Chapter 8 (4/25/26) : The Witch’s Hut
Sebastian arrived back in Waterlupp, having completed his urgent task. Villagers greeted him and thanked him for his latest exploits with his friends, which confused him as he had been absent for the last week.
Sebastian headed over to the Randy Ram to look for his friends. Lottie, owner of the Ram and who seemed to notice things others did not, explained to Sebastian the events that had transpired while he had been gone and winked about his participation in them. She assured him that she and her people had done a good job covering things up and that there was no love lost for the Silver Moon hooligans. But she warned that they would be back soon and there would be hell to pay.
Sebastian was directed upstairs where he found Poppin and Rosalind, who filled him in on what he had missed and the trouble with the church and the Silver Moon Trading Company. They checked the rooms of Seren, Gaius, and Cassian but they seemed to be gone. They proceeded downstairs to plan, Lottie smiling and bringing her best food for her new friends.
Meanwhile, a wizened old woman named Henwyn from the village took Rosalind off to the side. She pointed out the marks on Rosalind’s hands that told of her time spent at the loom and introduced herself as a master weaver herself. They had a long talk, with the old woman deep in her cups and speaking of a cursed loom that once spun the destinies of others. She warned that the old witch in the swamps might have a piece of the loom and was likely up to no good with it. Before she went, she briefed Rosalind on the potential a loom such as that would have for a wizard who knew how to use it, and that fates could be read and written in the knots and threads that were made on them.
The group decided to proceed with the original task of investigating the farmlands for the attacks on livestock that had brought them there. They met up with Giram and his two apprentices, Eada and Aelfrun, in the village square. They were joined by two more villagers who wanted to help with the mission. There was Woolfa, a large but silent warrior who seemed agreeable enough. He was joined by Leofwine, a man of some means who seemed to be experienced in hunting but not hard labor.
The group hired two keel boats and traveled by water to an inlet just south of the farms where the attacks had been reported. They met with the Carlisle family, who told them the attacks had been happening for the last eight months and had been unexplainably savage. There had been a truce with the Saurians for generations, forged by the ranger Joran years ago who had been a member of the Band of the Even Star. The attacks had started happening soon after the wagons of the Silver Moon Trading Company had started traveling the main road to and from Waterlupp.
That evening, Poppin entertained the family with song. But it was not long before the farmer’s wife caught his eye. The group heard a loud slap in the next room and the wife appeared, rubbing her bum and protesting to her husband. Poppin emerged, smiling innocently and offering his best defense… in the form of song. Farmer Carlisle seemed intrigued at first, for the bard’s music was indeed beguiling. But a look from his wife forced his hand and he pointed to the barn. Poppin shrugged and departed, serenading the animals from the hayloft.
The next morning the group departed and moved south to inspect the stone boundary markers that were said to be situated every quarter mile along the edge of the swamps. They found a marker, which was about 3 feet high, roughly carved stone, with sigils carved into it to represent Waterlupp as well as the Ruskath Saurian tribe (a symbol of three slashes representing an eye with a slit pupil). A reed whistle of expert craftsmanship was found attached to the post, a whistle designed to be heard by humans as well as Saurians. Giram blew on the whistle, but after an hour there was no sign of Saurians. The party continued along the edge of the swamps, finding the markers disappeared after a while and showed signs of being dragged off and taken away by wagon.
The search moved north after a wisp of smoke was spotted on the horizon. They found the O’Shaughnessy farmstead burned down, the cattle savagely ripped apart as well as the bodies of the farmers. They also found the missing stone markers planted just north of the farm. Giram was able to track wagon wheel impressions all the way back to the main road where they headed east towards Waterlupp.
The group decided to move the markers back to their original spots. While planting the first one, they were attacked by a dozen Saurians who appeared crazed and reckless. A pitched battle ensued, with half the Saurian number felled. But a shrill whistle was heard cutting through the forest. This one was terrifying and of a magical nature, causing Giram and Hildren to fall to the ground. The Saurians instantly disappeared into the swamps. Sebastian and Poppin followed, firing at the retreat. They noticed a strange disturbance in the waters of the swamp that created a rapid trickling of water off to the south. Rosalind detected magic and confirmed the rushing water was enchanted. A set of small boats could be seen berthed on hummocks on either side of the rapid waterflow. They roused one of the Ruskath Saurians, who became lucid long enough to say that the Moon-Men had poisoned them and that the Swamp Mother would protect them. He pointed to the boats. After rousing Giram and Hildren, the group decided to take the boats and pursue.
After a long and bumpy ride, the boats and their passengers were deposited in a darkened recess of the swamps. A massive, long-dead tree rose from the mire, its trunk hollowed and split, its roots sprawling outward like the fingers of something long buried but not quite gone. Built into and around this corpse of a tree was a crooked wooden hut, its walls leaning at uneasy angles, its structure fused with the roots themselves. A raspy voice could be heard humming inside. It was the hut of Haybell the Hag.
Sebastian carried the unconscious Saurian to the front door of the hut, joined by the others. The door opened on its own, beckoning them to enter. They stepped in, whispers floating in each of their minds from some unseen voice. They found a foyer and on the other side another door, which also opened. As they moved forward, the center of the room collapsed, sending Hildren and Giram falling into darkness. Rosalind ended up on the other side of the second door, which snapped shut. The front door slammed closed, trapping all but a few inside.
The battle moved quickly. Sebastian attempted a rescue of their comrades in the pit, but he and Poppin were quickly beset by gas entering the room and then large hulking swamp creatures that appeared like giant water bugs on two legs, snapping pincers at the ready. Aeda, Aelfrun, and Woolfa battled the monsters while Leofwyn took leave of his senses and fled.
Meanwhile, Rosalind and the witch squared off. Rosalind scrambled through the central room of the large hut, taking in the many potions and magical charms throughout. But Haybell called to her, taunting. At last the witch, invisible, stalked up to Rosalind and pricked her neck. Rosalind’s head spun, but she wheeled into the dining area and caught herself on the long table. Haybell cackled. Desperate, Rosalind cast scorching ray on the wall sealing her companions within the foyer. Flames began to lick upwards along the walls.
Leofwyn regained his courage outside and launched into an attack on the monsters outside while Poppin and Sebastian battled from within. Giram’s dogs howled as they were cut down. Green blood spurted from the monsters as the party hacked relentlessly at them.
As Rosalind regrouped inside, her back opened up from a terrible slashing attack from Haybell. She eyed the fireplace, burning a strange green flame, thinking she could perhaps push the hag into the fire. But she knew the strength of such creatures and dismissed it. Instead, she remembered the magical totem that her master had gifted her, the charm that reduced its enemies in size when cast. She pulled out the trinket, Haybell now becoming visible after the attack, and threw it in desperation. Haybell’s eyes grew wide; she screamed in protest before shrinking to the size of a mouse.
