Completed Play-by-Post: In Search of the Sorcerer

[Helly]

"You know, I'm all for helping maidens in distress when they're being bullied or anything standard, but freeing a sacrifice from a ritual we know nothing about? It's my fault too, but I just hope we didn't unleash an evil we won't be able to deal with..."

Spoiler

I miss some days of this thread and now we're whiteknighting like no tomorrow? For shame lads, for shame.

 

[Grimgravy]

"For the record, it's Marcán's fault. But you can take some blame too if you want." Rhenmyr quips. "I predicted evil wolf attacks if we let her go."

 

[nikolokolus]

You all jog towards the woman who is leaning over with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. She glances back and forth between you and the group of people standing about 100 yards farther along the muddy trail.

Rhenmyr directs his question at the young woman, whereafter she stands up still heaving for breath. She points at the score of villagers who are now cautiously walking in your direction. "Bad. Chief no like."

About a dozen or so people have obviously noticed the woman and your group and are headed your way. From behind the thatched huts on the side of the road, three men mounted on short ponies emerge and begin trotting in your direction. In the setting sun the glint of metal catches your eyes: spear points held high, and metal caps from the looks of things.

In a matter of twenty or thirty seconds, the mounted men close the gap and pull in their reins about thirty yards away from you and the naked woman. The man in the middle of their formation urges his mount forward a few paces and stands up in his saddle where he strikes a fierce figure. He chest is bare and his torso is covered in heavy woad tattoos. A fine green linen cloak trails behind him and he carries a large bronze shield in one hand and a heavy tipped spear in the other. From behind his thick black beard, he barks at the woman in Pictish while leveling a suspicious, challenging gaze at you all. The woman shouts at him unintelligbly and then starts to sob a bit. The Keltic speakers in your group can make out fragments of the exchange; the jist of which seems to be how she got free, and who in the hell you all are?

The man shakes his head at the woman and lets out a heavy sigh before turning all of his attention to you. His expression is stoic and hard to read until his eyes land on Ker, Marcan and Cormac and he frowns. In heavily accented Keltic he addresses Ker first, "Holy man. Why do Kelts walk in Pictland? And why does this woman Oona not hang from the stone?"

 

[Siveon]

Marcán whispers to Ker, "(Just say I released while we were looking for an evil mage, because I thought it was for his evil practices. It was my decision after all.)"

OOC

In Marcán's defense, it really would've been boring just to have one person eaten by wolves.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"Yep, looks like I'm going to end up unconcious in a ditch around here by the looks of this guy." Cormac mumbles, as he watches the interaction between the Pict and Ker.

 

[Helly]

"Chieftain of pictland, *know* that it was not our intention to trespass in your land. We are on the hunt, looking for a filthy arcane user. My companions released this woman so that she could lead us to, praise Cernunnos, an inhabited area."

 

[Siveon]

OOC

+1 for channeling your inner Dak'kon.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Spoiler

Channeling more Dakkon: A long road must we still travel, this is but the beginning.

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr keeps a look out for approaching wolves while they talk.

 

[nikolokolus]

"Chieftain of pictland, *know* that it was not our intention to trespass in your land. We are on the hunt, looking for a filthy arcane user. My companions released this woman so that she could lead us to, praise Cernunnos, an inhabited area."

The man listens impassively to Ker as he speaks. When he finsishes the man leans over to one of his companions and nods and makes a small wave of his hand. The man turns his shaggy pony around and sets off toward the village at a gallop.

He then replies in halting Keltic, "No. Am not Chieftain of Crannógmere. I am Brule ap Bruna champion of Crannógmere. King Talorc ap Nechtan leads us." He spares a sidelong glance at Oona who is still sneering at him defiantly. "You have done my kinswoman here a kindness, so I am not angry, but you have erred badly Keltoi. Talorc will be unpleased." He looks over each of you closely, "Before I take you to village I must know one thing. I don't know your tartan; tell me, are you friend or foe of Kaer Uí Néill?"

(Cormac, Ker and Marcán have heard of the Clan Uí Néill; a tribe in the Getae confederation far north of Kaer Eanyn. However you know very little about them save a reputation for being very warlike and aggressive).

 

[nikolokolus]

Rhenmyr keeps a look out for approaching wolves while they talk.

Rhenmyr keeps his watchful gaze directed to the crags and high moors to the south. Nothing catches your eye immediately.

 

[Siveon]

"Oh, now I won't hear the end of it..." Marcán blurts out, face turning pale after hearing the clan name.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Cormac speaks in Illyrian, "I haven't a clue if our clan is friendly to their clan? Being as far away from our clan as they are, I don't see as how our clan, or even our allied clans would have any negative interaction with them. We should still tread a bit lightly so as to not make them angry. Although, I have a feeling this Talorc is going to be unhappy with us for releasing Oona. At least if he wants a fight it wont be spore people or plant monsters we face!"

 

[Grimgravy]

"Ask him how we have erred badly. More information would be good."

 

[Helly]

Ker keeps talking to the Champion.
"Brule ap Bruna, champion of Crannógmere, *know* that we are neither friends nor foes of the Kaer Uí Néill. Our own clan is very remote, far enough so that we only heard legends of Kaer Uí Néill's fierce wars. But tell me, what were you trying to accomplish with this sacrifice?"

