Summary 334: Into Caratan (2023-12-08)

You see more and more guides offering services as the New Fens becomes drier and more tree-dominated. And soon you stop to say farewell to Fatbutt Sadsong. He will wait here to find a new group to guide, surely back to Handra. He sings his new song, which he’s been composing during your journey: “Goodbye Forever”, celebrating the amazing heroics he’s seen and heard you do, but wrapping them inside his personal view of how he’ll never see you do this again. He sings of Boamund vs. the Hag, Fraud and Shrett vs. Hag’s the Baby, Shrett and Bog vs. the Stoorwyrm, Boamund bravely fighting (and falling to) the dragonsnail, Fraud cursing Chaos and beheading Dragonsnails, and Bog killing aJack O’Bear; and adds stories of the Quacken and the Handra war (Ahappi is not mentioned). Boamund gets a little teary-eyed. You comfort him, he looks wistfully at you one last time, and turns to dive into the river with a splash; gone.

Soon you find the camp of your new guide, who sees you too and happily introduces himself. He is Yorge (pronounced harsh, drawling “YOOORghe” almost like vomiting; he has a strong accent) duDerysi of House Jhoraz of the Trader Princees; a Malkioni (Hrestoli) merchant. He offers to take you at least through Caratan. He knows enough Auloring tongue to get by, but also that interpreters can be found at settlements. He has a team of eight mules, which can be ridden if you want and can easily carry your spare gear. [Boamund and Shrett might accept that offer, as they’re still badly wounded] Some info about/from him was in my prior email. You camp for the night and get to know this garrulous young man. Shrett asks of the level of threats on the road north, and Yorge says that it is normally fairly safe. The Aulorings are remarkably tolerant of outsiders; their policy is to trust and respect first, and see if that is repaid. And the Aulorings plus the protocol (and some Trader Prince magics) of the trail keep vagabonds and raiders dampened down. Yet bandits and monsters and such still do happen; just not often.

You opt to journey onwards rather than stop for 3 weeks here for Boamund to heal his wounds. Yorge gives you intro to Caratan/Aulorings: (Caratan - maps 1,2 attached—these maps do not fit the official/real map right, so imagine rotating their southern half about 90 degrees anticlockwise to bring the main river eastwards; thus the eastern leg of the Caratan journey becomes about as long as the northern leg. He leads you overland following decent trails, usually on the eastern side of the Noshain river, which becomes thinner, faster and steeper; but in Fire Season, still not very strong.

It is day 8 of your journey. You continue passing through the remote, sparsely settled area of relatively high ground in the lands of the Gringath tribe, finding the Koussel clan lands and people to be simple and standoffish, and you continue westwards. Your guide explains that the overall prosperity of clans and tribes improves as one heads northwards toward the main trading centres, away from the depravations of the more flooded lowlands.

Yorge pauses on the path and stares into the oak forest to the right. He looks back to you and says, “There’s a holy place there. Not Aulorings or Pralori. But probably Hykimi. I’m not sure if we should take a look or not.” See a squat grey statue, about 50cm tall, sitting on a large grey rock in a small clearing. Yorge ponders it and says, “Oh, that must be Entru. Might be best if we left him alone. But it reminds me, I know a myth of Entru , if you wish to hear it.” He tells you the tale of the hairy man Entru and how he was shaven and civilised by Slonta, then died in the Gods War and only rarely can emerge from the Underworld, chasing the spring-time goddess but very soon to return to Ty Kora Tek’s land. Shrett can tell this is a Beast Rune-tied shrine, and knows to be cautious as he’s no Entru worshipper. He approaches carefully, speaking clumsy Beastpeech words of respect; that you’re just passing by and paying respects. You come just into the clearing and, with a grinding noise of stone on stone, the statue slowly turns to face you. It emits a low chuckle “Hurrh hurrrh hurrrrrrh.” Pine needles on the ground stir, and there is a musky mammal scent in the air, and Shrett figures that spirits are nearby or coming, so you leave.

The day draws on. There is a distant rhythmic noise that loudens ahead; a clattering or jangling; and the growing sound of someone’s quick footsteps on the path. Also, some hear a fluttering of wings and a squawking, and a voice? Bog hears chickens; laughter; and song. “Mmmm, a singing chicken is coming!” He gets hungrier. A figure jogs into view. There’s no doubt what it is: a trickster. It’s not clear if it’s a he or a she, but in their right hand they shake their rattle which looks like their head, and in their left hand they proudly hold aloft a doll. With a big grin and an effortless song, they prance toward you, singing in Auloring, which Yorge translates to Fraud nearby:

“My love has built up a Handran ship, and he set her on Mournsea
With seven score good sea-a-men, for to bear her company
There is three score is sunk m' lads and three score dead at sea
And the lowlands o’ Caratan hae twined my love and me
My love, she built up another ship, and she set him on the main
With none but twenty chickenses for to bring them safely hame
But the drunken wind began tae rise, Mournsea began to spin
My love then and its circlin’ ship turned withershins agin
There'll neither quiff come on my head nor comb come tae my hair
Then shall neither doll nor rattle comfort mine arms ev’r mair
Nor will I love another one, until the day I dee
For I never loved a love but ane, and it's drowned in Mournsea
“Oh hold your tongue, my good son dear, be still, and be content-
There are mair lads still in Caratan, ye need not sair lament”
Oh there is nane in Caratan, there's nane at all for me
For I never loved a love but ane, and they is drowned in Mournsea.”