Elsewhere, Sebastian and Poppin managed to extinguish the flames as their companions finished off the last of the beasts. Sebastian charged through the burned walls into the central room. He saw that Rosalind was safe, holding up a jar with the menacing hag inside, then pulled aside a rug where a hatch was revealed. Wasting no time, he tied off a rope and leapt into the darkness. There, in the cellar, the roots of the ancient tree had cocooned Giram and Hildren alongside countless long-dead corpses the witch had collected. In an instant he cut his friends free and had them hoisted up into the light. Hildren embraced Sebastian, even more enamored with him than before.
The smoke cleared from the fire and the bloodied heroes gathered in the main room. Rosalind found the cursed loom on which Haybell had been working. She cast it into the green flames and watched it be consumed. A strange look came over her eyes as she watched. Poppin overheard her murmuring a haunting tune, its words filled with portents of doom. Perhaps it was time the bard counseled the wizard on the power of words.
At length the group bunked down for the night. It was too late to trek in the swamp with injured companions. A restless night ensued for those brave enough to sleep in a witch’s lair…
Chapter 7 (3/14/26) : Trouble in Waterlupp
The oars on the Fjieran were stowed before the longboat pulled into Waterlupp. The battle had almost claimed six lives of the boatmen. But thanks to the diligence of the semi-retired priestess, only one had fallen. The Norgardians gathered round the body, heads bowed. Much to their surprise, Seren spoke a funerary rite to honor their comrade. They were the few words she could recall from her days at the convent. Even more surprising, Cassian broke into a dirge as the body was hoisted into the water. The crew said little, but thanked the pale warlock and the healer.
As soon as the boat pulled up Poppin launched himself onto the pier. His smile was radiant, his eyes already drinking in a new locale. But before he could finish stretching a stranger saddled up next to him and handed him an envelope. The wax seal on it bore the mark of a military pick.
“Message for Master Vale,” the man said plainly. Then he disappeared into the village. Poppin watched him go, a puzzled look on his face. He went to Sebastian who was still unloading gear from the boat. Sebastian opened the envelope and read earnestly. He turned the group abruptly and said, “My apologies, but I am called to a matter of deepest urgency. I cannot tarry to explain. But I will be back as soon as I can.” With that, he hailed a nearby horse, offered the rider a few coins, and rode off.
The rest of the party stood stunned at the sudden departure. Poppin spied the sign marking the village’s only tavern. “What a journey! I think we all could use a drink!”
The Randy Ram was a modest tavern, situated at the top of a hill at the center of the main cobblestone street at the center of Waterlupp. There was a wide single tavern room downstairs, rooms to let upstairs. Gaius tracked down the owners, a middle-aged couple named Kar and Lottie Killian. “Rooms for five. I’ll take the biggest one.”
A flight of stairs outside led up to several small rooms, all of them with views of the inlet. Seren made note of the stables in the back, as well as the second set of stairs inside the tavern. Her instincts ran in the direction of always noting the layout, the exits. Poppin remained below, befriending the owners and asking after the small stage located in the corner. His instincts ran in a more public direction, always looking for a chance to be seen.
Before long dinner was served and the newcomers from Lyre piled into a booth downstairs. Gaius was just returning from elsewhere. “We have a meeting in the morning at the castle. Baron Winram is away, but his man Aelfric of Dunmere will see us about the job.”
When Cassian approached, everyone froze. Before them stood not Cassian, the pale warlock in muted colors and many rings. Instead, they beheld the likeness of Sebastian, dressed in his elegant tunic and ermine-fringed cloak, moleskin gloves tucked into his belt. Even his hair was styled in the same way as Sebastian. A smile broke out on everyone’s faces.
“We are strangers here, are we not?” Cassian said, chuckling. “Then let us be what strangers we are wont to be. This day, why not be Sebastian?”
Everyone shrugged and settled in. But before long they were surprised by the procession of diminutive figures walking past their table. A dozen or so brownies ambled by, carrying their luggage upstairs. It was not unheard of for brownies to be in the employ of humans. But it wasn’t common. Less common was what followed.
At once the brownies came to a stop next to the party’s table. As a group they turned and looked upon Rosalind and their eyes widened. “My lady!” they cried, and bowed. One of them came forward and introduced himself simply as Smitty. He said, “Illustrious one, we are honored to be in your presence!” At that, they all knelt and bowed their heads.
Rosalind was speechless. Her face betrayed her confusion. “Um, thank you?” she replied. Knowing naught else to say or do, she produced a coin and handed it to Smitty. Smitty accepted with a shaking hand. The brownies stood and gathered around him. For a moment the coin was held aloft, as if a trophy of unknowable worth. One by one, the brownies gingerly reached forth and touched the coin. “The coin from the lady” they muttered softly in unison. Then, remembering themselves, they doffed their caps and bowed again, then shuffled off with the luggage.
“Well that was indeed peculiar!” Poppin exclaimed and leapt up. “This group is by far the most entertaining I’ve ever traveled with.” He headed off to the stage, where a few of the locals were playing folksy music.
The evening proceeded, with Gaius talking through a number of plans and scenarios for their upcoming quest. Dinner concluded and drinks followed in a steady stream. Presently Seren excused herself, disappearing out the side door. Almost as suddenly, and shortly thereafter, the church men appeared.
There were five of them, four lumens and one lumena, all dressed in clerical gear. Brooches on their cloaks bore the sign of Belisamma the Forge Maiden. Their faces were dour, their stature perfect. Without a word they strode in and took over a table at the center of the room. The music at this point was lively and spirited, but from the looks of them you wouldn’t know they heard it. One of the serving girls leaned in to take their order. Her eyebrow raised slightly as the tallest of the lumens muttered something in her ear. She left and returned shortly, carrying a pitcher of water.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The singer on stage beckoned the room. “Tonight we have a special guest, and I’ll thank ye all to put your hands together and stomp your boots. For we have none other than THE Poppin the Fantastic, fresh from his tour of the courts of Plenia, Erigoth, AND Tirudor: entertainer of emperors himself, once pledged in marriage to Queen Asmerta!”
Thunderous applause filled the room as Poppin took the stage. His smile was bigger than that of a devil ready to make a deal, and the crowd leaned in ready to sign their names. He fluttered his short cape, letting the tassels catch everyone’s eyes. With a theatrical wave of his hand, a glimmering lute popped into existence. A chorus of “ooooh’s” went up. “This is a little ditty I came up with on the way to your fine town,” he announced, strumming the opening chords, and then tore into a ribald performance of Alice with Three Fingers. The other musicians followed right along, the harmony rising and swelling to strain the walls. The floor shook with stomping feet.
