Arrival

After 3 days of hiking through the cold, wet mountainous forests of eastern Uldenor, without proper supplies, the party is at wit's end. As luck would have it, they spot the lights of a village just before sundown on the third day, and rush to reach it before it is too late.

The suspicious villagers allow them into the pallisaded town, but none seem willing to allow them indoors, citing the common wisdom of assuming anyone outside at sundown must be a Monster...even if it's only thirty seconds after, and you saw them before it went down.

Wolves

Before they can convince the owner of the largest building in town, with some very inn-like properties, to allow them indoors, they are interrupted by the sound of wolves baying...likely, not true wolves at all. Sure enough, they soon encounter Wargen, who climb right over the walls and begin sizing up the party for dinner. Perfidy!

The fight is short (ahem) but decisive--but just as they finish the last Wargen, its form dissolving into minor Essentia and an unfortunate true wolf, an even louder howl pierces the sky...and moments later, the pallisade gate shatters open, to reveal a massive man-wolf hybrid: the Pricolici.

More Wolves

He gives them a run for their money, but their power and unity is more than he seemed to expect. Their blows are decisive, hammering against his bulk with the same force that shattered the Goliath...yet his wounds close, faster than ought to be possible, even when caused by silver weapons.

Even More Wolves

As they consider how to handle this creature, a third round of baying echoes around them. This time, a small group of silver-white wolves gracefully bound over the village walls, their eyes casting a piercing gaze at the Pricolici. They join together in a strange, dissonant howl that seems to cause him great pain to hear...and in response, he flees the village at best speed. The mysterious wolves soon vanish.

Respite

With the torrent of wolves and wolf-kin dealt with, the villagers are suitably impressed. The owner of the not-quite-inn allows them inside, offering warm beds and a hot meal. He does not, strictly speaking, apologize for his earlier caution, but he appreciates them warding off the creatures, whose number and might he did not expect. He does not introduce himself properly, but they do learn the name of his caretaker and aid Marta Gribenau, who, at 62, is almost 30 years younger than he, though he hardly seems as infirm as he ought to be.

Mysterious Innkeeper

Over the next few days, they get to know the village and its inhabitants better. The village is named Ullgrad, and has fewer than 60 inhabitants. Little of note has happened in its history, save a few interesting events all centering around the innkeeper, who migrated there to retire almost 50 years ago. He has never divulged many details about who he was before that, save that he did some mercenary work...but many of the events that followed certainly added to the mystique, including a battle between himself and a mature dragon, in which the aging fighter acquitted himself handily, defeating his opponent with diplomacy and an appeal to reason, when he clearly had the power to do so violently. Aside from a very large tree that was burned to cinder by the dragon's breath, there were no casualties.

It seemed that, after moving in, he brought great wealth to the village, and was not shy about sharing it. It was he who built the palisade wall, and who had seen to the defense of the village from time to time, when it was threatened by monsters or mayhem. And his contributions did not go unnoticed; he married a much younger woman after years of her insistence, and fathered seven children. To the last, his children are all dead or missing this day, and his wife as well, dying recently at the hands of Narcissa of Sandoval for "sedition and witchcraft". Now, the only remnant of his family is the once caretaker of his children, Marta, who was once a very young girl, enamored of this mysterious stranger who came to defend the village from dragons. Her love has never been requited directly, but it is reasonable to presume that she keeps his spirit from fading entirely in these sad times.

Recuperation and Rearming

Over the days, the party recuperated from their travels and travails, equipping themselves properly with the help of the town's stock of metals, leather, food, and in particular 5 fine horses the innkeeper had won from a passing noble in a game of chance. Having no love for the noble in question, one Lord Boric of Sandoval, and no use for 5 fine light warhorses, he gifted them to the party.

Nyx had an interesting conversation with an elder Zakony who happened to be encamped nearby. He learned of the meaning and purpose of the soul shards he carried, and traded one for a small fragment of Rainbow Shell, a powerful jewelcrafting artifact. Honn, for his part, managed to craft a workable suit of armor and a proper weapon, trading his own services and knowledge for the metal used. Tamlin was able to use the hides and essence of the Wargen to enhance his Nightstalker Armor. Dalia crafted potions, and received both a new dress and a significant enchantment for her spellcasting implement, thanks to Nuala.

