Shrett speaks to Vinshana after the wrestling and it’s polite enough but not very informative, and she seems eager to rejoin the celebration. You talk to Pelnor a bit and learn a little more from him. He introduces Shrett to his Pralori guides who accompanied him through the Trader Prince lands to the east, as he headed this way toward Ralios. It seems he’s not sure what he’s doing in Ralios or where (and only knows basic things about Ralios), but he’s going to Lartuli too, and seeks trade and exploration, but not too much excitement. You’ve really got the feeling now that Pelnor, while good with words, isn’t much of a hero. You bring up Seshnela’s invasion of Nolos and his positive tone turns dark. You change the subject and he brightens again. Bozfani goes off to the edge of the clearing. With Bog’s eyes on his back, Finstaval wanders off.

Shrett goes to the mist-cloud tree but does not find the mink or any other reachable essence there. He then looks around and realise he is not sure what are animals vs. transformed animal people now, amongst the gathering. He sees some people switching back and forth casually between forms. This is new to all of you.

You wander the celebration for a while as its intensity ratchets up. Boamund goes to the dark egg-like stone and touches it, imagining peace as he does so. He spirals into a vision: A black river dances across the ground in an erratic pattern. Above it are many bats, some of them even man-sized, flitting and soaring on its cold breaths. Yet his feeling of harmony persists throughout, and he returns back, dizzy. Boamund goes to the other, lichen-covered stone, but like Shrett gets no response from it. He remains at the stone, back against it, watching the celebration.

The feast is going strong, with many new participants entering the clearing; beasts and animal people from around the area. An owl-person; two wolves; two draconic-snake-like things that resemble Koronei, and more. And then the Aldryami enter: mostly brown and green elves, but also plenty of pixies, plant spirits and moss-covered long-armed smallish humanoid “runners”; and a couple of dryads. They begin dancing in a circle and some of you happily join. Even Bog is welcomed into this dance of Harmony and Life.

Interesting events happen over the celebration time: BOG: 4 giant minks start a kickline dance, and the mink spirit appears dancing in a mist cloud above. The dance grows increasingly complex as more animal people join in, until real danger grows that someone will get a claw in the eye. Shrett and Bog have joined, and Fraud has tried to sing along but lost his breath. Eventually the dancers tire and the kickline disperses, with a few injuries from high-kicking mink claws. The Mink spirit descends to speak privately with Bog in Auloring: “Well done, well done. So, what can you do for me, you asked? See that braggart over there? Yeah, Finstaval. You know what I’m thinking, right? His excess invites The Taker. He might shame the Giver in this Festival. Now is not the time, but you and he are here for reasons. When the right time comes. You know what to do. Make it messy. I’ll know , buddy.” Bog likes this idea. Very much. The double-meaning of “his excess invites The Taker” is not lost on him. Bog can be The Taker, come for Finstaval, if he wants.

SHRETT: A pale, lithe Auloring earth witch offers a smoke from a long wooden pipe carved like a sleeping serpent. [Tradetalk] “I am Jekendada. Try this. It will help you See.” He accepts it and smokes deeply, enjoying its spicy, unfamiliar flavour. He gains Witchsight from it; now able to see many spirits around the celebration, in the Spirit World, and the spirits of all those who participate in the Middle World.

FRAUD : He leans on a stone and it moves! It is no stone but a giant tortoise, about the size of a bear. It extends its long wrinkled neck and slowly looks at him. Then lazily in Tradetalk it says, “I know you. I watched you battle on the field of Sreborket.” (a place in Nolos near Seshnela; Fraud quickly realises this is his great-grandfather that the tortoise speaks of. The giant tortoise, whose name is Mirthless, watched the battle from a nearby ridge, and remembers how well Fraud (his ancestor) fought, charging through enemy lines into single combat with a Seshnelan Talar, and slaying him in a proper duel, well-matched, after a heroic exchange of many blows. Mirthless soon grew sleepy and retracted back into his shell.