You keep to the sides of the trail, hoping to avoid it. Bog slinks closer though, and manages to grab a chicken and hide in a bush while events transpire. He has a nice raw meal, and gets decorated with feathers from it. The androgynous trickster dances around you, gleefully belting out its song and waving around its doll and rattle while its chickens run amok, unclear if they are trying to escape or joining in, but they do not leave. Fraud plays a slow tune on his lute along with its sad refrain, attracting its attention and it shakes its rattle; energy flows from his mind into that, and he loses memory of his Avert spell! Damn! Boamund tries croaking out song, but is in too much pain to carry the tune. Yet the Trickster still shakes its rattle his way, and he is surrounded with a strongly perfumed aroma, which is highly enticing. Fortunately though, after a couple more circles, the Trickster moves on. Yorge and the others exhale. You have a new dislike of Tricksters…

Boamund smelled of this strong perfume for 2 days until it fades. I forgot about it, but its in-game effect was to make most people more friendly (even affectionate) toward him, so it only would have helped…

That afternoon, you are preparing to pitch camp when you see a smallish campfire up ahead. As Yorge explains when asked, it’s polite on this trail to say hello; and probably safe. You approach, hail them and they hail you, and you see they’re Pralori, and wow it’s the Pralori band that you know from Giraine! The shaman, the war-leader, the Loper-man, and 4 others, all with their beasts. You have a pleasant reunion, sharing goods and tales. Kurugatlu Antlerman the shaman first says that spirits told him of your coming, then admits quickly that tales of you travelled ahead, so it was easy to know of your coming, so they waited here in expectation. They’ve been in the area seeking to aid the growing Serpent Beast Alliance, which the Pralori lead…

They tell some tales as the night goes on: During the Lesser Darkness, across the world were many peoples called Hsunchen; or Hykimi in the West; by later scholars. They all held in common that they were close siblings to the beasts of the wild, and also that they lived like animals without the corruption of civilization. In Seshnela, the Pendali were lion-people; in Fronela were the Bull and Bear peoples; in Ralios were the Wolf, Horse, and others; and in this region were the Pralori and the Mraloti. Late in the First Age, Arkat’s cleansing scourge went far and wide. He arrived in Maniria by land and sea, in Waertagi ships carrying Seshnegi and Brithini troops, and in great columns of Lightbringer barbarians from Ralios who followed the Unbreakable Sword. They concentrated on relieving Kaxtorplose, and then on liberating the centers of the coastal population. Some Pralori, huddled among the refugees of Kaxtorplose, agreed to help convert their people away from the evil god Gbaji. They were aided by the remnants of the coastal population in this. That population’s main gods were the Lightbringers, who refused all allegiance with the gods of Light and of Chaos, and also the religion of Malkion in its Brithini and Seshnegi form. [Fraud notes that this story omits the important fact that the Pralori, with some other animal-people like the Galanini horse-riders of Estal, sided with Nysalor/Gbaji at first but eventually turned on him, as in this tale; Fraud keeps this to himself]

At the early end of the Second Age, this part of the world was known in the West for its “dragon influences,” interesting in light of “serpent” beasts and “serpent” dancers. After all, Ryzel had its own Inhuman King for ages. Pralorite “sorcerers” (“magicians” or even “warlocks”) are the only surviving Serpent Beast people known today, and some Pralorites allied with the Loper People, so the Pralori have an even stranger history linked not only to dragons but also the Blue Moon. Shrett gets interested at the last bit, especially, and inquires about it with Sard’Sard, but the Loper-man says that he cannot speak of the secrets of Annilla the Blue Moon to strangers (Shrett has just met these folk).

The Pralori sit right atop the portage between the Noshain watershed and the difficult portage across the Tarin Mountains to Caratan from the Jrimb river of Ralios; another route begins to the east (from Highwater in Wenelian lands) and enters Ralios toward Lake Helby. So it's not surprising that the Pralori control trade now. Indeed, they are strong.

You get updates on the beast alliance: There is new tension in the fragile Ancient Beast Society and Serpent Beast Alliance. A powerful deer-folk shaman in northern Ralios has Heroquested and returned in the form of an ancient Damali deer – twice the size of the modern animal. They are teaching the path to others in the Damali tribes, who are seeking to demonstrate their right as the mightiest of the deer-folk, to wrest leadership of the Alliance from the Pralori elk-folk. Antlerman clearly is very concerned. The hero Dragontonue speaks: “Ralios is the place to seek the heroes of The Serpent Beast Alliance. When we first met I told you their tale of venturing into the Orggee Snake Caves. If you find them, you will know more than I do of what has happened since. But I know that they are becoming wrapped in the web of broader affairs in Ralios, most of all with the Arkati.” (he shows a distasteful expression) Fraud reacts to this, saying that you’re uniquely poised to be able to unite the Arkati with the Hykimi and resolve these problems. It’s a bold claim. The Pralori say as much, but also say that they know you’re great heroes and surely can do great deeds that help their peoples’ cause. So they hope for such.

