Vulūne 6-8, 653 DR: Setting out from Nolmanæ. A final offer. The ivy-shrouded memorial. A crumbled seaside keep and the traveler beneath. Spies and traitors. Attack of the Kænōyn. Parting words with the Acèntyryn. The road to Dagràdyrēa. Rising tensions among the natives. The lumber-mill drunk. The Ghost Cat Inn at the Ferry of Shyl Elōe. Dammon’s long talk with Keléis the Monk.

Continued from The Diving Bell.

Iyldor, 6 Vulūne 653

Jak placed the strange Dwürden helmet upon his head and flipped the brass-rimmed lenses over his eyes. Staring out through the crystal lenses he watched as small numeric runes illuminated around the unbroken right lens. What the strange numbers were for he could not tell. The peasant Ðard experimented running to the surface and back, watching a small needle slide between the circumferential numbers. Whenever he returned to the village above, the needle reset to the topmost rune. Below, Fyrgol examined the color-changing medallion. Dammon glanced at the tube of parchments and tucked it into his things. After crawling out of the village’s tunnels, Fyrgol and Gældor hooked the horse to the wagon and the group left the ghostly buildings behind. The innkeeper watched the travelers leave from a broken doorway, wondering whether her husband lay among the Zrū dead.

As they walked from the village, Tressta showed her transformed hand to Dammon and Jak. Though she did not explicitly reveal the blood-red claw to Amra’s Ðardor, Ērēus kept his distance from her thereafter. At the end of the road that led to the coast, they found an ivy-covered column that may once have informed northbound travelers of the village hidden back in the hills. At the base of the column were a wide pile of stone globes etched with words that no one could read. Gældor explained that such stones were sometimes left at places where people had disappeared. The carved words were likely names, left so that lost souls could find their way home. Beyond the pillar, the group turned south and continued their travel toward the City of Nōyn Dag.

At day’s end they approached the shadowy ruins of an ancient castle that had mostly crumbled into the sea. A large square tower rose from the remains, attached to an incomplete curtain wall. Leaving the road, the group crossed a wide meadow of tall coastal grasses until the ragged tower loomed above them. The sun was setting behind them as they picked their way through gaping holes in the castle wall. The lowest story of the tower was mostly intact except for the timbered floors which had long ago gone missing. A series of stone ledges marked the tower’s interior for a few stories, framing the evening sky above. Outside the tower an old stone staircase descended into the cliff’s side; it was impossible to tell whether the steps had once been inside a building in the halved courtyard. The stairs dropped into a series of lower chamber, the east walls of which opened to the evening air and mist of the crashing sea below.

In the lowest chamber they found an older man looking out across the sea. Though alone and by all appearances unprovoked, the man was equipped with maille, helmet, and a mace at his side. Dammon tried to speak with him, but the man did not respond. He stood from his sea chest and waited for words he could understand. Fyrgol conversed briefly with the man in Ēōyni, asking him questions until Jak could retrieve Gældor and Zêla. The man explained only that he was waiting for someone. When Gældor arrived he learned that the man’s name was Calyedin and that he was not native to Ildûn. Zêla spoke with the man some and recognized his language as Moreic. She guessed that he was an Acèntyran, and a long way from home. Before returning back to the tower above, Calyedin warned them of dog-creatures that roamed the area at night. He suggested the group leave and try to make the next village before settling for the night. Calyedin explained that he’d killed two of the things days ago but that he hear more moving around the castle at night. The group returned to the surface and secured a camp within the ruined tower.

That night as the first watch was tending to the campfire and listening to the waves crash against the rocky cliff below, another sound could be heard beyond the ruined stone walls. Indistinct at first, the moaning and howling grew louder as the monsters drew closer. Dammon’s Conscience, perched atop a nearby fragment of wall, reported a handful of dog-like creatures moving through the tall grasses. Jak and Ērēus moved toward the tower entrance and watched as beams of soft white light streamed through breaks in the crumbled wall. Dammon Weaved a Eulygryn’s Wall of Solid Air, blocking the tower’s entrance with churning winds. Fyrgol and Gældor climbed up to the first ledge where they could shoot arrows down at the dogs. As the first of the Kænōyn stepped through the broken wall, their strange shapes could be seen in the moonlight. They were large muscular dogs without heads. Each had the contorted face of an Yrūn planted between its shoulders, their mouths wide and their eyes shining with a ghostly light. As they stepped into the courtyard their eyes grew dark. As Jak and Ērēus waited at the edges of Dammon’s wall, more of the hound-folk stepped into the courtyard. Weaving back-and-forth the creatures flashed beams of cold light from their eyes. Those struck by the pale lights had to shake off the darkness or be blinded. As Gældor watched this unfold, he recognized the Kænōyn for what they were, and realized that he could not fight them. The Spiritrider explained that they were the spirits of Ælyris who had died defending their homeland, reborn as spirit-hounds. Jak joined Fyrgol above and together they pelted the Kænōyn with arrows. As Calyedin had described, the creatures retreated after two of their numbers were downed. Fyrgol was blinded and Jak was deafened by the creatures’ strange howling, but those afflictions were short-lived. Jak and Ērēus carried the fallen hound-folk to the cliff’s edge and pitched them onto the rocks far below. The rest of the night was quiet, except for the wind.

