13 Alturiak:  Where Art Thou, Bosmos?



Overview

Warden Keldorn of the centaur village Khalk is infuriated.  Not only have his proud steppe warriors been reduced to cowering in the scant valley forest, now a ribald dwarf, of all disgusting creatures, covered in the mantle of the Oaken Lord Silvanus himself has ensorcelled his very daughter Belerus in the way his fey folk usually charm humans. Even the forest creatures that were once summoned to the beck and call of the equestrian folk were now in the service of this dwarven druid; a dark creature, mad with unholy lusts who now appears to be seeking to establish a new grove, and call the princess Berelus, Daughter of Keldorn to serve at his pleasure to restore balance to the blighted mountain moors and grasslands.
Draxos and Kailute are familiar with centaurs; famously pricklish to outsiders and downright antagonistic to dwarven folk.  Exquisite forest craftsmen, most are druids or bards in service to Silvanus.  All worship the pantheon of forest powers and are considered to be “Children of Corellon” although there is more than a little jealousy in the fact that the centaurs are superior bowmen to their elven cousins.
The Svirfneblin report DonBrapp’s contraption will be completed before the middle of Ches (March) 15th and will be delivered.  It should take no more than two days to travel to Bloodstone, but the gray gnomes continue to repair the pathways that were trapped by the duergar to punish and torture escaping slaves.

The Svirfneblin kingdom also begs a trade alliance with the Oriothar, offering their skills in forging magical nanthar to the dwarf’s ability to produce at scale.  There is a point made that Metuchen will facilitate a state gathering under the mountains (trademoot) in the spring to coincide with traditional above ground trade route reopening celebrations.  (These are usually in Mirtul (the melting), a combined holy period in which the Lathandarites honor the spring, while the darker cults honor the rotting of the dead).

Barovia reports ice is breaking up allowing access to the port of Poltar, and with it ships calling for early returns on Barovian wine.
All of the remnants of the goblin and giant armies are reported to have scattered in small bands into the mountains to return to their caves and the high passes and far marshes of Vaasa.

Milan has processed enough red dragon scales to smith:  6 sets of plate, or equivalent.  There is significant meat that could be provided to the scattered refugees.

Shadows continue to hold darkness in the forests and mountains, but Arcata has closed its roads to any who do not surrender a 20% tariff in coin or kind for passing through; and although testy the Barovians have been providing stores to the Arcatan soldiers who are hungry at the closest camp.
A menagerie of hawks, bears, falcons, and remaining wildlife is reported north of the forest stands in the upper western reaches of Bloodstone Valley.

Khalk is comprised of two large, sheltered encampments of centaurs along the northwester edge of Bloodstone Valley.

In the center of the eastern most glade a wooden amphitheater is where the centaurs conduct their business; all approaches are known to be artfully hidden with illusions and protected by traps of increasing lethality around a centaur meadow.
Within the Gundar Vundark DonBrapp grumbles about storage space for gold bars.

“Well, Friend Cleric, perhaps we can make space by paying for more assassins.” Quilro states flatly.

“Speaks thus a paroled murderer?  Just no flagrant expenses, elf.” DonBrapp guffaws.

“Again, what? What is the morality of? People like Jameson belong to an organization that accepts money to end people's lives.  Can’t wait until these savages try and arrest me for the death of Strahd.  Who, let the record reflect, WAS A FUCKING VAMPIRE.  Good luck with the evidence on that one, Christine.  Maybe your assassin friends can find one for you.” The elf sputters; half yelling and half whispering.

Kailute rolls his eyes as DonBrapp directs the attention of the heroes to the operation of the Gundar Vundark.  The stone dias housing the control surfaces is centered in the mezzanine directly across from the elemental flame, causing the jewels and polished surfaces to gleam and flicker with light as well as magical energy.  The nightmare horn is captured within magical bonds of energy, appearing to float within a beveled recces in the middle of the plinth and exuding a greasy filament.

A polished oval silver scrying surface is inlaid above the plinth, displaying 180 degrees of vision from the position of the riding seat outside the vundark.  Two apparent bullseye lanterns on the front of the wagons scry the images from the polished lantern mirrors.

From the outside, garishly painted wooden horses appear to pull a large sized trading wagon commonly associated with the Vistani of Barovia.  While the two horses magically appear to be harnessed to the craft, the horses themselves never move as they are inanimate.
That is far from the most interesting aspect of the magical conveyance, as the recently decapitated head of an ancient white wyrm is stuck atop the wagon, covering nearly the length of the shallow peaked roof from snout to ears.  The head is kept atop the craft through the suction and force with which it was slammed upon the rotary gear and overstuffed chair initially crafted at the dwarf’s specifications.

Behind the illusory tack, a leather bench is flanked by two oil lanterns hanging from either side.  An ornate wrought iron backboard rail protects the side and backs of riders, but curves to allow access to the metallic circle that opens to the entry for those with the proper magical tokens.

After squeezing through the circular portal the group gathers on the mezzanine and discusses the appropriate preparations.  After discussing what spells may be helpful, they decide to explore the area around the fallen druid’s cave and parlay with the centaurs.

DonBrapp gives a curt nod to Roberto, and the Gundar leaps into the sky.  As the magical wagon soars above Bloodstone Valley, several halfling squads are ranging to the north.  Draxos and Kailute observe a lack of natural wildlife until they approach the reported area of Bosmos’ cave.  Tracks converge for miles, and the closer the group flies the more a corrupt natural energy is felt, like the mild and pervasive stench from a garbage bog on the breeze.  Clouds of winged rodents and birds circle, as well as mangy and diseased looking animals.

After observing the mouth of Bosmos’ cave, DonBrapp makes a movement with his hand and Roberto turns the vundark southward toward Khalk.

