[Lakelands] Six For Adventure

[Raven Crowking]

In the autumn of 421 CY, an epidemic of tallowbone swept over the area around Selby-by-the-Water. Tallowbone is a disease, affecting first the very young and the very old, which makes its victims bones pliant. Bed rest is the best natural defense, for any real weight placed upon the long bones of arms and legs can cause them to bend, possibly crippling the sufferer. When the disease passes, normal rigidity returns. Bones remain in whatever shape the disease has left them.

The winter was long and cruel, but at least the tallowbone epidemic ended in the cold. Parts of Lake Elidyr froze which had not turned to ice in living memory. With the spring thaw, late in coming, moorings and pilings were skewed and in need of repair. Cellars had cracked; building foundations had shifted. Dead aquatic sheep and other animals drifted into shore, or got caught up in fishermen’s nets. Selby-by-the-Water, which had long felt itself perched precariously above an abyss of dark water, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Despite the damage, the town had not suffered another collapse.

It is easy enough to find work for those who want it, though it is backbreaking labor to restore the damage done this winter. Selby-by-the-Water is a cosmopolitan town, relying upon trade with the other waterbound towns and cities of the Lakelands for much of its economy. Animals blessed by the Beast Lords with humanoid form – oxmen and bearmen, a horseman even – can be seen working alongside humans along the Selwyn River’s many docking areas.

Moreover, there are rumors that carpenters and masons are in demand a day’s ride west of Selby. For many miles around, farming and herding communities provide produce for the town’s tables. Word has it that one such place, Wyvern’s Claw, is working toward building itself into a true town, and is recruiting both expert workers and guardsmen. If tales are true, this place was once a small cluster of goatherders that stumbled upon a treasure and an enigmatic (but generous) leader who calls himself “the Dragon”.

Of course, with the spring, adventure calls to the younger generation. Stories of lost Marrowgate and the ruined town of Oakhill are told around inn fires. Gaffers tell exotic stories of Shanthopal, a Parthelonian city that has been lost to time and swallowed by Weirwood the Great. And, as always, the Tower of Amoreth the Arcane is looked upon with suspicion and fear.

 

[Toric_Arthendain]

Selanil spent the long, cold winter roaming the countryside. The elven ranger had always had a case of wanderlust, and the incident of twenty years earlier had done nothing but reinforce that desire to keep moving. Selanil avoided contact with others as much as possible but did occassionally hunt for some local farmers and townsfolk to keep meat on their tables through the worst of the winter. In any contact with other people, Selanil always kept his cloak hood pulled over his face, casting his features in deep shadow. The burn scars covering the right side of his face were disturbing to him so he could only imagine that they bothered others as well. The scars were bad enough that his own kin treated him differently after the fire. Or was that his imagination? Selanil wasn't sure. He only knew that he felt out-of-place amongst his own people. The scarring was so bad that even his right ear was deformed.

When the spring thaw arrived, Selanil ventured closer to the settlements including Selby-by-the-Water, attracted there after hearing about the damage the lake town had sustained during the hard winter.

 

[Krug]

Glom let out minute sizzles as he walked, frying whatever insects came near him. The goblin chortled inside. He grew tired of goblin politics, which were as messy and confusd as it sounded. The sorcerers feared him and his power, and so did the Skulkers, particularly after he had fried four of their number until they were black cinders.

But the world was changing, and it was said some folks would not automatically try to behead a gobbo. Nevertheless, Glom had covered himself amply with a hood, and trying to pass off as a halfling, though he despised that soft, tea-drinking, pipe-smoking, race. Soon it would be time to try out his disguise, as he saw the settlements of Selby-by-the-Water loom before him. He admired the inventiveness of the humans who had built it; goblins would never aspire to build more than a hut to be used for a winter. These... humans were ambitious, and he liked that, because he was too.

He continued his pace, frying another mosquito with his mind, giggling inside to himself.

