Echoes from the Caverns

  Black Rose Chronicles, Chapter 16 Background music by Smartsound Traveling up the road to Owl’s Head she determined that going on foot was getting weary. She went there to pick up a few supplies but decided to take on a new task. Not that she was an expert on riding it was time to put four feet under her opposed to her lowly two. So she headed to the stables.There she found the stable boy Nob. He was a rather chatty fellow and seemed a bit lazy as well. Leaning against the fence post her snorted and spit on the ground. Rude. Yes, he had little manners for sure but i guess dealing with horses all day he lost some skills in dealing with people. He grinned when i approached.“Afternoon outlander. Be lookin for a horse for your journey?’Over time she grew tired of that term…Outlander. And she was going to see to it that he didn’t use it again.“Mind your manner boy. I have been in these lands long enough and done more than you have seen to deserve being called more than Outlander.”Jumping up and standing straight he changed his demeanor quickly.“Beggin your pardon Madame. I meant no offense. I should of know’d better. Things have for sure changed around here and i should watch my tongue.”Bella smiled and walked up to the corral fence. Look into the corral she saw a couple horses grazing on some fresh hay and just minding their own. She lookedparticularly close at a nice black stallion standing off from the others. Curious she walked up the fence line to see if she could get his attention. Sure enough he walked overto her and pushed his head up over the fence. Slowly reaching her hand out she opened her palm for him to sniff. Softly he nuzzled his nose into her palm.Reaching into her pack she pulled out a carrot and broke it in half….holding the carrot top end in the palm of her hand she reach out to him. He snorted and then took the carrotfrom her. She too took a bite from the other piece and chopped along with him. Then she handed him the rest. After he finished the second piece, he shook his head proudly andnodded it up and down. Softly pawed at the ground as if telling her he wanted to go.Patting him softly on the head she turned and walked back to where Nob stood.” Amazing M’lady. That horse doesn’t take to no one. He is a mean sort for sure. But you seemed to have made an impression on him.”Bella smiled and looked over her should and saw that the horse had followed her down the fence line.“Well Mr. Nob. How much is this horse gonna cost me?”“Well M’lady. Don’t rightly know. He has been here for a long spell. Seems his owner disappeared, and no one has been interested in him since he is so mean in spirit.”Bella looked Nob up and down. She wasn’t sure how to access him. He could be trying to sell her someone else’s horse for all she knew.“Who has been paying the stable fee for him if he has no owner then.”“No one. I don’t stable him. He just stays out here in the corral or shelters inside the barn…..but no stall for him. Last time he broke through the wall and that took a bit to fixup. So i just feed him and leave him be.”” And you are for sure there is no owner?”“Aye . I wouldn’t dare sell another man’s horse. Not wanting to end up in the Clink for such dealings. ““Very well then. I will take him. I will need a saddle and some saddle bags. And i will pay you kindly for him”Nob looked her up and down as if trying to decide if she was gonna be able to afford such a luxury of a horse.“Beggin your pardon M’lady but that could be a bit expensive….mind you look a well off sort but horses aren’t cheap.”Smiling she pulled a piece of parchment from inside her jacket and handed it to him. Nob handed it back quickly.“Sorry M’lady but I can’t read. If you wouldn’t mind?”Smiling softly again she read what the parchment said. It stated that she lived in Knight’s Watch and stated she had a healthy bank account with the Britannian bank.With that info Nob smiled and gave her a price. She told him she would walk up the hill to the bank and get the gold while he readied her horse. Nob jumped up and over the fence to get busyWhistling as he walked into the barn, he muttered to himself. Ole Nob be eating good tonight. Echoes From the Caverns The post Black Rose Chronicles 16 – by Belladonna Rose – Narrated by Asclepius appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

Read by Asclepius Chapter 11. The Cathedral and the Cat.   Kitty was not outside the portal. When we re-emerged in the attic at Elnoth’s Storage and Cartage she was nowhere to be seen. Lucy’s disappointment was profound. She called and called but Kitty did not come out.   “Are you kidding me?” Lucy asked no one.   Sometime later, Lucy finally gave up looking and followed the rest of us as we made our way over to the docks. She looked dejected and disheartened; she had been crying too. I did not know what to do to make her feel better, but I wanted to try at least.   “We’ll find her again,” I tried to reassure Lucy but saying that just made her cry more.   Lucy and Zyrina started searching the neighbourhood for tracks, but these cobbled streets were giving no clues. I wasn’t usually this bad at comforting my friends and I was worried about Kitty myself. Where did she go? Questions rolled around my head as we gloomily walked over to the docks. Why couldn’t we find Phlebus, for that matter? He was ALWAYS at the library, but not now. He had not been seen for weeks.   During the search for Kitty, while we were so close, I swung by my family boarding house, where Torgin and Phlebus usually stayed in Central Brittany. It was a spit and a jump away from Elnoth’s Cartage and Storage. After a quick update on the state of the boarding house accounts, Gwen Trelawny let me know neither of my friends had been there for weeks, and she was a little concerned too.   “Sorry Gwen, I don’t know where they are either. Have you seen a snowy white lynx wandering around the street by any chance?” I asked.   She laughed long and hard, then answered, “Nope, but if I did, I would lay off the special reserve from your Uncle Owain. Have you hit your head?” Then she chortled again and waved before going back to her work.   Imagine, the Southern Red Syndicate was nested right in my own neighbourhood in Central Britanny, and I’d never heard a whiff about them before this adventure! What is worse, is the knowledge that the moon towers in Central Britanny were not actually protecting the citizens of Central Britanny from the infiltration of Obsidian magic. Something was wrong. Something very big was very wrong.   At the busy docks, we did find the town crier that Lucy knew would be there. After they exchanged a warm and familiar greeting, she asked him to keep an eye out for Torgin’s large snowy lynx and he agreed. Then, we were introduced all around. After flirting shamelessly and outrageously with each of us (one after the other) and in no way finding each rebuff to be personal, he cheerfully pointed the way to Kal’s Unfortunate Apothecary over in the west of the city. I am glad for the crier’s detailed directions because even with them we had a few false starts. Finally, after several hours of wandering up and down the knoll where the castle is built, we arrived at the correct location.   “There it is.” Zyrina pointed.   I paused to catch my breath after climbing up the steep path to the little magic shop. It’s tucked in near one of the moon towers and attached to a much larger building of the same grey somber square stone and spiky metal style; I had assumed it was part of the bigger building.   “It almost disappears if you don’t know exactly where to look for it,” Lucy said.   “Yup.” I nodded.   I had been on this street several times before but had not noticed the Unfortunate Apothecary, let alone heard any rumours about a secret meeting place in it.   Aslinne then started wondering out loud the thoughts I was wrestling with. “Does the queen of the city know about this? It is Arabella’s city, and it’s supposed to be safe from the influence of the Obsidians. Finding them this close, and underneath the city is disquieting.”   “When this adventure is over, I vow I will write her and let her know what we had discovered right in Central Britanny but right now let’s go see what we can find inside,” I said as lightly as I could manage, while still catching my breath.   