BOAMUND: He sees that two people hang upside down from a fruit tree near the rock he rests at: a woman painted as a bluepaw monkey, and a bearded female scholar wearing Law and Truth runes. The scholar says (Tradetalk), “Say there. We are in a bind. My friend here and I cannot agree on our chosen topic. I maintain that the true and essential nature of ‘fruitness’ is that it involves the imbuement via the Plant Rune of a fleshy exterior with a seed-bearing interior, sweet or sour and edible raw. She counters that ‘fruitness’ is what the Plant Rune Gives that makes us happy. We are at quite some odds here. Might you resolve this as a judge of sorts?” Boamund asks them to make their cases, and the scholar makes a long, soon very dull, jargon-laden academic argument that loses Boamund’s understanding, but seems to have some grounding in truth and might be rather intelligent. The Hrunda worshipper makes a shorter, impassioned argument for how important fruits have always been to Hrunda, his bluepaw monkeys and his people. Boamund considers these two arguments and finds their merits to both be strong. He makes a sound judgement that both are right—that “fruitness” depends on the physical nature of the fruit, but that has no cosmic meaning without the happiness that its succulence brings. They like this judgement, and all three share fruit together.

After a few hours of partying (night-time is drawing nearer, but it is still day), the crowd gives forth a wild shout. Tiny plant spirits dance across the temple clearing. They grow into tables and benches while a contingent of Aldryami “sing” up a whirring, rushing noise akin to wind blowing through the forest. The Shamans and their helpers carry forth nature’s bounty, blessed and prepared for the celebrants. All dig in heartily to the board of fruits, greens, and roasted meat. Boamund and Fraud sit near each other. Shrett sits near the earth-witch. Bog goes to where there is the most food. Contradiction and extravagance are on display in this feast. An edible salad bowl grown in the shape of a cow’s skull, pickled bear’s paws, elk sausage with a strawberry glaze so thick it has crystallized! To Bog, this is like Wonderhome come to the surface! You each tuck into many dishes, but one of them stands out for each of you as particularly delicious and impressive. For example, Bog devours a good portion of a wild boar stuffed with many other animals and topped with Brown Aldryami foliage and such. It’s too complex for him to fathom as a food critic, but it sure is good! Whatever you eat, it is wholesome and delicious, as though you had been starving, and knew it not until you sat at the table. Warmth fills your heart and your belly, as you make merry with strange friends. Good food, exotic music, and strong drink bring a golden peace to the ancient temple; even the bones look as though they might rise, and walk garbed anew, clothed in living flesh. You might wish it doesn’t end. It’s the best food you’ve ever had, most likely.

Then the feasting table cracks. It splits asunder with an awful groan, withering and turning grey as the plant spirit embodying the table dies. A naked figure falls from the branches of the Gods World above, landing atop the table with a thump and an ululating wail. It is a lithe, androgynous blonde person, slight of build (SIZ 9) and stunningly gorgeous – CHA 100! A wound on their right side weeps blood. [Tradetalk] “The King dies!” the figure screams, tearing at their chest. Wearing naught but the same paint as the other monkey-worshipers, they drip blood as they stand shakily and then saunter along as if uninjured, carelessly balanced upon the halves of the broken table. “He lays alone, poison seeping hatred into his veins! Behold the wound, where He struck I, who love Him! What shall we do? How can we save sweet Hrunda from the inexorable end?” They collapse, and weep. Some of you notice that the other two shamans seem to take this in stride, perhaps expecting it, even though the fallen shaman’s words are genuine; albeit hammed up heavily in tone.

During the stunned silence that follows, Alikas the Brown stands, and climbs onto the table. The shaman (whom you come to know as False Jax) lies in the foetal position, whimpering at Alikas’s feet. They moan dramatically, “Oh, oh, the pain, the pain! This wound will be long in the healing! How will I persevere?” With a deep breath, Alikas begins the throat-filling chant once more. Slowly, the crowd of initiates join in, until their shaman’s voice recedes. He speaks in a steady—almost rehearsed—tone: “This once, False Jax is true,” Alikas declares. Somber lines cut deep grooves of real worry, crisscrossing his face. His tone changes markedly. “Our High Holy Day of Hrunda was at the end of Fire Season, and it was then that we learned of the terrible fate of Hrunda. Again Hrunda was wounded, as ever in His myths. But this time He was drawn into a new battle with the powerful demon Rafierki, sent by some unknown enemy into our myths in the guise of Nontraya. Our foes have tried such ever since the Godtime, and Hrunda has weakened, but this time is the worst by far. Hrunda slayed Rafierki, yet at bitter cost. These Hero Wars may bring the final death of Hrunda. Our celebration of Hrunda turns to tragedy!” Alikas rips at his beard, fingers catching and tearing at the many adornments, while the gathering wails along.