 

[maddmic]

Kregor was just finishing up assisting the family he had lived with over the winter. Their dock had sustained some damage and he agreed to help them since he had been blessed with tremendous strength. The family had agreed, in fact they had insisted on allowing him to stay with them over the dreadful winter. Kregor had come into Selby-by-the-Water after traveling many months, only to find that the town had been stricken by tallowbone. Knowing that the disease would pass with the coming cold, he tried to calm many of the families stricken with it. Most of his words fell on deaf ears for he was an ugly beast and frightened many of the children.

One family though listened intently to what he had to say and pleaded with him to come to their home. Once there, Kregor found that they had a boy who was severly crippled by the disease. The family promised the half-orc anything that they had if he could only cure their child. Kregor only asked that he be allowed to stay with them during the harsh winter that was to come. The cleric began to use the skills he had been blessed with, as well as the powers granted to him by Gragnor. After a couple of months, the half-orc was finally able to repair the majority of the damage inflicted on the young boy. Kregors massive strength and the grace of Gragnor had allowed him to straighten the boys arms and legs to near normal.

Kregor stayed with the family through the winter as agreed. He was used to the other citizens of the town looking at him with disgust, or pity. Being scarred and ugly was not easy anywhere in "civilization", but Kregor would never cover his face in shame or in order to hide his features. Now he finished assisting the family in repairing their dock, knowing that it was time to move on. He had felt his ancestors pushing him to leave and continue with his wandering ways. Having said his goodbyes, he began to walk towards the closest tavern to refill his skins for the coming journey.

 

[Ulorian - Agent of Chaos]

With an earth-shaking roar, the mighty red dragon launched itself from the top of the arcanist's tower, wings glinting in the sunlight as it wheeled to attack. The drake's reptilian minions, scimitars bared, scrabbled forward, hooting and cackling maniacally. Alone and bloodied, Horsom took a deep breath, shifted his stance, and bared his axe. This would be a battle the bards would retell for ages to come. One of the snakemen leapt forward, notched blade raised and yelled..

"That'll be 3 silver and 2 copper please."

** pop **

Myrna the grocer stood waiting for payment for the armful of supplies Horsom held.

"Horsom?"

"Sorry, here you go.", Horsom said, dropping a small sack of coins on the countertop. "Thanks." With a sigh, he turned to go. Trudging through the streets that the spring thaw had left muddy and rutted, Horsom pondered the decision he'd made last fall to return to Long Archer and his family after years on the road guarding merchants' caravans.

"I wonder if anything exciting is happening in Selby-by-the-Water?" Dumping his purchases into the back of his cart, Horsom clambered aboard and twitched the reins, guiding the ponies back home.

 

[Samuel Leming]

Maldordo's Winter

Maldordo was drawn to Selby-by-the-Water by his insatiable thirst for exploration, but winter set in before he could even scratch the surface of the secrets the town had to offer. He did what he could to help his non-intelligent stray feline cousins to find food and shelter during the unusually severe winter, but cats being what they are he didn't always meet with success. At least not until he discovered several warehouses along the docks infested with mundane rats. He quickly hit upon the idea of selling his services as a rodent exterminator to the warehouse owners and gathered as many strays as he could for the hunt. Not an unpleasent way for cats to spend their winter.

The awakening of spring has also reawakened Maldordo's curious nature and he yearns for exploration once again. Alternating between his natural cat form and human form as needed, he's once again taken up the search for, well, things worth searching for.

 

[Raven Crowking]

Winter in Long Archer (Informative Text)

If the winter had been warmer in Long Archer than in Selby-by-the-Water, if only because, without the lake, the town didn’t have the same damp air. Dampness permeated everything in Selby-by-the-Water. Long Archer was rougher, but drier. But then neither did Long Archer have the food reserves of Selby – in some ways, a hard winter was more bitter along the marches than near the lakes.

Folk began calling it a “Stock Winter” long before Yuletide.

In the old days, before the Church of the Seven Good Gods, towns in the north would sometimes sacrifice children to the hilltop banefires on the Winter Solstice, trying to propitiate the Old Bone Man, Aulshaka, whose icy fingers crept from the Utmost North. Sometimes still, rude wooden images – stocks, they were called, after the false children the faeries occasionally left when they stole babies – were burnt secretly in hearths. Even the Yule Log, it was said, was a continuation of this practice. Hidden, changed, pushed below the surface perhaps, but still meant to bribe Aulshaka to return to His cold lair in the north.

