#2: Aryen's Hope

Weary from our endeavors in the High Forest and our encounter with the rotting wolf, we are glad to have been accepted into Aryen’s Hope.  Its tall wooden palisade and many bonfires give us comfort, and it is good indeed to hear voices and be among men and women again.

Iphan and those under his command are welcoming, and after a brief respite, he comes looking for news—and we are eager to share.  We make brief introductions before I ask if other visitors preceded our arrival, survivors from the wagon bound for Aryen’s Hope.  He informs us, sadly, that no others have arrived, and explains that he seldom knows details of shipments from Pelanor.  Deliveries, however, have been more or less regular, and he and the other villagers had begun, as had Sere, to worry that the time elapsed since the last delivery was sign of some problem or danger in the forest.

We share our tale, explaining how we found the wagon and its goods more or less intact, though we only found one of the guards slain among the wreckage; we had hopes that others may have made their way to Aryen’s Hope.  We show him the weapons we salvaged from the wagon, and he says that he can dispatch a team in the morning to seek out the remaining supplies.

After some conversation, Iphan leads us to the tent of a young woman, wearing what looks to be priestly robes.  She is introduced as Janna, the “Arm of the Morninglord,” and shares that she might be able to tend my wounds.  We exchange greetings warmly.  “It would please me much to receive such care.”  Her powers bring great relief, nearly completely stitching the ragged wound that Ged had done his best to poultice.  When finished, Ged steps forward to speak to Janna, asking if she has become aware of any “unholiness on the wind.”  He shares details of our encounter with the wolf, and with the queer witch we witnessed in Pelanor.

She seems concerned at our recounting of the encounter with the undead wolf, though knows little of such things.  Of the witch, however, she seems to know more, informing us that she is known to offer her “prayers” for coin or other favors, though doubts whether her abilities are of truly divine origin.  Though unsure of the nature of any abilities she may possess, she doesn’t consider her a malevolent force, merely a questionable one.

Our conversation is interrupted by calls from the northernmost border of Aryen’s Hope.  “The lights have returned!” is the cry, and a small gathering of people heads towards the ridge.  There is no wall here, the steep slope and jagged ridges providing adequate security.  Peering into the darkness, we’re surprised by the view—indeed, were it light, we could see for miles.  In the distance are small, flickering lights, though it’s impossible to discern any detail as they could be as far as a day’s travel from the camp.

“We’ve been seeing this for the last few nights,” says one of the residents of Aryen’s Hope.

“There’s something out there,” interrupts another.  It is clearly a source of great curiosity and some concern.

“Have the lights moved or come any closer?” I ask.  They shake their heads, indicating they have not.  Khadhras, standing nearby, peers carefully into the night, hoping to see details that may have eluded me, but seems disappointed in his efforts.

After initial excitement over the far-off lights fades, we excuse ourselves to discuss potential plans.  Escorting Iphan’s men back to the wagon seems like a convenient way to make our presence and purpose in the camp felt, and the following morning we seek out Iphan to inform him of our plans.

I let him know that I am greatly improved due to Janna’s ministrations, and that we are ready to assist Iphan and Aryen’s Hope in whatever way we may.  He relates tales of other recent troubles, chief among them the queer lights at night and a feral bear encountered to the northeast that mauled one of the residents, a ranger, and killed another—seemingly without cause.

Knowing how the wagon and its contents were left, we explain to Iphan that it might be of help for us to accompany his team, if nothing else to provide protection and to confirm that the belongings have not been disturbed.  Ged also points out that there are missing members of the caravan, and that a larger group might have better hopes of finding them.

We are introduced to a scrawny looking man, a teamster named Lenk.  There are two others with him, and their job is to handle the beast of burden and to repair the wagon if needed while we act as guard.  They carry bows and swords as well, which we are glad to see.  As we leave Aryen’s Hope and begin our trek, we explain the goods that we hope to find, the condition of the wagon, and answer any other questions they might have.  Our confidence this morning is high.

Our return to the wagon is much easier than our trip the previous night.  Tired, dark, wounded, burdened by the goods we hoped to salvage—indeed, our return trip is almost pleasant in comparison.  That is, of course, until we hear a rustling in the brush ahead, when our romp through the High Forest is brought to an abrupt halt.