Fraud shivers at mention of Rafierki. This is/was a Dark Troll vampire (not a shadowy Kozoru; a proper flesh-and-blood vampire) and demonic demigod of the Tarin Mountains area; spawned in the Greater Darkness. He was an ally of Gbaji in the First Age. Arkat fought and wounded him but he escaped. And now it is clear that he survived—to be slain by Hrunda, but at bitter cost!

The mood has swung from celebration to mourning! You react strongly, propelled by your runes. Bog’s Death power stirs mightily within him. He looks longingly at Finstaval, daggers in his gaze. “Soon,” he is thinking, and relishing. Fraud’s Darkness energy amplifies his urge to Master the Darkness. This event is a twisting of myth. The evil Rafierki has gone into Hrunda and Nontrya’s tale and attempted, with some success, to manipulate it to malevolent ends. As an Arkati, he must stop it. And the myth is invested with Darkness- the setting, the demon, the Underworld, and him. He must do his role; heroquesting is to be respected, and he is the avenger of this disrespect. Shrett looks around for opportunities to act; to aid change via the Movement rune. Boamund isn’t so inspired. He wonders what the others are so intent on – or is he weak in his rune? He calmly surveys the scene. [on the ensuing quest, you should play up your active runes in particular— and Boamund would be inclined to be flexible in how he acts]

[in Tradetalk again; which is notable for a crowd likely to be more fluent in Beastspeech] Alikas: “I and Yurvog, and now False Jax, have travelled far in strange realms, and begged many spirits to cure Hrunda, to no avail. Hrunda is dead to us, but not dead enough. His remaining power could be used for foul means; even twisted into boundless Hunger. Now, all that we can ask is for an act of divine euthanasia—the final death of our own beloved god at the bronze claws of Man. We require hunters. Those who have received today the blessings Hrunda bestows in the Festival of the Monkey King, but also are uninitiated into His mysteries. Thus, they can perform a blasphemy for which we can merely beg. We have drawn some contenders here. The way is open for no more than five hunters to lead their hunt, but each may bring companions. Step forward, proclaim yourself as hunter, and seek amongst the leafy canopy of the Gods World for Hrunda to slay Him and save Him from Rafierki’s wicked scheme.”

Finstaval is the first to step forward, His kohl cosmetics are smeared by tears, but his clothing remains immaculate. He holds aloft a golden sword and announces, in Ralian, which few can understand, “By the glory of my famous sword Shadekiller, I will not only conduct this mercy killing on Hrunda, I will find any remnant of this Darkness demon Rafierki and send him screaming back to Hell!” All but Shrett, even if not knowing Ralian, get some measure of him. Yes, Finstaval is probably vain enough to have faked sorrow here. He wishes to perform great deeds, acting with honour but also some selfishness. But his words are accurate. The crowd shows a polite response, but as very few know what he said, they’re confused.

Shrett steps up and calls out in Beastspeech that he is ready to hunt Hrunda and fix the situation. He receives smiles of appreciation.

Vinshana Keen declares her candidacy with a feat of marksmanship; and no words: she fires an arrow which parts Alikas’s beard, but doesn’t pierce the shaman’s skin. Dropping her bow and leaping forward on all fours as ethereal fur sprouts from her exposed skin, she roars like a bear many times her weight. The Animal People in attendance approve with a resounding clamor. You feel that she’s in this honestly; no hidden agenda perhaps. The crowd likes her quite a bit.

Bozfani Blackwell: The large troll approaches the table in silence, causing False Jax to dramatically faint from shock. She whirls her sling to show her skill. (in Darktongue) “I want to hunt for Hrunda, because it is right. I might seem a wrong choice for this hunt, but I wish to learn more of this Tarinwood. And this quest sounds like it might lead into the Underworld, which is Wonderhome to my kind. I know the Darkness. This might help me to help Hrunda.” You discern that she has some other agenda, but her words are true. Bog doesn’t like this, though. For an Uz to favour hoomanz is traitorous. Yet those Guhan trolls, unlike those of Halikiv, always have had more reverence for Argan Argar, and thereby more allegiance with hoomanz sometimes. It’s not good, though. The crowd doesn’t know how to react to her; mixed feelings.

