This message was deleted by the player at 23:38, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

The troupe members seek to learn more.. in their own ways.

Sometimes, the more advanced people of the world wonder how simple Human tribes like this, barely out of the iron age or barely into it depending on how you measure, survive in the world.  So much out there, how do their simple villages manage to...

Dogs.  The secret equalizer of Humans, and Halfings.  Fierce, unflappably loyal, and possessing senses that surpass the detection abilities of mighty wizards.  No one sneaks up where dogs are guarding.  Nothing evades them when they search.

Generally.

Marcus finds himself talking to the leader of this tribe... sort of.  Dagmund is the clear boss as far as security and battle are concerned, but for other issues the tribe makes more communal decisions.

"More than torches we have," Dagmund says.  "I have hounds that will follow the trail of a hawk on a cloudy day.  But there are places where hounds fear to go.  The forest east of here, to the Rhine River, is home to Evil Spirits.   Heartless, wicked fairies, and horrible creatures.  Through that wood, no hound will track.  Their hearts become afraid, and they run for home.  It is a warning.  The people who lived here before us left us nothing to describe the creatures of that forest.  Perhaps they feared to name it.  But there have been sightings of ghostly lights, of strange elf like folk bathed in light, and Ogres.  Had we magic of our own, or a sorcerer on our side, maybe things would be different.  At least there could be revenge for what was taken."

********************

But meanwhile, Topaz gathers the attention of children.  He is unusual enough, entertaining enough, and non-threatening enough to do so.  The tribe has many of them- about a quarter of the population consists of children.  And children are intensely curious about what other children are interested in, so bit by bit, Topaz pulls in a small crowd of them.

Whether magic has a literal smell or not is a subject of debate.  To some, clearly it must, because what else explains how the dogs are afraid of the forest even when they hear nothing?  Everyone knows that dogs are able to smell things no one else can.  So there.  They smell magic, and they are afraid of it!

For others, it's just a figure of speech.  Some of the children explain their opposition to the "magic has a smell" theory thusly:  "Nu uh!"




******************

And Tahra seeks out an old woman.  Tahra gets, perhaps, the clearest story.  The forest to the west is Elven, everyone knows that.  But something else lives in the forest to the east.  She confirms what the chief said:  Lights have been seen at night, and human-like creatures of youthful beauty, who sometimes seem to have a pale light around them.  Other creatures as well- if an Ogre or  Goblin comes out of the forest, and it is faced by warriors, it will flee back to the forest.

The beings in the forest sometimes seem curious about humans.

But a week ago, some children were playing in a field, and they found a platter of sweet baked treats out by a field marker post.  Naturally they ate them.  Then, a few decided that the forest creatures must be good, and they wanted to find them.  So three went in.  The others did not go in.  The three who went in were not seen again.  Hunters have searched, but no one ever finds a sign or a trail in that forest, and no dog will follow a scent.

When the troupe had gathered, Tahra shares what she's learned.

She is seen speaking to Siankiir.

The culture of children is distinct from that of parents and other elders, something Topaz knows all to well.  They've not learned that mundane existence can be separated from the magical, even from one's inner dreamscape.  It's from this flicker of belief that magic is real and the wonder at the wildness of nature that his folk find their existence.  Where they are perceived as partners or the Good Folk the sweet cakes, milk, and ale left on sills and on the edges of fields are given as gifts.  Where they are lights in the forest and a source of fear, such things are left in an attempt to placate capricious and violent spirits of nature, thus Mafia protection.

The Faun doesn't discuss such things openly, but he understands the things the Queen of Ardennes Elves fears and must navigate for the good of her people.  Still, Topaz is of a sort of Fey who may more openly associate with the world at large, less tied to his cynosure and far less affected by the banality of mundane existence.  He is not, however, unaffected by such things.

The bard gathers as he may from the children, sharing simple tricks, misdirection, and entertainment in exchange for their gifts of information.  Once their stories begin to loop back onto themselves, repeat, and turn to speculation, he gently draws the games to a close and offers his hand to Nwofia.  "Shall we, m'lady?  I believe we should speak with Tahra, Magister Esher, and the others."

