“Well, I shall hope for NO crocodiles, if it’s all right with everyone,” Eilieen replies, blinking in surprise.  “You know a great deal about the area around Rappan Athuk, I see.”  A curious turn of phrase regarding her ‘terms’, but Eilieen merely accepts it, bowing to Simeon as he gives his own advice.  “Thank you.  I shall try to avoid mentioning the name of the accursed place from now on.”  She grimaces.  “We shall have enough conflict with the abominations within that place itself.”

“Well, the cooking is finished,” she states.  “If we might have a story, it would help these travel rations go down more easily, be it from you gentlemen or Erista’s book.”  A wry smile follows.  “Though I doubt it is overflowing with poetic accounts.”

Caedric nods happily, "That is an easy tale to tell, probably everybody in the Order learns it."

He clears his throat, and requests a cup of water, and then, while his hosts eat their supper, the Oghman monk begins his tale...

"Seven hundred years ago, give or take, during the reign of Grand Duke Barus, there existed in Tsar a temple of Orcus.  The temple was not very active, and was allowed to exist for that reason... "

The tale is a lengthy one, and tells of the rise of Astadar, an ambitious cleric who steered the formerly insignificant temple to ever higher pinnacles of depravity and murder.  And as the power of the temple grew, so it was extended, until it became like a second city, sitting hard against the walls of Tsar.  At last, after a night of unprecedented fear and bloodshed, Barus sent out a call for good men who would destroy this blight upon his city.

Warriors came from far and wide, from every land under the sun.  For ten years they assaulted the temple complex, battle after bloody battle upon the precincts, until they finally broke the iron doors and stormed the chapel itself.

The followers of Orcus fled, as the temple burned, except for Astadar, who perished as the wicked shrine fell.  And at the last, the ground split asunder, the temple complex dropped into the earth, and the chasm flooded as the waters of two rivers flowed into it to form a deep lake.

"And to this day, no man in Tsar will eat fish caught in that dark lake."

"Of course, the followers who fled went on to found Rappan Athuk, and the misery began to extend its reach again." Caedric concludes his tale.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 16:25, Sun 21 July 2019.

Aarnr dozes through the boring bits of Caedric's tale, but rouses himself for the best parts, taking keen interest in the man's descriptions of bloody battles and wanton destruction.

"Do ye froggin' think," he muses alarmingly, "whether that earth-vexin', fen-sucked temple is still gleepin' there, under that dismal-dreamin' lake ?"

He has the easy manner of one who's prepared to go out right now and find out.  Though perhaps best wait till after Rappan Athuk runs with the blood of those who lurk there.

The mention of the fleeing followers reminds him ...

"Did ye see any reeky masons on the road ?" the priest asks with a certain intensity, not at all convinced they've gutted all of the necromancers yet.

Erista comes back near the beginning of the tale, and listens patiently, if her attention wanders a little now and again.

She looks interested in the answer to his question, but takes the momentary pause to interject her own answer, tilting her head back to look up at Aarnr.  "Sixty-four," she asserts.  "Not masons - teeth.  Crocodiles have sixty-four teeth."

"Really?  Sixty-four?  That is interesting.  Remember that Simeon."

Aarnr's questions require a little more thought, before Caedric answers as best he can.

"I have no doubt that the ruins of the temple lay still at the bottom of the lake, though they are probably no longer recognisable as such after so many centuries under water.  Fires and siege engines will have damaged and weakened the structure, and deep water currents will have done further damage.  And finally mud and water weed will have hidden what was left."

"As for masons... I cannot say that we have seen any.  But then again, unless they announced their profession to me, I would be unlikely to realise that they were masons.  As opposed to carpenters or wainwrights."

"Beautiful story," Eilieen muses.  Something bright glitters in her eyes.  Temple of Orcus thrown down and destroyed, followers scattered to the winds...oh, yes.  Beautiful story.  "You carry a great deal of knowledge."  Her gaze flicks to Erista.  "As do you, Erista.  How did you come by that tidbit?"

Aarnr's question carries weight, but...no luck.  She sighs.  "We met some 'masons' some time ago who turned out to be followers of Orcus.  After a great deal of deviltry, they were finally dealt with, but some may have escaped."  Another sigh.  "Well, it was worth asking."

"Indeed.  It is always worth asking, about anything that interests you.  That is one of the ways that one acquires, as you put it, a great deal of knowledge."  Caedric smiles, and could it be that he actually blushes slightly at Eilieen's compliment?

"Another way is to join our order.  Temples of Oghma hold vast libraries of tomes, scrolls and documents on a great many topics.  But even those who do not follow our faith can apply for supervised access to the texts."

As Aarnr's grandmother used to tell him, 'if you can't froggin' think of anything nice to say about someone just hit the toad-sucking pud in the head with an axe !'

