There are fearful cries from down the street, where a small crowd is quickly gathering not far from the local tavern, the Shrewd Swan. You understand enough of the yells to learn that there has been a murder, so you approach. A fresh body of a young boy lies in a pool of mixed blood and mud, with his right arm hacked off at the shoulder and his chest slashed wide open. The witnesses are in various states of shock, but some are calling for guards. You look around for a perpetrator and spot a blood trail headed into the tavern, where there is a figure standing. You all file in.

The Shrewd Swan tavern is a decent establishment with big windows, especially facing the river. There’s a lot of river-themed paraphernalia here; especially unusual for Rokari peasants; a bit idolatrous even. And there is the figure standing at the bar: an Orlanthi, a shaggy, scarred Ralian in hard leather armour, bloody sword beside him, taking a sip of ale. Boamund confronts him, speaking in Ralian. He is defiant, a bit intoxicated, and overconfident. He stubbornly defies Boamund’s insistence to surrender for a while, then charges him with sword slashing, yet Boamund simply sweeps his feet from under him and then leaps atop him, pinning the barbarian, while Bog rushes there at Boamund’s call and sits on the man. He’s helpless, and Bog’s mace knocks him out. The Ornim town guards come up as you’re hauling him out. They ask Boamund about what happened, gather some facts, find everything you say plausible, and chain the barbarian. The crowd chimes in, including the bartender, adding information: The victim was a 13-year-old boy, Barat, who was throwing mud-balls with friends at passersby. This Orlanthi stranger, thought to be from some local settlement, drew his sword, slaughtered the kid and went into the tavern. His name is known as Hraln.

The guards ask you to come to Ornim as witnesses, with a tone of gratitude and perhaps a hint that the Baron might look favourably upon you. You come along, as two guards carry Hraln. You go inside the keep, where ravens roost in some towers and certain regions could use a good scrubbing and redecorating. There is some attempt at showing noble wealth, but it isn’t so impressive. As you’ve come to expect around here with nobles, the motifs are of Saint Ehilm; not Rokar. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts around the keep in the gentle breeze. A well-dressed servant in his teens approaches (in Safelstran): “This table is where tools of death are left outside the audience chamber. I’ll watch over them.” You know the routine, although it might irk you to have to hand weapons over to a teenager. So you take the time to unload your arsenal.

You are escorted into an echoing audience chamber with some old, dusty statues of what must be lords of Ornim, and wall-decorations to match, and pretty nice carpets, and a noble seat on a dais behind which is the Baron’s heraldry of a golden hawk above a setting sun, and some elegant weaponry and golden valuables. The Baron is seated and calmly watches you as you approach. He’s perhaps in his mid-50s, with greying brown hair and beard, a coat of fine mail under his robes, and a golden rod of authority in hand. There is a knight, looking like a seasoned veteran, at his right side. The man is rather small and his nose clearly has been broken multiple times. He has a bizarre, jointed mechanical contraption that has replaced his left leg. At the front left of the dais there is a gold-decorated stool where a man in his 20s, looking like he might be the Baron’s son, sits watching.

Ornim nods and the knight quickly cuts his head off with his iron broadsword and carts him off, leaving a wide trail of blood behind. The young man quietly watches this happen. Ornim calmly comments, “Sir Tivarel, have his corpse burned on the walls.”

Then the Baron directs his attention to you (in Safelstran) “I am the Baron Vitel Ornim, ninth of my line. Thank you for your aid. You have the look of far-travelled warriors. You’re rather exceptional individuals, especially now that I see you up close. So, tell me your tale. I am eager to hear it.” Boamund tells some tales of Giraine and Seshnela, which Baron Ornim finds compelling, asking some follow-up questions. He clearly cares, as he mentions how strained Daran County is in its war with Seshnela, and even here to the far east side of the county it is strained. He mentions how Daran County has remained firmly opposed to Seshnela, but its League of Daran has suffered ever since Azilos had a civil war and Tiskos was plagued by Chaos Monks; causing a prior collapse of the League that only this year has been reformed, yet they have ground to regain in the war because of the strife. The Baron in the meantime has looked you all over; giving Bog the typical Ehilm-ite look of concern, passing over Shrett slowly, and looking at Fraud curiously. In turn, you get the feeling that he is a strong leader; not a megalomaniacal tyrant like some others you’ve met; a cautious and resourceful man.