“That guy really does have a way with a tune,” Gaius said, marveling at the transformation in the room. He turned to Rosalind, “Are you making those lights happen?”
Rosalind, clapping along, laughed: “Nope, those just happen sometimes when he’s on a roll.”
Cassian/Sebastian rose and wiped the drink from his chin. He strode over to the lumena sitting at the table amongst her church brethren. “Care to dance?” he asked, hand outstretched. The young woman started and looked up. A smile broke on her face. She nodded and accepted his hand. They stood and whirled into a fast-moving jig. From her moves, it was apparent that she’d had a colorful life before the convent.
Seren smiled, peering into the room from atop a stool in the stables. The spy hole she’d found afforded a perfect view. “Oh, Hildren,” she whispered, “you saucy minx. I knew the sisters wouldn’t break you.”
Hours passed. The music, the cheers, the stomping and dancing and hooting were the most exciting Randy Ram had seen in a generation. By night’s end Kar and Lottie were marveling at the weight of the till and hoping it would make up for the broken chairs. Long after normal closing hours, the lights dimmed. Lottie carried the last oil lamp upstairs, plunging the common room into gloom. Then, in the dim moonlight, a figure appeared.
Seren emerged from her hiding place and crossed the room to the bar. What she was looking for, she didn’t know. But she’d long been a creature of the night. Mayhap the Ram held secrets. She had to know. Night time was like a storybook of forbidden passages. She’d already visited the boarding house where the priests were lodged. And Hildren, a kindred spirit, had secreted out a window for a midnight conversation. Seren could tell Hildren wanted to escape with her, but she had always been less daring. If she was to leave the convent, it was up to her.
Seren reached for a pint glass. Maybe she would stroll behind the bar and try the taps for a night cap. The light on the far wall shifted. A shadow rose in front of her, cast from the doorway at her back.
“Looking for your family label?” a man’s voice spoke. She turned. It was one of the Lumens from before. He hefted a cudgel at his hip. “Sister Seren, your presence is missed at the convent. Come quietly and I promise penitence will be minimal.”
Words were pointless, she thought. The streets had already taught her that. Without a word Seren turned and ran straight at the figure, her maces drawn. His cudgel came up to block her blow, but her second mace went crashing into his torso. She could hear his ribs crack.
Battle ensued. Both figures traded blows, both found purchase. What wasn’t expected was the second and third Lumens closing from the sides. In seconds the tide was turning. She could feel them jockeying for an opening to grapple and pin her.
“Oy!” a cry came in a hoarse whisper from a window on the second floor. “She’s with us!” Hurried footsteps on the stairs outside were followed by Seren’s friends rushing into the fray. Poppin’s rapier whisked at the night air. Rosalind could be heard murmuring something before bright glowing bullets arced through the darkness and pounded into the priests. Gaius, hastily armored, lumbered at the melee like a raging bull. His sword smacked into one of the priests like a sack of flour, sending him sprawling. All the time Seren was thinking, where is their paladin? This might be over if he shows up.
He did not. Less than a minute later, and after more sickening thuds, the acolytes lay unconscious on the ground. Seren looked up, breathless. Her eyes met those of her friends who’d come to her aide. “My friends,” she thought. “I have friends?”
Moving the bodies was trivial. The stables were nearby and empty. But what to do with them if they woke up? Poppin turned to Rosalind with a grin. “I have an idea.”
Seren didn’t know what was more unsettling: the idea that the church had gotten so close to capturing her, or the sight of brownies hauling them off into the dark.
“We obey, magic-lady!” the brownie named Smitty said, doffing his cap to Rosalind. “We do as you say: hide the mean men somewhere no one finds ’em. Feed ’em, water ’em, like good little pets. Put them on a boat,” he started counting on his fingers, “next time the moon is fat but starting to shrink. You got it!”
Come the morning Eadric the Steadfast reappeared at the Ram asking after his companions. Lottie insisted they had seen the young woman rowing off across the lake before dawn and his friends pursued. She handed him a note they had allegedly written in haste. It was written in an elegant script that no tavern owner should know how to write. Eadric chartered the first boat he could find and departed.
The party watched this play out while seated at breakfast in the common room.
“Paladins can be really dumb,” Rosalind quipped. She remembered herself and added for Gaius’ benefit: “Some paladins. Not you. You’re super smart.”
Poppin threw up his hands, “Well? Am I a genius or what? Those are some great helpers you have there, ‘magic-lady’!”
Rosalind rolled her eyes. “I meant to ask last night after the show: who is Queen Asmerta?”
“Oh her,” Popping smiled, “name of my first horse in Illustrim. But audiences don’t need to know that.”
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An hour later the party departed. There would be no connecting them with last night’s activities. At least, that’s what Gaius said. The matter was put to the side as they climbed the hill to meet with Winram’s man.
Poppin yawned and stretched as they walked. “Couldn’t get much sleep last night. Not over the noise next door, eh?” He elbowed Cassian with a grin. “Hildren her name? You two snuck off after the dance. She seemed quite taken with you. Or, maybe she was quite taken with ‘Sebastian’? Ha ha ha!”
Cassian’s face colored and he shook his head. But Poppin’s laughter was infectious. Before long the entire group was chuckling.
The castle itself left much to be desired. Maybe it was their time in Lyre, witness to the masterwork that was Castle Balladeer in all its sprawling grandeur. The stonework here was coming loose in places and the tower had a pronounced lean to it. The banners hanging from the ramparts were faded and tattered. The pot-bellied guard showed them into a small, damp receiving chamber where a mouldering chair stood on a dais. Suits of rusted armor presided over the place. Out of a door appeared a lanky man dressed in rural finery. He took his place on the seat and received them.
“Greetings, sell swords from Lyre,” he said in a droll tone. “I take it that Sheriff Conley is well? I would inquire as to the health of the Duke, but it seems our troubles were to be brokered by his inferior.”
The party paused, not sure how to respond to fine speech delivered with such scorn. Poppin stepped forward and bowed with a flourish. “My lord. Master Conley sends his regards. I am Dymux, your humblest servant. I present our fellowship, whom some call the Vindicators, others the Vanguard, some even call the Duke’s Vengeance. Here we have Rosalind, student of the mystic arts and pupil to the Duke’s own mage. Here we have Cassian, delver of mysteries both arcane and terrestrial. Beside him is Seren, healer and prayer for souls. And leading us, may I present the champion of Lyre, rider of eagles from Heaven’s Tower, rescuer of the lost, sword of the light: Gaius Vindictus!”
At this Aelfric perked up. He studied the paladin, who stepped forward and bowed. “Well, well,” Aelfric exclaimed, “a knight from Lyre! Conley knows his business. Speak.”