Descending into what appears to be a clearing several hundred yards from the village, the craft bucks as it encounters illusory magical protections at odds with the invisibility of the vundark itself.  Draxos and Kailute are shaken outside on the riding seat as the magical energies release a peppery smoke and mild scent of burning from underneath the craft. Roberto appears vexed as the wagon shudders from magical energies encountered from the centaur village, but lands safely outside the perimeter of the village in spite of minor damage to the wagon.

Draxos and Kailute notice several protective defenses.  Large, spring rigged sharpened logs reveal themselves in the trees alongside paths, clearly prepared to keep unwanted invaders out of the grove.

The village itself is protected by a log palisade wall, with channeling gateways toward a guarded entrance.  Outlying permanent yurts of varying pelts surround a ceremonial amphitheater atop a woven log stage.  Wisps of pungent smoke waft from the village smoldering in various smudge pots throughout the village, permeating the air with a hazy pleasant scent.  Draxos immediately recognizes druidic magic in the scented smoke.  In a fenced off area is a ceremonial dais where the centaur court are gathered with a long, raven-haired female constrained in a magical hold spell.

Petra expresses amazement at a female centaur interacting with a dwarf romantically, as such pairings are considered an affront to nature.

Quilro pokes around the cabinets, grabbing as many bottles of wine as he could carry and indicating that Fyrnlocke should do the same.

Rippling centaur warriors stand guard behind barricades, tattooed and armored with a mix of fur and bleached bone mail.  All have superior quality bows and arrows within reach.  Beyond the six guarding the immediate approach, at least 40 centaurs are gathered in the central part of the village.  All eye the approaching party warily but make no overt moves toward violence.

Quilro steps outside the wagon and magically descends from the vehicle, careful to display open arms with no violent intent.  Draxos eyes the tree lines, wary for any tricks or ambush.

“What demonic device do you bring to our sacred grove?  Identify yourself, fellow sylvan.  What is your clan?  Your vessel reeks of the abyss.”  Booms a voice from behind the palisades.  “What words do you have for our council?  We are discussing matters of great import and seek no intrusion from outsiders.”

“We are heroes from afar, and we know of this druid that pesters your family.  I dare not say more in front of…”  Quilro begins, before being cut off by a louder voice from atop the raised dais.

“YOU KNOW OF THIS STINKING HALF-MAN?!?!”  One of the elder centaurs shouts, his body showing the signs of age underneath his leather armor.

As the elf acknowledges, an off-putting atonal noise emanates from the gathering, like a signal of warning before Keldon invites the party into Khalk to discuss.  Draxos and Kailute feel this peculiar keening deeply, as if the energy of the forest was manifest to degrade their attention and fighting capabilities.

As the group moves toward the center of the amphitheater, Quilro finds his mind probed by several of the warriors who leer at the elf; the smoke from the various smudge pots imparting ribald scenes of centaur hedonism into the elf’s mind as he walks through the assembled gathering.  The lecherous intent is written on the faces of the centaur warriors and the mage finds himself uncomfortable.  Regardless, Quirlo offers a bottle of Barovian wine to the assembly.

He turns to the dwarf as he continues to pass out bottles of wine, eagerly accepted by the centaurs and raises an eyebrow mouthing “WE NEED A HERALD.”

Shaking his head DonBrapp steps forward, his voice booming from underneath the much taller equinohumans.

“Great Keldorn!” DonBrapp sings out, his voice amplified with his sonorous sermonic tone.  “We bring greetings and assistance from the Heroes of Waymeet; Liberators of Hillsfar and as of late, Ablutors of Barovia and the victorious banisher of Zengyhi, Witch King of Vaasa!”

The warriors begin to part and allow the party to advance further into the settlement, closer to where Keldorn stands on a raised stage at the far end of the amphitheater.

The entire village is engulfed in incensed haze, and the ambient temperature is much warmer than outside, and has a mildly intoxicating effect on all, save the dwarf who notices nothing of this beyond the inconvenience to normal vision.

“You claim alliance with Damara, yet you walk with Orcs.  Explain this.”  Keldorn says skeptically as the party approaches the base of the amphitheater stage.

“I’ve yet to see him eat any babies.”  Draxos says flatly, taking a position of solidarity aside the barbarian.”

Halving won over the centaurs with their gifts and greetings, Keldorn relays how Bosmos allured and enscorcelled his daughter with druidic charms and believes her honor has been gravely damaged.
While acknowledging that a dwarven druid is a force for good, Keldorn is repulsed by the idea of inter species coupling, and insists his daughter be saved from her magical condition.

“One cannot murder love, fair Centaur.”  Quilro opines, and Draxos firmly pulls his fellow elf back behind the dwarf as the parlay continues.

DonBrapp is mildly insulted by the slight to the earthen clans but bites his tongue as the centaur king speaks of the corruption of nature, and the growing indications that something is not right in the forest.

“While we are not responsible for the Druid’s terrible grievances against your daughter’s honor, we are here to take the errant dwarf into our custody.  And if we may, assuage your daughter from the grips of her plight.”  DonBrapp infuses as much solemn respect into his voice as is possible to address a half-horse man.

Keldorn agrees, and the cleric of Vergadain is able to dispel the cursed magic greaves the centaur princess was bound to, releasing her from Bosmos’ charms.  As soon as her head is clear she nearly swoons in disgust of the recent memories of her dalliances.

Withdrawing and repealing any attraction she had for the dwarf, Keldorn’s attendant warriors escort the princess to her quarters.

A general sense of ease turns into mild celebration as the King and Queen retire to attend to Belerus.  Martu, the centaur captain of the guard escorts the group back to the Gundar Vundark, where several warriors admire the craft.

The heroes reenter the flying wagon and head northwest to further investigate the putrification of Bosmos.