Brannon relaxes at the mentuion of "a few desoerate stragglers", but tenses again at the mention of Fengris. "That is troubling news. If Rimfax is Fengris' harbinger, then... well, I fear what may follow. Did you..." He pauses, realising that this may be a delicate topic. "Did you face the dread wolf yourselves?"



"More than enough." Brannon sighs. "And something is stirring. In the mountains to the North, in the border to the West. No doubt to the East and South, if I looked hard enough. I just don't know what." He realises that he has clenched his fists in frustration, and hurriedly opens them.



Brannon looks relieved as Lann approaches, and there is the chance to change the subject. "Aye, a trip to the library would be wise, and your company would be welcome."

"Then I will answer as best as I am can, not being a scholarly Hearthwarden myself. Though I am fairly certain that hearing himself called Sir Brannon would both confuse and delight him." Caith answers in grave seriousness, then cheerfully amused tone.



Caith says very softly as she tries to explain her hesitation "It is a chamber both clean and ordered, aye, but mark my words, the moment I step in there? It will untidy! I nay understand it's pattern of beauty yet, and I nay wish to upset those who make it so."

She shrugs and concludes "Well buckets and garden earth are nay less complicated, but they are of a pattern I already understand, and tolerate a less formal sort of beauty, even a wild thistle springing up unexpected."

In reply to Barlow Greencap (msg # 139):

'Friend Barlow, I think it's time I ventured to the library. If my blade is going to be drawn on shades or other devils at some point in the future, I'd quite like to know as much as I can beforehand. By the Saviour this peach is good.'

Diarmuid rumbled like a threatening storm overhead at Brannons question, and Cene leant forward and seized Brannons hands in his own.

Cene stared Brannon in the eye, " One no more 'faces' Fengris than one 'faces' the ocean as they drown miles from shore....if you had seen what we have seen then you would understand....I hope you never do."

Cene released him suddenly, " My apologies, we'll speak further tonight."



As Brannon and Lann walked towards the doors in the north wall they were caught up by Sir Turren Uvedale.  The trio continued inside then turned into the western hall where books were stacked on some newly constructed shelves, some were still stacked in piles near the shelves and a strongbox sat beside them.

" Bah! Very well, I'm off to bother Drummond then.", Barlow said loping off towards the gate.

"Oh!" Exclaimed Leofwyn, slightly embarrased, "Then what should I call him?"



"Mmmm", agreed Leofwyn as they started walking again, "indeed that is something I, too, love about nature. It can be harsh and strong and... rough! But it can also be soft, and beautiful and quiet. It can be as unforgiving as it is flexible and welcoming - if you only but treat it with the respect it deserves."

In reply to GM (msg # 132):

To Cene, Lann salutes and says," At your service milord! I have often heard of the castle and am honored to be able to set foot in such a place. I hope to learn from you and I am certain there is much you can teach me," Lann replies politely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:11, Wed 23 Oct 2019.

"Hearthwarden Brannon if I'm being respectful..." Caith offers as she thinks harder on the matter "...Or Hearthwarden Darrow, if it's official business. Never heard of a Sir Hearthwarden, but that may be my ignorance speaking rather than truth."



Caith replies in canny reckoning "Aye, t'will kill ye for impertinence, yet show ye a paradise with equal cheerfulness, and it be the one place that I nay feel out of place. So 'Lady' is a title I have nay claim to in truth. Herbwife is all that need be said of me, for herbs are all I am mistress of."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:55, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

'If it wouldn't be too much bother, I'd be happy to assist as I might in your research. I'm all for lugging tomes and manuscripts if you're doing the reading - the true heavy lifting.' Sir Turren falls in beside Brannon and Lann, easing his pace, smile grim. 'Or more to the point, I've found before most battles, knowing the enemy you'd least like to know is as useful as any suit of armour or honed blade. Whatever it is you find - fell as it might be - would be to our advantage in the future, er... I'm sorry I've quite forgotten your names, friends. I'm terrible with names, forgive me.'

Caith and Leofwyn made their way back outside passing Brannon, Lann and Sir Turren heading down the west hall towards the makeshift library.