Gaius nodded. “My lord, we stand ready to serve. It is my understanding that there is trouble amidst your farmsteads. We are prepared to ride out this day, if it pleases you.”
Aelfric nodded. A page stepped forward and handed Gaius a scroll.
“Indeed,” Aelfric said after completing a yawn. “Trouble ‘mongst the serfs. Slain sheep or goats or some such. Bad for business. Here are your orders, by which you carry the authority of the Baron. The people of Waterlupp and the Saurians have enjoyed a truce for three generations. If you find that they have broken that peace, then render them unto Clesia as you will.”
Gaius took note of the impatient tone. He bowed but was interrupted when a second page entered the chamber. He raced up to Aelfric, whispering into his ear. The color went out of the steward’s face. “Forbear,” Aelfric said, holding up a hand. “I receive news of fell deeds. While you are here, mayhap I avail myself of your service in a second matter. Bring it in!”
The side door opened again. This time two servants marched out carrying a litter. A tiny body lay upon it, covered by a plain burlap coverlet. Two tiny feet protruded from the blanket, shod in curly-toed slippers. The servants pulled back the blanket to reveal the body of a brownie. On closer inspection, it was none other than the one they’d known as Smitty. His body was savagely mangled, the torso torn open. Dried blood stained the length of him. His face was frozen in an expression of anguished terror.
Aelfric gasped and looked close to fainting. He motioned with a shaking hand and the body was covered and taken away. He sagged into the chair, covering his eyes.
“Good knight, see what horrors beset our humble hamlet?! I bid thee ride forth and bring an END to this senseless slaughter! You will be paid handsomely if you can but bring justice and restore our tranquility.”
Gaius nodded. “It will be done, my lord, on my honor.”
“Very good, very good,” Aelfric moaned. “I must retire now, this has vexed me so. Summon the leach and prepare my clyster.” After an awkward silence, he looked through his hands and saw the party still standing. Abruptly he cried, “You may go!”
The party departed and followed a guard down a flight of stairs into the undercroft. Poppin stopped at the bottom. “Looks cramped in there. I’d just be in the way. How about I wait outside?”
An hour passed before Seren emerged, still scrubbing her hands. Rosalind and Cassian followed, their expressions grim. “Nasty business,” Seren said flatly. “Strong punctures killed him, followed by clumsy incisions to remove the organs. The body was found near the river, but there were signs he was killed elsewhere, deposited at the top of the hill, and then rolled down to the river bank.”
“Does it look like a ritual killing?” Gaius asked.
Cassian frowned. “I have studied texts that describe such rituals. Indeed, this may well have been a sacrifice of some kind. But I would need to see where the rites were performed. The blood on the grass near the body formed a circle, but the pattern was indistinct.”
“I did find this,” Seren said, holding up a bit of wax paper. Brown flakes of something were suspended in the folds. “Found it under the brownie’s fingernails.”
“Is that… chocolate?” Rosalind asked out loud. She had been particularly shocked at the death of the creature. “Why would there be a confection beneath his nails?”
Poppin’s face grew tight, his mouth screwed up into a grimace. He nodded solemnly, hoping no one detected the effort it took to contain the six jokes her question brought to mind. “He will be missed,” he said in a choked voice.
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Hours passed as preparations were made. At last everyone gathered on the street outside the Randy Ram, ready for the long hike west. Gaius motioned to a middle-aged man leaning on a staff, two large hounds at his feet. Behind him were two young companions dressed in drab green tunics.
“This is Giram,” Gaius said, motioning to them. “Those are his apprentices, Eada and Aelfrun. They will be guiding us on the journey.”
Giram spat and nodded. Eada spat and touched his farmer’s hat. Aelfrun looked up from a patch of clover and smiled like a simpleton. Gaius paused at this, then made a motion with his hand as if to suggest ‘we march that way.’ Even without Sebastian present to translate, it was enough that the group understood and started walking down the hill.
But fate had other plans. For no sooner had the group made it to the bottom of the hill and were skirting the inlet banks westward, a commotion stopped them. There at the water’s edge a draught cart sat. On it stood three men. Two of them were armed and dressed in black tunics, a badge of a silver crescent on their breasts. The third wore rags, torn and pulled down to his waist to reveal a bloodied back. His hands were bound and lashed to a gallows that hung over the wagon. A cluster of villagers had gathered. Among them were two more black and silver tunics.
One of the armed men spoke loudly from the wagon. “Hear me, people of Waterlupp! I am Godric Everham of the Silver Moon Trading Company. This thief, a one Philemon, was caught stealing the grain from our store house. Grain that was brought at great expense to your shabby little water-ditch. He will be hanged for his crime. Bear witness to the penalty for insolence!”
Gaius’ hand tightened on his sword. While he was a man of justice, he was first a protector of the weak. HIs companions’ faces darkened. Poppin’s strumming had stopped.
Godric continued, “I would offer this man to plead his defense, but apparently he has lost his tongue.” He guffawed and threw a lump of flesh onto the grass. The bound man wailed something unintelligible. The silver and black men chuckled.
“And while his cur-of-a-wife has eluded us,” Godric went on, “rest assured we will hunt this Wilamena down like the dog that she is. I offer seven HUNDRED gold coins for the man who brings me her hide!”
A sack was tossed onto the ground. It landed with a thud. The clink of coins rang heavy with fortune and foreboding. Seren’s eyes went to the sack, then back up to Godric. The cries of field laborers being beaten called out from memory. Her feet started moving on their own power.
Godric motioned to the other company man in the wagon, who was helmed and armored and whose jaw had a set to it that suggested he enjoyed inflicting pain.
“Hoist him up. Let his last strangled cries be the last thing these people hear.” The armored man heaved on a rope. It tightened around Philemon’s neck and raised him off the wagon, legs kicking. The villagers gasped. A woman sobbed.
Gaius looked to his companions. Rosalind and Cassian had dropped their walking sticks. The fingers on their hands were twitching. Poppin’s light crossbow had fallen from his side and into his hand. Seren had disappeared.
“Avert not thine eyes, Waterlupp,” Godric cried in a tone of righteousness, “today justice is…”
The man’s words abruptly stopped. His face flashed a look of pain and confusion. He looked down to see a purple-stained blade protruding from his breast. Seren’s dark eyes peered over his shoulder.
A woman screamed. In a flash the armed men went to their weapons. Gaius’ sword flashed in the sun and he leapt on the closest of them.
“Brigands!” one of the company men cried, dropping his ledger. A bolt of indigo light shot from Cassian and cut him down.
The armored man in the wagon poised his blade to strike Seren. A crossbow bolt made its home in his neck.
On the ground, Gaius parried the last guard’s spear and quickly dispatched him.
