Lethargy...
And I'll stick to it. Cayden Cailean would understand, and that's all the excuse one needs.
Absolution...
And this is why I write again. Cayden Cailean would demand it. For I have seen the dead rise, and yet it was not undead.
This I can not explain. I am a simple man, charged with a heavy burden, which only seems to grow more burdensome as I strive for simplicity. Ah, but I complain where I need not complain. Back to my story.
It has been long since I've written here, and I will not attempt to fill in the holes, it would only serve to confuse. Let me just say that I have been plagued with a man named Grigori. Some may call him silver tongued, and some may call him righteous. I might call him a pain in the ass. Plain and simple. Again...it's simplicity I strive for.
To make a lengthy story short, our group has ridden forth from Fort Drake with the intent to investigate the disappearance of several of our road wardens. We are yet a small barony, and as such, do not have the resources to lose good men. Besides, it's refreshing to get out of town and away from the yoke of rule.
As it stands I had made a decision to bring the man Grigori with us, feeling uneasy at leaving him behind to cause yet more unrest. For nothing we did was "just" in his eyes, and he was quick to let the good people of Fort Drake know his feelings on this. I also felt that if I didn't bring him along and show him EXACTLY what it was we were facing on the road, he would continue with his lies.
Turns out that Grigori is a talkative sort, surprise. He knows of all sorts of things that have gone on in this area. But the one thing that he spoke of to us was an astounding story of a "lizard king" named Sokatha. This is a tale we heard as children on the street. A story that was meant to frighten, to keep little ones out of nighttime trouble and under a parent's eye. Well, Grigori spoke as if this was more than a children's tale. It intrigued me, and to be truthful, it frightened me as well.
Once we had arrived at Nettle's Crossing (for this is where the missing band of Road Wardens were bound for) it was immediately obvious that something was amiss. A fog had lifted off of the river and obscured the basin, but that was not strange in and of itself, for winter was descending quickly upon us. No, it was that there wasn't a sound in the air...just the gurgling of the dark water moving over rocks and around roots.
Not only was it the cessation of all sound, but there was a feeling in the air, as if something was waiting....patiently. We stood at the crest of the hill and surveyed the area, but nothing moved. There was no sign of the Wardens, and no sign of their horses. No smoke rose from the small cottage across the river, a sure sign in this weather that no one resided within.
The barge itself was across the way, but Ix pointed out that this would not be an issue, and with that he cast a spell upon me that caused me to float up into the air like down caught in the updraft of a fire! It was a strange, yet wonderful feeling. I could not guide myself but Ix took hold of me and rapidly flew across the cold waters, towards the silent dwelling upon the far shore.
Heavy mist barred our sight and obscured us from our companions on the now far shore behind us...As we approached I noticed a body laying up against the wall of the building. I pointed it out to Ix and he nodded, quite aware that we were likely flying into trouble.
While the mist cloaked our vision, it also muted sound so that things sounded very far away. There was a feeling of dread upon that shore, and neither of us felt the confidence to do more than accomplish the task which we set out to do; Get the barge and return to our comrades.
I grabbed the barge rope while Ix flew lookout, and pulled for all I was worth, working hard for the opposite shore.
Sweating hard, about midway, the water began to "boil" and bulge strangely. This is when I noticed that a figure had emerged from the woods, just beyond the shore we had so recently vacated. It sat astride some type of massive stag, and wore a crown, or helm of sorts that reminded me all to clearly of a horrid individual that we had only too recently cut loose from this mortal coil: The Stag Lord.
"This cannot be" I thought. But as he unslung his bow I knew for a fact, deep down inside, that it was he. Come back from the dead. Yet, as I surveyed him, I also knew the he did not move as the undead do. He did not act as the undead do. I believe that he is living, or at least he is not undead, as we know it.
Just as he drew bead upon us, two massive creatures made of ice and water, erupted from the river and rushed the barge.
I can not describe the battle any more than to say it was blood and chaos. We destroyed one of the odd creatures and drove the other away. But no without losses: Durvil and myself were nearly slain, and in the midst of it all we lost the barge. And the Stag Lord disappeared back into the woods without a scratch.
Exhausted, yet unwilling to vacate our purpose, we found a spot to rest away from the river and camped for the night. That evening Durvil, ever the brave and rash, went to the water's edge and called forth Derek Nettles. For it was to him that we had given the corpse of the Stag Lord to. Much to my surprise the ghost answered Durvil's challenge and appeared. He told us that the Stag Lord was taken from him by a powerful man. And that he would like the bridge rebuilt.
As he disappeared from view he gave us a token, his pole arm that he kept in life. A treasure indeed! This will be the weapon of the person in charge of the bridge in the future.
That night, the bitter cold chilled us to our bones, and the silence nearly drove us mad, but the wan morning light found all of us better rested and ready to investigate the far side.
Carefully crossing to the barge, which had lodged upon the rocks further downstream, we eventually restrung the rope and pulled our group across. All the while watching the water and edge of the woods with dread and trepidation.
But nothing untoward occurred and we made it across without mishap.
On the far side our newfound compatriot, Roon checked the ground carefully for clues while the rest of our group moved carefully around the area in search of clues as to the Warden's demise.
A few hours, and much sleuthing later, we had come up with a theory. Two things had happened here:
- The original Wardens were killed by their own. This is difficult to puzzle out, but one, or more, were apparently mesmerized by a force of some type, and persuaded to slay their comrades. Ix tells me that this is a powerful force, no mere charm.
- The next to arrive were slain straight away by arrows in the back as they entered the hut. After seeing the Stag Lord here, and knowing his facility w/ the bow, this is no surprise.
A few odd things were found as well:
- A bracelet of green hair. (Not the first one we've seen...The Stag Lord had one when he was alive.) When Durvil touched it, a vision of a beautiful green-haired woman screamed at him "This is NOT for you!!", and it burst into flame.
- Small tracks of some sort, leading the dead Stag Lord from the water to the trees in the distance.
- Nettles told us that a bird was seen sitting alone, at the same place several days in a row prior to the Stag Lord being stolen...a large raven. The Stag Lord's father, Nugrah, flew away from us in the form of such a bird.
And one note:
- Grigori is now the Councilor. Taking the place of Ivana, who didn't want it in the first place. Folly? Perhaps. We shall keep a close eye upon him, for he did confess to us (after Ix threatened to toast him where he stood) that he was indeed hired by someone north of us who wishes only to see our small barony fail. Who might this be? A follower of Gerona? Harley? Time will certainly tell.
Now we are finally back in Fort Drake, only taking the short time to gear up yet again in order to attempt to discover the force behind these latest killings that have plagued the locals.