As they exited the hall they met up with Beathan, Usopi, Sir Uthen and Aphail who were coming their way up the stairs to head inside.

Heading onwards towards the garden beds they were overflowing with leafy green vegetables and a fair selection of culinary herbs.  Caith was impressed with the lush growth achieved....

Brannon offers his hand to Sir Turren "I am Brannon Darrow, Hearthwarden of the Temple of Flame in Glissom. Your company in the library would be welcome, Sir Turren. Given the reputation of the old Duke, I half fear what we might discover - though it sounds like the King is doing his best to cleanse the more dangerous tomes. It is Fengris, and Rimfax that interest me, though - I need to know if they are behind the troubles in Glissom." He gives a sad chuckle. "I doubt that will be handily written in a book, but knowing the details of their cults may help in the diagnosis. Still, one trafficks with such beings in any way only with peril. It is it not wise to draw their attention..."

Before Aphail go up with the others, he acknowledges Sammel's workload.
"Nay bother aboot the harness's. I'll be here to help yer wit' de labourin' and such" *winks*
He slap Sammel on the back and retires to their quarters.

Brannons search revealed a few select passages, Sir Turren and Lann were less successful but still found some clues.


' The Rim Fax, or Ridge Mane....an ancient spirit said to fortell the end of all things."

' The Bone Mares breath is thought to wilt crops and sicken livestock, and it was considered responsible for epidemics and drought.'

' A burnt offering to Rimfax by the Black Priests resulted in a wild rampage of plague, the deaths of cattle and the destruction of crops. The dark spirit was said to have infected horses at Hallowhall with the deadly disease known as mortasheen, to demonstrate its fury and exact its revenge against the holders for honouring Elvaron; the infection subsequently spread to all the other settlements.  The horror was also blamed for prolonged periods of abnormally low rainfall, leading to water shortages and poor harvests.'

' There are creatures from the far planes that take the form of beautiful women dressed in gowns of white samite and adorned with costly silver and bejewelled circlets. Outside their outer forms they are, in truth, maggots dropped from the scabarous hide of the grim demon Fengris who stalks the planes beyond, slavering for the souls of men and awaiting the end of all things.'


OOC:


19:02, Today: GM rolled 12 using 2d10.  Secrets Stealth.

Caith smiles in greeting to Alphail, but the sight of the library party brings a curiously wary quality to her expression, for all that she nods politely to Hearthwarden Brannon in passing.



"Well sown, and well tended." Caith says in fair praise, after the quietness of the place has sunk into her for a few minutes. A few sprigs of rosemary, lavender and lemon balm are plucked with great care not to damage the plants in the process.

Armed with a bucked of well water, she sits down barefoot on a step out of the way, and leaves her wolfskin robe folded over her pack after ferreting out a rough but now sweet scented lump of soap.

As she sits and washes her arms and head free from the sweat and dust of travel, it becomes apparent that she is a great deal paler in complexion without the layers of grime, and a smaller and skinnier woman than her warcoat make her appear.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:27, Fri 25 Oct 2019.

Turren smiles and returns the handshake, 'Brannon, well met. Brannon,' he repeated quietly to himself. 'Very good then.'



Turren listens intently to any and all information revealed by his new acquaintances. He nods in what can only be a parody of extreme concentration. It becomes apparent during the time in the library that Turren, though lucid enough and quick of wit, has a terrible struggle committing details to memory. Eventually after a drawn out circular conversation, he seems satisfied, albeit slightly exhausted, and perhaps even a little embarrassed.

Usopi gave a amicable smile to the ladies as he passed, and then made his way up the tower, headed for the top. Aside from checking the view and bathing he had little he needed done before dinner, so he moved with a casual slowness.

Usopi and the others made their way up the tower stairs past the ladies quarters and to the platform at the top, two young looking guards stood up there casually chatting but they soon pulled themselves into a more attentive pose as the group reached the top.

Looking out over the mountains from the tower was breathtaking...if rather stark...the Castle was not on the tallest of the peaks by far but it was the tallest of those nearby by quite a bit.  The view over the mountains was mostly gray stone and snow atop the tallest peaks but there were patches of green and alpine meadows that were dotted among the jutting stone.