This city was large, the largest in the land, and it therefore easy not to know everything about it. It was so big, that after a Novian century of visiting and doing business here, I had not yet seen even half of it. I was quite sure I wasn’t going to do any sightseeing on this trip either, but I did take a moment to enjoy the view from up on this knoll. It was spectacular. The mass of people and movement below was engaging to watch, and I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from the activities of the city dwellers until I reminded myself what the pressing search was about.   “Let’s go.” Zyrina gathered us and we all turned as one toward the building.   Looking through the window, we could see the inside of shop was dark and gloomy. There were vials (full and empty), and small glass tubes with stoppers, and scrolls with recipes for poisons displayed on the wooden counter. Dust covered every surface.   “Helloooo,” I called out as I opened the thick door, but no one answered.   Lucy pointed out the ’Be back in one-hour’ sign that hung on the outside wall near the entrance.   “Well, that makes it easier.” I was a bit bolder since there was no shop keeper nearby to stop me. “I wonder if they meant to leave the door unlocked?”   “Haaallloooo!” I called again into the dim interior before we all boldly made our way inside. There was no answer.   Lucy peeked into the cupboards and drawers.   “Where’s that entrance to the portal that the faun was talking about? Up the stairs maybe?” Zyrina ventured.   I could see this store had no other exits and nothing that called out as a magic entrance anywhere on the main floor. This time Aslinne led the way up the stairs. I was betting that few people had been invited up there. On the top floor we found several bookshelves with books about potion poisons from all over Novia. There was nothing out of the ordinary about most of the bookcases or the books on them, except their topic, poison. It was immediately obvious that the magic portal was in the far corner. It was another hefty tome on a lectern. We could all see the blue glow of magic emanating from its pulsing pages. Zyrina pointed out the ink spilled from a nearby study area and big lynx footprint near the portal entrance, as well as one large print that could definitely possibly be Torgin’s. It was not often that anyone had feet as large as he did, and beside it a lighter print from a smaller shoe. Maybe Phlebus? Were they all together? Were they even still down there if they were together? I sure was burning to find out. Not one of us spoke a word about it, but each of us was absolutely certain that it was Kitty’s print. Lucy visibly came to attention. Hope was lighting her face again.   “Here we go for a second time today,” Lucy gazed at the black pawprint in the drying ink as she carefully prepared her hammer and her potions. “Ready?” Her relief was palatable.   Zyrina of course was already equipped and ready to go by the time I fumbled my arrows into a more useful position and got my bow free from the tangle of my cloak. Aslinne had had her knives drawn and was waiting beside the entrance looking into it with horror. ‘I do not think she has a love of magic.’ That was the last thought I had as I was sucked into the magic portal with the others.   *   We were deposited in a grand ancient stone foyer with a remarkably high ceiling. There were shadows in all the corners, and it felt drafty and a bit damp, but in an old and solid sort of way. It looked like a gathering room of sorts. There was a high throne set on a platform, with benches lined up facing it, and a round raised podium in the middle.  After getting my bearings, I noticed the three hallways leading out of the gathering room, one in each of the other cardinal directions. As well as taking note of the Obsidian obelisks that marked the North where we had entered, I saw only the empty room; there were no people here. There were no other signs to tell where the hallways led, either. It confused me. As I was trying to sort it out, Lucy spoke up.   “Where do we start?” Lucy sighed, looking as baffled as I felt.   “Here.” Zyrina took charge this time and the rest of us followed.   She went through one of the iron gates set in a low stone wall that surrounded the central podium, and we found ourselves going down a solid set of stone stairs. At the first landing, to our left was a staircase leading down and to what appeared to be a small library, and to the right was a blocked entrance we could not see beyond. There was another descending staircase straight ahead and of course that’s where Rina led us. Down. Down. Down to a stunningly beautiful room with brightly lit stained-glass windows. It was empty of anything but a statue of an aether dragon near the far end, and a few practise targets. There was nothing here that gave any clue where the mage had gone with his book and his box, or whether anyone had been here recently.   “There’s no one here,” Aslinne’s lyrical voice boomed in the quiet room and startled me a little. “Only dust.”   “Let’s check that library we passed,” Lucy said over her shoulder as she headed back up the stairs.   The library took longer to search, mostly because one or the other of us kept getting distracted by the rare books lining the shelves. Just as we were about to give up and investigate another room, we heard an explosion somewhere above us. It rocked the room a little. A few books tumbled off shelves, and there was a cloud of dust, and rock chips from the ceiling that rained down upon us. Luckily, none of the bits that fell were large enough to do any of us any real damage.   “Time to check those two other hallways. They are down here somewhere,” Aslinne decided. I headed up the final staircase, back to the foyer right behind Zyrina, who had sprinted over to the stairs with her arrow notched as soon as the explosion sounded.   Several floors above our explorers…   Once more the dust settled after yet anothe

Read by Chatull Aventari Chapter Ten. Where’s the Egg?   Central Brittany is the biggest city of them all. As we traveled north through the region of Midmaer, all roads led to Lady Arabella’s city of Central Brittany, right in the middle of Novia. Lady Arabella kept her castle well. All trade and commerce in the land flowed through its mighty stone walls, and one could become lost in the great city’s countless varied and twisting lanes and alleyways of shops and dwellings.  Arabella took great care to educate and care for the teeming population in her city, and it showed in popularity as a destination. The road we followed crawled with farmers bringing their goods to the markets, travelers out for pleasure, and many who obviously travelled alone for other business. Whisking by at a quick pace, these strangers did not pause to exchange pleasantries. So, we put our backs into it, and joined the throng.   The journey to Central Britanny was a blur of grueling motion, unsettled sleep, quick bites of bread and cheese, and more walking than any of us liked. Kitty didn’t seem bothered by the pace nor the distance. She was tireless and focused. When the imposing heavy wooden Southwest Door of the city came in view, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t enjoy walking this far and was fairly grumpy about it. A boat or a balloon would have been far easier on all of us except Zyrina. Since I had made a promise, we walked, because it was the only choice left.   So, we walked. And I kept my grumbling to myself. My feet hurt, and my pack didn’t seem to fit right anymore or get any lighter, but seeing the city getting closer and closer gave me a good boost of energy, and the last bit of the trip to the city flew by. We slid inside the door just as it was closing at the end of day, and didn’t even have to declare our business.   The darkness of the countryside was almost entirely missing from the brightly lit city and it was fairly easy to make our way over to the Byrd Boardinghouse. After settling into our rooms at the boardinghouse we met in the street outside the front door.   “Ready to go find Elnoth’s Cartage and Storage?” I asked pointing down the lane.   Elnoth’s was close to my family boardinghouse, just as I said it was.   “What’s that?” Zyrina’s keen hearing alerted us to the booming sound.   “I don’t know,” Lucy cocked her head. “Sounded like an explosion to me.”   Aslinne nodded in tense agreement. We headed toward what we’d heard.   