A yellow flash of light lanced from Rosalind and into Godric’s guts. He fell, an incredulous look on his face.
Seren cleared herself from her fallen foe and swung a light mace at the armored man’s head. With a loud clang the helmet went flying.
Another few seconds and all but one of the Silver Trading Company were down. The man with the ledger rose and fled.
“Hund! Ræcc!” Giram shouted. The hounds leapt into action. The last man died in a ditch.
Gaius surveyed the scene. The battle was over. Serene and Poppin were already discussing the origin of the coins pulled from the mens’ pouches.
“Get the bodies on the wagon,” the paladin said, switching into damage control. He tried to hide the panic he felt over the fact they’d just taken out a major trade company’s representatives. Two battles in as many days, he thought, both with people connected to powerful organizations.
After several minutes, the villagers returned in greater numbers. They began to chant in a local dialect. The looks on their faces were determined. Their chant was alarming at first, having no explanation. But soon it was apparent this was a battle call. The whisper of a flame of the oppressed had been kindled.
Lottie emerged from the crowd. She looked at the pile of bodies with a calculating eye. She nodded and waved at some villagers to start moving the wagon. Turning to Gaius, she said “We’ll take care of the wagon. And the boats, bodies, and gear. By nightfall there’ll be no sign this happened.”
“You have our thanks,” Gaius said, relieved.
Lottie spat. “You lot did us a service and we won’t forget it. But there’ll be more church men and company men coming this way soon, and they won’t forget it either.”
Chapter 6 (2/21/26)
The three fishing boats pulled into the docks well past midnight. Children and livestock disembarked, greeted by feverishly grateful parents and dockworkers surprised by the pigs and chickens. Fresh off their rescue operation at Froghead Island, the party was left with the task of finding Isen Mantler. His was the name on a letter found at the kidnapper’s hideout. Word from Aldric Conley, town sheriff, was that Isen was a member of the thieve’s guild, the Loot Players. Sebastian told the others he would be conducting some investigations around town, and they should meet again in a few nights at the Blue Nightingale.
Gaius received a summons to the castle and the quartermaster’s office. He suspected he was in trouble for still having the half-plate armor he requisitioned from the quartermaster for the group’s expedition. He remembered that Garrick Moreby, one of his fellow guards, harbored resentment towards him for trying to intimidate him into releasing the armor. Thankfully, Captain of the Guard Royce Kellar had taken a shine to Gaius and had approved him borrowing the armor (albeit a very worn and rusted set). But Gaius was surprised to find a new set of armor waiting for him at the Quartermaster’s room: a gift from House Sivvian on behalf of a grateful Godric Flender, Justiciar of the house and father to one of the children that had been rescued. Garrick looked none too happy about relinquishing the armor to the new hero, but he took it in stride. He seemed to weigh Gaius with new eyes. “Hey, ever been to Sanctuary?” he asked. “‘Odds balls’ is the password. Come have a drink with us.”
Roslyn received a summons from the court mage, Magus Oisean Finnever. Now a frequent visitor to the grounds, since being accepted as one of the mage’s students, she made her way through the gatehouses (avoiding the guard, Wufltan Hawkridge, an admirer of hers) and reported at once to the wizard’s tower. Oisean greeted her and motioned her to the upper levels and an open, circular room with no furnishings except the bookshelves lining the walls. “It is time for your test,” he said, and waved his hand. Two books floated off the shelves and opened, revealing strange glyphs that appeared and disappeared. Four glowing orbs blinked into existence and started moving about the room. He pointed to the far end at a small glass sphere resting on a pedestal on the far wall. “You must take the orb and bring it through the door to me. Magic is a powerful thing, but it requires focus. So, bring me the item of focus while maintaining yours.” He motioned again and a stone arch appeared with a door in it. He opened the door and disappeared before saying, “good luck!” Roslyn studied the room and the books and orbs. She cast mage hand to ensnare the glass bauble, but this caused the books to swoop at her and attack. Whump! Three of the four orbs struck her and she narrowly dodged the flying books. Welts rose on her skin where she was struck. She grimaced, wondering how to proceed. Calmly she recalled her Arcane Knowledge and deciphered the sigils spoke of magic circles. Kneeling on the floor, she produced a bit of chalk and drew out a magic circle of containment. Sure enough, the books became drawn into the circle and froze in mid-air. But the glowing orbs kept swooping, diving. Roslyn took a few steps into the center of the room, dodging the orbs’ attacks. She pulled the glass bauble off the pedestal and moved it quickly towards the door. As soon as she did so, the room erupted in a glow of red and the floor fell out from beneath her. Her mind reeled, shocked by the sudden change. But a concentration check prevailed, and she maintained her focus. She moved the orb to the door, ready to pursue it. As soon as it reached the threshold, a fiery demonic figure appeared, blocking the door and threatening to swipe the glass sphere to the floor. Roslyn’s mind sharpened, her wits calculating her next move. Her eyes narrowed, inspecting the demon. Part of it’s aspect flickered, as if an illusion. She smiled. Nothing to fear here, she thought, and daring everything rushed to grasp the sphere, dodging the glowing orbs one more time, and charged through the demon. She tumbled through the door, breathless, and found herself… back in the room! But the orbs were gone, as were the books. Only Oisean was there, seated with his back to her and perusing a book of forbidden knowledge. He took a puff on his pipe. “Ah, you’re still alive! Well done. You may go.” Roslyn straightened herself and stared at him sharply. So this is what it was like to be a wizard’s apprentice? But before she could speak he waves his hand one more time. “Oh, I almost forgot. A star for your hat!” A tiny light appeared and rocketed from his hand, landing with a thud on her wizard hat. A new star appeared among her astrological symbols that decorated it. It was glowing a cheerful glow. She turned and shook her head and departed. But no small part of her was proud of the star. It had been well earned.
Sebastian asked around town to speak with the court jester, Wallum Netherwood. He searched the taverns, but there was no sign of him. He recalled that Poppin had had dealings with Wallum, but he was nowhere to be found at the Blue Nightingale. So he headed up to the castle to see if Wallum was there. At the gatehouses Sebastian produced the embossed leather sigil that the sheriff had given him, a token of the office’s authority. He was shown to the first floor of the west wing to the house’s withdrawing room where guests are received. It was a large, richly appointed sitting room. There were four long couches gathered about a small brazier at the center of the room. Low end tables sat at the ends of the couches. A bar occupied the northwestern corner of the room, consisting of a dark lacquered wood top in front of shelves of flasks, bottles, and flagons. Silver tankards and goblets hang from the wall. Rich tapestries cover the walls, adorned in the house colors and standard. Wallum appeared minutes later.