And yet he has his own troubles, beyond the mundane ones he normally faces, and the drain on his resources for the war, as he soon explains; with Boamund’s interest prompting more information. “My wizards have augured that, if certain troubles are not solved in time, Disorder will run rampant in my lands during Dark Season. Maybe worse things. They have pointed to the Rokari monastery of St. Paschal as a place of interest; maybe not troubles (we know of none there), but perhaps a place to obtain inspiration. They have mentioned a being called “The Wanderer” as a connection to these troubles; maybe a perpetrator, or maybe a solution. Otherwise their delvings into the runes have not revealed what these troubles are, although I have no shortage of what might be called the usual troubles, in troubling times such as these.”

With Boamund mentioning your goals of finding allies in Ralios and providing aid too, he invites, “Well. You’ve come at a propitious time. I didn’t expect foreigners to potentially offer a solution to some problems, but I can be flexible. I have an offer to make. You know important things, so you’re suited to investigate what is going on in my barony and in Daran. I will write you one letter now, which gives you some of my authority in my barony, where your case is lawful and just, in places I am asking you to go. And if you return successful, I will write and place my seal upon a noble letter of introduction, which should serve you well with other lords of the League of Daran, possibly others, and possibly even the Counts and others in Safelster, as needs might be and my means permit. If you do find or solve these troubles, do return to me when you can, so that we can discuss them.”

Then he switches to fluent Seshnegi as Boamund accepts and explains to the rest of you, “I expect that respect to my people is maintained. You are not my knights or priests. You are visitors offering expert assistance against what seems to be a common foe. Please leave the innocent as they are. My letter should even make them helpful, but it is their decision how to respond to it, hopefully with the aim of remaining within my good graces.” His words clearly have multiple purposes: to make it clear what your role is, and its boundaries, but also to show that he knows your native tongue and what you say to each other in it.

You mention how you’d seen signs (Fraud’s map) of Disorder at Dolios, Elfchild and Paschal. He says he knows of no specific “Disorder” at Dolios, his family home, and Elfchild is meaningless to him nor is there any particular settlement he is aware of in that general area of your map (which is essentially wilderness in southern Ralios; not truly claimed by any county, although his power can extend far when he wishes it to). As to Paschal, he says that he knows that St. Paschal who is revered at the monastery is a First Age figure known for having some sort of relationship with elves, so maybe that relates to the Elfchild.

While you re-gear, he writes his letter of authority and Boamund takes it, and you bid farewell.

As you head out of town, Shrett’s keen eyes spot a short, darkish figure in a hooded cloak watching you from an alley, then darting down it out of view as Shrett tells Bog that he’ll be right back. Shrett pursues but the figure has seemingly vanished at a dead-end around the corner, although Shrett spots some fresh footprints in the mud, and climbing up a one-storey house there, finds a fresh muddy footprint (again, smallish size) but nothing more, and this is where the trail goes cold. He returns to you and explains what he saw.

You head out of Ornim, southeast down the road, reaching your next destination well before nightfall. Dolios is a modest keep; high-walled and moated; near the Estali border, with some forested parts of the Brena Marsh to the south and drier flatlands to the north. A prosperous town has formed around Dolios, presumably due to lively trade with Estal, and indeed Dolios sits squarely by the Manirian Road. A few bands of Hykimi animal people (Pralori) camp or roam outside the keep. The gates are flanked by pillars with geometric designs on them, and surmounted by a grandiose golden image of what must be Ehilm. The walls are decorated, although showing wear, with script from the Sharp Abiding Book of Rokar as well as some imagery from Safelstran Henotheism of Ehilm, which strikes an odd contrast compared with Seshnela. Notably, there are quite a few depictions of Ralia.