Antlerman: “I know a friend in southern Ralios that you might find if you want help amongst the animal people. He is an elk-brother named Finefoot. You would find him around the town of Dolios in Daran County; he cares for the animal people around there. Finefoot is a shaman of the Ancient Beast Society, who have strength in Dolios. The Baron Ornim there is also not a bad fellow, for his kind.”

The next morning, as he promised, Kurugatlu Antlerman delivers gifts of helpful bound spirits into fetishes (bundles of specially prepared stuff)! Each PC : one use blessing (via covert possession from spirit), lasts one scene–

He says that he gives you these things with no desire for return of a gift. It is not just a gift, but an expression of hope- that these things will help you to not only aid your interests, but also those of his kind.

And you say your goodbyes for now, but as the Pralori aim to go to Ralios eventually on their continuing quest, they say they might see you again there.

some info below relates to the 2 Caratan maps attached

Day 9 continues: Your guide translates tales you hear along the way, that this next region is the region settled in 1537 ST by a hero named Yrsa Longarm and her compatriot Orlanthi exiles from the County of Bastis to the east , during the founding years of the Trader Princes’ dynasties. Despite the heroism (or desperation) of Yrsa’s band, the small settlement of Yrsa’s Stand in what is now Jilbear clan lands was sacked and destroyed by the Gringath tribe in 1537 after the Battle of Blood Fen. This drove out all remaining Bastis exiles and other Wenelians, cementing the lands of Caratan as belonging solely to the Aulorings. The Blood Fen and Yrsa’s Stand are largely avoided by Auloring, being held equally as a place of haunting and ill omen, and of respect for the fallen of both sides. Only in the most extreme of floods will Aulorings gather here in any numbers. You then enter the lands of the Sangrold tribe’s Livelac clan, finding them more welcoming and even curious, looking for trade ventures. The Aulorings prove to be as you were told. Odd, but decent people.

Finally, you turn northwards along the Noshain river, headed deeper into Sangrold tribe lands. Most of the year, the town of Pellam’s Moorings to the east is little more than a well-maintained boatyard surrounding the great Hall of Pellam, a fortified roundhouse reportedly larger than any other in Caratan. Your guide explains that Tribe Sangrold gathers here for meetings and merriment, and for shelter during the worst weather. Despite being suspended 15 feet above the ground on piles erected by a friendly giant, the Hall of Pellam has been flooded on a number of occasions and the boatyards are not only engaged in the construction of trading vessels, but also entrusted to care for the great arks; magical barge-like vessels built only by the Pellam clan; kept for the worst excesses of the Taker. Your guide says they’ve heard that the Pellam clan learned new ways to build better arks when one of their heroes rode up to the Boat Planet last year. That’s a familiar quest!

West of Pellam’s Moorings, you come to a large tent set up alongside the river trail. A stout river barge is moored nearby, and six tired-looking water buffalo are tied not far from it. The barge and tent bear a crest of the Trader Princes which Yorge recognises as from the council of merchant oligarchs in Jubal Town, which despises the Houses of the Trader Princes, having none of their own. He is tense as he explains this, but stiffly directs you forward to do customary polite greetings.

You enter, past well-armed guards (mainly hairy Wenelians). A slightly plump man in nice clothing and brown bowl-cut hair watches you come into the tent, sitting in his ornate wooden chair, presided over by gruff mercenaries of various sorts, and with plenty of valuable-looking goods stacked around him. He frowns as he looks you over, and Yorge is about to speak, then the man loudly exclaims “So. House Jhoraz visits. What nerve! What coarse manners! What foolishness!” Yorge stammers; Fraud interjects, soothing with words of who you are once coarsely asked by this man, as Yorge does not immediately answer, and after some quick, strong probing for information, the man calms.

He slaps his thigh, laughs and relaxes into his seat, his belly bulging forth. “Haha, you should learn more humour, my guests! You are welcome here. We Trader Princes tend to be above such tomfoolery, as my introduction misled you with. I was merely entertaining myself. Our journey has been long and muddy and full of grim news. I am glad to see you! I am Bridan Not-From-Here, bound upriver for Ralios. What is your path? My guards say you come from the south?” You, too, relax; Yorge most of all; and you talk a little more, making introductions, amidst which it is very clear that Bridan is trying to extract as much information about you as possible, but Fraud is holding firm and mostly just saying what you’ve done; not much about your plans except that in Ralios you head toward Estal city. Which Bridan says he is likely to stop at eventually, too.

