The farmer leans his hoe over one shoulder and cocks the opposite side's eyebrow at you Matteo.

"I don't know what you heard.  But my pigs don't go rootin' around for...what did you call them? Troubles?"

He's apparently never heard the word truffles.  Though some sixth sense is telling you he may have the right of it.

You are a day's march outside of Hamburg.  How you got to Hamburg or why you went to Hamburg isn't really important right now.  Truffles are.

Two days ago, you were strolling through the Hamburg market when you spied something that just made your heart pound like first love.  A small basket filled with truffles.  And not just any truffles.

These had some vis in them.

The woman selling them of course had no idea what she had.  Purchasing them for a few pennies, you spent a few more coin to find out where she got them.

She followed her husband to sell some horses in Hamburg.  On the way they found a small village where the farmers had these weird, wonderfully earthy little bundles of deliciousness.   You had to follow her instructions, make a few missteps, and scare away a bear.  But you arrived in the village to Bunn.

The farmer you're speaking to had never heard of using pigs to hunt for mushrooms.

"If you're talking about those funny mushrooms, the Widower Gregor brought 'em into town and sold 'em to us.  Said he dug 'em up while he was plowing up a fallow field.

"Don't know if he has anymore though.  Why you interested in 'em anyway?"

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 1)o blinked

Matteo blinked, incredulously, then drew himself to his full height.  Towering over the peasant, he raised an eyebrow. "A-why am I interessato?"  The big man eyed the farmer.  "A-why I not be interessato?  We talk of the tartufo, no?"

The big man hold up a small, wizened, black, vaguely . . . turd-looking object to his nostrils, and draws in a deep breath.  His face, against all expectations, takes on a look of abject veneration.  "The truffalo is odore de Dio, no?"

He waves his hand, large knuckled, clutched around the truffle, in the general direction of the farmer's face.  "You smell, yes?", he asks encouragingly, before blithely tucking the morsel carefully back into the small pouch at his waist.

"An' so", he begins, a look of transparent calculation on his face.  "You tell me, where to find la bella Gregor an' I" . . . at this the huge man glances around watching suspiciously for other truffle enthusiasts.  "I will . . . I will . . ."  He pauses, frowning.  "I don' know.  What does a fellow like you want, if not the truffalo?"  An expression of honest confusion crosses the big man's face.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Wed 01 Nov 2023.

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 2):

The farmer raises his eyebrows and says nothing while you try to educate him Matteo.  He then scratches his chin.

"I don't know what those funny words mean. But you seem happy when you say them.  So I guess they are happy words.

"Well, I guess Gregor would like a new wife.  But I suppose you can't help him with that.

"Anyhow.  Gregor lives out of the village.  See that hill over there?  If you go to the bsae of it and travel widdershins, you'll find his place.  The hunter's son Johann should know how to get there from here.  Though I don't know where Johann's about right now."

You can try to find this Johann.  Or head out yourself.  The base of the hill and go widdershins.  How hard can it be?

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 3):

"A-what", asks Matteo with vague suspicion, "is-a this . . . what you call it, widdersheens?"

The big man squints at the farmer.  "An, also", he adds, somewhat puzzled, "you mean Gregor is a man, yes?  A widow, a widower?"  He shifts, somewhat confused.  "Not a bella forutnata?"

Matteo sighs, resigned to the implacability of fate.  "Maybe, I look yes?", he asks.  "A widdersheeens.  Is a to the left, or to the right?"

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 4):

The farmer blinks at you a few times Matteo.  He then waves his hand in a counterclockwise motion.  "Go like this.  Walk around the hill in this direction."

Some more discussion establishes that Gregor is a man.  And his wife died.  Gregor hasn't remarried and has no children.  So he lives alone.  You get the feeling the village sees him as more an outsider than a neighbor.

---

It takes a good hour to get to this "hill".  Though with the way everything in this place seems to slope upwards, it's hard to say it's not all hill.  But you reach your destination.

Remembering the farmer's hand signal, you head to your left, following the base of the hill around.  In ten more minutes, the ground actually descends at a gentle angle.  At the bottom, you can see a field.

The field seems to have been left fallow.  Across from it, you can see a small hut.  On the other side of the hut is another field, this one being planted.  Flax.  Rye.  Maybe a smattering of other vegetables.  A single cow is lazily chewing on some feed by the hut.  A rooster is seated on the cow's back, like a castle built upon a mountain.  A few hens peck at the dirt around them.