You come into Dolios town and find a suitable tavern. Then Shrett goes looking for information and interesting goods for Fraud. Merchants go back and forth along the roads and streams, there are numerous markets, and the houses tend to be of fine quality here. An austere, octagonal white Church of Rokar is by the nicer houses near the keep, and a gold-spired Church of Ehilm sits in one corner of the rectangular Dolios Keep. There are well-equipped guards, smartly dressed; some of them full-on knights sporting vivid decorations of the Fire/Sky rune-themed Church of Saint Ehilm; walking the streets and watching from the keep’s walls and some watchtowers. Many horses are about, tended by peasants or ridden by the soldiers. It feels like a well-run place as you walk through. Shrett learns that there is a group of trolls visiting the city on mission from Halikiv, causing rumours of an Argan Argar “chain gang” takeover to run wild amongst the peasants. The area around the keep is full of Rokari peasant-caste protestors calling on Baron Ornim to force the Uz out. The merchants feel threatened. It’s not hard to find out where the Uz are; one merchant goes so far as to point it out with the strong hint that it would be great if someone drives the Uz away (or kills them): they have taken residence in an old burned-out warehouse along a branch of the river near the walls. Elsewhere, Shrett learns of rumours amongst the peasants of diseases cropping up around this side of Daran, with healers being asked to give aid in some spots around Dolios, and elsewhere. There are no further specifics, but it’s certainly ominous and fits with your clues about “Disorder” around here. Shrett finds some nice little Aldryami trade goods and some things for Fraud and you join back together.

That night, Bog goes to visit those Uz, and Shrett invites himself along. There are some runty, pathetic trollkin outside the yawning entrance to the ruin, and they have little to say, so Bog walks inside. A trollkin brandishes a spear in there, telling him to stop, that this is an Argan Argar place of trade, not war. Bog gets names of the Uz masters here and browbeats the trollkin guard, striding past them. He sees a group of three Uz sitting with a cluster of trollkin, and walks up to introduce himself. There’s a female named Martorz and male named Razvam (both Argan Argar merchants), and (sitting quietly with some trollkin) a Xiola Umbar healer (acolyte) named Jakatag. The Uz are friendly and amiable, eager to talk and eat and drink, so they share, but only after Razvam does a lengthy Uz hospitality introduction to Shrett, explaining what Shrett can and cannot eat or touch or drink. Bog has made it clear that Shrett is his servant. Then Bog gets talking. This is a fairly simple group of traders; not warriors or heroes. They have come from Dragon Pass as part of the great Swarm that originated in Ralios last year, now arriving here through Caratan and next headed northwards, but pausing here. They are hoping to set up a new Terminal of the Argan Argar Chain in Dolios or nearby, but are having difficulties. Bog gives some advice, and they like the idea of giving a gift of troll worm-made silk to the Baron to ease negotiations. They hope to have things finished here by Dark Season or else will leave and hurry to Tiskos, where they know they’ll be more welcome; they’re keenly aware that Ehilm cultists of Daran and Estali aren’t fond of their kind. But Uz do trade along the road here, too; that is not unusual. Bog is very interested to hear word of how these Uz overheard a Zorak Zorani hero guarding the Swarm; named Orkbrakt; express curiosity about an old Zorak Zoran shrine in the wilds of Ornim, but they didn’t know more, nor did Orkbrakt seem to. You enjoy their hospitality, with even Shrett welcomed to sing or dance; and grateful that they have no troll drinks to offer him. Bog asks more things of the Uz, but the Xiola Umbar acolyte is too junior to offer him magics, and otherwise these Uz don’t seem terribly useful, but at least they’re a contact point.

Fraud wanders town hoping to spot a furtive dark figure but doesn’t. You rest at the local inn and then depart, back down the Manirian Road, looking for “Elfchild” signs of some kind along the way at about a half day’s journey, but spotting none that stand out – there are scattered settlements, some along the road, some distant. You camp for the night, out in the wilds but along the road, and find it peaceful.

The next day you come within sight of St Paschal’s Monastery by mid-day. You see an old stone temple building on a hill a short way to the east. In a copse of trees below it, not far away from the road, there is a column of smoke rising, carrying with it the smell of burning meat. A few figures are visible amidst smoke and flames. You approach along a path that winds uphill toward the Monastery. The three figures stand around a dead cow that they are burning; one is piling wood atop it, another is tending the fire, and a third is standing, watching. There are bloody spears on ground nearby.