As we drew nearer, we could hear other sounds of alarm. When we were almost to Elnoth’s, we saw a small group of guards coming out of the building and we heard them grumbling about miscreants and firecrackers. The last of them stomped away not looking pleased. They shouted at us to stay out of trouble and went on their way.   I looked up at the tall sturdy building and wondered what we would find here. Then I grinned because I had no idea what would happen next. Searching for this elusive magic book had become one of those illusive challenges of my life, and had consumed decades in Novia in the blink of an eye. As much as I longed for home, this adventure was exactly where I wanted to be.   “Come on,” I encouraged my wary friends. * Earlier that same evening…   Bellis the acolyte raked his thick greasy hair out of his eyes and looked up from his reading. He had been drawn reluctantly from the book he clutched protectively in his lap while he lay curled in his small, rumpled bed, tucked up with hot rocks in the bottom and a steaming blue mug of tea beside him. A pounding at the front door of the Cartage and Storage where Bellis was the night watch cut through the page of adventure that he did not want to stop reading. He knew he would have to answer it, but he did not hurry to the task.   There were some strange comings and goings from the secure storage area, and Bellis was not sure Elnoth knew that he was sheltering a small group of Obsidian sympathizers from the Southern Red Branch, who used the third floor of the building as their secret meeting place. No one else was allowed up there. That’s where the magic portal to the secure storage area was located, too.   Bellis may have overheard snatches of conversation from the Southern Red Branch, but he didn’t think it was his job to inform anybody, and the Branch gave him treats now and then to deliver messages or small packages over to another location in the city.   They called him an acolyte. It sounded important but wasn’t. Bellis liked the arrangement just fine. As much as he wanted to ignore the knocking until it went away, the pounding did not taper off and just would not end. He sighed heavily. Bellis, the only one there, finally got out of his bed, unhurriedly found his slippers and old cloak, then took the flickering lantern with him down the narrow stairs to open the barred wooden door.   Bellis didn’t recognize the mage who had knocked, but he would not soon forget him. The robed, tattooed stranger barged in and immediately demanded “What took you so long?” Without waiting for an answer, the mage headed straight for the third floor as he commanded, “Bring me candles, salt, and wine!” When Bellis gathered these things and brought them to him on the third floor, he was muttering to himself in runic as he poured over a tattered leather book of magic that looked ancient.   Bellis may have been an acolyte, but he was not a very ambitious one. After providing what was called for, the youngster was asked to hold the chalice while the mage ground yet another herb. Uneasily, Bellis shifted from foot to foot and impatiently held the full silver goblet as his arms ached from the weight of it while thinking about his warm bed and good book. Now he was certain that he would not get back to his reading tonight at all and he was feeling grumbly about it, too. He could hear the mage muttering as he ground the fragrant herbs. Bellis didn’t actually care for magic and had no patience for the slow creation and meticulous bindings necessary for the powerful forms of the art. He was more interested in the porridge that he was given at the end of the day, and the books that he was allowed to read when he wasn’t sweeping or wiping or mending or fetching. But tonight, he was the only one here, and he could not fade into the background and be ignored in the way he tended to do.   Even Bellis could see that this mage had no idea what he was doing. He had to reference the book he carried for every word of power he spoke. He spoke the magic words in a shaking voice; he was doing it anyway, but not very well either. The secure storage was not easy to get into and the spell took time to mature. Accessing the hidden entrance to the secure storage – via a large book that was not a book – was not for beginners. The storage was so far below the building in the dark of the earth that magic could not be detected, not even Obsidian magic. Bellis had overheard the others talking about how they would never be detected, and had the protection of “a dark shard of the moon.”   Opening portals to other places was not an easy spell to begin with. Then Bellis found himself in the sort of predicament that the Southern Red Branch had warned him about. With the portal only part way open, a translucent ghostly lich slipped out of the blue of the forming, shimmering portal. The lich caught the attention of the mage, who lost his train of thought partway through the last word of the spell he was incanting. The lich receded, disappearing back into the shimmering part opening in the large book-that-was-not-a-book-but-a-portal just as the misspoken magic word ignited an explosion. The building rocked. Bellis was thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. The billowing smoke didn’t make that easy to get back, and his eyes streamed with tears. He could see the strange high-ranking mage had escaped the worst of the blast, and was hurriedly gathering all his belongings into his bag.  Bellis had a headache, and the ringing in his ears had him fearful of deafness. He saw the mage had managed to conjure a newly opened magical entrance to the secure storage area.  It wasn’t pretty – there were jagged bits of blue light glowing around the edges – but before he could call out, the mage jumped in, and was gone. The portal remained, and the tome behind the Chairman’s place in the secret meeting room now glowed blue with the light of magic. Happily, Bellis was not deaf; unhappily, he knew this because he could hear the city alarms.  Barely over the shock of the explosion, his heart jolted again – here he was all alone, left to clean up the mess this strange mage had made – and where there were city alarms, there would soon be the city guards.   Bellis knew he couldn’t make it out the door before the city guards would stream into the building, armed, and looking for troublemakers. He flew downstairs and scurried into the clutter of boxes and barrels on the main level, looking for a good place to hide. He froze motionless as the guard came trooping in through the door that he had left unbarred after the strange mage’s entrance. He shifted his position from shadow to shadow as the city guard did a cursory search of the building from top to bottom. Bellis could taste terror; was sure it would have been easy for anyone to see the wildness in his eyes. Would he be caught? Could he lie his way clear? Should he go to the other location and tell the someone? Bellis was forlorn, and utterly certain of only one thing: no matter what or who, he would be blamed. Silent, in the shadows, the city guard missed him when they did their last search of the main floor on their way out. Having found nothing amiss, they began filing out of the building, grumbling about firecrackers, and griping about the miscreant youths that they assumed had played a joke on them. The last guard out the door left it wide open behind them.   Luckily for Bellis, the owner of the business, Elnoth, was out of town. There