---

After sharing what they'd learned from the children and hearing reports from the others, the Faun says, "This is difficult.  I am guessing the person offering the gifts had received some blessing or made some promise; the cakes and such would be given in honor of that bargain.  It sounds like the children unknowingly broke that agreement by eating the gifts, obligating themselves, at least in the eyes of those for whom the gifts were meant."

He glanced to regard each of those assembled, his face sad, as if he's seen such similar incidents before.  "It is very possible they've been taken to a turn of service, but the import of the that isn't always clear to my folk.  Sometimes things are ... different for us.  Time isn't always the same, for example.  Many things also depend on the nature of the offended party, too.  Some of us are less thoughtful or benevolent.  We should seek both the children and those the gifts were meant for."

"And the hounds are unwilling to track...?"  That made the cloaked woman very nervous indeed.  Still, these children had family that missed and loved them (in theory) and that alone put steel in Siankiir's spine.  She could, at least, use her blades in protecting the others.  "Where should we start?"

Nwofia takes Topaz' hand and curtseys before she walks beside him in stately procession as would befit a Queen from some exotic land.  She smiles upon the children and agrees wholeheartedly with the Faun's assessment.  Perhaps it would also be wise to ask who had benefited from an agreement with the Fey.

Evening sees the watchfires lit around the town of Iuliomagus.  Not every family has one, that would be a terrible waste of good firewood.  Instead, some torches are set out along the perimeter, and at the larger homes, the ones that used to be the villas of Roman landowners, the fires are communal, with extended families and friends gathering.

They might know a little of their own magic here, the torches along the perimeter seem substantially brighter than any bundle of oil soaked twigs has a right to be.  A handful of sentries watch as well, but of course they are backed up by keen eared, keen nosed hounds.

The children stop their deliveries as it gets dark, first joining their families around the fires, and then going off to bed.

Occasional bits of conversation manage to drift within range of the characters.  Not unexpectedly, they find they are a topic of conversation.

Eventually, an old man with a cane hobbles his way towards the Argentos camp.  He studies everything carefully, brightly covered wagons and the odd assortment of people.  He's carrying a large wineskin, and calls out, though not too loudly, "strangers, ho, would you talk with me?"

Yahra, who has been regarding the flames, rises at the voice. She rises, curtsies, and says Gladly, grandfather, would you care to sit here (gesturing to where she was sitting) and be warm? I'm hight Tahra.

Nwofia too curtseys to the man beside Tahra and says in Latin, "Certainly father and with a good will."

Topaz takes up a seat as well as the small wine bottle he sometimes carries about.  Not certain whether the old fellow speaks Latin, he listens.  If there's a gap in languages, he translates greetings and introductions in Germanic.

The old man speaks Latin and Germanic, and settles into whatever is easiest by consensus, though his native tongue is clearly Germanic.  Fortunately the party has plenty of means of translation available.

"I am glad of your welcome," the old man says.  "I did not want to intrude.  My name is Berthald.  It is good to know that you know our people.  You must know then that it is not a comfortable place for old men.  Old women can get by when they know enough tricks to be useful, and most of them do.  But old men, the things our bodies once did they can  no longer do.  Only a few of us learn things that are useful.

Berthald goes on to explain that he does know a useful thing or two; he is the "Master Brewer" of this tribe, and he's brought them some wealth, because his better batches are sought after by traders, though they come rarely.

"Still it might be better in the future, the bridge at Tenedo is open again we've heard, and so people might cross freely to the Gnome Lands.  It is funny, I have brought in more wealth than most, but there is no glory in it.  Not like finding some monster's hoard of gold, no one tells the story of a brewer's work.  But as I said I know a thing or two..."