Pelnor Lackheart hesitates until last, and steps forward with unease but with a winning smile, arms spread wide. (in Tradetalk) “I believe in good deeds. That with the right aim, we can make Glorantha better. Thus, while I am no hunter in talents, I come with good intent, and much respect. That is what I have to say.” Finstaval suppresses a chortle. Your worry for Pelnor deepens: he’s utterly terrified, and surely outclassed here as a Hunter. But the crowd likes him. He’s affable.

As the crowd considers the words of the five Hunters, Alikas looks to one side of Shrett and says, “Oh, welcome and congratulations. You’ve come far. I’ve not seen your kind before.” Shrett ponders this. His Witchsight shows no spirit that Alikas might be looking at—the shaman means these words for Shrett. Shrett says that he is a Giranois, indeed of a different kind, and pledges his help. Alikas solemnly expresses his gratitude, but he’s thinking about something deeper.

A phase in the growing ritual comes that you heroquesters recognise comes: it is the tradition of “Arming the Hunters [Heroes]”: Alikas, Yurvog and False Jax distribute items to the declared Hunters, explaining each one as they do: -Four magic arrows: “Elves grew these arrows to have their tips like scowling monkeys. They will lead you to Hrunda. False Jax stole a hair from Hrunda’s body for each one in order to bless them. This made Hrunda itchy.” -Choose one weapon, each Hunter, to be blessed to kill once. “If you are smart, save that for Hrunda. When you wish its blessing, say “May Death pierce thy Illusions, and strike True into Life.”” Shrett chooses his bow, and it is painted blue and white. -A terracotta bracelet of beads. “This bracelet of beads of the Plant, Beast and Man runes in white paint marks you as tasked by a shaman of the Wild Man Tradition to enter the Dark Woods. Its magic will fade when you leave.” So it permits entry to the Hero Plane. You think about the uses of these things and ask a couple of questions to clarify them.

The rhythmic chanting gets deafening. Swaying, Yurvog’s belly-shaking bass throbs through the air, whilst Alikas and False Jax lead all Hunters through the chanting crowd of Man and Beast. You now see amazing spirits and extinct or mythical creatures; things you’d never imagined, or had only heard of in myth or seen in old pictures. Some of the other contestants bring along companions with them, but they are vague silhouettes; you realise that already, only your Hunter stands out as a vivid being amongst your party. The grey mist which surrounds the Temple of Bones of All Beasts seems to have grown dense, alive. Alikas gestures for the Hunters to step forth into the mists, and the worshippers change to a different but still intense chant. Alikas steps aside, saying “The curtain of myth between the Gods World and Middle World is open, bridged by the Hero Plane. I have told you before of Hrunda’s myth, but with His death it is broken, so it may not always help you. There is one path, and it leads to Hrunda, but how you deal with it is up to you; and each Hunter may find their one path to be unique; the one path is many. The arrows are there to help. And your companions, too. Danger will abound, but there may be other help, too. And your paths may cross with the other Hunters’. Begin.”

Standing upon the edge of the Temple grounds, the Odayla huntress Vinshana nocks one of the blue-stained arrows upon her bow. The shaft shimmers with azure light. “Well, shall we?” she asks. Vinshana lifts her bow, and draws, and fires. Your fellow Hunters follow her example; Shrett going first. The troll Bozfani awkwardly draws a bow that a companion hands her. Hmm, it’s clear now that Bozfani has several companions. One with a bow! Most unusual for an Uz.

The crowd gasps, as each of the shimmering arrows veers off in a different direction in the ephemeral swirling mists. The other Hunters’ voices fade as they rush into the mists, and the commotion at the Temple dwindles to nothing. You all enter the mists, and traverse into the Hero Plane, feeling the proximity to the actual Gods World. Fraud, in particular, recognises that this quest is intended to fix myth, and thus enact change on the Gods World. If your quest succeeds in terms of slaying Hrunda, he may be truly dead forever. Unless there is another way…?