Yet, he knows Erista and Arkan are both fond of parchment marked with the squiggles that the people of these lands call writing, so volunteering to start a fire in those vast libraries probably wouldn't go down well with his friends, whose opinion he at least gives some thought to, let alone the two puttocks who are their guests who he's pretending to like.

Moreover, much more of a puzzler is whether sixty-four is a lot or not ... and whether that is more or less than his own number of teeth.  The priest reckons he must have twice that.

Simeon, who appears to be becoming a little more relaxed, suddenly says, "I can tell a tale also, about the very road we travel upon."  He waves a hand in the general direction of the Trade Way.  "And while it is not as old as Caedric's story, and does not involve an evil temple, you may still find it interesting.  It contains a certain amount of bloodshed, and the well-deserved deaths of assorted bandits, miscreants, and ne'er-do-wells who preyed upon honest travellers upon this road."

Pleased at having pleased their guests, Eilieen herself settles back after doling out the food.  "I shall avail myself of Oghma's generosity when next I find myself close to a sufficiently large temple," she decides.  Goodness; there might even be further information on the Un-dying: their weaknesses, where to find them....oh, that would provide hours if not days of fine reading for the priestess.

Joy.

Blinking the cold gleam from her eyes, Eilieen regards Simeon with interest.  "Well, then, god Simeon; regale us with your story, as I am certain it will find eager ears at this fire."  Mostly Aarnr's, but who knows?  Perhaps Arkan would like a tale of bloodshed.

"Aye !"  Most certainly is Aarnr interested in what further tales Simeon can tell them as long as bloodshed is at the heart of it.

Indeed the promised recounting sounds much like the journey behind them, save perhaps that he'd take issue with that 'honest travellers' nonsense, and the man made no mention of the many fires that there have been.

The only worry is that if all the bandits, brigands, pirates and the like have already been dealt with, the onward journey might be rather dull.

Thanking (another thing he's learned) Eilieen as he receives his portion of the evening's repast, the priest settles down to listen.

Simeon leans back against a boulder.  "A few years ago," he begins, "the Trade Way was plagued by bandits.  It seemed that there was not a week that went by without some caravan being robbed, and the merchants taken for ransom."

"Then one day a group of travellers out of Derindin were waylaid by some of these bandits.  The four were called Gonder, Kailla Mirronen, Rotak and Aisaphar Nax, and they were adventurers, as it happens... "

The tale that follows is made all the more interesting by the fact that the audience have actually met three of the heroes of the story.

Simeon goes on to explain how the quartet of heroes, having learned of the miscreants upon the road, promptly set about dealing with them.  Then decided that it was their duty to ensure that the Trade Way was made unsafe for the bandits (instead of because of them).

And so, for a number of years, the four patrolled the road and drove off the bandits.  Usually quite violently.

"And then one day they met a group that was a match for them in battle.  No mere bandits these, but a group from Rappan Athuk, come to slay the heroes who were making the road safe for travellers!"

In the battle that followed, both Gonder and Aisaphar Nax were wounded, the latter nigh unto death.  It took many weeks for them to recover, with aid from the priestess Kailla Mirronen, and neither of them was fit to live the life of adventurers again.  The group decide to disband, and retire from their travels.

"So, instead they took a large part of the wealth they had accumulated over the years to Derindin, and used it to set up the guard troop that now protects the road in their stead."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:44, Tue 30 July 2019.

The tale is a good one, and Aarnr laughs in all the right places.  While he may have met many of those whose names are immortalised in it, he only recognises that of Gonder.  The priest's eyes stray to the oxen cart wherein lies the sword made by that heroes own hands.

The recounting does, however pose not one, but two moral dilemmas, which is not so amusing for one who is rarely troubled by such fripperies ...

On the one hand, Gonder's tale should have ended on that road - if the man could not be victorious, then he should have spent the last of his life's blood to earn a glorious death.  But on the other, had he done so, Aarnr would not have the blade he fashioned.

Likewise guards are widely recognised as an abomination by all, yet Gonder himself charged these sheep-bitin' pumpions to slay bandits.

The priest sighs, pondering these weighty matters ... and quickly deciding that the blame lies with those cullionly, squirrel-chewin' widdle-shins that ventured out from Rappan Athuk.  Them he'd like to meet himself, not only that he might slay them handily, but also to ask them for directions.

"We was meetin' some of them on the way 'ere." Colwyn says, cheerfully.  "Were bein' a good story 'bout them."

He laughs then.  "'ere... maybe as one day yer'll be tellin' a story 'bout us ter coves what yer's meetin' on the road.  Be sure ter be gettin' our names right, an' be makin' sure yer givin' it a bloody 'appy endin'."

He thinks for a heartbeat, before adding, "I wouldn't be worryin' too much 'bout Aarnr's name, mind, bein' as 'ow 'e can't spell it 'isself.  Just be usin' somethin' what's soundin' right, an' be callin' it a day."