Shrett approaches and addresses them, and they are surprised, not noticing your coming, and back off, looking frightened of him and you. He keeps speaking various languages but they don’t seem to understand and are probably unnerved by his strange looks. They also glance around and see a fierce warrior trollkin and a mysterious masked warrior; and Boamund; so they retreat further. Fraud (I think just him, not Boamund too?) tries to ease their concerns, speaking in Safelstran, and with some effort (promising he is a healer who could help with disease) gets the one who was standing at watch to talk. The other two have fled in panic by this point. The peasant explains, “This cow started behaving really strange a week ago. It was walking around kind of jerkily, swinging its head. Two days later, the cow’s tail, ears and hind legs were red and swollen. It looked like frostbite, but it wasn’t freezing yet! Then her legs became grossly deformed and all black. When I tried to get close, the damned cow gored me!” (he displays a rather nasty gouge in his side) “I thought, the cow must have been cursed by an elf for wandering too close to their forests. So today I called my friends here, we drove the beast away from the herd with our spears, and killed it.” Meanwhile Boamund uses his magic fire-wall to burn the cow.

He says his name is Saba. Fraud has calmed him down enough now that he accepts healing from him. But as Fraud inspects the wound, he finds that it is oozing a yellow pus; already diseased; and is shocked to recognise it from an encounter he had long ago in Pithdaros. This disease is the Burning Malady; a curse of Mallia that dates back to the First Age’s times of Nysalor’s healers, then saying they represented “Nybie” (Nysalor), who came during a time of disease and turned out to be well able to heal it, but then Arkat helped reveal that they had caused it. The Burning Malady is not that disease itself, but is amongst those that plagued the peoples of the West. Fortunately, Fraud remembers how to cure this particular disease, and feels that he’s done a good job here.

Saba and Fraud talk a little more as the healing and burning progress, and Saba’s trust of Fraud grows. The peasants here are not really under authority of any Lord, but the local monks take great care of them; and there has been much peace here; this is the most disturbing incident in a long time. Although they grow worried as there have been more sightings of cave-lions; coming down from the Tarin Mountains; of late; not here at their settlement but back westwards. And this year, too many unexplained things have been happening: more people than usual have disappeared in the marshes along the river, and so the area has gained a poor reputation, meaning that more travellers avoid stopping around here, which causes some financial stress for peasants who trade along the road. Saba says he’ll watch out for any more diseases like this, and goes back to his village.

Boamund finishes burning the cow and uses a Sense Chaos spell, sniffing out a lingering foul aroma where the cow’s carcass was. It will fade, but yes this was a chaos-tainted cow.

You approach the monastery (a 1 hour walk): It is an old building with an upper storey in its middle and two towers toward the back that are visible over the walls that surround the monastery and its gatehouse. The walled complex lies well behind a stream that goes down to the main river. A simple wooden bridge crosses the stream. About 50 metres down the stream to the right (closer to you/the road), a solitary woman – presumably a peasant – is washing things in the river. Back behind the monastery, the cleared land gradually turns into sparsely forested hills. You approach and the woman walks away across the path past the bridge, and she passes behind a tree and disappears or something? You’ve investigated where she was washing, and find nothing there (nor was she carrying anything when she left), and not a single trace of anyone being there, despite the ground being ideal for tracks. So you feel fairly sure you’ve seen some sort of spirit.

You head closer to the monastery. A young man with a pockmarked face and short-cropped brown hair, wearing a simple grey linen robe with a worn bronze Law rune necklace, comes forth from the gatehouse, hailing you. “Welcome, travellers. May the gaze of Makan fall firm upon you and grant you a safe road. Praise be to the Prophet Malkion though, that we monks have been sent help, perhaps?” You greet him. This ‘Monk’ introduces himself as Reader Aedil (not a monk; just a priest of the people; in this case of the peasant caste) and asks for your names, which you supply. You tell him of the dead cow and he says that you need to tell the Watcher. He offers you quarters in the hostel, where he will make you comfortable for the night if you accept the humble hospitality of the Monastery of St. Paschal. You accept. By now he recognises that you prefer to speak Tradetalk, which he can manage, so he does. He’s very warmly welcoming to Boamund, gentle and sympathetic but a bit condescending to Shrett, and guarded but still open with Bog; which maybe is a little surprising for a Rokari. He looks Fraud square in the face, likely wondering about the mask, and asks if the monks can help him, which Fraud deflects.