“Hello, friend,” Wallum said, pouring himself a drink from the bar. Sebastian asked him about the Amulet of Aemerion. “Ah, the amulet. How curious. The pendant is wrought of silver filigree twined around a central sapphire that glows faintly like the last light of dusk. Beneath its surface, one might glimpse a shifting reflection: a face not quite one’s own. Old Trevilish chronicles speak of Aemerion the Silver-Tongued, a lord who bent armies to his will without lifting a blade. His amulet granted the gift of command and, in time, took his own soul for itself.”
Sebastian frowned. “I thought the amulet was a stone with an eye in it?”
Wallum chuckled. “No, no, dear boy. You’re thinking of the Shadow-Eye Stone! It is a deep violet gem, almost black until it catches light, whereupon a faint iris appears within: colorless and shifting like a cataract. The symbol of the Colorless Eye carved into the gem’s face seems to watch even in total darkness. Six rings accompany the stone, each violet in color and bearing the same symbol as the stone. The range of the stone’s effect is 1000 feet. Anyone wearing one of the rings in this area is rendered invisible to Elves.”
Sebastian looked even more puzzled. “But how do you know exactly what I was thinking of?”
“Because, my old chum,” Wallum smiled, pulling out one of the six rings, “you were carrying this when you walked in!”
After this Wallum motioned Sebastian to follow him down to the undercroft. There, he showed him the door to the buttery and, past that, the area beneath the kitchens. “The buttery is where the house butterer (ha! ‘butterer’! what a title!) keep a fortune in wine, ale, and spirits. This is my favorite hideout!” He pulled a dusty bottle out of one rack and popped it open. A tasting station offered ready glasses. He poured them both a drink of 240-year-old wine.
“Here’s to you, my friend!”
Cassian strode into the center of Lyre at sundown. He was looking to try his hand at some games of chance and experience this town floating on water. He marveled at the bustle of the evening atmosphere: fishermen and dockworkers coming in from a long day’s work, stinking of the lake and of fish. He passed one sign after another: shops, artisans, warehouses. At last he came to the sign of the Crooked Keel and strode in. It was a busy night and packed with sailors. A large man was wiping down the counter. Cassian introduced himself. “Garret Porren,” the man returned. Cassian slapped five gold coins on the counter and declared his intent to find work: real work that paid well and only a few would be willing to do. Garret questioned him for a bit and nodded. “I’ll ask around and let you know. If you’re not afraid of getting your hands dirty, there’s always work to be done.” Cassian thanked him and headed to the back, where he found commoners throwing dice and playing cards. There were games of Gyp, Tymora’s Spinner, One and Twenty Dead Men, Hand of Fate, and Heaven, Hell, or LImbo. Cassian plopped a sack of gold on the table, which drew all eyes to him. He heard chairs scraping the ale-soaked floor as the men rose, staring. “Welcome, friend!” they all cheered. A number of throws at Heaven, Hell, or Limbo later, Cassian walked away with triple his money. The sailors eyed him suspiciously “that bloke just won enough I could retire!” which was answered with a roar of approval.
Cassian decided to continue his stroll. Along the waterfront he came upon one seedy tavern after another: the Queen’s Girdle, the Talking Fish, the Besotted Otter. Feeling spry, he strode into the Otter. A throng of sailors were gathered in uproarious song. “Tra la la, rikety ra, along came ol’….” The tune hit a crescendo and they turned just as he walked in and waved crying in one voice, “…Cassian! Tra la la la RA!” Cassian froze, a look of shock on his face. He looked to his right, a large man standing at the front, evidently a bouncer. He merely shrugged. Then something caught his eye to his left. A small boy sat on the floor near the door, his knees pulled up to his chin. Large haunting eyes peered up at him. “Me name’s Norem, sire,” a voice sounded in Cassian’s head.
He frowned and thought, “Are you talking to me?”
“Aye, sir,” the voice replied, the boy’s eyebrows rising. “That would be me. Mum always said to be quiet. So, I talk this way.”
Cassian nodded. “Right. Well, then…” He turned and went inside, ordered a drink, and sat down. The boy appeared on the other side of the table.
“Make that two,” a voice echoed, this time sounding like Cassian. The barmaid turned and said, “Two it is,” and sat two frosty mugs on the table.
Cassian and the boy spoke for some time, the boy telling him of his adventures. At length, Cassian rose and paid up. He nodded to the child and left. As he walked the streets at night, he pondered the boy’s words. “Did he just say his mother is Melusine?” He shook his head and laughed.
Just before the meeting at the Blue Nightingale, Gaius decided to stop by the castle to honor the invitation to Sanctuary. In the depths of the west wing undercroft, he stumbled about looking for the secret entrance. Another guard met him in the dark and laughed. “Are ya lost? This way.” A concealed door opened. The soft lilt of music emanated from behind a jumble of crates. After winding through the jumble the room opened into a long space decorated with discarded, repaired furniture of high quality, tattered paintings (including a reclining naked lady with the portrait of the duchess affixed to it), finely crafted lamp stands, candle holders, fine silverware, and stacks and stacks of liberated spirits. Girls from the servants quarters danced in one corner, off-duty guards played cards at a table in another. “This is our sanctuary, noble Gaius! Hail and welcome!” they cried, greeting him. Gaius smiled and nodded. He reached for the expensive bottle of wine he’d received from the nobles of Idlemay Vineyard, a reward for his group’s work stopping the goblins from attacking their boats. He lifted the bottle high, showing it to the room. “I brought a little gift for granting me Sanctuary.” Cheers erupted, the guards and servants sang his praises. Gaius was one of the crew now. (big bonuses for Gaius when dealing with the following guards: Leofric Ironwood, Aethelstan Grimsby, Dunstant Ravenscroft, Cynehelm Whitlock, Aldwyn Foxglove, Wilm Sandler, and even Garrick Moreby who has now become a friend – this is your crew among the guards, all of them true brothers in arms).
Seren strode up the hill to the castle. In the back of her mind she knew the risk she was running: the handmaidens had told her that the duchess was looking for her head after learning she had caught the gaze of the duke. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she told herself. “Why should I give up on the connections I’ve made in the palace?” The guards greeted her warmly, her comely aspect a familiar sight these past few weeks. “Whatever!” she blurted as she strolled past them. They were pathetic, but they served their purpose. She gave each a brief, sarcastic smile to appease them. She wasted no time reporting to the infirmary. Of late, she had been finding this place interesting. The physician, Alcuin Lorne, was an elderly man with a detached, measured presence. He had shown her kindness and trusted her with the duties of healing in the ward. While her clerical calling had shown her how to heal with prayer, there was something about the hands-on practice of treating the sick and injured that appealed to her. And her adventures of late had proven the skill handy in a pinch. Plus, she thought, there are all kinds of interesting potions and medicines and tinctures here.
