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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rel" data-source="post: 1287426" data-attributes="member: 99">At last I've had some time to work on the Story Hour!  My work for the year is done and I'll be engaging in some much needed R&R for the next week.  I plan for this to include a healthy dose of much needed Story Hour writing.  Expect frequent and lengthy updates for the next several days:”New Enemies and Old Friends” – Part 1 – Old FriendsThe group flew west and the miles soared away beneath their wings.  Speaks looked down with his eagle vision as the Fodor River passed below.  Just over a year ago he had been struggling to get across the river just barely ahead of a pack of Gnolls bent on his destruction and that of his friends.  But they had escaped and their travels had taken them into the western lands and adventures they could never have imagined.  Adventures, which only Speaks himself had survived intact.  Krase was dead, Arc had been killed and twisted into evil by the cursed leader of the Orc horde, Rhys was brought back from death only to have to come to grips with living in a body not his own and Ilrath was missing in the forbidding crags of the Black Peaks.  Speaks glided on the air and looked down among the small, helpless seeming bird-forms that his companions wore.  He wondered how many of them might be dead or worse before another year passed.  Speaks shook these dour thoughts from his mind as they came into view of Hrongar’s Hill a few hours later.  It would be good to be among the Brigantes again.The party alighted at dusk and were greeted and welcomed into Urdrax’s mead hall.  He openly embraced Speaks and Cathal but looked on with curiosity at the Imperials.  Marius quickly put him at ease with his friendly manner and genuine interest in learning all he could about the people who populated the Western Wilds, as they were called in the Empire.  Marius had studied the tongue of the folk of the Fodor lands before departing from Emor and this showed a respect that Urdrax could admire.Marcus found himself fixed with more than one cold stare as the gaze of the tribesmen fixed on his holy symbol.  The Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert had made a less than favorable impression when they visited the Fodor lands with their firm questions and arrogant manner.  There could be no doubt that the people of the Fodor and those who bowed to St. Cuthbert shared a common enemy, but they shared little else.  Or so thought these tribesmen.Actually, Marcus was keeping his eyes and ears very open and his mouth very shut.  This was typical for he saw himself as a man whose service to his Lord came primarily in the form of vigilance.  But he had personal reasons to learn about the Brigantes and other tribes of the Fodor lands.   For now he was content to observe what was going on around him and bide his time.Lazarius was already coming to the opinion that the rustic life of these barbarians was not for him.  The benches were not padded, the food was crude and he suspected that his cot for the night would be without the embellishment of a soft blanket.  The drink was fair if a bit gritty.  But he supposed that he had better get used to the idea that comfort was something to be enjoyed when it was close at hand because the way west into the Black Peaks was likely to see it in short supply.As the various warriors that populated the mead hall departed for their quarters or succumbed to their drinks and slumped forward onto the tables, Urdrax drew the party close around the fire to ward off the chill of the night.  He knew why they had come and he wished to tell them what news he had from his tribe and the other peoples of the Fodor.Unsurprisingly there had still been no word from Ilrath or his party.  Urdrax had asked after them from the Almani whose territory lay further west but the keen-eyed Almani scouts had seen no sign of the group.  They did indicate that Ilrath had taken a more southerly route into the mountains than he originally intended.  The exact reasons for this were somewhat clouded, but it seemed that Ilrath had come across the site of a large group of slaughtered Orcs that gave him cause for concern.  He decided instead to strike well into the Black Peaks before turning north in search of the City of Endless Summer.Perhaps it had something to do with the disturbing reports from the Almani scouts that a large winged creature had been sighted soaring over the mountains in the last few months.  At first they were concerned that it was a flying serpent such as the one that led the orcish invaders in the Winter War.  But it was reported to have proper wings and be much larger.  Cold comfort that was.The Suevi tribe, led by the brash young Relmar, had continued to show contempt for the other tribes who were attempting to trade with the people of Glynden and parts south.  Relmar had wed the Suevi shaman, Orthula, not long after the Winter War and the couple had had a son soon after.  (Speaks was glad the firelight hid the color rising to his face at this reference.)  The obvious “potency” of their young chief had filled the Suevi warriors with arrogance and swagger.  They openly mocked the other tribes for becoming “pets of the Empire” and “forsaking the old ways”.  These jibes were largely ignored, but there were some disturbing rumblings about a possible rift between those who cleaved closer to the ways of their ancestors and those who wanted to adopt a life of peaceful trade.This situation was made all the more difficult due to the troubles that the people of the Fodor were having in producing goods and services that they could sell.  A small group of Corritani fishermen had finally opened a ferry service across the mighty Fodor River, though for the time being, it seemed little in demand.  A group of craftsmen had turned out a large collection of scrimshaw and wood carvings and these were soon to be sent by wagon east to Glynden and then south to Oar to see if a market for them could be established.These would be accompanied by the elven Wizard-Merchant, Tadius Silvanus, whose small army of mercenaries, led by Speaks’ sister, Tarsheeva, would help guard them on the trip south.  Tadius was helping the tribesmen in whatever way he could and had even, astoundingly, decided that he was going to retire from being a traveling peddler of magic and set up a small school of wizardry to teach the more promising students among the peoples of the Fodor.  