In Bungo’s absence, I offer to scout ahead and investigate, but Ged suggests that perhaps we toss a rock instead.  Khadhras slings a stone into the underbrush, eliciting an entirely human shout of surprise or pain.

“Come out,” I command, shouting ahead, “and with your arms to the sky.”  A man emerges from the wood, following our instructions, and Ged begins to question him.

“I was on my way from Pelanor to Aryen’s Hope when I was attacked,” he explains, and Ged presses for more information without sharing what we already know in case this is some bandit or trap.  His answers seem reasonable, though—he describes the cart, the donkey and his companion.

“Who sent you from Pelanor?” Ged asks.

“Sere, the field marshal,” is his reply.  “And my father, Kayd.”

There is a mutual sense of relief as we invite him to join us.  He explains that he fell and injured his leg during the attack on the wagon, and that nearly a full day passed before he came to and could start to try and find his way to Aryen’s Hope.  His wounds are mostly superficial, dehydration being the greatest danger, though he seems both able and willing to accompany us in our quest, glad to have stumbled into us.

“Lord Iphan will probably want to speak with you,” Lenk injects, a clear sign that we should not tarry and be on our way.

“What actually attacked the wagon?” I ask, realizing we hadn’t broached the topic.  Kayd’s son, who is also named Kayd, explains that the wagon was overturned rather suddenly and without warning, unsure whether it was because of the terrain or some other force.  He remembers his companion shouting about wolves, they both ran, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

We provide Kayd the Younger what food and water we have to spare as we continue along the trail.  After the initial excitement and dialogue, we fall once again into a tense silence.

“What happened to the man I was with?” Kayd asks, his voice shaky as he realizes that we’re getting closer to the wagon.

Lacking nuance, Khadhras and I explain in rather blunt terms.  “He was killed, mauled by wolves.”  Blood drains from Kayd’s face.

Before long, we return to the site of the attack, and see the wagon ahead.  The stench of carrion persists, assuredly that of the corpse we left undisturbed.  The wagon remains overturned, supplies strewn about, and as far as we can tell, things are more or less as we left them.  We instruct Kayd to remain close to Lenk and his team, so as not to stumble upon the corpse of his friend in the forest nearby.

The crew heads forward to inspect the wagon, the glade eerily quiet.  Thankfully, there are no signs of threat.  Lenk asks for help in turning the wagon right, and with our combined efforts, we’re able to complete the task easily.  The wagon is, unfortunately, damaged and needs repair, so we make plans to watch over the area while they go about their work.

Khadhras proves a surprisingly able assistant, having some knowledge of engineering and the mechanics of such vehicles, and together they are able to expedite the repairs.  “We’re ready to return,” Lenk announces, asking if we have any further business.

Ged wants to check the body one last time, which seems to remind Kayd of his companion.  He asks, his voice shaking again, “We’re going to take him with us, right?”

I elbow Ged, asking him under my breath to say something about disease, but Ged has the situation well in hand, explaining that it’s impossible.  Ged heads over on his own, finding much what he expects—a three-day old, decayed body, rotting and surrounded by flies.  Having found nothing otherwise out of the ordinary, we depart and make our way back to Aryen’s Hope.

Once again we are reminded how different and difficult the conditions of our first trip were—the return trip to Aryen’s Hope is easy, and before long we are greeted by the gate guards, then by Iphan himself.  We linger to overhear Iphan’s conversation with Kayd—it doesn’t seem as if they know one another. 

That evening, we find time to speak with Iphan privately, explaining our intentions to help Aryen’s Hope, and indicating that salvaging the wagon was an effort done in good faith to show him our talents and prove that we’re honorable.  Iphan seems amenable to the arrangement, explaining that he could perhaps put us on a stipend to work directly for the camp, or pursue other agreements that would allow us more flexibility.

Unwilling and unwanting to give such control over our actions to anyone, Ged speaks for our group.  “If you have special needs, if you have something interesting for us and are willing to compensate us for our efforts, we are your men…but we are no one’s man.”