Read by Addy Chapter 9. Tempers and Explosions. Before the Lodge… Finally in Darkshire Hills, and after greeting Sergeant John Benton, Aslinne Gradh and Jenny Hawkins, with the mage in tow, had arrived near the third town boundary at the forked road and took a moment to talk before they went on.   “We go left here, but if you want to carry on to the village you would take the right fork.” Jenny pointed the two paths out as she spoke, not really looking at the mage while she did.   “We might as well go to the Bent Bow Inn and stay the night. It’s still a distance to the Hunting and Fishing Lodge and the day is not fresh.” Aslinne spoke with authority. “The undead we encountered on the road on the way here may also still be near, too. Travelling in the dark isn’t wise.”   The mage looked down both paths for a moment before nodding his head and indicating he agreed with Aslinne’s decision.   Meanwhile, Jenny had been catching up with the sergeant stationed at the fork; he was a local too, someone she knew from childhood, apparently, from the whisps of the conversation that Aslinne overheard.    “OOO the TREES!!” Jenny excitedly exclaimed, as she had for the last hour or so of the journey, about the local fauna and flora. “John, I forgot how majestic they are, and how fragrant the forest. Do you remember that time that little Jimmy got stuck up in one and you helped me get him out before Ma and Pa found him up there? He still owes me for that one!”   The sergeant laughed a lout guffaw before remembering his respected position. “We don’t want any trouble here.” Standing to attention, Sergeant John Benton sounded quite stern.   Jenny giggled and told him to stop being so hard-hearted. “I’ll meet you later at the Bent Bow for a cold one?”   He nodded and smiled before going back to his gruff guard at work attitude and waved them along, “Take my advice friend; don’t make me angry.”   Aslinne smiled behind her hand. The ease between Jenny and Sergeant Benton was obvious.   “Don’t be daft!” Jenny called out behind her as she walked away from him, “See you at the Bow after your shift.” Then she boldly winked at the sergeant who was now a scarlet shade and trying to hide his smile from someone who might have been his captain who was walking toward the sergeant from the guard tower that overlooked the sergeant’s position at the crossroads.   There were mushrooms of several varieties in the forest all around. Jenny begged until Aslinne relented and agreed that, early in the morning, they would go gather some before Aslinne continued on her journey. Jenny assured her that she hadn’t had anything like them.   “Look! FLOWERS!!! OOO I love those red ones!! They are what I remember most from home.” Jenny took a large sniff with her nose right in the flower.   “I think you may be right. I definitely haven’t seen one just like this one before.” Aslinne winked picking a random bright red flower and holding it out to the girl.   Jenny giggled, grabbed the flower, and went skipping on ahead, singing to herself as she went.   Aslinne followed with the mage walking companionably by her side. None of them this day had seen the snowy lynx that had followed them off the Sea Byrd, and which had trailed them for several days up until now. They all assumed she had finally gone on her way to wherever it was she was headed, but they missed the big cat’s silent presence none the less. By the time they passed Captain Mike Yates just inside the borders of Darkshire, Jenny was starting to recognize and point out places she had known while growing up and telling funny tales about her adventures in each one.   “And this is where I got that scar on my knee that you asked about, Aslinne.” Jenny pointed to a big rock along the path. “I tripped on it while trying to watch a shooting star instead of watching the path in the dark and didn’t see that rock.”   “OOO there are some of the mushrooms I was telling you about!! Look at the size of them!” Jenny’s excited voice rang out. “We have to go picking in the morning though. See how the colour is all dark? We want em before that happens.”   Aslinne was used enough to the energetic girl that she could completely tune out what she was blathering on about usually, but now the subject was local mushrooms. That had piqued her interest alright and she was paying close attention to this particular chatter. She was also scanning the nearby forest from the road as they strolled but had not yet on her own spotted these wonders of culinary arts that Jenny was so excited about. She did see a few poisons she would be interested in collecting and putting into her satchel to replenish her stock.    Aslinne hoped these mushrooms of Jenny’s were actually something different because the brown mushrooms that she found just about anywhere were tasteless and dull. She was always on the search for flavorful ingredients. Aslinne preferred a bit of zing to her food and after a particularly spicy dish the captain had responded well. Afterward she had been given far more leeway in the ordering of ship’s supplies.   Oh, my supplies! Aslinne remembered that she had left Old Salty John Sliver in charge against her better judgement; she did not trust him one bit, but he was the only sailor available who applied for the position when Captain Green had ordered Aslinne to accompany Jenny to her home. Aslinne hoped again that her kitchen would not be in shambles when she returned to her post. She still had a long journey ahead of her before then and it was best not to brood on it, as she could change nothing about the decisions already made. So, she kicked a rock in the road along in front of her and occasionally chatted with the mage at her side while scanning both sides of the road for mushrooms and herbs as she walked along. Jenny’s voice floated back to them in waves and didn’t seem to require any participation to encourage the flow of words…or as was the case now, song.   “Shrooms!” Jenny’s shriek could be heard far and wide as she dashed to the side of the road and scooped up a small batch of dainty purple mushrooms. “Ba, these are too old too, see?” She held them out for Aslinne to inspect. “They have gone too dark in colour.” * Just over the rise, Coralee Hawkins straightened up from her work and cocked her head to the side. “Jenny?” Then spotting her daughter in the distance, she jumped up and down several times, “Jim! Jim, Jenny’s back! Jim! Come quick!” Down by the river and just barely in shouting distance, Jim Hawkins and his young twin sons looked up from where they had been inspecting the fishing nets already strung out on the tall poles to dry. “Jenny?” “Our Jenny?” Shielding his eyes with his stiff leathery lined hand, he could see Jenny start to run toward his wife.  He didn’t recognize the other woman who slowed to a stroll behind Jenny, nor the figure in the flowing black robes who faded into the background and didn’t have time to look because after Jenny hugged her Ma she had turned, sprinted down the bank to the river and leaped into his outstretched arms. “Oh Jenny, it’s good to see you, lass”. There were tears streaming down his face and Jim Hawkins could see his wife wiping her own face as Jenny turned to gather her brothers in the hug. “Jenny, Jenny, is it really you?” Little Jimmy had grown a whole head taller and his leap into her arms nearly knocked the slight girl over. “Hi, Jenny” Jeremy’s theatric whisper was lost in the hullabaloo, but Jenny heard him because she smiled right at him and gave him a big hug too.  Then the boys raced up from the river’s edge where they’d been unloading fish from the boat to stand near the stone bridge and stare at the newcomers who had arrived with Jenny. After they had all touched each other and reassured themselves that the moment was real, Ma Hawkins turned around and formally introduced herself to the shadowy mage and the pretty woman who patiently were looking out over the river and seemed to be oblivious to the family reunion and to the two small boys standing and staring at them. They weren’t of course, but it looked that way.   Smiling at the strangers Ma Hawkins nodded stiffly. “Thank you for bringing our Jenny home.” * “Oh, Ma, don’t be so formal,” Jenny pulled Aslinne into the family group and introduced her, “This is Aslinne Gradh. Best ship’s cook this side of Spindrift Bay and these are Ma and Pa Hawkins.”   Coralee shook the hand of Aslinne Gradh and welcomed her “We really are grateful for you bringing her home, miss.”   Jenny looked a little unsure then added, “This fella is… well I don’t actually know who he is, but he has walked with us from the ship and he’s a friend of Aslinne’s.” She nodded in the direction of the figure in black who stood woodenly to the side shrouded in shadow and said nothing but nodded his head formally.   “Pleased to meet you,” Coralee first greeted the mage cheerfully. “Welcome to our home. Call me Coralee. James and I are always glad to meet friends of Jenny’s.”   The mage nodded and turned to look at the river.   Jenny nodded toward the inn. “Ma, they are going to stay the night and go over to the Hunting and Fishing Lodge after some mushroom picking in the morning. Aslinne was kind enough to bring me all the way home so I’m gunna show her the little mushrooms that we like to eat.”   She gestured to her brothers, “And those are Jimmy and Jeremy,” she added introducing her young twin brothers, who were both shyly eying up the strangers. “Good luck telling them apart. They lie about it, too.”   One of the twins stuck out his tongue at Jenny and the other blew a raspberry. “Not everyone is as blind as you are,” they taunted in unison.   This was an old taunt. Aslinne grinned because she could see that Jenny was laughing and started chasing them toward the bridge.   “Don’t go far,” Coralee shouted. “We just got her back and it’s teatime.”   Turning back to the guests Coralee could see that both the mage and the slightly bashful Aslinn