"The forest to our east, you know, belongs to the magical creatures that live in it.  Now, I know from what my elders taught me, and their elders taught them, when there are magic beings about, you want to keep them friendly.  So whenever I make a fine brew, one I am proud of, I leave them an offering.  They always take it.  Sometimes it takes a few days.  No one ever sees them, but they do.  Of course not everyone believes that.  Some say it's just jokes played on me, and the young men of the tribe take it.  Perhaps it has always been so.  But maybe this was the first time, because a few were caught in the act, young Thermand and his friends, drinking the last of the Fairie's Share.  Now that happened just three nights before the sad event with the children, and three is a special number."

"I think they were angry, and this was their vengeance for being denied the tribute they had always received.  I may be wrong, but this is what I believe."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:08, Sun 18 Oct 2020.

Nwofia frowns and looks from Topaz to Tahra and back again, and to the floor, and to Berthald and to the trees.  "Perhaps", she says and it is clear her first language is definitely not Latin but she doesn't speak Germanic at all and so she continues, "These creatures might enjoy a performance.  I don't know whether it would be enough of an offering to bring mercy for some naughty children but maybe it would.  Besides, what else could we do?"

Siankiir stayed standing off to the side, keeping quiet.  It might very well be true, the old man's tale.  But she did her best to get a read on the man's body language, trying to detect any tells or tics that might tip off he was lying -- or holding something back.

Nwofia's words get translated back and forth, and the old man considers it.

"I do not know.  But the tales say that the magical folk appreciate skill and artistry, that is why we leave them a tribute of our best, not just whatever we make.  But I would not claim to advise you of this.  Perhaps I have it all wrong, and a troll merely ate them, and would do the same to any who came after them.  I can tell you are not warriors."

Celeste Argentos, the daughter of the Argentoses, becomes a little indignant.  Those who have traveled with the company a while knows that when she does this, she somehow never loses her temper, and wraps herself in an air of property while fending off the perceived insult.

"I beg your pardon!  We have traveled bandit plagued roads, crossed dangerous wilderness... life on the road is never easy, and we have a few in our number who can be counted on in a moment of peril!"

The old man looks at her.  Celeste does not seem to be the sort who could do much in a "moment of peril".

"Magical creatures, miss, include some good ones, some bad ones, and some who are good only by their own strange accounting.  And where you find the one kind, you find the other.  If there is the kindest nymph in the world in that forest, there are also the most wicked creatures.  That's how it goes with them, I don't know why.  There are those out there who appreciate an offering such as mine, but there are also beasts that do not care."

Also a bit off to the side, Alayna watched, standing next to Angel. She moved forward to hear a bit better, then spoke up.

"I am not afraid. If we can save children, then I want to go."

Of course, the young part Elf was clearly the last person in the world to look as if she could face evil in a forest. But she still was ready to help.

Tahra muses. If a plan involves one or more batches of beer, I can brew up some potions of light healing and infuse the beer with them. It should be noted that the potions' efficacy lasts one day.

Berthald is surprised at Alayna's quick response.

"Here we have a custom," he says.  "When someone mentions some heroic deed that ought to be done, often someone will rise and take the challenge.  But most of the time, that is a young man with more muscle than wit, and usually after an evening of drinking.  Even then, it is considered unworthy for him to change his mind in the morning.

"Therefore I shall not speak of this, lest half the young men of the village, upon hearing that this girl has so boldly volunteered, demand to take part as well.  The beings of that forest are magic, not a mob of Orcs, and such things are best left to wit rather than strength.  Such heroes as may be found here have strength.  Great strength.  Neither then should you speak of this, unless you want a small army to accompany you.  I cannot either recommend nor forbid this venture, it is not my place to."

"Hmm... it is getting late."

He rises to leave, and Celeste interrupts with a question.

"It is not just stories you tell, there have been real encounters, yes?" she asks.  "And a place one might start?  Elsewise meandering around many miles of forest with no direction...  Perhaps one among us is a tracker, I do not know."

"I told you the hounds will not track there,"  Berthald says.

"But a person might.  Or at least, have a start in the right direction."

"There is a great stone in a field, you must have gone past it when you arrived.  It is old and green with moss and lichen, like any old stone.  There is where I leave my offerings to them.  Beyond are Rowan trees, and there are a few of them that are always in season.  This is a sign of magic."