You can't see any sign of this "Gregor".

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 5):

Huffing slightly with the effort, Matteo approached the small hut, making an effort to keep the edge of his robe from trailing in the muck.

As he drew nearer, the big man squinted, trying to peer insight the dark interior of the squalid little dwelling.  "The things", he thought to himself, "I do for-a good meal."

He called out, his voice booming over the field,  "Allo?  Is dere a Gregor, here?"  Turning a skeptical eye to the cow and rooster, he added "I do notta suppose you know where is-a dis Gregor, enh?"


OOC:  13:58, Today: Matteo di Brunatti rolled 10 using 1d10+2.  Matteo awareness check.

What smacks you in the face Matteo is the small plaque by the door to the cabin.

It looks intricately carved.  Almost too well done for a simple country farmer.

That's because this is most likely not a simple country farmer.  The plaque bares a symbol you know fairly well.  A square with a circle inside it.  An X crosses over the circle.  Underneath, you can make out a single word in Latin.

Radix

Gregor isn't a farmer.  And this isn't a farm.  It's a sanctum.

You've found another magi.

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 7):

"Sancta Maria!" mutters Matteo to himself, gazing wide-eyed at the carved plaque, "Una magi!"

The big man takes a step back, before recovering himself, and glancing around.  A sanctum, he knew, was bounded.  So, what was the limit?  Had he blundered into the proper grounds, or was it the hut alone?

Cautiously, his gaze travelled over the farmyard, looking for any other markings.

OOC:  Matteo is looking for other markings, to see if he's blundered into the defined space of another's sanctum. He get a 3 on perception + code of hermes, so I'm guessing he doesn't actually know ;)
19:12, Today: Matteo di Brunatti rolled 3 using 1d10+1 ((2)).

"A, 'ello?" he calls out.  "Salve, sodale"? His appetite getting the better of him, he adds hopefully "I do notta suppose you have truffalo for a brother, enh?"

You don't see anything in the yard that indicates the sanctum extends out past the shack.  It seems to only be the shack.

There's a sudden squall of sound to your right.  The rooster leaps forward and lands on a post near your head.  It squawks and crows, seeming to challenge your right to be there.

It then cocks it's head and says, "Salve Sodale.  Please excuse this medium.  I am unavailable to greet you in person at the moment.  I am Radix ex Tytalus, fili Pertinax.

"I am guessing you were unaware I had claimed this area.  And you haven't tried to enter my sanctum.  So no harm done.  Be at ease.

"Why don't we start with introductions.  You are?"

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 9):

"I am", begins Matteo, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height (and sucking in his gut), "Matteo di Brunatti, ex Bjornaer."  He gazes down at the chicken, slighlty non-plussed by the situation, if loath to admit it.

"Ah . . .", he begins, and then pauses.  With a shrug, he adds, "I did notta know that the Tytale, they had chickens inna the ranks.  Is-a very . . . modern?", he concludes.  The big man looks around, wondering if he is being played with, before turning to the matter at hand.

"Ah, I come because of the truffalo, yes?".  He eyes the chicken hopefully.  "A man, a peasante, in the town, he tells me the Gregor has the truffalo."  He give the chicken a significant look. "I like, very much, the truffalo."

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 10):

I love the accent

The rooster cocks it's head to the other side and regards you out of it's other eyeball.

"My truffles, hmmm?  I was not aware they had made the rounds.  May I ask how you acquired the truffle you had?"

After listening to your answer, the rooster suddenly crows. Quite loudly and not far from your ear.  It beats it's feathers and hops down from the post.

The dog trots up, sniffs your hand, and says, "My apologies.  My rooster is a bit onerous.  I should have greeted you as my dog.

"Anyway, you want some more truffles, eh?  I'm sure you are aware they have vis.  It's a sort of project I have going on.  An experiment if you like.  I might be willing to share some of my harvest.

"What do you have to trade?"

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 11):

Matteo looked at his sodale quizzically.  "Trade, for de truffalo?"  The big man frowned, considering.  "Ah, a-usually I eat-a them, no?", he offered, with a hopeful glance at the Tytalus.  "Or, you know, I pay for them?  With de money?"  At this, he jingles the pouch at his belt.

Beetling his brows, Matteo considers. "But you, you are a Ty-tala, no?", he asks.  "For-a you, is-a all about de sfida, a-how you say, de challenge, no?"  He nods complacently.  "A so, a challenge.  If I can snuffle de truffalo, I get to keep.  But if I no snuffle de truffalo . . .".  His voice trails off for a moment in confusion, and then he shakes his head.  "But no, why be a foolish.  I find de trufallo, yes?"