Scenes From a Memory

After his usual Mainday Feast, Nyx rests atop the seared, three hundred foot tall trunk of an ancient Elder Tree. In his sleep, he drifts into a strange psychic state, experiencing what seem to be the memories of the elven people who once lived in these lands. In his dream:

Long ago, at least four thousand years, but perhaps far more, the (elven) People of the Valley of Dreams gathered in ceremonial garb to mark a once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes event: the dying of a star. It hardly appeared to be dying--in fact, it shone brighter than both moons combined, but its passing was prophesied, and it meant great change was afoot.

:But that did not seem to matter to two young elves, the maiden Ondine and the young lord Lythar. In the manner of the young, they eschewed the Fascination of the Moons, preferring instead an activity more suited to their age. Their midnight congress proved a sublime and truly memorable way to mark this momentous occasion.

As his vision faded, he briefly touched minds with thousands of other elves, in progressively later ages. At one point, a terrible burst of agony and fear filled his mind, with a stern warning: "Beware! Balaur!!" He snapped out of it, and fell out of the tree.

Sleepwalker

At the tree's base, he met Nuala, who seemed to be shifting in and out of her trance. In her cogent moments, she confirmed that she was highly interested in learning of elven history by communing with the Elder Trees outside the High Forest, hinting that the knowledge they possess is not available (or perhaps even not permissible) inside elven lands. She expresses surprise at his ability to connect with the charred tree, especially when she could not.

At some point later, Tamlin awakens to find her in his room, apparently lost in someone else's memory, confusing him for the Lythar of legend, in a most intimate manner. He shook her from that memory, but she slipped into one apparently from her own recent past, recounting one side of a conversation with a partner in Avila, presumably the Tribune Gordian Pulcher. With decidedly less passion and enthusiasm, the conversation still took a turn toward some embarrassingly intimate events.

She snapped back into reality, finding herself kneeling before Tamlin in a discernibly turgid state. Surprised, but unashamed, she apologized for her mind wandering, but gave no clues as to the significance of it all. She departed, with a flirtatious hint toward revisiting the topic in the future.

Ahead On Our Way

Fully equipped and revitalized, the party said their goodbyes to the village, and set out for Sandoval, along the back roads known only to the Zakony, which Tamlin would be able to navigate.

Journeying by the back ways, the party passes through the Dead Bog. It becomes abundantly clear just why these are the back ways--and why Zakony secrets are needed to navigate them--as they must chart a course over what little dry land manages to poke through the interminable water and muck. Still, the advantages are plain, as they spot an imperial Skyship in the distance, searching for travelers along the main road.

The Dead Bog truly lives up to its name--in a season when the forests are lush, if just beginning to turn, the bog's trees are all bare and black. Vines choke everything that attempts to grow, and only tall grasses and fungi seem to thrive. Nothing can be seen in the waters, but not for lack of trying; the surface is too clouded with unspeakable substances to see beyond it. The air is thick with yellow-brown haze, no doubt the chemical emission of whatever is flourishing there, which is hopefully not too toxic for humans, elves, and the like.

On a routine stop, Nyx spots interesting forms in the distance--marble pillars, jutting forth from the waters. Nuala realizes these are elven ruins, at least 4,000 years old, and seems intent on reaching them, to the point of abandoning caution. Dalia insists to the contrary, the party narrowly avoids wandering off track, despite Nuala's protestations.

The dry path does take them closer to the ruins, close enough to see that they comprise what must have been a city, most of which seems to be below the waters. Though no obvious, outward signs of danger manifest, the careful observer might notice apparitions resembling elven forms, frozen in terror and anguish, grasping silently at the living against the impermeable barrier of the water's surface.