You are in a deep Dark Woods. A quiet, crackling voice calls out from the brush in Tradetalk - “Help, please! Please, I don’t want to die!” You investigate, finding an abandoned campsite; Shrett comes in and sees signs of a few people being here before, with some barefoot tracks and more camp-signs, and a whittled stick. The rest of you explore, and Boamund tracks the noise to the embers of the campfire. Shrett comes over and sees a faint spirit in there with his Witchsight. It keeps calling out for help, and pleads for worship. You start giving it a bit of holy devotion, but it claims weakness (and looks the part), and keeps begging for more and more. It is hungry for power, and it grows as you each pay homage to it in order to stoke its flames. Finally, Fraud makes a strong donation and it blazes fully to life with a cheery smile and burst of warmth. It thanks you for saving it; now it can provide for those that visit this campsite in the Dark Woods, giving heat and light and comfort, and a place to cook food. You take the time to have some food, including barbecued giant New Fens crickets, finding that in the Hero Plane you still have room for more food! The Campfire spirit, as it calls itself, says that its promise of reward is due: it sends smoky energy to each of you. Some of you gain Language: Firespeech at ½ base skill; but Bog chooses to replace his Disorder rune with Fire in true Zorak Zorani fashion, and Boamund finds that his Fire rune has strengthened! You ask the spirit where to go and it says it does not know; it does not move from here. Shrett fires a magic arrow and it leads you on into the mist. It’s unclear how long you’ve walked when the mists shrivel and vanish. The grasses seem shorter where you stand, as though you trod a path which sees little use. Before you stands an oak covered in thick burls. As your eyes adjust from misty shadows to what seems like beams of bright day, a slow voice fills the tranquil glade. (Tradetalk)“Mmmm, outsiders, eh? Not my usual guests at all. And so far from the fields men know, barren as they may be in this Darkness…” With a cracking sound, one burl on the ancient oak twists into a wide and toothless grin. “Come, Hunter, grow with me in the sun awhile.” Part of the trunk of the tree extends into a bearded humanoid down to waist. But you’re hesitant. Is this thing trustworthy? Shrett quails before it, backing off, full of thoughts of the Bone Tree, as this being reminds him of. He can barely speak. Fraud is less frightened. He speaks, with others joining. It introduces itself as the Talking Tree Gyaroom; an old tree of the Dark Woods; what will be the Tarinwood (as a survivor of the Great Woods that was ravaged in and after the Greater Darkness). The light by it comes not from the sun Yelm, who is dead, but from Yelmalio, whose light comforts the Dark Woods in this age. Bog speaks umbrage of this weakling god and Gyaroom isn’t pleased.

You soon feel it is trustworthy—it explains its role is to help Hunters. So it does explain some more things and answer queries. Strangely, it speaks of now as the Greater Darkness, but also is aware of now in terms of your Middle World timeline, and switches back and forth what it refers to as “now”. Sometimes in heroquesting, powerful agencies can be aware of the world outside of myth.

You ask things like where to go next. “You will meet the Wise Beast next, I say. It is a most clever creature. The Wise Beast has roamed these woods since before the Darkness. Its nature is parallel to that of Hrunda, but what hunger it has is for Truth. Some say even the gods fear what it knows. It knows the route ahead, and which way to go toward Hrunda, and much more that might be valuable to you. This can be precious information but the Wise Beast will not give it easily. Do not tell it your names if you can avoid that! If you do not find the way toward Hrunda before you leave this meeting with the Wise Beast, you will be lost. Maybe forever.” It cautions you how treacherous the Wise Beast is. And warns you of more. “These Dark Woods hold many perils of this dark time of myth. The Tarinwood survived, and so some good things are still here, but plenty of bad things too.”

Where is Hrunda, you ask? “Hrunda’s great tree lies behind the Barrier of Dreams, behind which Hrunda is haunted by the nightmares of his battles with Nontraya. The barrier protects the forest from Nontraya’s Black Breath, but gives Hrunda protection from his enemies, too; which now includes you.” And you ask, where is Hrunda, and it clarifies he is there inside his tree, which is very far from here and cannot be seen yet.

Shrett has come to his senses enough to stammer some words. You can save your magic arrows to use vs. Hrunda. “The arrows will glow bright blue when fired, seeking Hrunda, and so can help point the way toward Him . If you target Hrunda with them, they will never miss .” Shrett now has 2 left, and thinks he must be sure to save one for Hrunda, so there is but one to choose what to do with.