Boamund introduces himself and Bridan reacts with interest: “Your name, Lord Boamund, is familiar. Do you know a man named Nalkah the Redeemed? [he does; a Pithdaran Horali adventurer; they go way back; mutual friends of Baron Ronalio and Reginaldo in Oradaros on the mainland; but not seen for some years now] Well, do you know of his current whereabouts? [somewhere not in the Seshnela area, having fought them but fled?] I am sorry to tell you a tale. I met him and his comrades in the famed city of Kaxtorplose; he mentioned you as one of his friends, and this piqued my interest as he had much praise for you. His hero band was most impressive to me in their own right. But it stood out that they were preparing to descend into the Mournsea to explore the forbidden, sunken city of Erenplose. The wandering, cursed spirit of one of them was later found by a travelling Telmori shaman, conveying the story of their awful destruction in Erenplose. Apparently some enemy agents from Ralios ambushed them. Again, I am sorry to bring you this news.” Boamund indeed is sad. Nalkah was a good man.

Bridan seems to be satisfied. He knew of the Handra war, and likes info of that, but has little interest in your heroics beyond those of major broad impact. “Well, that’s all fascinating indeed. Here, take some seats [points to little portable cloth-and-wood seats], and take some of my food and drink. Let’s exchange news. Maybe we can help each other?” You talk; he brings up that he has long dealt with the Aulorings and knows them well; Yorge gets very interested!

And so you do learn more. Dealings with the Aulorings require delicate protocols; much diplomacy. One critical difference between the Aulorings and many other barbarian groupings is how they speak of themselves and others. They dislike it if strangers do not follow their credo. While they freely extol the virtues of others, they never speak well of themselves. The local god Stormflood, enthusiastic “Taker” and warrior son of Hibour, is their classic stereotype to prove that you can have too much of a good thing; whereas Hibour’s daughter “Sweetwater the Giver” is the restrained, generous opposite. Imitation of the gods is double-edged. Emulate the good, but never imitate the bad! Modesty is intrinsic to Auloring culture. An Auloring who receives gifts will heap praise upon the gifter, who will promptly deny the value of the gift! Moreover, a heroic deed must be witnessed by someone who did not have a hand in the deed. If no one else was there to recall it, then the deed might as well never have happened. It counts for nothing! Auloring myths tell of no heroes performing lone deeds of valour or wisdom. One must take care of one’s fellows, as they will tell your tale. To gift too much, though, can be outrageous and seen as a burden – extravagance is bad taste, encouraging the Taker. This modesty, but also loyalty, endurance and hard work are the Four Virtues of the Aulorings. Other Orlanthi say “No one can make you do anything.” The Aulorings say “Respect is earned and given. Respect your leaders and earn their respect.”

They also say, obliquely referring to the Trickster, “Only the fool stands alone.” Aulor died because of the Trickster’s actions during the Flooding, disrupting the heroquest of Alphons de Brandgor to unite the tribes. They tribes have remained disunited, but this has preserved the quiet uniqueness of the Aulorings.

Two centuries ago, Caratan struggled with Ralian Malkioni invaders and defeated them in the Battle of Drowning Waters, wielding Hibour’s might. Aulorings have never trusted the Ralian Malkioni since. They are wary of all other folk, except the Mraloti, with whom they empathise over their humble state in Ramalia. But except for the Ramalians themselves, and Chaos, the Aulorings have no true enemies.

Aulorings do not use Theyalan script. They scorn any writing. They rely on oral tradition and Diviners, called Ordoners in their tongue, who seek fresh guidance from Hibour and Carra; acting somewhat like the Lhankor Mhy sages of other Orlanthi, but through the Water and Earth runes.

Aulorings are more egalitarian than most cultures, but much as only women can give birth, only men can carry the dead to their water burials.

You talk more, Bog gorges himself on the ample foods from around the lands, and then as night closes in, Bridan offers his hospitality but you decline. You’re still wary of this somewhat sleazy man, and his thirst for insight into you and other knowledge that might help whatever his agenda is (or be of material value?), so you pay your respectful farewells after a couple of hours.

Yorge directs you northwards toward Vison Town to resupply; you’re still on track to make it there by nightfall. Yet you have another encounter along your route, being approached in Bragwaine clan lands; of the Brangol tribe; by a nascent “hero band” of Aulorings who approach with much curiosity, and good attitudes. There are 5 in total; 2 of them (Waterfils Clovis Niloc and Webfoot Pendalbas Niloc) do the talking, speaking Tradetalk; others do not, but watch carefully. Their general reaction to you: Fraud = uneasy about his mask. Is he diseased? No, more that he has a beast-face, and that shuts them up. Boamund = the most welcoming to him; Shrett = neutral; Bog = chilly reception. You find now that, outside of the more cosmopolitan places/peoples you’ve met so far, that reactions to each of you vary quite a bit, and colour what transpires. They introduce themselves first, and you get a good introduction to their odd ways of doing this, with 1 person introducing the other via praise; and never accepting that praise but rather praising another instead. You try to do the same, but find it challenging. You’ve done great deeds and yet the protocol you’ve learned from Yorge and Bridan reminds you that you need some third party witness to best tell of them. The band, nonetheless, is impressed, but still unnerved by your eccentricities.

Bog cheerily jumps in and tells wild tales of his heroics, boasting proudly, and downplaying your roles. The Aulorings are visibly uncomfortable, giving him an even chillier reception, and you others try to reassure them, but their tone has become more formal.