Wanted to apologize for my absence.  Work has been crazy, and by the time I get home and have a little time, I'm fried.  Will hopefully be feeling a little more human going forward.

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 12):

The dog cocks it's head, as if you had just started meowing.

"Why would I want to gamble for what's already mine, when you're not offering anything in return?

"And I'm quite well off enough without those few coins.  So no thank you.

"It's a shame. Not only do I have truffles, but I have some of the best cheese I've ever made.  I imbue vis in to the cheese as well, don't you know?  The truffles and the cheese are just...words fail me.  Honestly, because my mouth's too busy watering."

The dog does seem to be drooling heavily.

"I just need a simple favor.  I need to find a sodales of mine.  If you can assist, I will be happy to reward you with plenty of truffles and cheese.

"Why...if you agree, I'll even give you a sample to tide you over.

"So what do you think?  Hmmm?"

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 13):

Matteo blinks, his fingers digging into his beard.  "Another Tytale, huh?", he asks.  His brows furrow.  "A-how many dere are, offa you?"  The big man shugs, setting of a series of sympathetic movements.  "A-never mind.  You have-a de truffalo.  A-you have de cheese?"  He smiled, reminiscing.  "I like-a de cheese."

Matteo taps the side of his nose.  "You want-a de Tytale, I fin' for you.  You jus' tell me where to start an' I, Matteo di Brunatti, I fin'".  He nods, knowingly.  "You leave to Matteo, yes?"

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 14):

The dog cocks it's head the other way.  You think you can detect a trace of condescenscion in it's big, liquid looking, soulful eyes.

"Sodales would refer to anyone in the Order you know.  You too are my sodales."

The dog sits and begins to lick it's nether regions.  The rooster leaps back up on the post and speaks.

"Sorry.  Hazard of this form of communication.

"No.  This particular sodales is one of our compatriots from House Jerbiton.  A man named Amis Sinon.  And you don't have to search for him alone.  If you travel to Hamburg, you may be able to catch up with some more of our breathern who are also searching for Amis."

The rooster chuckles.  "You could say Amis has been on a lot of hearts and minds recently.

"Look for a magi named Emrys of Ex Miscellanea.  I have reason to believe he will be boarding a ship called Sieva Raud.  Do you have a means to travel quickly to Hamburg?   If not, I can assist in that endeavor as well.  There is a cart behind the shack.  Wait until tonight and climb into the back."

I will wait to see if you take him up on the offer of transport.  Thanks

In reply to The Founder's Ghost (msg # 15):

Matteo raised a bushy eyebrow.  "Aye-Meee-res", he rumbled, testing the name.  "A-you, a Tytale, you have a frien' who is Yerbito?" 

He frowned.  Tytalus and Jerbiton was an odd combination.  But, he considered, there were truffles in the offing.  And cheese.  And, lest it be forgotten, vis.  That was a pretty potent combination, more than enough to offset any reservations.

Cautiously, he offered "An' say I fin' de Yerbito?  De Amisse?  You wan' I bring-a him to you?"

With an impressive shrug, the big man relented.  "I say yes.  I fin' d'Amisse, I go sail onna dit sheep. If-a you hav' de carto, I take." He smiles, hopefully.

"An, now, di truffalo, yes?"

FYI, I am in Atlantic Canada, and am about to be hit by a major storm.  If I go dark for a few days, it's NOT because I've flaked again, it's because power got knocked out, and I am fightin off the post-apocalyptic hordes.

In reply to Matteo di Brunatti (msg # 16):

Good luck with them hordes.  I will light a candle you make it through the storm safe and sound.

I'm going to move you into the main game soonish.  So let me know when you get back and I will get you into it.  Thanks

"You don't need to bring him here.  I...would just like news of him.  If he's all right."  There's a pause.  "If he's still alive.  If you can bring me back proof of him still being alive and where he's been, I will consider it payment in full.

"Come back tonight."

---

When you return, you find the cart in question.  It looks like the typical work sledge of any peasant.   The only really odd thing about it is that the rooster from this morning is yoked to it.

"I left you a down payment in the back of the cart.  Climb in.  We need to be off before the moon sets."

In the back of the cart is a small sack.  Inside is a truffle and a small wedge of cheese.  Two pawns of vis.  One pawn creo and one pawn animal