Lorne greeted her dryly. “Oh, hallo young Seren. Are you here to serve in the infirmary today? We could use your help. See to mister Oswin Blackthorn over there.”
Seren went to the bunk on the far end, where Oswin was still dressed in his guard livery. A bloom of purple welts ran up and down his limbs and he was scratching them furiously. She donned gloves and began applying salve, much to her discomfort. Oswin dropped his breeches, “I have it down here, too!” Seren grimaced and administered aid in unseemly locations, but then noticed twin puncture wounds on Oswin’s inner thigh. She consulted the physician, but he didn’t seem to show much concern. “More salve!” he said, and moved on. Seren turned to Oswin, “Where did you get this?” Oswin grinned. “Oy, that’s probably from Molly down at the Open Bailey. Don’t take much coin to get her excited.”
Seren sighed and threw off her gloves. “Filthy animals. I prefer the company of my donkey.”
Departing the infirmary, Seren took a quick tour of the castle. It was her favorite game, stalking the halls and getting the layout committed to memory. In time she passes:
* Osbert Barham, castle saucier: “Ah, evenin’ miss Seren! Come down the kitchens, I have a new crème brûlée I want you to try!”
* Dame Eadgifu, one of the house knights “Ooh, Dame Eadgifu, my friend Gaius has been asking about you!”
* Wulfstan Hawkridge, one of the castle guards “Why, Wulfstan, did you know that my friend Roslynd has been asking for you?”
* Lady Alastriona, daughter to the duke and duchess. Her highness’ eyes widened, “Seren! My friend, you should not be here! Mother has the fire in her eyes over you! Best be careful! Oh, and come by some time for more gossip!”
* The house tailor, Hubert de Warenne: “My my, Seren. You are looking sublime. But come see me, I can give you a full makeover, dear.”
* The house leatherworker, Mina Wray, slightly stinky after a day of tanning leather: “Bah! Little trollop!” (which is about as pleasant as she gets, and actually talking means she doesn’t dislike you)
(all bonuses to your relationship with these NPC’s)
Sebastian paid a visit to Inez, the town artificer, inquiring about a spyglass. She told him that she could maybe rig something up for cheaper than a regular spyglass, but it would take time. Sebastian called on her shop later after receiving a note to meet her there. To his surprise, Conley the sheriff was there, along with the Justiciar. Inez smiled, “On behalf of the town of Lyre, with gratitude for your service in the matters of the goblins and the kidnappers, we present you this!” She handed him a mahogany box. Inside was a masterwork spyglass with a waterproof case and an engraving of the sigil of Lyre. Conely shook his hand, then took him off to the side. “You were asking about that Isen Mantler affair. I can’t help you with finding him, he’s in the wind. But I recalled this from a previous case.” He handed him a fragment of parchment that appeared to be from a document that had been burned. It bore the sigil of a dragon wing with three iron rivets at its joints. “This was the remains of a dispatch to Isen, which was burned when we raided his lair. Not sure what to make of it, but maybe you know.” Sebastian frowned. He was once a baron’s son and knew most of the families in Treviland. This was from a splinter house of the Morleys. The very same Morleys who rule Novulum.
The group met up at the Skull Room in the back of the Blue Nightingale. After a long discussion about their next move and where to find Isen, Cassian volunteered to inquire at the thieves guild. All he needed to know was where it was hidden. He strode confidently back to the Crooked Keel and plunked more gold onto the counter. Garret Porrin looked up at him. “You want to find the Loot Players?” Cassian smirked and nodded. “Your funeral,” Garrick grumbled. Several minutes later Cassian strode up the stairs of a warehouse on the waterfront. He entered a dark room, where a slit in a door opened and suspicious eyes looked him over. Words were exchanged. But it was hard to remember what words, as Cassian awoke some time later, bound to a chair. He was in a richly furnished lair, surrounded by expensive paintings, ornate furnishings, and stacks of contraband. Three lean figures inspected him. The one sitting leaning on the polished mahogany desk introduced himself as Malrick Vanthe. Cassian told them he was looking for Isen Mantler. But this seemed to agitate them. After a loud back and forth, no one giving an inch, Cassian stayed resolute. Threats were exchanged and without warning, Seren was dragged in. “This a friend of yours?”
Cassian never wavered. “I’m just here for Isen. And if you’re after him, too, then maybe sign us up and we can show you our value.” Malrick sneered. “You want in? Let’s see what you got.” He motioned and Cassian was cut loose. Someone handed him his weapon while Malrick unsheathed his dagger. “Take me, and we’ll talk.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed. This was an experienced thief, he thought. No sense in risking a fight when darker powers could prevail. His hand lashed out, the glow of an eldritch blast filling the room. But Malrick had disappeared. Only the curl of his half-cape trailing in the air was visible when Cassian felt the blade in his back. The world tilted went dark. He awoke to find himself tied to the chair once more. Malrick leaned close. “You got fire, kid. I’ll give you that. You find Isen and you’re in.” Cassian and Seren left quickly, returning to the Skull Room empty-handed. But with a promising challenge.
The next day the group met up at the wharf. “We have a couple more leads from Conley,” Sebastian reported. “The bandits on the south road, the missing amulet that might be in Harpwood with a colony of elves called the Kaeleth, reports of crops mysteriously going bad overnight up north in the village of Ambry, and gnolls raiding out of Harpwood, also near Ambry. I figure the bandits would be a good play, but the next caravan doesn’t leave for eight days. So, this last one talks of lizard folk, the Saurian, raiding the farms near Waterlupp. We will leave word at the harbor master’s office for Poppin, telling where we are headed. Now, all we need is a…”
A longboat pulled abreast of the dock.
Twenty gold later, the party was on its way to Waterlupp. Seven men with strange accents rowed at the boat, making good time on the water. Sebastian kept a sharp eye on the shoreline through his new spyglass. Roslynd watched the water nervously, knowing Lake Eversong was large and full of many forms of life. Seren was limp over one side of the boat, retching. Suddenly there was a commotion! Water splashed on all sides, and in an instant scaly green figures were boarding. A half dozen Saurians swung their clubs and hissed. Two of the sailors went down, their midsections gashed and blood staining the decks. Gaius unsheathed his sword and cut one almost in half. Roslynd answered immediately, sending a glowing dart through the chest of another. Chaos set in, as sailor after sailor was sent sprawling. Sebastian and Gaius squared with their foes and hacked, while Cassian and Roslynd waved their hands and blasted the enemy with magic. Seren, rousing herself from her nausea, whirled into action. She dodged and weaved through the melee, landing on one sailor after another and furiously binding their wounds. Ironic, she thought, to be a servant of Erecura the bearer of the dead, only to stay her hand from collecting these souls. Out of the corner of her eye, she imagined a gray apparition, hovering and waiting, ready to claim the sailors as they gasped their last breaths. But Seren kept on, desperately tending to the wounded just as she sensed they breathed their last. After several frenzied seconds, the last of the Saurians gurgled blood from their necks and slumped over. The last slunk over the gunwale and swam away. Seren looked and saw one last man, his hands twitching as his life ebbed. She lunged, determined to save them all. But, alas, the bodies were thick upon the decks and Seren stumbled. Precious seconds lost. She picked herself up just in time to see a robed figure flicker to the man’s side. Her veiled face turned to Seren, cold dark eyes locking with hers. Then, she was gone. The man’s hand fell. His death rattle echoed in Seren’s ears.