They do however open up, and offer a myth of their people, to help you understand this land. They tell the tale of “When Orlanth Got His Feet Wet”; the “origin myth” of their god Hibour. (see attached story)

And they tell of other gods of the Aulorings: Ustelm, the mink god, hunter and skirmisher. Buruwehaar, god of the Protecting Mist. Waterseer Wesrod the Diviner. Watersmeet Heler; trader and psychopomp. Lightbringer gods are not normally worshipped, except for some Issaries traders who do what Heler does not (go well beyond Caratan in their dealings).

More broadly, they say: The Aulorings are worried, because the Aldryami are acting strange even for them; more aggressive and more active outside the Tarinwood; so there is worry of some kind of war. Mutual friends amongst the Pralori claim no insight. You ask how you can help, and they say that if your heroics include being able to deal with the Woodmen, whom the Aulorings are on fair terms with but not experts in handling, then that would be a great boon to their people. Fraud, who has been on edge as you go through the frontiers between parts of the Tarinwood (which is mostly to your west), doesn’t express much confidence in this; Boamund though is hopeful (thinking of his Truestone). Bog is warned, via steely glances and slightly oblique words, that this all might be “challenging” but that Uz are seen as part of the Balance; of the Taker but not pure enmity like Chaos is. And from Bog’s perspective, the Aldryami are delicious…

You depart from these aquaintances, who head southwards into the New Fens, where Pendalbas seeks ways to end the curse on the Noshain river and make things better with the floods; you say that Fatbutt might be a helpful contact. As you leave, you reflect on how these 5 people remind you of how you got started as heroes. They show promise, and have big goals beyond those of their folk, but have growing to do…

That night, you reach Vison [Town]; the Brangol tribe centre- This walled town is the market and religious center for the four Auloring tribes. It is based around the famous Auloring Marchay— the first marketplace in Caratan founded by Trueword Vison in 1368 ST. Some 1000 or so people live here; whether settled Aulorings or others visiting shorter-term. Bog goes with Yorge to the market, interested after you see some exotic birds there. He has a new taste for poultry and other fowl… You pass the one tavern, the Aching Toad Inn (pic of a hung over toad on a placard outside) to get refreshments, and at first want to go in, but then you see the sign posted outside in Tradetalk: “No weapons. No armour. No magic. Just eat and drink. Good music. Don’t break our stuff.” Yorge explains that you could carry armour inside and seek a room or bathing, but that weapons simply would not be allowed. They’ve had their share of troubles in this frontier town.

So you take the other option of camping outside of the walls. Boamund settles down to rest, as you aim for him to recover here for 3 weeks. The others go to the market; but soon Shrett goes to the Inn. Inside, he gets some ale and strong local “potent spirit” and stew and bread, but is interrupted. It’s unclear what sets it off, but suddenly there’s a yell and a crash as a chair overturns, then more shouting and flagons flying, and the barkeep shouts something, and people are standing up and throwing punches! Shrett remains seated. Soon though, a hairy, stinking Wenelian mercenary strides up, hurling insults and aggressions at Shrett; emphasizing how ugly he is. And as the man prepares to throw a punch, Shrett sneakily tries to swipe his feet out from under him but misses. The man punches drunkenly which falls far short. Shrett stands and punches the guy in the groin; he doubles over in a yell of pain and crawls away. Soon the bartender’s yells, and entry of some armed guards, end the brawl.

A darkly clothed and somewhat sinister looking Auloring approaches Shrett at the bar. Bartender explains as an introduction, saying that this man seeks to talk to Shrett: “Blackname Dagodent here was highborn and influential in his youth before his family was slain in mysterious circumcises. Since then he has been hounded by rumours and accusations pertaining to the dark secrets he carries, but here we appreciate his uniqueness. He has served many clans but his reckless nature and sometimes malicious conduct means he's ran ragged from pillar to post, travelling through fens and dale, swamp and woodland. Dagodent is clever and thoughtful and is always dedicated to whichever clan he serves at the time; right now he loyally serves the Brangol clan. Dagodent is very talented as a Wesrod worshipper and Ordoner; a diviner; forecasting from water and from the Ginlacht Bones he stole, to the chagrin of some, from an ancient Compt‘s Sacred Burial Pool.” Dagodent grumbles, suppressing a smile. He says that he saw Shrett and wonders who and what he is. He is very curious and asks plenty of questions, seeming genuinely intrigued. The two chat for a while and, hearing more of your band, Dagodent offers to do a divining for you back at your camp. Shrett accepts and leads him there.

You repeat your introductions to Dagodent. He’s much more relaxed about your eccentricities than other Aulorings have been. He’s truly curious; clearly an open-minded, intelligent, clever man (and one who Shrett figures is of flexible morals too; but of good heart). So, soon he casts bones into his Magic Bowl, doing a fascinating ceremony of Wesrod the Ordoner:

As he views, entering a trance: “I see you floating above a long river in the nighttime. You pass by an old stone building on a hill: a temple, perhaps? The priest is dead. Then, downriver, a wooden stockade; a fortress; by a swamp. The green serpent writhes. Then, a cliffside pocked with tunnels. The stone glows blue. Then, a tower rising from a ruined castle. The dark man follows. Then, a dark island; and again that tower? With each change of scenery, shadows over and around the scene strengthen, until there is nothing but blackness in the end.” [He shrieks in fear; turns away from the bowl as if to run; breaking his trance] “Within that blackness, a wicked face stared back, shedding its cruel mask to reveal something even worse!” Dagodent is very shaken by this. You ask, and it seems this face he saw might not be of Yomil, or a Blue Vadeli, but something not human; awful to behold. The description of the land he saw is certainly no match for Caratan. Is it some future vision of Giraine? Or it easily could be Ralios, which does have plenty of the stone buildings that Caratan does not. There are no answers as of yet.