Aarnr cannot spell (indeed, lacking knowledge of writing as well, he has no concept of the need to do so), so Colwyn's request seems eminently reasonable to him.

Nor is he much worried about whether the ending is happy or not ...

"Just so long as it's froggin' bloody," he agrees.

"Guard troop," Eilieen whispers as the story ends.  "Well, good for them."  She nods decisively.  "Glad am I to hear your tale," she thanks Simeon.  "Warmth for the heart, that some people will take action against the darkness."

She laughs aloud at Colwyn's request.  "Oh, I suspect they'll get your name correct, Colwyn, and your fell deeds.  Aarnr, they will likely simply name you bloody."  Her amusement fades slightly, her smile growing wistful.  "I only hope they have the names of the others, who have fallen as we travelled.  There have been far too many of them, for my tastes."  The priestess pokes at her food, now growing cold.

"I wonder how many of these patrols -- or whatever they are, raiding parties -- Rappan Athuk sends out," she muses.  "And how far.  Perhaps we might meet one ourselves, soon enough."

Simeon scratches at his chin, as he thinks for a few moments.  Then he smiles, "Ah, yes... I did hear a rumour that if a group seems to be making the road too safe for travellers, then the hierarchy of Rappan Athuk will send out its own killers to deal with them."

"I've only heard of it happening two or three times since the Dungeon of Graves was established.  But if you make your mark, then you will attract attention."

Caedric snorts scornfully, "I don't think they're that organised.  Some group of ne'er-do-wells will decide that they want to gain a reputation among their peers in the cult, so they go out and attack merchants and pilgrims.  Then they meet a group of heroes, quite by chance, and the story spreads that they were hunting those heroes."

"An interesting disagreement," Elieen ponders.  "Who says it cannot be both?"

She considers a moment longer.  "I suppose there is little to show it either way.  Regardless, we must be on our toes; whether it be random raiders or a concerted effort, we might still meet enemies the closer we come to Rappan Athuk."

The priestess considers this for a moment, then laughs.  IF there is a touch of bitter amusement in her hilarity, who can blame her?  "Of course, that is to be expected!"

Erista nods.  "But I think it's up to us to make sure we have that happy ending," she says, mostly to Colwyn.

Perfectly happy with the sobriquet of 'bloody', Aarnr nods.   The matter Eilieen raises that their fallen friends must not be forgotten is an important point.  Fergus and Ozzie will be remembered, else the priest will gut the tale-teller, while Bilfo has merely slipped, not fallen.  However he is uncomfortably aware that there was one other, a spleeny monk, whose name escapes him.  He'll let the others remember her - he's already doing all the heavy lifting with the rest.

Those nods only get more affirmative as the priestess suggests, at least to his mind, cutting off the toes of any bandits until they admit they're from the Dungeon of Graves, and he joins her in laughter, his more dangerously unhinged chuckles contrasting nicely with her bitter amusement.

Caedric glances up at the dark sky, then mutters, "Too cloudy, of course."  His eyes return to the fire.  "The fire has burned low, though, so I suppose it must be getting late.  Come Simeon, we should leave our new friends to rest.  Their road will be long and difficult."

"As for you, friends... we thank you all for your hospitality, and wish you well on your journey."

The two monks stand.

"At least with the camp so well guarded, there should be no need to set watches this night."

Shard also stands, bowing to the monks.  "Well...we may likely set watches anyway.  One can never be TOO safe on the road, and we have become accustomed to such trials."  In the dim firelight, faces become difficult to see, but she offers a smile regardless.  "Zadastha bless you with safe journeys and the revelation of your hearts' desires, and may your Lord be satisfied with your works."  Another bow follows, this one more formal.  "I hope that we see you again, someday."

It seems doubtful, but...always look for the light.

Aarnr too pretends to wish the two well, smiling and nodding as if he meant it.

When they're out of earshot of even his voice, the priest asks his companions, "do ye think those puttocks are froggin' masons ?  Or reeky, sheep-bitin' whoresons from Rappan Athuk ?"  The pair did seem to know a suspicious amount about the history and current activities of those who dwell in the Dungeon of Graves, so Aarnr's question is at least excusable.

"Maybe the whole froggin' camp are ?!!"  he adds hopefully, looking around for signs.

Colwyn almost chokes on a mouthful of bread.  When the stoppage is cleared, he shakes his head at Aarnr.  "Merchants an' travellers ain't all bein' demon worshippers Aarnr.  An' the only ones 'round 'ere with 'orns like demons is bein' the bloody oxes."

He does have to agree with Eilieen though regarding watches.  After all, just because other travellers aren't all enemies, that doesn't mean that there mightn't be a few who are.

"I'll be takin' the first watch." he offers.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Fri 16 Aug 2019.

Aarnr suspiciously eyes the faithful oxen ...