Irídor, 7 Vulūne 653

The next morning, a few of the group returned to the lower chambers to talk once more with the man below. Zêla had told them about a rumor she’d heard of an order of Acèntyri knights who wandered the Old Empire, ensuring that it did not rise again. Jak and others were intrigued by this notion and wanted to confront the man about it. In the lowest room, Calyedin stood and grabbed his mace as the group approached. Through translators Gældor and Fyrgol, Jak explained all the current events they had learned over the last months, including the refugee crisis in Spiráçi. He further explained that neither he, nor any in the group, had any wishes for the impending war to succeed. Calyedin seemed interested in the news and asked if they would like to share their tales with interested parties in the East. To this, Jak declined. The traveler bid them well and gave them a small map for their information. The map was not to scale but included a long line of eastern coastline and the names of the towns and cities they could expect to find if they traveled south.

After the meeting, they led their horse back to the wagon and continued inland along the shore of a great estuary. After a few hours they came to an area where the trees had been lumbered into fields of wide stumps that extended far back from the dirt road. The road was criss-crossed with the ruts of heavy wagons, a fact that slowed their progress down even further. Every bridge they came to was adjoined by a small watermill and saw-yard. Workmen paused to watch the strange group pass before returning to their labors. Toward the middle of the afternoon, they came across a large group of men gathered around an agitator waving his hands around from the top of a high stump. As they passed, Gældor explained that they were talking about a group of Drāūn holy men who were raising an army of undead from native graves. The people were upset that their dead families and ancestors might be turned against them. The villagers were making plans to remove markers from nearby graveyards so that the priests could not find more bodies to employ for their dread-god’s purposes.

Reaching the Village of Dagràdyrēa, the group learned that there was no inn. Visitors were encouraged to stay at one of the work-tents near the mills. Settling at one such tent for the evening, the group was greeted by Hrex, a homeless man who seemed to take an interest in Fyrgol. The man claimed to be able to see his kind and had noted that all the Feyri had left before the group arrived. Fyrgol thought on this a bit, and realized that he had not seen any of his own kind since meeting the group days ago. The old man warned Fyrgol to be careful and retired into the mill to make himself a bed for the night.

Roydor, 8 Vulūne 653

The next day, they hitched up the horse and left the timbering village behind. For one more day they pushed inland, looking for a way to cross the water to the south. At the day’s end, they found an inn with some small out-buildings. Down the hill from the place a ferry was moored to some posts along the water’s edge. Above the inn’s door was a weathered painting of a cat and moon, painted in the regional style. A number of horses were tethered outside. The interior was nearly empty relative to the crowded tables and chairs. Some maids stood across the room, nervously eying a group of dark robed clientèle sitting near the fireplace. The robed figures looked up as the group entered. Talking with the maids, they arranged for rooms and a bath for Tressta. Dammon studied the figures and noted that one exuded a Spirit aura. These must be the Drāūn holy men the villagers had been talking about. Approaching the table, the magician soon found that they shared the ancient Dekàlic tongue in common. Having traveled in this land for some time relying on translators and in-betweens, Dammon was relieved to find someone with which he could talk freely. Ērēus must have felt the same for he too joined the table’s conversation, making sure to keep a chair between himself and the magician.

During the course of the evening’s discussions, they learned the monks were members of the Order of Ealyma. The order could be identified by a distinctive gold lightning trim around the cuffs and collars of their robes. Their leader, a monk named Keléis, spoke at length about their Vældyrim and the history of Hedrewyr, a southern Ildûni province. He warned the newcomers to be wary of the heathen natives. He did not however make any mention of the undead army that he and his band had reportedly raised. Ērēus noticed this and the way the inn-maids watched the monks, with a mixture of fear and loathing.

Continued in Flames for the Risen.

Characters

• Dammon Shroudson = 3 CPs (224)
• Fyrgol = 3+1 CPs (144)
• Jak of Cænden = 3 CPs (221)
• Tressta Drynsval = 3 CPs (214)
• Baggar of Ealyma (Monk)
• Calyedin of Moreun
• Erēus of Amra = 1 CPs (307)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Gældor of Nyn = 1+1 CPs (165)
• Graiç of Mazzam = 0 CPs
• Grymgrykalya = 0 CPs (78)
• Hærdon (Drunken Sawyer)
• Hrex (Agitator)
• Keléis of Ealyma (Monk)
• Margyna of Ealyma (Monk)
• Salkàar of Ealyma (Monk)
• Zêla ma Ler = 1 CPs (169)
• Zildara of Zalan = 0+1 CPs (199)

Played: 03 Nov 2007