Read by Alleine Dragonfyre Louisiana Myths & Folklore  Volume 5 – “City of Darkness”   “So tell me about the vampires,” I said, in a casual manner, having bumped into Jacque once again, this time in the Ordinis Mortis marketplace.  The man truly was everywhere, these days. “Vampires?” he said.  “Fiction, pure fiction.”  He made a dismissive gesture and pretended to be immersed in examining the merchandise on the stall in front of him. “You’ve told me of the loup-garou, of the marsh fires, of the voodoo witch.  You’ve told me of ghosts and hauntings and the eerie above-ground cemeteries where any of the above may be lurking, it seems. But vampires are fiction?” “There are legends of course,” he began, leaning casually against a nearby stone facade.  “There were murders.  Bodies found drained of blood.  That sort of thing. “ He paused then, gauging my reaction.  I kept my expression neutral.  He continued: “John and Wayne Carter, brothers you understand.  Worked normal labor jobs, lived in the French Quarter.  Seemed nice enough folks, at least, until the police found those bodies at their place, drained of blood.  Found over a dozen of them.” “What happened to these brothers?” I asked, feeling a bit nauseous. “They were executed.  Took 8 men to subdue them, they were so strong.  Locals said they drank the blood of their victims…that’s how the nonsense started.” Jacque’s stiff posture and reticence in elaborating on this story made it clear to me that he did not think this was nonsense. I gave no response, and waited for him to continue.  Eventually, he did: “Folks say their bodies went missing from their tombs.  And that one of the victims that survived, went on to also kill people and drain their blood.  Then you have the usual folk who claim to still see the brothers roaming the French Quarter at night, looking for victims.” I recalled our first meeting in Aerie, hearing his footsteps behind me on the dark, empty streets.  I felt a chill. Jacque straightened himself and began walking past the market stalls. Vendors were packing their wares away and hurrying indoors. He looked at me carefully, as if making up his mind about something.  Then he walked over to the devotional fountain.  Removing a glove from his hand, he let his fingertips gently brush the surface of the waters.  Steam billowed from the fountain, accompanied by a resounding hiss.  He touched the side of my face then, with that same ungloved hand.  I felt the beads of the fountain’s water trace burning paths down my neck.  I reached out to push him away, laying my palm flat against his chest.   No heartbeat….? I took a step back. “Oh come my dear, you were never in any danger.  I know you are an Avatar.”  And then he was off again, walking across the grass over to the river. “I call this the Ordinissippi.  Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” And there, further up the docks, I saw the drydocked ship, being loaded with assorted barrels and crates.  Colored banners flew, glowing with their own luminescence under the starless sky. “What is it that you want from me?  Why have you been following me?”  I asked, as I followed him toward the ship. “Why, to tell the story, of course!” he said, laughing, as he climbed up onto the docks. He hopped down off the platform and gestured over at a brightly lit cafe down the street, still open and bustling at this time of night. “We all have much to learn of this world, but we must never forget where it is we came from.   Here is where we have gathered, to rebuild our city as it once was…or as close as we can, in this place.”   He gestured at the avenue in front of us.  Look there, Madame’s House of Voodoo…and there..we’re calling that the New Absinthe.”  “And there, the musical legends park…statues still with the sculptor. “It is apparently extraordinarily difficult to get quality granite on this world!” I looked up and down the avenue, recognition dawning as Jacque led me from place to place.  We stopped for beignets at Cafe du Monde Noveaux.   We sampled seafood at Pier 425.  We danced under glowing lights at New Bourbon Street Balcony. Slowly, slowly the sun started to rise. As it did, the entire street seemed to …shimmer in the growing light.  Fading out, until I was standing there like a fool in an empty field. Had it all been a dream? I looked down, and there in my hand was a handful of brightly colored metal coins, stamped with various faces and symbols. I stuffed them in my pocket, and started walking back toward town. It seemed Ordinis Mortis now had its own ghosts. ——————————The End Echoes From the Caverns [-][/c] The post Louisiana Myths & Folklore, Volume 5 appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

  Read by Alleine Dragonfyre   Louisiana Myths & Folklore Volume 4 – “The Voodoo Queen”    It was early evening and I had just come through the pass, and I could see the lights of Brittany ahead in the distance. Rather than head straight for the city, it was often my habit to pass through Midmaer to gather reagents that only bloomed in the moonlight.  And of course, that’s where I ran into him again.  Jacque, in his fine coat, stood at the forest’s edge almost as if expecting me.  He didn’t seem to have any particular agenda, and trailed alongside me as I walked the path through North Midmaer way, gathering nightshade and mandrake root as I went.  He made small talk mostly, but seemed on edge as we passed under the shadows of the trees. I left the path then, heading into a grove of trees I knew had bountiful roots and herbs.  The grove was well lit by a shimmering will-o-wisp.  I headed toward it, watching my step to not trip over brambles and branches.   Suddenly Jacque’s hands grabbed my shoulders, halting my forward movement. Fifolet!” he whispered harshly, then gestured I should turn around.  I looked around, trying to figure out what he was so worried about.    “Its just a will-o-wisp,” I said, gesturing at the hovering purple floating creature. There are many of them in Novia.” He looked at it dubiously.   “It is quite harmless,” I added.   Jacque did not look convinced.  He continued to look at the will-o-wisp, then at me, then back at the wisp, frowning.  I laughed, and gathered my focus, calling upon the powers of moon magic to summon a will-o-wisp right there in front of us. It appeared with a whooshing sound, then sat placidly, glowing softly.  “Feu Follet” he said, more slowly.  It still sounded like ‘feefolay’ to me.  “Devil spirits.  They lure you out into the woods, often to your death!” Well, this one’s not leading anyone anywhere, look…” I said, running in a circle and the wisp followed me obediently. Jacque still did not look convinced. “You have this as a pet?  In my homeland, these fairy spirits lure people to their doom – you’ll follow it right into a lake and drown!” I decided that this would not be a good time to demonstrate that I had taught my pet wisp to dance.  I dismissed it with a wave of my hand.  Jacque relaxed noticeably.  In the sudden darkness, the lights of a nearby house became visible in the distance.  Without a word, Jacque started toward it.  We passed under the eerie branches of trees; trees that seemed to watch us as we moved.  It was an unsettling feeling.  I had never strayed this far from the path, before.  Jacque walked to the side of the house, which itself seemed to be carved of a giant tree, and peered in one of the windows.  He then mumbled to himself at some length in that same creole patois he’d spoken the night we first met, then walked back to where I stood, hidden in the forest. “It is her,” he said simply, and started back toward the road.  “We should leave this place.”  “You mean the supposed “witch” of Midmaer?” I asked.  “She’s known to live in these parts.  She does herbal remedies and such for folk.  Similar to my line of work, really.”  He shot me a glare.    “I’d recognize her anywhere.  Your Midmaer witch is Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen.   I knew the rumors of her death were false.  Look, there in the window! She lives still!”  I raised an eyebrow.  