Dagodent offers to accompany you through Auloring lands as an interpreter in the Auloring dialect. (He’s VERY intrigued by you, even though afraid; and as he shrugs off the ill effects of his vision, this intrigue strengthens)

You learn a little more of the area here: -Adjacent is the hierarchical centre of the cult of Wesrod (Scryer), the Low Temple, and a number of further temples and holy places. The Low Temple contains several sacred relics from Second Age Slontos. You’d not be welcome as visitors; it’s closely guarded. -Adjacent, too, is Merover’s Fort, built sometime before 1400 ST and enlarged in 1469 ST when hero Hiboursfis Alphons moved the Seigneurs’ Court to Vison Town. You get a chance to tour it; it’s nice. -Foreign travellers first recorded the name of this small city in 1383 ST, less than a generation after the founding of the market. Hostile forces have never taken it, the last attempt being made by an alliance of the Princes of Ralios in 1474 ST. The city was saved by the intervention of hero L’Etranger Modrain in the creation, overnight, of Lake Vison nearby, and the subsequent Battle of Drowning Waters. Since then, Ralios’s city-states have basically left Caratan alone, except for small-scale raids, usually by the Galanini/Estali horse-riders (sun-worshippers).

It's a reasonably comfortable 3 weeks of rest. Dagodent helps you when he can, and Yorge is very happy to have lots of time to get to know the Aulorings (he gets along well with Dagodent), and makes useful trade connections. Boamund recovers back to full strength; and once Shrett does too, he spends the remaining time apprenticed to a local bronze-smith, finally learning that craft. Fraud finds a local Ralian to improve his Literacy in Safelstran. Bog has 3 weeks to spend on whatever he can do. It comes to the end of the first week of Earth Season now.

Day 10 of travel recommences. You reach the Jacquin clan area in north Caratan (see Caratan maps). Not far now from Rik(h)nos Crossing at the border with Pralorela/Tarinwood. In that clan lands, you are invited inside the small settlement of Lowclere with Dagodent; Yorge duDerysi goes to trade, too. Dagodent gives a briefing: this is the largest settlement belonging to Clan Jacquin, and a familiar stopping point for travellers coming toward Vison Town from settlements further north, like Riknos’ Crossing. Within the earthworks, topped by a stout wooden palisade, reside maybe as many as 300 people, guarded day and night by warriors standing duty at the single entrance point. Clan Jacquin; also called the Strongbows; does not raise herd animals (like the popular Raphi [capybaras], instead making a living from a mixture of agriculture, gathering wild plants and some hunting. Its lands lie close to the mighty Noshain River and its tributaries, making it slightly more vulnerable to flooding than most of the other clans. There are more followers of Ustelm, the mink god and hunter-skirmisher, in the clan than is usual. As a clan they tend to favour violence as a solution to problems rather more then is average among the Aulorings, even to the extent of execution for serious crimes.

Tonight you’re all invited as guests at a banquet held to celebrate a forthcoming marriage of some importance. Dagodent explains that the Compt of Jacquin has heard of you and seen value in your unusual talents, and feels that it might be helpful to have you present. Dagodent knows that the Compt has a reputation for amazing foresight; amlost as if he were a Diviner, but it is said the Fate rune has blessed him, and he is very wise in using that blessing. But as the Compt feels so, Dagodent darkly worries that something bothers him. Yorge is off socialising and might not join in. Learning that this is a formal event where you should come well-dressed and most appropriately, not armoured (definitely not armed), Bog opts to remain at camp outside the walls and guard things/snack. The locals’ general reaction to you: Fraud = stiff. Boamund = the most welcome; Shrett = nicer; Bog = very wary; hence he keeps his distance (but is very tempted to be mischievious).

You tidy up and come with Dagodent into the main roundhouse, checked by guards at the door, and directed to a side table up front near the high table; in a position of respect.

Dagodent tells what he knows, as the feast is prepared: So far it’s been a good year in Lowclere, and for the wider tribe. The weather has held, the omens are favourable and faithful are praying for a visit from the Giver. Yesterday, Tiboul (Dornar’s priest) and Anglide (Jacquin’s priestess) sought the blessings of Hibour and Carra for the coming harvest of Earth Season, and the feast went well. Nobody drank too much, boasted too much or tempted the Taker, and the laughter lasted long into the night. Tonight the roundhouse is occupied once more. Not quite as loud or busy as yesterday, people whisper, although two feasts in a row might be seen as a little excessive. Still, the people have little else to do, so what’s the danger in that? After all, the feasters have gathered to honour a couple who have swapped wooden bangles as a sign of their intention to marry.