While welcome so far as Urdrax was concerned (he had seen for himself the Elf’s power in the Winter War), it provided even more fuel for the growing feud between those who wanted to stay with the “old ways” and those who looked to the future.As Urdrax finished speaking, the reaction among the companions was varied.  Speaks and Cathal both listened carefully to the news of a land they held dear for different reasons.  Marius was paid rapt attention for such news was the very bread and butter of someone in the Imperial Explorers Society.  Lazarius was fairly detached about it all.  He supposed it was interesting if you were looking to develop a trade relation with the tribes of the Fodor, but it held little information that he deemed critical to their quest.But it was Marcus who spoke up first, “I have a request.  My superior, the Abbot at the Church of St. Cuthbert in Oar, told me something of my past before I departed for the northlands.  I was raised as an orphan by the Church.  My father was a faithful servant of St. Cuthbert, which I had known since I was a child.  But it was revealed to me that my mother was a tribeswoman from the Western Wilds.  My parents settled down on a remote farm between Bremerton and Oar but were killed by a band of Orcs when I was a young child.  I never knew either of them.Now that I stand within the homelands of my mother, I would know as much about her as I can before I press onward in our quest into the mountains.”The whole group grew quiet.  This was more than the usually taciturn Marcus had said in one stretch since they’d met him.  Urdrax responded, “In the morning I shall take you to Irdgar, our shaman.  He is the keeper of the songs that recite the lineage of the tribe members.  If your mother was of our people, he should be able to tell you of her.”Marcus nodded firmly and settled back into his chair having said what he needed to say.Speaks took on the silence that challenged them, “I too need to speak to Irdgar in the morning.  The hour grows late for those with early appointments.  Perhaps we should get to bed.”  Lazarius groaned inwardly at the prospect of what his “bed” would consist of.In the morning the group gathered and breakfasted in Urdrax’s hall.  The Chieftain drew Cathal aside and told him that as the group headed west through the Almani lands he wanted him to ask Chief Ilmarl if he would consider sending some of their fine horses to add to the trade caravan that would soon be headed to Oar.  The swift steeds the Almani bred for the rolling foothills of the Black Peaks were far superior mounts to the ponies of Glynden.  Perhaps a market for them could be found to the south as well.  Cathal agreed to do as his Chief bade.Lazarius and Marius made ready for travel as Speaks and Marcus visited Irdgar.  The shaman of the Brigantes listened as Marcus described what he knew of his mother.  Irdgar told him that he couldn’t be certain, but he thought he had heard a tale of a woman leaving the tribe and settling with a Holy Warrior of the Empire among the Corritani.  He would have to seek more information from them.Speaks talked at length with Irdgar and told him of the Druids who had attacked them on their way west.  Speaks had decided to send word south asking his superiors in the Druid Circle if they knew who these opposing Druids could be.  He wasn’t sure where he might be when they sent a response and asked Irdgar if he would be willing to act as keeper of any return messages they might send until Speaks could retrieve them.  Irdgar agreed to this.Speaks hurried back to his quarters and gathered three small bundles he had prepared the previous night.  Each consisted of two notes wrapped around a shard of wood.  The pieces of wood were each parts of the threatening missive left on the fallen log by their Druidic attackers.  One of the notes was written in the Sylvan tongue: Dearest mother,I hope all is well with you.  Tarsheeva sends her love and she may be passing that way soon.  Things go well, but I hope to pass a message on to the Druid Order.  If you could relay the attached letter and wood sliver I would be much obliged.  I will write again soon.  If a return message comes I will likely be in the Brigante Lands, or somewhere near there.  Thanks, I will come and visit as soon as I am able. Love QuintusThe other note was written in the secret tongue of the Druids, just like the letters on the scrap of wood contained within: Greetings Brother DruidsIt has been a busy summer and I have marked off a southern boundary for the Dark Wood.  The locals at this time are honoring an agreement to stay out of this area and an awakened wolf pack helps to watch the woods.  Ogres and gnolls to the north of this area are troublesome but have shown little impact on the local flora and fauna at this time.  North of that Great Root, the treant holds sway from his enchanted glade.  All looks well for the future of the Dark Wood. The same cannot be said of all matters here.  As I informed you before, the orcs that descended from the north wore plumage of tropical birds, which suggests the City of Endless Summer is a real place.  I and my companions are beginning a journey north from the Brigante lands to seek this enchanted land.  The location of such an enchanted biome is not to be abandoned to such despoilers as the orcs.  But I have been accosted by accomplished humanoids who appear to be druids.  They attacked us, captured us, and left a message in druidic that we should abandon our quest.   Are there other druids that you have sent north?  How should I treat these individuals?  Clearly they could have killed me had they chosen and yet if I persist in my quest, they may decide to try it again.  I can assure you that I am prepared to defend myself, but I do not wish conflict if they are Brothers that can be reasoned with.  I have included a sliver of wood carved by the hand of one of these men so that you may scry and see them for yourself.  I wish to hear word, though with winter approaching I must continue north from Hrongar’s Hill. Thank you and may nature preserve and protect you as well as you preserve and protect nature. Speaks With StoneSpeaks took his tiny bundles and moved off into the nearby trees and located three birds that he deemed capable of carrying them.  He said to them, “My friends, I ask you to deliver these messages for me.  I send you far from your homes.  But I send you to the warmth of the south.  Fly swiftly and safely.”  He fervently hoped that his last remark would be true.  But he wouldn’t have sent three copies if he were certain that these animals would not be targets for his Druidic adversaries...NEXT:  Part 2 – New Enemies</blockquote>

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