OOC: When ready feel free to move across to The Feast.

Usopi grinned at the view, taking in the beauty of even such a stark climate, the specks of green were small confirmations of flourishing life. However, he preferred the view from atop the cliff. The sight from up there, with his heart pounding from the near fall, overlooking all the different terrains of the low lands had been truly breathtaking.

Still though, it had never really occurred to Usopi how enthralling the view could be from such great heights, and he found himself wondering what other towers and mountains might allow him to gaze upon such expansive swaths of Gatanadese’s creation.

After a few minutes of quite contemplation he spoke, ”I think I have fallen in love with heights.” he said with a chuckle, ”Now perhaps for a bath? If it would not be so much of a bother to get the water up here I would take it here if I could. Thankfully warm water is refreshing be it at ground level or upon the tallest peak.”

Brannon pores over the books with a scholar's fascination, reading and re-reading sections aloud, and making furious notes. "These horrors at Hallowhall sound familiar." He observes. "This is much what we faced with Aphail's Clan in Glissom." He reads further. "Bone Mare, eh? Though I do not like this 'end of all things'..."

He sighs. "I think we have gleaned all we can. Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen. I think it is time we prepared ourselves for the feast..."

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 160):

'Aye Brannon,' Turren tidied up where necessary, laughing eyes gone sombre. 'I thank you for being patient with me - your temperament does you credit, sir, and good turns I DO remember. I'll take my bath and prayers, and see you both again at the feast. Until then.'

Sir Turren gives a gentle nod, then rounds in his full plate and strides away as if in only tunic and hose.

A cleaner and calmer Caith looks to Leofwyn at work in the garden, and says "Ye have the green lady's thumb, to keep a garden like this so well on a high and steeply sloped bed of stone. Nay underestimate the gift in your hands. Keeps many more folk alive and well than mine do, and I thank ye for putting it to good use."

She shakes the dust off her wolfskin coat and combs out the worst of the tangles in it, and the same from her own bird's nest of red hair, hesitating a moment before shrugging and tying it back in a pony tail held in a plaited twist of flowering sage stem.

The velvet softness of sage leaves and the vivid blue of its flowers make little difference to the scars, but there is less tension in her face now, less despair in her stance, and that is a kind of beauty in itself.

On a whim she adds a twist of the weather wise Scarlet Primrose to her hair adornment, as blue, however vivid goes oddly with a red feasting tunic without it.

Caith suggests as she leaves, now more confident that she can navigate back to the room that so intimidated her before "If ye wish to speak with Hearthwarden Brannon before feast, ye'll most likely find him where ever the history books and scrolls of lore are to be found. They draw him to them as this garden's bounty does a bee."

Before the Feast, Aphail spends time cleaning and repairing of his equipment.  This includes himself too.  Givent he special occassion, he decides to try a bath in a half barrel of hot water! Caith had given him some herbs to rub on his body which she said would 'to clense the skin'.  Slowly, Aphail got all the dust, dirty, dried blood and detritus off his body.

Aphail easily procures a clean tabard and hose from the castle stores
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:19, Sat 26 Oct 2019.

Leofwyn looked up and smiled "It is something that brings me great joy. But I don't yet know all the names and uses of many of the things that grow under my care."


Leaofwyn laughed quietly at the analogy and thanked Caith for the tip. She stopped pulling the weeds, and stood up, wiping the sweat from her forehead.. "I think I had better clean up before dinner tonight, though. I might be able to catch him at the feast."

She farewelled Caith, before gathering up her things and heading upstairs, after her.

Caith looks pensive for a moment, then offers in serious tone "I can gladly tell ye the names I know them by, though they may be different to the ones ye'd learn from sage folk back home, and I am forever learning new uses even for the ones I know of myself. Growing them is harder than knowing them, and I am seldom in one place long enough to tend what I plant."



The smaller woman nods, and replies "Ye be welcome, and aye, most likely ye will. Fare ye well 'til then." as she heads off up the stairs, intent on finding her way.