If in farms around Long Archer, a stump of wood was crudely fashioned, what harm did it do? The folk there were mostly Druidic in worship, even those who went to the Church on holy days. Aulshaka was one of the Faerie Lords, and a piece of wood cost little if it meant winter would end the sooner. And, if in places more northerly, with less food to spare and more to fear from the long cold, who could be blamed if some sickly child did not make it to the spring?

 

[wolfheart]

Dain's first winter among the humans was interesting. During the onset of the Tallowbone outbreak he was sent out into the city, as all the priests were, charged with healing the victims as best as he could. His gruff demeanor and his fine-for-dwarves-but-too-rough-for-humans handling of patients got him relived of this duty in short order. Instead, the church put him to work forging braces that the other clerics would use to try and straighten bones warped by the disease.

Dain discovored the many fine taverns of Selby-by-the-water, and was thrown out of several. It was not that he fought or harassed the other patrons, but he loved to break into dwarven chants at the top of his lungs when he was in the cups.

Dain thought it odd that the citizens of Selby were so alarmed by the cold of the winter, to him it felt like most of his winter's spent tracking giants through mountain passes. Indeed, he quite enjoyed the cold. He would often comment that it kept the riff-raff off the streets, and that Selby would be a better place for it.

The highlight of Dain's winter, though, was when he discovored a bath house with a sauna. He would sit in the sauna for hours, meditating and chanting quietly. Then he would run out into the courtyard and jump in the snow. All the other patron's thought him quite mad, but Dain loved it.

As winter gives way to spring, Dain is finding that his mind is wandering again. He wonders what other sights he has missed out in the greater world. He still loves working the forge, but he is finding it harder to deny the call of the trail.

 

[Raven Crowking]

Once the last thaw has occurred, spring in Long Archer becomes a time of frenzied activity. The ground has to be broken to allow new crops to be planted. As game begins to return to the forest, hunters go out to secure much needed meat. Of course, there are other things out there – natural and not – who are looking to fill their larders as well. Rarely can members of the Mercenary’s Guild find notices posted in the Guild Hall. Hunters rely on stealth, and neither the lumbering nor the shipping season has yet begun. Yet, one morning in late Showermont a notice appeared. A ship, called the Green Willow, was preparing to traverse down the Selwyn River, and wished to take on both hands and guardsmen. Because of the long winter, there might still be places where ice forms a hazard, so both had been somewhat hard to find – in addition to room, board, and passage the Green Willow is offering 40 gp for each hand to make the trip, and 30 gp for each guard. This is a little less than double summer wages.

Outside Selby-by-the-Water, small settlements are concerned with largely the same things – planting and hunting. Animals which have not seen pasture for months are sent out again under watchful eyes. Soon the milk has the sweet taste of spring’s first green grass.

It was then that the attacks began. At first it was only sheep, and the herdsmen feared that the attackers were wolves. After a long winter, they would be desperate to feed well. But the tracks did not seem like wolf prints – they were feline, and spoke of a heavier form than any normal wolf could show. There were no lions in Weirwood the Great, although there were occasional rumors of panthers. When the first shepherd was taken, folk began to speak in whispers that this beast was nothing of the Middle World. Eventually, word reached Selby itself. Villages to the south of Selby-by-the-Water armed their herders as best they could, but the beast was cunning, and struck at homes when farmers and herdsmen went to search for it, killing goodwives and robbing babes from cradles.

 

[wolfheart]

Dain emerged from his room at the temple when he heard the wailing of a young woman in the hall. She was been helped along down the passage by a elderly cleric who was doing his best to comfort her. This was not the first poor soul who had come to the temple in the preceding weeks with a heavy heart, looking for solice.

Dain's fighter instincts told him that something was afoot. As he was not one to be sought out by the flock for counsel, he did not know what was happening to these people. But he sensed that it was something other than illnesses or marital problems. He sensed that it was something that he and Tor-Angol might be able to help solve.

Dain's mind was made up. He went straight away to the chambers of his superiors to ask what was happening and to volunteer his services to help root out whatever it was.