 

[ERYFKRAD]

"I come from lands too far to know of your clan, and am no foe unless ye mark me so. And such a foe I shall be as to make quick work of ye!" said Borric, hands open to show he meant no harm.

 

[nikolokolus]

Brule listens intently to the patter going back and forth between your group and then focuses on Ker when he speaks again.

"Druid. You come to Crannógmere in dark times. A doom is upon us. The King's chief councillor says we have offended the wolf-god and now he sends his spirit to punish us. Since the end of winter (remember a season takes a full 364 days and it's now mid-spring) a black wolf as large as a horse rent and tore at us every night, stealing infants, women, children and has slain many brave warriors. King Talorc decided to appease the god and now on the fullness of the silvery moon (once every 28 days) a virgin girl is taken to the godstone and she dies that more might live." he lets out an audible sigh, "Many grumble about this appeasment, but what can we do? It sates the beast . . . for a time. Come, I grant you the obligation of hospitality for saving my brother-daughter."

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Cormac speaks in Illyrian again, "I find it a bit odd that a group that is known for their warlike behavior are letting themselves be terrorized by this creature, rather than forming a war band and slaying the beast. Maybe we will find out more inside?"

 

[Grimgravy]

"Did I hear wolf-god? I wonder what they did to offend it. Us? Sure. Sound's like something we'd do over breakfast, but they should have known better." Rhenmyr follows Brule ap Bruna's lead.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Cormac follows along. "Is it really a wolf god, or something else? We have seen and dealt with many odd things already in our travels, but they were not gods, just men seeking more power. Lets hope our host we will meet soon isnt too unappy with our actions so we dont end up chaimed to a rock"

 

[ERYFKRAD]

"I wonder, what offended this wolf god in the first place?"

 

[Siveon]

Marcán breathes a small sigh of relief. "I'd be willing to bet we'll find out soon enough, chief."

Spoiler

Eh, fuck it, lore check on wolf gods. If I'm gonna be a walking talking mimir I might as well act like one.
Lore Check: [1d20] = 14
Lore Check: [1d20] = 20

EDIT: Well, technically not a mimir. More of a skeleton head from a certain other place.

 

[nikolokolus]

Marcán breathes a small sigh of relief. "I'd be willing to bet we'll find out soon enough, chief."

Spoiler

Eh, fuck it, lore check on wolf gods. If I'm gonna be a walking talking mimir I might as well act like one.
Lore Check: [1d20] = 14
Lore Check: [1d20] = 20

EDIT: Well, technically not a mimir. More of a skeleton head from a certain other place.

OOC

You know that the Picts worship several primal animalistic gods in addition to their moon god and chief goddess Cailleach Bheur (the Winter Queen). The Wolf-God is called "Blaidd Mawr" (Blih-thh Moh-r), literally "Great Wolf." But worship might be too strong of a word. Pictish religion is more about appeasing wrathful powers than it is invoking charismatic gods who actually care about them.

Brule tosses his heavy fur cloak to his niece Oona and extends his hand to her. Somewhat reluctantly she grasps it and he heaves her up on to the back of his horse before he wheels around and starts trotting toward the wooden palisade of the village in the distance.

Shortly thereafter you come to the mud huts along the road and a score of curious onlookers. Brule waves them aside with his hand and exchanges some brief sharp words with a man who steps across the road to block his path. The Keltic speakers amongst you are able to pick out a few words in the sharp, rapid exchange. The man seems to be very disturbed by the presence of Oona and points back over the moor. Brule says something about "hospitality"a "portent" and "good fortune." The man relents and stands aside, but he and the rest of the onlookers seem very dubious when they level their gazes at you all. When you pass through their midst they file in behind you at a respectable distance murmuring and follow you all the way to the village.

As you get closer you start to notice that the town appears to be built mostly on piers set into marshland and shallow water. A wooden palisade about forty feet wide and twenty feet tall flanks a timber gatehouse at the edge of the lake, guarding a wooden causeway that runs about 100 feet to the town proper. The gates are open and with Brule in the lead, you are allowed to enter.

The narrow causeway leads you to a broad wooden square about fifty feet across whereat several boardwalks lead away from here like spokes of a wheel. Immediately you all notice that many of the crude wooden buildings appear to be in a state of disrepair - sundered walls, caved-in roofs, splintered doors hanging ajar on broken hinges. Mere seconds after you stop dozens of people begin exiting their homes to gawk at you; these short, stocky, dark-haired folk seem rather hard-bitten and grim. A few awkward moments pass when a rather large-boned man with salt and pepper hair emerges from the throng and hobbles over toward Brule and Oona who have just dismounted from his highland pony. He embraces the two of them heartily and whispered words are exchanged. Brule turns around and points at you all and the man limps over. His eyes wet with tears he seizes Rhenmyr and hugs him fiercely and says, "Thank you" in heavily inflected Keltic.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Cormac talks as everyone walks along, "Well, it looks like we might not be in trouble after all. At least her family is happy to see her. When I go home, well it's a different story. I hope they have normal food. The stuff I brought to Gul's tower looks pretty bad after all of those months."

 

[Siveon]

Marcán chuckles to himself, and waves to the large man. In Keltic, "It was no trouble, sir. May I ask for your name?"