It offers some more mythology of Hrunda, knowing that you already have learned some: “Several tales weave around you, like the twining roots of mine kindred trees. Most important is the myth of hairy-handed Hrunda. Yet too there be traces of thine own tales—of those ancient Malkioni warriors who delved into the Great Forest, and spilled useless blood upon my grandmother’s roots.” An unnamed bluepaw became King of the Monkeys because he showed empathy for our Great Mother, after his thoughtlessness dealt her a savage wound. That is one meaning of ‘Hrunda,’ in elf-speak: ‘King.’ The King of the Monkeys protected the Great Forest during the Sunless Ages, but the demon Life-Drinker [Nontraya] dealt him a grievous wound. One of Hrunda’s children turned traitor, invited foreigners into the Great Forest—thine distant ancestors, the Malkioni—and they committed a horror which none among us could undo. “You now walk the same path as your ancient heroes.” Err… this makes you Malkioni uncomfortable. Yes, even in the Darkness, there were forebears of Froalar’s line (he was there with Seshna) and they did some Bad Things. Such as burning/chopping away forest to clear lands for them; a trend that continued into Time.

You’re discussing leaving when Pelnor Lackheart comes alone into the area, arms wide and welcoming, with a big smile. He greets you and addresses the tree, asking for its Heartfruit and wondering why you don’t want it. You had no idea about it, and Gyaroom says he didn’t mention it as you didn’t ask. Pelnor is a good sport and offers to do a ritual hero contest with Shrett to win the Heartfruit. Gyaroom points into the canopy above him and you see a plump red fruit there. Pelnor and Shrett face off, conjuring the energy of their runes one by one—Pelnor invokes Law, Truth and Trade. He starts off OK but Shrett’s Movement rune is stronger, and then Pelnor shows ineptness with his Truth and Trade powers, so he quickly loses, yet continues to the final contest because he said it should be 3 contests, not best of 3. He sticks to his words. So you have won the Heartfruit, and Shrett steps toward the light by the Talking Tree, still unnerved. Gyaroom tells him to wait, that first he must pledge an oath in order to get the Heartfruit. “Come, lay your hands on my trunk. You may swear by other means, but if you break an oath sworn on me, the worst of tortures will be inflicted upon you. The Great Mother herself shall abandon you! Swear that you will not harm any beings of the Plant rune here.” Shrett hesitates, but thinks that this oath should only apply to him, maybe with nuance though (what if he allows harm to come?). He does the oath.

You debate and suggest to invite Pelnor to join your team, as he seems to know plenty. Pelnor isn’t sure if this is OK mythically; and Gyaroom says it probably is not, that on this quest a Hunter acts alone [with companions, if present]. So you say sorry, you can’t after all. Pelnor bids his farewell and leaves.

Gyraoom reaches out a big branch-like arm and twiggy hand with the Heartfruit, and Shrett takes the fruit. This fist-sized fruit feels heavy in his palm. To his Hero World perceptions, it glows with an inner, pulsing light. A thin brown root encircles the little finger of Shrett’s right hand. And Shrett’s bracelet stirs. One terracotta bead on his bracelet transforms. The bead becomes smooth and green, with the Plant Rune marked in white paint. Gyaroom explains that the root-ring is embodiment of the oath, but the bracelet has transformed in favour of your actions here. You thank the tree and leave into the mists; being told that if you continue, Shrett will find the way, but it will not be straightforward.

Mist parts again after some travel. A tree-like figure emerges from the forest’s fern-filled underbrush. Its facial features are strangely flat, complimented by small, golden eyes. It clutches an odd wooden implement with its branches. It rustles back at Shrett as he greets it in Aldryami, and its words are very strange, hard to understand, but he deciphers them enough. It asks why you’re in its Dark Woods first, and you explain, and it seems to understand. Its ways of speaking are alien. They do not use their mouth to speak, ever. Sometimes the lines of its bark widen or narrow. Tiny flowers blossom, and then swiftly fade, on its body. It mimics some human gestures in an unexpected way, such as using the whole body to nod yes.

It presses Shrett for more information such as that of the Bone Tree, and does not like the sight of Bog, accusing Shrett of using the deceit of Zorak Zoran, which he eventually retorts, becoming more fully forthcoming. It is displeased that you saved the “Dying Fire” (campfire spirit). This takes quite a bit of terse negotiation, and Boamund steps in to help. But in the end, it says it knows of your peaceful dealing with the elven patrol on the road and it seems to like that, so its tone softens. Shrett takes the opportunity (at last) to ask this potent Aldryami if Boamund’s Aldrya Truestone could be blessed again. It reaches out its branches and says you should not be carrying this piece of Aldrya’s home on the Spike. You worry that it is going to keep it, but Boamund tells your tale of crossing onto the White Elf island on your Sky Ship heroquest and its mood is more eased. It says it will help you if you hand it the stone. It grasps it in one gnarled hand and the other, green magic growing about this, and returns the stone, saying that it is blessed anew; and Boamund knows this is true when he gets it back. But it says that now there is something you must do. A strange thing is eating Aldrya’s children in the Dark Woods – please stop it. You agree. It says that you must move on through the Woods, and it guides you onwards.