Nwofia smiles and suggests, "Then perhaps that is where we should perform, is it not?"  As usual, she hopes someone will translate her Latin into German.

Topaz makes no great show of his presence, supposing his apparently mixed outward appearance clear enough sign of his nature.  He's well aware of the value of such offerings Berthald describes.  Since he's not so place-bound as most of the Fey, the Faun takes his own from the approbation of his audience, wherever he can find it.

Easily, he offers, "The stone'll be a marker, then, likely an old trysting place.  Some will think of it instead as a boundary marker.  Anyhow, things will have happened there, events of import."

As for heroic deeds, it's often been his charge to encourage young men into them, so it was here with a young prince and his hangers on so many years before.  Here, he splits the difference, mostly translating for the group, switching between languages in a facile manner the while, as if there really is only one tongue.

There's not much more the old man can share about it, it seems.  He talks more, but about other things, the village, the surroundings, the neighbors.  He  asks some questions, particularly about where the group has been, and the things they have seen.

Celeste Argentos finds a moment to excuse herself.  She never seems to stay up late.  Although, this time, there is no hard work day planned for tomorrow.

Eventually, Berthald leaves too.  Nights do not last forever.

The fires of Iolomagus are tended through the night.  Warriors and dogs keep watch.  With the dogs available, it is a lot more secure than it looks.  The occasional outburst of barking is investigated, and each time, the dogs rewarded for being so observant, though it's never more than a local animal.

In the morning, it seems that Phileas Argentos has heard of the rising interest among certain members of his company for this Lost Children issue, and how Alayna has already volunteered.

It puts him in a bit of a position, and he ponders through it.

"It's actually something you can back out of," he says to Alayna when he has pondered. "Yes, if any of the locals had said something they'd be honor bound to follow through, even if it was to their deaths, that's how these Germanics think.  But you're not one of them and not bound by their codes.  Though... if you are certain about this, you should not go alone.  We should form up a skilled team with you.  Topaz, certainly.  He is a Faun, and has one foot in the world of magical creatures just by being who he is."

"I will go with Alayna or with Topaz, or both or more,", said Nwofia.  "I will be silent and express myself through Dance.  I suspect the Fae will be pleased with that as the Peri are in the Great Desert."

They gather the next day at the stone the old man told them about; Alayna, Topaz, Nwofia, Celeste, and any others volunteering as well.  There are stories connecting the "Fairy World" to large, strangely out of place stones across Europa, but this one seems, if anything, less supernatural than most.*  It's definitely covered in moss and lichen, but then, practically everything around here gets that way if left too long.  There were old cut building stones in Iuliomagos with green staining its way up from the ground.  No sign of ancient runes or anything like that cut into the stone.

But there is that ring of Verbena, a flowering shrub with presumed magical curative powers (Ask Tahra) [Private to Tahra: (It is used to make antidotes to spider and scorpion venom, among other things).  And then there are the Rowan trees, and they are adorned with mistletoe, and definite sign.  One tree in particular is an oddity- a large one, showing damage from possibly a lightning strike.

Weird damage.  Very unusual.  Like it blasted a hole through the core of the tree, but then the tree healed and resumed growing, leaving a healthy tree with gap right through the middle, a few feet off the ground.

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*Of course the folk living in the far north think most of these stories are untrue.  In their stories of ancient days, once upon a time ice covered the whole world and flowed like rivers, and pushed giant stones down from mountains.  But most people who hear such things realize how silly they are. 

Silently, Siankiir scanned the area carefully around the stone.  The fey were capricious beings and dangerous regardless of intent, moods ever-changing like the wind.  Even benign ones could show an alien, unknowable fury...

...and best not to even fathom what the more malevolent ones were capable of.

Nwofia seeks a place where her stillness and silence might have the greatest entertainment value as she awaits the time to move.

Alayna (if riding) simply followed. She knew nothing of such places. But she kept her potion handy if she needed it. Her lover wanted her alive, and she wanted to be alive for him. But otherwise, she was ready to perform, either riding or tumbling. A nimble girl, she could do both.