He seems to understand our intentions and is satisfied with Ged’s reply.  He explains that the ridge to the north and the mysterious lights are of special interest to him, enough to warrant a reward of 50 gold pieces for each of us if we can return with news of any potential threat.  We negotiate to include mundane supplies as part of the deal—rations, ammunition, and the like—as long as we’re working on behalf of the camp, he agrees to see that we’re well supplied.

Khadhras asks if there are any who know the territory, and we are introduced to Ureth, who was the man mauled by the bear.  Ureth is of an age with Ged, with shaved head and graying beard, and comes across as gruff but knowledgeable.  He explains that there are game trails that cross the territory and informs us of the various forms of natural predator that we should keep an eye out for.

“What special precautions can we take at night to avoid unwanted encounters with these predators?” I ask.  He shares that fire is both friend and foe—while it will keep away most natural predators, it also risks drawing the attention of any intelligent denizens of the wood.

“Don’t make assumptions about the natural wildlife,” he says grimly, fingering the scars on his face and neck.  “Something had that bear on edge like I’ve not seen before.”

With something on my mind, I ask to the group to humor me as we track down Janna.  Having told her of the undead wolf that attacked us, I say that I’ve heard tales that priests are possessed of the power to make water holy that it might be used against such foes, should we encounter them again in the wood.  “And are you possessed of such power?” I ask her directly.

She admits that she knows of the craft, though has not conducted it herself.  Knowing of Ged’s devotion to Shaundakul, she offers that the two of them might be able to accomplish the task together.  After giving it some thought, Ged agrees to lend his divine services to the effort.  The following morning, they disappear into Janna’s tent.  We wait outside but soon become bored as the minutes and hours pass. 

Meanwhile, Khadhras seeks out anyone possessed of arcane knowledge in Aryen’s Hope, though is disappointed in his efforts.  I do my best to assist with mundane tasks about the camp to pass the time, but make no meaningful contacts.

We are rewarded for their efforts, however, and Janna presents us with three vials of holy water with the warning that she can’t be completely sure that it will be effective.  Thankful nonetheless, we take the vials and store them away against future danger.

Ged looks to the skies, informing us that the weather should be relatively clear and cooperative in the coming days, so we make preparations to depart the following morning.

The beginning of our journey proves difficult—the ridge is complicated to navigate, so our going is slow.  There’s a light rain early in the morning and a chill rides the early spring wind—otherwise, though, conditions are reasonably good.  Getting lost in the wilderness is a real fear—fortunately, Ged has some skill in keeping us pointed in the right direction, and landmarks are plentiful enough that we are confident we can find our way.

Despite our best intentions and Ged’s skills however, we find ourselves on a meandering path through the woods that inevitably leads us back to the River Delimbiyr.  Fortunately, we find no sign of threat, natural or otherwise, and by the time we’ve passed our midday meal, we find what seems to be a good trail and follow it into the afternoon.

As with our trip to the wagon, we hear rustling in the brush ahead and come to an abrupt stop.  And as we did before, Khadhras launches a stone into the brush, though no further sound or movement is elicited by the action.  The woods are thick, and our path leads us right towards the source of the sound.

Swapping out my bow for my sword and shield, I decide to head forward cautiously.  Before I do, however, Ged stops me and works through a prayer, bestowing a blessing of Shaundakul upon us.  I don’t make it more than a few yards before a large black shape emerges from the brush—a black bear, standing on its hind legs and growling.  It is clearly disturbed by our presence.

I know little of such beasts, but having seen Ureth’s scars, I want nothing to do with a conflict.  I throw my shield over a shoulder and start digging in my pack with the intention of throwing rations towards it.   If it reacts naturally and investigates the food, we intend to escape towards the river.  If not, we ready ourselves to brace for combat.

It takes a few steps towards us as I hold out an armful of rations, hurling them as far as I can.  There’s a moment of apparent mental anguish or confusion as the bear stops to sniff the air.  Confronted by its options, it nonetheless ignores the food and closes most of the distance between us, it’s violent intents clear.