You’re in the mist and the dense Dark Woods. A winsome voice wiles through the branches, whispering sweetness barely out of hearing. Leaves rustle. Boughs bend with a glimpse of fiery fur. But there is no Wise Beast to be seen. Its Cunning Voice (understandable to all; as if in no language in particular, or all of them). The Deep Woods Aldryami departs. Shrett hears the Wise Beast speak to him of the Library, and how he died there, and it wants to more, and he is terrified of it; he doesn’t weaken spiritually but he blurts out his tale of woe. You can feel the Wise Beast’s power and hunger for Truth. Fraud is confronted by it; it knows these Dark Woods are fearful for him yet he is not afraid right now, so he is firm in denying it. It asks about his brother, and how his mother is broken and abandoned in Giraine, with enemies all around, and Seshna too in peril while you seek allies in this far-flung land. Fraud defends against this onslaught of accusations and jabs for information. It turns to Bog, pressing him for truths of his terrors invoked by the machines that are not found here with any Mostali, but will find him and grind him under their wheels and gears if he leaves the Dark Woods. Bog is OK about this though, he won’t tell the Wise Beast more. Boamund keeps a tight lip when it pushes him about information on bloodsucking undead. Inevitably, as Gyaroom warns, it asks for your names. You do not dare speak them, even though it offers great power in return—it will trade grand things for such a simple thing as your name! You might gain the “Wise Beast’s Words”—some sort of great blessing. But no, you insist. You don’t want that trade.

Shrett comes around and offers the Heartfruit to it. The Wise Beast emerges from hiding. Her silky reddish-orange fur and long foxlike snout reflects her beastly heritage. However, the Wise Beast’s body is bizarrely long like a serpent’s—over three meters—and strangely light upon her four tiny paws. The way her torso slides through the trees or air seems snake-like, a surreal resonance enhanced by the chimeric blend of scales and fur covering the Wise Beast’s languid body. It gleefully takes the fruit and tucks it away somewhere in its serpentine form. Now its approach changes. You remember to ask it for things; not just be on the defense. It is happy to give information on your quest, as Gyaroom said it would: You must enter the Underworld soon. Crossing over requires death. A ritual death might be enough [you heroquesters know this “ritual death” could mean numerous things]. And it points which way to go toward Hrunda (saving usage of an arrow, or becoming lost forever!). She speaks more: of Shrett’s murder of his father, which will forever haunt him, and he admits all of this sordid tale. He is a cold-blooded killer and that one act cannot be forgiven. She also asks Boamund about his Dark Secret, one that he has repressed for many years. He speaks it out loud and you’re all shocked at this news. You now see him in a new light…

But the Wise Beast says you can go onwards now, it has heard enough Truth. You hastily depart.

Just into the mists, you see your Hunter rival Finstaval, looking weak, with a dark haze about him; he is elsewhere but here, too, Shrett figures – as a heroquester might be (Time being meaningless), in two places and times at wonce. He is oblivious to your presence. Shrett and Bog sneak up and Bog knocks him out; he is easily captured. Bog has sinister plans for him, with this “ritual death” ahead, but Boamund has opinions on that, and the discussion is far from over, but you carry the inert Finstaval onwards.

A large female bluepaw monkey descends from a tree in the mists and hangs from a branch, chewing on a juicy fruit and calmly looking at you. Shrett greets it in Beastspeech. It responds, “Say, you’re headed into the Underworld, you know. So, might you fetch me a white puffball mushroom? There’s a grove of them nearby. They’re called Chalana’s Tears. I’d appreciate the favour; it would help me treat an injured friend.” She smiles. Shrett soon sees through its ruse. She is not who she seems to be; she is the Hrunda shaman Yurvog; but genuinely does seek a healing fungus – is this to heal False Jax, or Hrunda, or what? You talk to her for a bit and then carry on into the mists. It says the Underworld is nearby, but its kind don’t go there.

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