And then Jacque told me her story:  Marie Laveau, The Voodoo Queen did indeed provide herbal remedies, and was a well known and influential member of society in her day, which was all the more impressive for being a woman of colour during that time in South Louisiana.   But it was also said that she communed with the dead, and crafted spells on behalf of clients for good or ill, and engaged in rites with demons. “She knew things, that woman.  She’d give advice to all the prominent people in town, and somehow she always knew the outcomes.”  From his demeanour, Jacque spoke of her as if she were someone he regularly passed on the street.  He talked then of her funeral, which was attended by  people from all social circles.    While it was said that she died peacefully of old age in her home, many people reported seeing her after her alleged death.  While her daughters took over her shop, mystery and legend always surrounded what became of her.  Whether her magic was real, or whether she was merely a gifted reader of people, her legacy has echoed through the years and become a part of New Orleans history. Even a century later, people still mark an X on her grave (where some claim she is not actually buried) and leave offerings in exchange for magical favors.  “And at last now, the mystery is solved.” He said, as if it were blindingly obvious.  “She’s come here, just as you have.  Just as I have.”  “But what need have we of Voodoo, here in Novia? The land itself teems with magic.” To emphasize my point, I summoned the will-o-wisp again.  Jacque raised his arms and exclaimed something I did not understand, but needed no translation, and headed down the road out of the forest.  He called out behind him, “If you see one of those fifolets, one that doesn’t live in your pocket, don’t follow it!” And he was gone.  The forest seemed to ..unclench a little.  There was a light breeze, like the trees let out a collective sigh. I looked back at the witch’s house, and saw a face at a window staring back at me.    She nodded her head once, slowly. Then drew the curtains.  Shimizu 560 Echoes From the Caverns The post Louisiana Myths and Folklore, Volume 4 appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

  Read by Alleine Dragonfyre Louisiana Myths and Folklore Volume 3 – “ The Haunted Mansion”   So I was making a delivery to a regular customer of mine up north in Harvest. As usual, the place was busy with many people going about their business, even though it was late evening and the sun had already set. I heard a commotion down in the square, and saw a man in a  familiar looking, fashionable yet out of style, overcoat being led by the hand by a group of young children who are chattering and gesturing wildly. Of course, it was Jaque, who seemed to be turning up everywhere these days.  Or at least everywhere that I was. That thought nagged me a bit, but I let it lie for the time being, and went to see what all the fuss was about. Jaque smiled as I approached and said “These children have been telling me that the house up on the hill here is haunted. What do you know of this?” I briefly explained that yes, strange things had been known to occur in that house after midnight, but that many adventurers had come through and investigated the matter. It wasn’t something I was particularly worried about, just local legends. Jaque seemed to be considering something, and then finally he crouched down on one knee right there on the street and said “Children, do you want to hear of a haunted house from my homeland?” I expect that some of the children probably did want to hear this tale, but the fresh lemon buns that Jaque was handing out to his would-be audience were likely the more deciding factor. I loitered nearby, out of curiosity more than anything to hear the storyteller spin his tale. Jaque sat down on a bench, and the children clustered around eagerly. He glanced up at the house on the hill, and then back at his audience, and began. There was a house very similar to that one where I am from. Yes, a beautiful mansion and the home of Doctor LaLaurie and his wife Delphine…. Jaque went on a several minutes long tangent about the fabulous parties thrown at the LaLaurie house of which he had of course attended many though the nuances of wine and dancing, and the general behaviour of New Orleans socialites was probably lost on his current audience, who nibbled on their lemon buns and started to look bored. “So their mansion was haunted?”  I asked, trying to steer him back on track.  He grinned his famous grin at me, and carried on. “This house was, you understand, just a few houses down from my own home on Royal Street, and I can personally bear witness to some of the …activities… that went on under that roof. By this point, some of the other residents of Harvest had gathered round to hear the tale. As Jaque began to describe the events that took place, it became evident both to myself and the surrounding parents, that such a tale was certainly not fit for children’s ears.  Suffice it to say that the mistress of the house, Madame Delphine La Laurie, was exceedingly cruel to the people in her employ, treating them as property and punishing them horribly for the smallest slight. I could see that Jaque was trying to explain the origin of the haunting without going into what I later learned was gruesome detail. “She did bad things, very bad.” was about the best he could come up with. Parents were trying  to usher their children away from the crazy man in the antique clothes – It was far past their bedtime. Jacque did not seem perturbed by the loss of his audience. He continued talking, half to himself, half to me, while brushing the lemon bun crumbs off of his jacket. “Anyway!” he said after a while, snapping back to the present. “The people, they found out what was going on. They gathered around in the streets demanding justice. And there was a terrible fire……” So the story went, one of the cooks, tired of the cruelty of the mistress, set fire to the kitchen, which spread to much of the house. Madam Delphine was never seen again after that day, having vanished from the city. For years later, he went on to say, later owners of the house reported hearing screams of agony, or the sounds of sobbing, coming from seemingly within the walls.    For many years the house stood empty and fell into a state of decay.  For the next hundred years, he said, everyone who owned the house ended up in shame.  Scandals, even murders, and rumors of lost riches surrounded the house, though very few dared to go and search for them. He said 150 years after Madame’s disappearance people discovered the skeletal remains of her servants, buried beneath the floorboards. He finished his monologue and looked up at the House on the Hill, then looked at me. I shrugged. Then a thought occurred to me. ´Jacque,” I asked, meeting his gaze.  “How is it that you say you knew Dr LaLaurie and his wife, and attended their parties, and know of events that happened a hundred years after their deaths?” To his credit, he didn’t even look surprised by the question. “Ah, cherie, pretty AND smart” he said. “You’ll figure it out.”  He did a flourishing bow and strolled off toward the house on the hill. I heard the clock tower in town chime midnight as I turned and headed on the road leading out of the city.  When I reached the mountain pass, I turned and looked back.  It may have just been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn that the mansion was ablaze.  I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders more tightly and travelled the rest of the way home. Shimizu 560 PC Echoes From the Caverns The post Louisiana Myths and Folklore, Volume 3 appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