Aedil guides you forward and explains that you can bring weapons etc. along; you are trusted, as is the practice of the monks here with travellers. But Reader Aedil cautions you that in Ralios, most people will not welcome weapons to a meeting or important place. You’re very well aware… He takes you through the double wooden gates (loc #1), which look sturdy, with their fair share of repairs. You pass a simple little gatehouse (loc #2). He leads you to past the barn (#16) to the stable (#17) where another servant, maybe not even 20, helps take the mules in for food and shelter. And then he leads you to the hostel (loc #3): Opposite the gatehouse is a humble, larger stone building partitioned into two parts: for men and for women. Aedil lights some wall-torches inside the mens’ doorway. There is the dormitory with straw beds, basic pit-latrines, and a tiny common refectory and firepit in the centre of the building. Otherwise, furnishings are sparse. Aedil explains this place is for visitors; sometimes pilgrims but often just travellers, especially Malkioni. He gets the fire going and some food together, then goes to announce you to the monks.

You settle in but it doesn’t take long for Reader Aedil to return, to escort you to the refectory (loc #9) on your side of the main monastery building; pointing out the kitchen building (loc #11) and main latrine (loc #12) as he heads to the refectory’s back door. Aedil directs you to seats near the ends of a long, worn table. The refectory is a spacious hall, supported by double rows of timber posts. There are two long tables on trestles, bench seats, and braziers; and walls sparsely adorned with just a few Law runes with the Invisible God’s eye in the centre.

Two monks enter the refectory after you and bow curtly. One is a middle-aged man in a dark robe. He is somewhat tall, thin, and bald, with brown skin like a Pithdaran and hands with a red tinge as if they are dyed. He introduces himself as Watcher Makris; High Watcher Mondac has retired to his quarters for the night to dine alone, pray and rest. The next monk (apparently a Reader), in a grey robe, is not introduced and does not speak; he is younger, pale-skinned, and of athletic build, with a scar across his lips. Makris says in Tradetalk, “I apologise for High Watcher Mondac. He has problems of a respiratory nature, but will meet you in the morning if you wish. In the meantime, please follow me into the monastery. It is custom for the monks to all gather and welcome esteemed guests. There, we can have a conversation.” Aedil tags along. They direct you through a door at the other end of the refectory.

The monastery (loc #4a-c) is older than it appeared, as you draw closer. Its plaster is crumbling and the stones must be ancient. There are some rough-hewn windows and the doors are rickety. There is a long hall with some statues, Rokari inscriptions and faded tapestries and frescoes (depicting simple scenes of country life, focusing on the importance of the peasant caste). Two wooden screens break the hall into three sections. There is large, fine painting of who must be St. Paschal on the far wall [in 4c]. In this painting, he is conducting holy rites, comforting the peasants, and using sorcery to force menacing Aldryami back to their forests. The altar is a pyramidal stone about 1m high, with some gold inlay designs. There are rows of stone benches for seats, with two more monks seated there; one is a tall, skinny, dark-haired man in 30s; pale, with an unhealthy complexion and stern look; in fine black robes and decorative golden accessories (introduced as Knower Kenwill, treasurer), and the other is a robust man in his 40s with a limp and a round, open face, who seems out of breath and wheezy; he wears a black robe unadorned except for a golden Law rune nicely stitched into it (introduced as Knower Gofrey, librarian).