You see, and Dagodent gives names of, the main people at the high table: Quicktongue Childebear [In his late 30s, Childebear is a tall and handsome rogue] is the nephew of Compt Fivelives Lothair, the chief of the Jacquin Clan, and Faireye Elzabet is the daughter of Barrelmaster Francis, one of Clan Dornar’s lesser plumerey (“ring”). Dagodent doesn’t know clan Dornar so well. The cult of Carra Rushmother has rather more prominence than in some clans. The Dornar are more peaceable, and given to generosity and negotiation more than is average, even forgiving major offenses if the wronged party so wishes. They have friendly relations with the Jacquin. The Compt is sitting in his usual place at the high table, accompanied by his plumerey and his half-brother Strongarm Baudua (father of Childebear). Much of the noise is coming from the high table as normal, especially Baudua and his rather brash son Childebear. Elzabet, a dark-haired and clear-eyed young woman, simply sits quietly, occasionally glancing at Childebear.

Watching, you acutely spot that Compt Lothair’s smile looks somewhat forced. There is an air of suppressed tension amongst the feasters. Elzabet doesn’t really look too happy either. Dagodent, watching too, when prompted (after Fraud voices converns): “Strange really, Childebear doesn’t really seem suited to Elzabet. She’s strong but silent, he’s rather vain and shallow and loud with it.” The noise level has been growing all evening and Childebear’s sudden bursts of laughter, thumping of the table and boasts of what a fine husband his beloved will have are becoming more frequent. Dagodent subtly casts some frowns his way; some others are shaking heads, muttering of disapproval, and making pious gestures. Uh oh. Fraud considers doing something but Dagodent warns that it’s not your place; do not take action with the high table; follow his lead as guests here. But do watch. The Compt probably wants you to…

In the midst of yet another gale of indulgent laughter there’s a loud splintering noise and Elzabet leaps up with a start, almost knocking over her chair. Her betrothal bangle has split and broken, seemingly all by itself, and falls from her wrist to the table, and then to the floor. Pandemonium breaks loose. Strongarm Baudua swears, Compt Lothair turns white and you can see quite heated discussion taking place as Elzabet collapses on the floor. Childebear looks suddenly very scared, and then very angry. There is a loud babble of consternation filling the hall. Dagodent, quickly: “Swapping bangles as a sign of marriage is very common and has great symbolic value for us Aulorings. Yet if the bangle should break or be lost it’s considered bad luck, maybe a sign of unfaithfulness or other wrongdoing. What has happened?” You’re not sure what’s going on in the hubbub at the high table for the next few, fast-moving, tense moments. Fraud is tempted to dive for the bauble, but Dagodent cautions that it’s best not to intervene, not yet.

Then– Lothair commands his seer, Deepseer Sigefrid. “Ask Wesrod. What do the waters say? What’s the meaning of this?” The Diviner asks Blackname Dagodent to ready the nearest seeing bowl, and he stands up and does, motioning for you to remain seated. After the appropriate invocations over the bowl at the high table, Deepseer cannot get an answer. “The water is cloudy. Wesrod gives no answer.” Dagodent returns and translates from Auloring (so far, no one else here has spoken in Tradetalk etc.).

The feast breaks up in confusion. People are drifting away. Soon you’re the only ones left, aside from people at the high table. Still watching it, you see that Barrelmaster Francis is comforting Elzabet. Baudua and Childebear are nowhere to be seen. Fraud looks for another exit and heads out. He spots the two of them heading away amongst others, and follows them stealthily. They depart town, which is odd as they live here, and Fraud hangs in the shadows outside the gate as he sees Baudua pay a quick farewell to Childebear, who heads out alone towards the south. Baudua returns inside Lowclere and Fraud easily pursues him back to what must be his house, which is lit and has the sounds of Auloring conversation as Baudua enters and lingers. He does not leave; so Fraud soon does, and rejoins you at your camp. Meanwhile, Shrett wonders what to do, and Dagodent says that it’s not quite right now to talk to the chief but Shrett is directed to look his way, and Lothair lockd eyes with him, nods to himself and leaves (into his private area of the roundhouse). Dagodent explains that Lothair must want privacy, so it is best to return in the morning and see if you can meet with him. It appears that there is nothing urgent, in the Compt’s eyes at least.

You exchange information at your tent. Dagodent camps nearby, and Yorge returns there very drunk, collapsing in his tent after checking his mules and depositing some trade goods. He snores.

Dawn comes. Dagodent: You’re invited to have breakfast with the Compt. It’s informal, so you come fully geared-up. The fact that Compt Fivelives Lothair sets the best breakfast table throughout the whole of Caratan is agreed by all. And proven here, as you come in; Bog included, who dives into the rich spread with gusto, and much appreciation for the novel delights of the Aulorings. This raphe is delicious, the jonkrush which normally is bland is well made here, and the sweet eureed is superb as a dessert, and wow there is some good fish—and fowl!! Oh yes. As Bog comments on this glorious bounty: Lothair, who speaks very good Tradetalk– “Obviously my meager reputation has travelled further than I deserve. Do not thank me. The Giver has been kind this year.” He deflects the glory, and passes it on to another. Such is the Auloring way, you’re now familiar.