Read by Alleine Dragonfyre Louisiana Myths and Folklore Volume 2 – “Beware the Loup – Garou”   It was some days after my chance meeting with Jaque at the Tavern in Aerie, when I was going about my usual business. I am an alchemist by trade, and often visit local swamps for rare herbs and mushrooms. I’m more than capable of dealing with most of the swamp’s hazards, but it was unusual for me to encounter other people when I made my collection trips. Even more unusual for me to be taken by surprise. This is why I jumped a little, startled, when I heard a voice behind me suddenly utter in a raspy voice “Don’t move.” Instinctively, my hand began to tangle with the channelling of Earth magic, and I turned to face the threat. Who was it but none other than Jaque, the strange man from New Orleans.  He backed away a step, and smiled what I would come to recognise as his famous disarming smile, and said “Mademoiselle Shimizu. I did not mean to startle you.”  I let the earth magics recede. Satisfied I was no longer on the offensive, Jacque took my hand and led me back through the thick reeds aways, ducking behind one of the old Cypress trees. He pressed one finger to his lips. “Sssh” and with the other hand pointed out into the fog and gloom. “What is it?” I whispered, seeing nothing but the usual foetid swamp waters, and hearing nothing but the usual cacophony of insects, buzzing from every direction. I opened my mouth to ask him again, but he quieted me with a gesture. “Listen,” he whispered. I listened to the sound of the water’s surface disturbed by fish. I listened to the sounds of creatures rustling through the underbrush. Nothing out of the ordinary for South Fetid swamp. After an indeterminate amount of time listening to nothing out of the ordinary, Jacque sat down on a fallen log and said “Well, that’s a relief.” He sat there for a moment, straightening the cuffs of his shirt and carefully removing bits of leaves from his hair. I had spent enough time with the man by this point to realise that an explanation would be forthcoming, but that he had to tell these things in his own way. Storytelling being, according to him, one of his most passionate entertainments, as I had learned during our meeting in Aerie. Finally, satisfied that he had removed as much of the swamp muck as was possible while still sitting in the middle of the swamp, he turned and asked me, “Have you ever heard of the Loup-Garou?” I, of course, shook my head that I had not. And so he told me the story.  In his homeland, Jacque explained, there were stories of a strange creature that inhabited the swamplands. the Loup-Garou, or what the locals sometimes called the Rougarou, was said to inhabit the swamps around New Orleans and Acadania. He looked at me with his still empty eyes and said “It’s a werewolf of course. That’s what the word means.” I smiled. Of course it was a werewolf. It seemed silly to believe in such things, and yet we did cross a rift into Novia, and I had surely with my own eyes seen and even fought stranger things than werewolves.  This loup-garou, Jaque explained, carried with it a curse – If it were to bite you, then you must tell no-one of it for 101 days, lest you also turn into a loup-garou. “At least that is what the old wives used to say. In this world – who knows?” We sat in silence for a time, listening to the chirp of crickets. “So,” I asked him, “It’s just a large wolf?” “The head of a wolf, the body of a man, so the stories say. Or perhaps It was the other way around. I never saw it.” “Hmm.” I said, not sure what else to say. We sat a while longer, but it was getting late. Not that you could see sun or stars in  fog this thick. I picked up my bag of herbs and stood up, preparing to bid Jaque good evening. A soul-chilling howl suddenly echoed across the swamp. Jaque jumped to his feet, and for a moment it seemed his eyes glowed red. “Has the beast also come to Novia?” he exclaimed, and took up a fighting stance, though I noted, he drew no weapon. I was going to ask him what he planned to fight it with, when another sound pierced the darkness. And this sounded like a woman’s scream. In an instant, Jaque was gone into the mists. He was swift, but I had travelled these swamps many times, and I caught up with him in a clearing, alongside a terrified young woman. He had his hand clasped tightly over her mouth, and kept saying “You mustn’t  speak of it, you mustn’t breath a word of it!” Without so much as another glance in my direction, he wrapped his cloak around the woman’s shoulders and began walking her back in the direction of town.  It had started raining again. I stood some time there in the darkness, listening, before turning to follow in the direction Jaque and the woman had gone. And for some reason, the next night I found myself staying in range of the city street lights when I went out to forage.  By Shimizu in the year 560 PC. Echoes From the Caverns The post Louisiana Myths and Folklore, Volume 2 appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

Read by Alleine Dragonfyre Louisiana Myths and Folklore Volume 1  – “Meeting with a stranger” People have come to Novia from so many places it was inevitable that some, at least, would hail from Louisiana. And while they have seen some strange things indeed in their time in this world, perhaps things are not so strange  considering the tales they tell of their homeland. One such traveller, I met  one late evening on the streets of Aerie. He was going nowhere in particular, it seemed. It almost felt like he was waiting for me or at least for someone. He watched me walk aways, following at a respectful but unsettling distance. A light drizzle began to fall, and I quickened my pace. My pursuer matched my strides. Finally, I stopped, turned, and stood beneath a guttering streetlight to face him. The night breeze pushed aside my cloak, revealing me to be harmed. After sizing me up for a few moments, he laughed and mumbled something I couldn’t understand in a French patois, then gestured at the tavern across the street and offered to buy me a drink. Since prior to running into the stranger the tavern had been my destination, I saw no harm in this – besides, the rain was picking up, and it would be best to go indoors until it relented. As we walked through the doorway, his eyes took in the entire room, meeting the gaze of the few assembled therein – a tired barmaid, and a few late revellers in the corner. He seemed to relax, and it wasn’t until I saw this change in his demeanour that I realised how tense he had been before. Then, as if we not just met by chance in the rainy street, he patted me on the shoulder and called the barmaid over to bring me a drink. Now that the light was better, I could see that he was quite handsome. He was young – not much older than I, certainly – but his eyes seemed ageless and ancient. I did not stare at them long. It was there as I sipped some wine from some local vineyard, that he said quietly, “Pleased to meet you. My name is Jacque.” I introduced myself in turn, and it seemed once this verbal barrier had been breached, there was no stopping the flow of words from him. He began with stories of Europe from an earlier time, and stories of Africa from the age of explorers. The level of detail in his recountings was remarkable. As he spoke, I reflected that he seemed someone more accustomed to be around people. His clothes, cut from an older style, were ornate and clearly belonged to a man of wealth. Finally, I asked of all the exotic places he had described which of these was his home before coming to this world? “Ah,” he said, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. His expression suddenly looks sad, his eyes misty. He then proceeded to tell me about his home on Royal Street in New Orleans. The dinners, the parties, the food, the women! He talked and talked and talked until the first glimmers of dawn began to flicker in the windowsill. Then, quite suddenly, he was on his feet, donning his hat and cloak and bidding  me farewell. In a quite antiquated gesture, he bowed and kissed the top of my hand and slipped a shiny bauble in my hand. He said it had been quite a while since there had been someone he could talk to so openly. Then, with a flourish, he was gone, disappeared into the pouring rain.  It wasn’t until after he left that I realised, he had never touched his own drink.  It was some days later that I asked a local jeweller familiar with otherworldly artefacts about the shiny bauble. He wasn’t able to discern much, says it looks by style to have been from the 18th or 19th century France, but he couldn’t tell for sure. He was able to translate the old text for me; it read simply. “House of Saint Germaine”. Neither of us really understood the significance of this. What a strange fellow he had been! And the stories! Some too outrageous to believe!  I have written down all that I remember here for your delight, so that we may celebrate our journey to Novia while paying homage to our past, our roots, and the legends that have shaped us. By Shimizu in the year 560. Echoes From the Caverns The post Louisiana Myths and Folklore, Volume 1 appeared first on Echoes from the Caverns.