It is there that Nyx realizes something: a form in the distance that he took to be a low, undulating mountain range, is in fact moving slowly, in a decidedly serpentine manner. The fact that it must be half a mile long is not lost on him, but he figures it's one of those details everyone is always chiding him about oversharing, so he keeps it to himself.

Another day's ride sees them clear of the bog, and at the gates of Sandoval.

The city and castle of Sandoval is clean, well-planned, and seemingly quite peaceful. A town of over 20,000, it sprouted around an ancient castle, revitalized by the Varcolai clan centuries ago, repurposed as a trading post for local resources and a place to seek refuge from bandits, monsters, and the occasional rival principality.

The party is struck by how clean and orderly the city seems to be. All the streets are fine cobblestone, the walks are all swept, the walls white-washed. More unusual, perhaps, is the preponderance of public art--statues, murals, tile mosaics--all depicting a beautiful woman, raven-haired, swathed in royal purple, piercing violet eyes. Gems and precious metals are worked into many of these works, but it seems none dare steal them, easy as it might be.

On the way up the main thoroughfare, they encounter a noble, who is one stroke away from running some unfortunate peasant through, seemingly over a minor dispute. Despite the party's presence, he takes a swing, though an unlikely stroke of bad luck means that his sword breaks in the process, giving the peasant a chance to flee. Frustrated and embarrassed, he moves quickly along, too quickly to notice the party's horses are decorated in the same livery as his own...so this is the great Lord Boric. They move on, after disguising their horses a bit more thoroughly.

The center of the city lies at the base of the hill upon which the castle is perched. The town square fronts on a massive cathedral, far too large and opulet for a city of this size. The centerpiece of the square is a grand fountain statue of the mysterious lady, a bit lascivious for public art, the flowing water accentuating her generous endowments in white marble.

The party checks into a fine inn, the High Horse, paying for its remarkable fares by way of the generous Gordian Pulcher, Tribunus Vaticlavus of Ascadia. Therein, they naturally find more imagery of the iconic woman, and Nyx notices another fine detail: the oft-repeated symbol of the twisted Ouroboros. The meaning is unclear.

As evening falls, the town converges on the cathedral for Sainday Mass. Dalia insists on observing. Inside the cathedral, she finds it polluted with iconography, even to the point of blaspheming the Oculary with graven images of the ubiquitious woman.

She runs into Bishop Ovidius, who seems all too polite and welcoming, happy to speak of the fortunes of the church and the town in recent years, and wondering aloud why it has been so long since a Sister of St. Devorah has been by...not that there are any monsters or corruption about that might need her services.

He is soon interrupted by the imminent mass, which begins shortly. For much of its length, it is rather standard...the usual psalms, readings in liturgical Ascadian, and blessings for various folk in need. Then, things take a darker turn, as the bishop begins offering indulgences to various nobles and wealthy patrons, including Lord Boric, forgiving them of seemingly any sin they could pay for.

Though well past the line in Dalia's eyes, the Bishop is hardly done. As the sun sets, the Oculary undergoes a strange transformation, one that ought to be impossible regardless of the will of the ranking clergy--it begins to glow an eerie violet, its light accentuating the icon of the woman, rather than hiding it. The bishop then leads the people in a prayer to the "guardian angel" of Innistrad, a woman "cut of the same cloth" as the Prophet himself, a direct servant of the Light, who he names in the prayer: Ileana Cosânzeana, to whom he offers direct praise and worship.

Before Dalia can bring down the house in a wave of wrothful fire, a piercing howl penetrates the stone walls. Blowing past the town's outer defenses, tearing his way up the main thoroughfare, is the Pricolici, bearing down with all speed on the cathedral. The bishop ensures the people that no Monster can enter hallowed ground...right before the werewolf shatters through a stained-glass window, landing in the midst of the parishioners.

Perfidy!

Notes - Tamlin

Night within a spiral tower

Dwelt women with a spiteful power

With words of magic

They caused great havoc

Till crime and cruelty,

Wrongs undone.

Your Words Fail You

Your Power Flees You

Till Wrongs and Crimes and Sins Undone