwyr Inn, Dammon questioned Barádas some more. The innkeeper claimed not to remember Gelzyus, but said that a handful of monks had come and gone over the years. It was possible he had met him. After this discussion another group arrived at the inn. The three moved to the next table, unwrapped themselves, and sank into the large chairs. One was a woman wearing a brass-buttoned coat with her hair tied-up in braids. Despite her fine clothes, she appeared malnourished, with sharp features and deep-set eyes. Her first companion was a tall man with short dark hair. His bearded face was tanned, pitted, and scarred but his teeth were shone white in the dim room. The third companion was also bearded but much sturdier than the other two. He unbelted a short sword and a long pistol before sitting. The groups spoke some, with the strangers introducing themselves as Lylàna, Shêrd, and Andèys respectively. Dammon peered closely at the Æzàlaran woman and spied invisible tracings of the Vereç covering her face and neck. Lylàna explained that they were regulars in the village and had caught word that the group was looking for something specific, which was their specialty. At the whispered prompting of Shêrd, she added that they were willing to help for a small finders’ fee. While no arrangements were made, discussion did continue across other topics. Lylàna explained that there had been in increase in Hūdū sightings throughout Ilûwyr, so it was no surprise that they would come to Nyl. She indicated that the monsters seemed to be migrating from the Great Death’s interior, but had no guesses as to why. Lylàna knew of no scholars in the village but suggested the antiquarian if they had more questions. After a quiet evening, the two groups bid each other good night. Lylàna and her companions suited-up again and left the inn.

Before bed, Dammon spoke to his Conscience. The strange familiar explained that it had spent the evening speaking with the woman’s Vardar familiar. The creature had not given much more information than the group had gained, but it did tell Dammon’s Conscience how to avoid the Hūdū while in Nyl.

Kændor, 2 Aldrùan 653

In the morning, the group wrapped-up, and set out to find the antiquarian shop. They found the small shop on the village’s west side, near Overlook Hall. A tinny bell sounded as they entered the store. As their eyes adjusted to the dim room they found themselves standing amid low tables heaped with dusty junk. A Dwürden appeared from behind one of the piles and welcomed the visitors in Trade. Fyrgol and Tressta thanked him as they picked through his “wares”. Dammon approached the stump-like shopkeeper and asked about the dagger. Düllogor pulled at his beard as he listened to Dammon’s description. After a moment, the shopkeeper smiled and explained that he did see something like that a few years back. “A young woman sold it to me,” he thought aloud. “Something was very wrong with her. She seemed very sorry, distraught. One minute.” Düllogor disappeared into the back of his shop and returned with a slip of paper. “Bill of Sale,” he said shaking the paper. “Queer looking thing. Like a crude dagger carved out of red stone. Pommel looked like an insect.” Bought the dagger and sold it a month later. “Man with a strange accent. Couldn’t place it. Man asked for it specifically. Paid 30 gold for it.” He pulled his beard again. “He came in the middle of the night. Knocked on the door until I woke and answered. He didn’t say much. He just wanted the dagger. He knew it was here. That was two years ago. Never saw him again.” The group thanked the shopkeeper and returned to the Ilûwyr Inn. They described the man the antiquarian had mentioned to the innkeeper, but Barádas didn’t remember him.

Continued in Arsod’s Trail.

Characters

• Dammon Shroudson = 2 CPs (247)
• Fyrgol = 2+1 CPs (178)
• Jak of Cænden = 2 CPs (244)
• Tressta Drynsval = 2 CPs (237)
• Azmàdym Kùmunu
• Barádas
• Ērēus of Amra = 1 CPs (318)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Illàyma Ilân
• Lylàna of Vereç
• Shêrd
• Zêla ma Ler = 1 CPs (181)

Played: 20 Nov 2009