Read by Addy Chapter 8. Capes and Secrets. Just across a river or two from the city, Zyrina stopped along the side of the bridge and looked at the sign directing us to a midsize town just ahead. The sign said Ordanis Mortis.   “Here it is,” Zyrina trailed off. “Restaurant coming up.”   “Real food.” Lucy nearly drooled.   Without hesitation I spoke up, “Absolutely, we’ve travelled hard and hungry. Let’s go find out what we can. Same tactic as last time: look for people who know more than they should know…and get them drunk if you have to.”   “Is it far?” Lucy asked, her stomach rumbling along with her question.   “Nope. And the town crier is usually near the docks just as we enter town, and he will give us better directions than I can remember off the top of my head. I just remember the menu…” I noticed Zyrina wiped her mouth which was salivating in anticipation.   “Come on,” I called out as I headed for the community of Ordanis Mortis. I had more than food on my mind.   “List Rostov hires the best chefs in the land, as far as I’m concerned,” Zyrina proclaimed boldly as she crossed the bridge. “She has never failed to fill my stomach with a good meal and sometimes a good song too. List dabbles in music too, you know?”   I nodded my head, “Yes, I’ve played music with Ms. Rostov at various pubs around Novia. And I’ve eaten with you at this restaurant years ago.” Zyrina looked thoughtful for a minute before remembering, then nodded, and Lucy just looked confused and hungry.   Here Zyrina stopped gossiping and hailed the town crier, “Good sir, where might I find Los Gardeñias Restaurant owned by List Rostov?”   The crier pointed to the path across the field away from the river and through the beautiful cherry tree garden nearby. We did find it, mostly by following our noses.   We seated ourselves in the outdoor area behind the main building, on a long bench and a long table covered with a checkered pattern. Then staff arrived at our table with heaping platters of succulent meats and dishes from around the land as well as a sweet wine that all of us drank far too much of. The Phoénix Picante was AMAZING. Lucy had two helpings.   Zyrina had wandered off part way through the meal and, as Lucy and I were just beginning to wonder where she had gone, she returned. She held a few scraps of torn paper in her hand and placed them in a clear spot on the table.   “I saw someone I knew,” she said simply. “The mage has been here in Ordanis Mortis, too.”   That drew the immediate attention of Lucy too. We all leaned in further.   “What? Where?” “When?”   “Juanita Joanna Maria Pajero, a waitress here at Los Gardeñias, is an old friend of mine. I asked her if she had seen Aslinne come through town. She hasn’t.” Zyrina saw me open my mouth to ask.   “We were talking about magic in Novia and she got a strange look on her face. I asked what she was thinking about. She hesitated a little before mentioning a weird fellow, a tattooed mage in black with a little book under his arm and a big blue bag that had been here for a meal with an equally striking older man also dressed in black,” she told us.    Zyrina went on, “that description of the mage caught my attention right away. Juanita knew nothing else, but she showed me the cloak that the mage left behind after an argument between him and the other fellow.” Here she held up her hand to deflect my question. “The fight was about a dragon egg. It was short and vicious. She didn’t hear anything more specific. He didn’t even storm out, didn’t even finish his meal, he uttered a short incantation and rudely disappeared right in front of everyone.” She added, “Obviously used a magic travel scroll.”   I nodded agreement, “Go on.”   Zyrina continued by answering Lucy’s question, “They were here recently enough that Los Gardeñias has not yet discarded his forgotten cloak.”   Lucy looked ready to speak but Rina continued, “Yes, I went through the pockets,” She added seeing our hope, “I only found three things. These were in one of the pockets. Another one that looks like it was torn out of something.”   The first note was wrinkled from being in the bottom of a pocket and shredded to bits, but still readable. The series of numbers were different from the first ones we had discovered, but no less confusing. And the paper didn’t seem to match up to the edges of the other piece of parchment anywhere. The papers seemed to be related though. Four numbers in a row.                               1-1-2-3                            O-2   “What in the world can this be? A really long lock combination?” Lucy stared at the numbers as if they were going to speak to her. They didn’t. She smoothed the paper and tucked it in the satchel with the other numbers we had encountered.  None of theses made any sense to any of us as of yet.   The second note made more sense. We were on our way to Darkshire Hills and this might have been the mage that was there with Aslinne and Kitty, after all. I nodded my head and pursed my lips to read it aloud.   At the headwaters of the Eylo River you will find the peace of mind you have been searching for all these years:   The Bent Bow Inn   When you arrive in Darkshire Hills choose Town Boundary #3 and take the left fork on the road. You will find us near the bridge.  Our inn is clean and tidy.   Our food is delicious and nourishing.   Our ale is unique and thirst quenching.   Especially after a long day of fishing along the headwaters.   Especially when you weren’t as lucky as you hoped you be today, but there is always tomorrow.   Come, eat, relax, and try again in the morning for that special fish that you know is there in the Eylo.   Yes, THAT big fish that you will tell all your friends about back home!   The Bent Bow Inn is managed by the Hawkins Family on behalf of the Byrd Family Holdings.   “See? We know where to look in Darkshire Hills now at least. The Bent Bow Inn.” Lucy seemed satisfied at least. I handed it to her.   “My family has properties I didn’t even know existed.” I shook my head sadly realizing that I really need to pay attention to that paperwork back at the Moontower Keep one day. Definitely one day soon.   Thirdly, there was a flyer for the local pub here in Ordanis Mortis, The Filthy Stag.   The Filthy Stag   Come on down to the oldest pub in all of Novia located along the mighty Eylo River in Ordanis Mortis.   You will want to come here and soak up the ambiance. Or at least soak up some of the suds. Don’t dress up. Trust us*   There is plenty to drink and all sorts of folks willing to play a friendly game of chance or share a secret or two.   We will never tell.   Find us straight north of the Town Crier. Or ask the Town Crier. He will know where we are.  Bards are always welcome and will be given a meal.   *Wear boots as the floor may be sticky. *Leave your valuables somewhere safe.   Of course, we went to explore.   “Well, drat there isn’t anything here.” After sitting in the pub and playing song after song as well as a story or two, I had watched the entire room and there were no obvious Obsidians in the entire pub; we found little. Few would talk with us on such a personal topic of who they saw while they drank in the Filthy Stag, except one of the old locals remembered seeing a ranked mage with blue and green tattoos who was here one night muttering to himself for a few hours. The mage’s odd behavior spooked the locals. The Oldster didn’t know where that mage went when he rose up while “talking to the midair” and disappeared. Since there were no more drinks forthcoming from any of us he then left our table, grumbling under his breath.   “Weren’t right in the head, s’far as I could make out.” The old fella murmured into the dregs of his drink then went back to ignoring us all as best he could.   “We did find out how to catch a boat over by the docks to take us upriver to Darkshire Hills.” Zyrina said thoughtfully.   “Yeah, okay sure. One thing here was useful,” I conceded. “Information is always valuable.”   Though this interlude spurred us back to our mission, it shone no light on any of the things we understood. We now refocused on getting to Darkshire Hills as soon as possible. After paying for our meal and gathering up our belongings, we thanked the staff for the food and promised to be back next time any of us were anywhere near Ordanis Mortis.   From then on, we kept to ourselves on the road, stopping only to eat from our lavish meal leftovers that had been wrapped in freshly waxed cotton and placed in a woven basket along with another bottle of that sweet wine, Sangria. We rested occasionally and ate when we were hungry. The foliage changed as we trod the well-worn path through the North Majestic Forest, skirting the edge of the Grunvald Barrens and the Savrenoc Timberland as we kept traveling south along the winding trail that followed the Eylo River until Zyrina pointed out the Spectral Mountain chain.   There was a sturdy stone bridge to cross over a wide and deep crevasse with a fast-running river that gave us a great deal of trouble. This is where we turned and headed west into the Spectral Mountain range. We were expecting to have to tangle with bandits on this journey but, of course, the undead didn’t care about our expectations and attacked us on the bridge. Zyrina and I kept a storm of arrows flying as we all sprinted across and as far along the path as we could run while Lucy followed closely and kept a stream of heals pouring into each of us. Eventually the skeletons stopped running after us and went back to guarding their bridge just before we collapsed with exhaustion. Now THIS was adventurous and terrifying too; it sure got my blood pumping.   The exhilaration of battle took some time to dissipate. We worked well as an impromptu team and it took a few moments to relive the running battle while we rested and patched up our broken and jostled gear. We knew we would not have survived a pitched fight with the skeletons and were