A hard price to pay for this latest journey. Blood on the oars. But at least all save one sailor would live to see the next dawn.
Chapter 5 (12/21/25)
Cassian enters Lyre, attack on Frog Head Island, party wipes out the Drowned Hand gang and rescues the kidnapped children; party is honored as heroes by the Justiciar and the duke’s privy council
Chapter 4 (11/15/25)
Rescue the Joos: the party charters a boat to explore the site where casks of Idlemay wine were reported floating in the water; the party works its way through a series of traps before entering a cave and defeating a band of goblins; the party returns to Lyre and is feted by the Idlemay Vineyards at their manse
Chapter 3 (10/18/25)
Rosalind, Seren, and Sebastian continue networking in the town of Lyre and up at Castle Balladeer. Sebastian establishes ties with the town artificer and cartographer before being summoned to see the Sheriff Aldric Conley and is offered the chance to take on odd missions to resolve local problems. Meanwhile, Rosalind makes connections with the castle weaver and tailor before being summoned by the court mage. Seren holds court in the castle in the lady’s bower, befriending the ladies in waiting who share ample court gossip with her.
The cases Sebastian is offered by the Sheriff:
1 – The magical Amulet of Aemerion was stolen from the castle a month ago. All clues point to the Elves of Kaeleth, who live peacefully a day’s walk into the woods in their treetop outpost to the northwest. Conley says the amulet is violet in color and bears the sign of a white eye. He hands Sebastian six rings with stones that match the amulet’s color and symbol and says they’ll grant the wearer invisibility to elves if worn near the amulet.
2 – Several shipments of wine from the Idlemay Vineyards have gone missing, the boats never returning. A fisherman reports seeing wine casks floating in a hidden cove to the northeast.
3 – Children of local fisherman have gone missing. A dockworker named Gussum came to the Sheriff offering information on it but has gone missing.
4 – Bandits have been reported on the southern road leading to Illustrim. Some say it is the work of Harl Gorse. Lord Ranglesby, a wealthy merchant, was waylaid last week and his fortunes absconded along with his consort Selba.
Rosalind shows up at the bower, her task to pick up some riding gloves for some reason. Seren’s curiosity is piqued and she follows the mage, but is discovered. At the wizard’s tower, Seren confronts the wizard over the gloves and is miniaturized and placed in a magic bottle. The mage orders Rosalind to dump the troublemaker over the cliff, but not before handing her a tiny metal figurine he says will help her shrink and enlarge creatures at will. Rosalind decides instead to take her prisoner along to meet Sebastian at the Blue Nightingale.
At the tavern they discuss the four cases the Sheriff has offered for employment. Seren overhears the cases and claims she has knowledge that can help with the endeavors. She is freed from the bottle and shares that Giles Winram, one of the duke’s lords, has expressed great distaste for elves of late and is thought to be angling for a high position at court. She also shares that Orlen Dusk, the furrier merchant, and Myra Marbellus, the wine merchant, were both seen at the duke’s feast and are from Novulum and are said to be acting suspiciously. It is surmised that they could be working to undermine Lyre’s two major industries: textiles and wine exports.
Suddenly Seren notices a stranger in the tavern motioning her over. He says they can find the missing dockworker, Gussum, down at the warehouse district. He offers her a coin that marks him as working for Inimicus. He says they’d be doing him a big favor in helping rid the city of the kidnappers.
The trio venture down to the docks at midnight and find a group of thugs playing cards in a warehouse. They overhear mention of someone named “Gut Hook” and talk of a hideout. They subdue the gang after some trouble (including shrinking a woman on the scene and accidentally stepping on her in the fray) and find Gussum trussed up in the back. Documents include letters for ransom for Ysmena, daughter of the castle justiciar Godric Flender, letters to the Unseen Hand offering sale of the children, and a map to an island marked “Frog Head.” They also make off with quite a haul from the gang’s lair and the card game, including a mysterious silver ring.
The three take the gang leader, Mannik, to the Sheriff, who keeps Gussum for safety and dispatches men to find Garrick Peverell, the dock worker who was working for someone named Isen to help ship kidnapped children out of the city. Conley pledges a boat with crew to take the group to Frog Head at the earliest opportunity.
The group has made the Blue Nightingale their unofficial meeting spot for now. The proprietor gives Poppin the key to a hidden room in the basement they call the Skull Room.
Chapter 2 (7/26/25)
Sebastian Vale enters Lyre at night and is stopped by the bridge watchman. He is shown to the sheriff’s office, where he makes a friend of Aldric Conley, sheriff of Lyre.
Rosalynd passes the trials of Oisean the court mage and is welcomed as a prospective apprentice.
Gaius suffers a trial by combat at the hands of Sir Niles Swanborn, knight of the realm, and is granted a posting as guard for Castle Balladeer.
Our heroes attend the duke’s feast, wherein many people are met and Seren makes off with the good silver. The group convenes for the first time after answering a strange summons to the basement of the castle keep. There, a mysterious charismatic figure who only identifies himself as Inimicus invites the group to join him in a plot to murder the noble family and wrest control over the castle. Inimicus threatens the party with his band of barbarians unless they comply. Our heroes begrudgingly agree on pain of death. But Inimicus confesses it was all a ruse to see if they had strong moral fiber. He leaves them but not before gifting each of them with a coin bearing the mark of a crown covered in blood. His parting words are “If you find yourself in trouble, toss this into water.” The party retreats to the Blue Nightingale to commiserate over these strange events.
Chapter 1 (5/31/25)
Gaius, Rosalyn, Seren, and Dymux enter Lyre. They begin to familiarize themselves with the town and its people. Gaius is hired on as a guard at the castle. Rosalynd charms her way into the castle and petitions the court mage to take her on as an apprentice. Seren runs a con game in the marketplace and manages to convince the duke’s own daughter of her healing powers, securing her an invite to Castle Balladeer. Dymux charms his way into employment at the Blue Nightingale and secures a long-term contract for performing there.