The following information is divulged over a period of two hours of much talk and generosity: -The wedding is due to be held in the evening seven days hence in the roundhouse in Lowclere. For the safety and security of the tribes, Fivelives Lothair needs to know what is going on. Either Childebear or Elzabet could call the marriage off, but Lothair could stop it if he has reason to believe something is wrong. -Lothair needs an outside party to investigate. He’d use a Trader Prince as a traditional intermediary, but Yorge duDerysi got far too deep into his cups last night and is in no state to help. Lothair says, “I know heroes when I see them. You’re blessed by many gods and talents that I am sure will help you solve our problem. The boy Childebear’s a damned nuisance, but his father’s too valuable to my clan to upset. Have pity upon our humble plight. Find out what happened and why, before seven days elapse, and I will reward you with what little we can offer in our deprived little land. Is it simply chance, or is something else going on? This is important. Does the wedding need to be stopped for the good of our peoples? Dagodent knows our ways and can guide you through them.” -Compt and Dagodent explain the region. [SEE ATTACHED AULORING-LANDS MAP]

You plan your day as you leave Lothair: First, you take Dagodent’s offer to scry for you. Dagodent borrows the clan’s sacred bowl from Sigefrid. You try to dig up more information in the meantime, but get nothing much new. Dagodent reports back with not too much from Wesrod: “Sigefrid should have been able to do the scrying last night. It’s a bit beyond me, but should be well within his abilities. Maybe he’d drunk too much at the feast.” So is he hiding something, or truly unable? You opt to investigate directly.

You go with Dagodent to Deepseer Sigefrid, who is open and friendly, and insists via Dagodent that you join him for a drink of some extremely powerful spirit of fermented rushes called Spearthroat. Bog and Shrett persevere its strong punch (it’s like a 60% schnapps). He freely admits to Dagodent to being drunk at the feast [Dagodent figures out that he is a habitual drunk: a Passion of “Likes Drink” 80%]. He insists on talking on and on, for at least 2 hours, and plying all of you with drink; but Fraud and Boamund politely decline. As you leave, “See if you and your friends can sort this out. It’ll be good fun, and I’ll put in a good word for you, Dagodent. Go and see my former teacher Goodsight Geoffrey. He’s usually over in Pettilow, although he does get about a bit. Anyway, if he cannot find the truth, no-one can. Now, do you fancy another drink?” You apologise through Dagodent that you must leave. Shrett and Bog have a healthy, cheery buzz on.

Casual chats around town before you leave confirm with witnesses what you know, or add a little detail: Childebear’s swift departure; a discussion between Baudua and Lothair. Baudua’s place in historical terms is highly significant. He is the son of the former chief, Clovis, by his lover, rather than his wife and had a good chance of becoming Compt, but instead supported his elder half-brother Lothair. Faireye Elzabet, along with much of the Dornar contingent, left for home in Bowfor at first light. This is not particularly unusual behaviour.

Shrett leads tracking of Quicktongue Childebear’s trail, which is OK until it gets well into the Wet Woods south of Lowclere, where you find his hunting hut. An investigation of his hut shows it to be a typical bachelor pad, untidy and cluttered. There are all the signs of a speedy departure (missing blankets, no hunting spears and the like). But eight others’ tracks have joined him along the way there, and the tracks and woods around the hut make it too hard to find where they have headed to. You return to Lowclere; a 2 hour round-trip.

You go to Strongarm Baudua’s house: His wife, Aliss, tries to stubbornly turn you strangers away from the door, but with gentle urging that you’re there by the Compt’s request and just want to talk, she lets you in. Baudua only responds with a good deal of persuasion (cautiously): he is an important member of the plumerey and keeps reminding you of this high status. You take his hints that he wants to play some local bone-stacking game of skill and strategy, and Dagodent explains the basics (it’s like a bit of Jenga with manual dexterity, and a bit of chess). Boamund(yes?) accepts the challenge. And to everyone’s surprise, this neophyte Boamund performs very well at a crucial moment in the game, as Baudua falters and his key stack of bones clatters down (symbolically, too?). [His skill was 80% and he rolled 86; Boamund made his 25% skill!] Baudua talks. He admits that he has reservations. “The boy’s old enough to marry, and hard-headed too. I’d rather have him as a friend, like Lothair, than as a foe.” And he says that Childebear surely would not tell you much, but maybe Elzabet (in her home town of Bowfor), or her good friend Silverhand Lynet (in Pettilow), might have helpful information. Elzabet lives with her father (Francis, who you saw) and mother. Lynet is an apprentice to an Issaries/Gultha Goldentongue merchant of the Trader Princes (Yorge does not know who he is; Baudua does not recall the name). The process takes 3 hours. You’ve spent a good day of effort now, and opt to return to camp and go to either Pettilow or Bowfor the next day. Each is about 3 hours from here; along good paths. You have several leads now to chase.

Maps

Catatan Catatan Auloring Lands Hibour

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