Makris: “Please, sit where you like.” He waits. Fraud sits close to where he stands; the others amongst you spread out in other spots. “We have concerns. Our brother and runecarver, Knower Jensos, fell ill and is no longer at our monastery. I am sure that he left for his family, but others do not agree; High Watcher Mondac being foremost. The High Watcher had a dream of a black shadow over St. Paschal’s, under which four unusual travellers brought light. One was masked; most curiously so, I see such here [looking at Fraud]. I merely execute the High Watcher’s wishes – he has heard of your coming and has asked. Our magics have failed us for answers; as if St. Paschal has turned his back, so we are open to outside help. You are our guests. Tomorrow, by the High Watcher’s invitation, you are welcome to explore our monastery and speak to our Knower monks, Readers and Servants. Reader Aedil will aid you as you need. The rest of us must retire to our duties for now. Indeed, you are welcome to join us for supper soon, and then in our final prayers tonight before we all rest, if you are of the faith; or even if not, you may observe us.” Fraud now is struck by a realisation: Watcher Makris is an Arkati!

It's still too vague what the monks here need help with. A possibly departed, possibly missing monk is hardly a crisis needing outsiders’ aid, isn’t it? But Fraud explains the tainted, diseased cow to Makris and he is surprised and concerned, and says that this must be discussed with the High Watcher tomorrow. You eye up the various monks with flawed visages and maybe poor health, and figure that this is no sign of disease like the Burning Malady, but just typical monks who pay more heed to the welfare of their essences than their mortal shells. It’s not out of the ordinary. You also notice, there are no women here (there would not normally be, in a Rokari monastery)—so who was that “spirit”?

You wash up back at the hostel, then come back to the refectory for supper, which is basic, mostly bland fare. There is casual conversation. Boamund, speaking with Kenwill about your journeys, hears that there was a kind visitor here; name was Penhren or something; about 6 weeks ago; who said they were a survivor of a famed adventuring party that met an ill end in the sunken city of Erenplose, and were seeking safety. This sure gets his attention, as you’d heard from a trader that this party all died and a Telmori shaman (“Black Eyes”??) had found their ghosts, learning of their fate. Most unusual, this news! And more unusual, Fraud gleans from your supper conversations that the two other Knowers, Kenwill and Gofrey, are also Arkati. He makes some subtle gestures to Boamund trying to convey this information over supper.

Bog and Shrett go back to the hostel while Boamund and Fraud participate in prayers, which are normal Rokari invocations with just a brief mention of St. Paschal. Fraud deduces that indeed these are Rokari in faith, but this (like he has done in his life) is but a mask they use to hide their Arkati deeper mystic faith. But what is their Arkati mask, hmmm? There are the seven fundamental masks, but a dizzying variety of flavours of each. Soon Fraud and Boamund return; I think they explain what they know to the others; and you get a little rest but then some of you go about other activities. First though, you have a sense of who is who here:

High Watcher Mondac Watcher Makris Knowers Immon (healer), Kenwill (treasurer), Gofrey (librarian), Jensos (runecarver; departed?) = usual Rokari titles, Zzaburi like the 2 Watchers Readers Aedil (hospitaller and your guide), Windeam (armourer; soldier caste, in 40s, looks like a veteran; mute), Petros (schoolmaster) and the other one who follows Makris around and looks like a soldier caste Reader. = not true Zzaburi, but with some extra sorcerous training. High Servant Elgar (cook; a fat man in his 30s who reeks of oil and sweat, but moves gracefully), and Servant Defral (stableman; a ginger-haired man no older than 20, permanent stupid grin, bad teeth) (pure peasants)

That night, Bog wanders the grounds, easily slinking about as there is no real patrol, and he doesn’t see anything truly odd but gets the general layout. The north tower of the monastery where the High Watcher resides is intact; the south tower is half in ruin. He sits atop the barn and watches for a few hours. Likewise, Boamund investigates. He enters a trance in the hostel, sending his Project Darksight out to explore, first into the outbuildings and then around the monastery interior, ending with the High Watcher’s room. In the latter, the elderly High Watcher is asleep in bed, attended by a white cat, with who must be Knower Immon watching over him by candlelight. From what Boamund can see, there are no signs that the High Watcher has the Burning Malady like the cow did.

Eventually you’re all back at the hostel to rest, and around dawn the gong in the monastery rings out to call the monks to prayer, with breakfast to follow, where you are to meet this High Watcher and learn more. Indeed, we will all learn more on Friday.

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