I stare down the bear—it stares down me—and I take off into the forest towards the river, away from the bear and the thrown rations.  I’m hopeful that it chooses food over a chase.  Khadhras and Ged move to follow.  Luckily, we seize initiative and the brush proves more an obstacle to the bear than a hindrance to us, and we are able to outrun the creature.

We keep up a rapid pace until we come either to the game trail once again or the river, stopping periodically to listen for sounds of a bear crashing through woods behind us.  We are hopeful we have left the threat behind.  We slow our pace to a more cautious speed so that we can have better awareness of our surroundings, and hear nothing of our would-be foe.

We manage to cover quite a distance over the course of the day as the sun begins to set.  Before it gets too dark, I look for a tree with limbs that look like they might support my weight to try and gain better vantage.  I find one and easily ascend to the lower branches where I am afforded a clearer view.  I’m not able to clearly make out the ridge, our destination, but I can make out where the land rises, and we determine that to be our best direction come the morning.

We camp with our backs to the river, building a bonfire for warmth.  We split into watches, and fortunately encounter no threat in the night.

The following morning, we discover several small game trails that head in what is seemingly the correct direction.  Most of the morning passes as we stalk quietly through the High Forest, and eventually are rewarded with a slight incline.  At midday, we find ourselves ascending a small ledge or ridge, and ahead we catch sight of an armored man with a bow.  It seems as if we caught sight of him as he us, and for the moment, his weapon remains at rest.

Keeping my bow out but not drawn, Ged raises a hand in greeting—the man returns the gesture.  We decide to approach slowly, Ged keeping his hand raised as a sign of trust.  We approach within a dozen yards, seeing no one else as we ascend towards him.

Ged makes a brief introduction, even going so far as to share news of the bear.  The conversation is one-sided, the man listening as Ged speaks.  The man is thin, athletic, and has the appearance of a woodsman.

When he finally replies, it’s in a language completely incomprehensible to us.  I slowly shoulder my bow, and from my pouch I withdraw a chunk of chalk.  On a nearby stone, I draw an exaggerated, angry bear, muttering the word to look for some recognition.

He replies with a different word, but otherwise seems unimpressed with my drawing.  The man tries uttering words in other languages, some of them seemingly a trade tongue, and we get the impression that he’s trying to express a single word—“lost”.

I draw a crude house and bonfire, pointing back towards Aryen’s Hope and in the other direction, my best guess towards the ridge where we seek the lights.  He either doesn’t understand or is unaware, instead seeming to communicate that he requires our help—or that he has friends that may need it.

We do our best to introduce ourselves by name, asking him what his name may be.  He replies, “Ailthar.”  Again using the chalk, I draw a figure and ask to the best of my knowledge how many others may seek our help.  He indicates that there are two others, and Ged asks their names.

“Ailthar, Pyr, Talas.”  We sense no duplicity in the man and are faced with a decision.  He points in the direction we were headed anyway, so our course seems easy to determine.  He leads the way up the ledge, and we follow behind.

As we walk, he keeps talking in a broken form of the common tongue, almost as if sharing a story.  We catch a few words in the otherwise unintelligible language—chief among them “Silvanus”, whom Ged knows to be a deity of nature.  We reach the summit of the ascent, and get the sense that there may be additional people ahead.  He holds his hands up as if we should stop, and gestures ahead of us as if communicating with others before beckoning us forward slowly.

Two figures emerge from the brush, one man and one woman—and both bear horrible scarring.  Half of the skin on the woman’s face is blackened as if burned or rotted, and one of her hands bears the same.  The man also has hideous visible scars, though neither seem as if they are in great pain.

“Help,” Ged says, pointing towards the woman’s scarring.  “Silvanus,” he says, hoping to make it clear that he wants to examine their scars so that he might ascertain their source.

The man points to himself, making a gesture with his hands reminiscent of a prayer.  He holds them towards the woman’s face, trying to convey something that we don’t fully understand.  Looking about, we see the remnants of numerous bonfires—and we realize that these are likely the source of the lights seen from a distance in Aryen’s Hope.

Whoever they may be, and whatever the cause of their scars, we have nonetheless completed part of our mission.  We are rewarded, however, with more questions than answers.