Taeghan Shores

"Fill up me cup with whiskey n' gin"
"FILL IT YERSELF YE BLACKGUARD"
"Grab hold the ropes and quiet yer din"
"TIE HIM UP TO THE MAST"

Cathal leaned against the aft balustrade and watched the shore of Taeghas diminish into the horizon. The shanty man, a grey-bearded tough with a surprisingly sweet voice, led the crew in song as they raised sails to catch the southerly wind. The Blasted Bosun was an old Anuirean song the young Fulcairn had heard many a time.

The cog was a deep bellied hulk called the Anora. Named for the captain's daughter, as the man himself had heartily proclaimed upon Cathal's boarding. The sun was hot as a fresh baked pie, the sky was sapphire blue and the line of coast a green so verdant it made his heart ache. The smell of salt and fresh caulk between the deckboards filled his nose. It was a beautiful day, but the breeze was cool, and he pulled his tawny cloak tight against the chill. It was the first time he had ever had the deck of a ship under his feet and he longed to be back on land, since perhaps that first journey so many years ago.

"They'll be fine, Lord Cathal, no use worrying." Dolan's drawl sounded from the stairs to the main deck.

Cathal turned to regard the mercenary. He had specifically ordered the man to stay in Fulcairn, to serve Cuinn in his stead. And here he was anyway. Should have checked the bilge before leaving port.

"I keep telling you all to stop calling me that. I'm not the lord anymore." Cathal said, "which you've obviously embraced in practice considering what my commands seem to be worth these days."

"Won't happen." Dolan's boots clumped on the deck as he crossed the poop to stand next to his lord. He was forcing a grin even though Cathal knew his stomach had to be churning.

"Mm." he intoned. "Rey..Cuinn," he was still stumbling over that, "is the most capable person I've ever met. And either of us worrying about Mara is an exercise in misplaced hubris to amuse the gods." he felt the lie as he said it. He always worried about Mara. And Cuinn, well Cuinn was a knot he might never untangle.

"We've got work to do up there, Dolan. Serious work. I've been a shade on the walls of Fulcairn for too long, and they deserve better. That's why I'm going. When I come back I intend to bring some light with me."

"Well you could start by lightening the fuck up." Dolan snorted. Cathal shot a look at him, Dolan shot it back, and pressed something to his chest. It was full of something else so potent it seared Cathal's nostrils.

"I mean it, oh great Not-Lord-Anymore Fulcairn. You've not had it easy I know, but your family loves your stubborn ass and I'm going to be hurling up my innards for a month and there are SO MANY TITS waiting for us in Hogunmark. TITS." the mercenary shouted, breaking the cadence of the sailors' song. A short chuckle broke from Cathal's chest in spite of himself. "So lighten the fuck up, for my sake if not your own." He punctuated with a thrust of the flask harder into Cathal's chest.

Cathal took hold of the leather container and looked into the mouth of it. When was the last he had enjoyed a drink? The tournament? Even the precious vintage Mara's parents had gifted him had tasted of ash. From the smell of it he was not sure he would enjoy whatever it was Dolan was trying to feed him if he wanted to.

"Come on. Eat your greens young lordling." Dolan said gruffly.

Cathal shook his head and rolled his eyes at the mercenary, but upended the flask, taking a deep pull. He regretted it almost instantly. It was as though Mara had sparked a conflagration in his throat. Dolan was bawling with laughter even as his hacking ceased. When his voice returned, it was hoarse and wheezing.

"What..." he struggled, "in Karasha's blessedly frozen hells was that?" He tossed the flask back at Dolan.

Dolan caught it and between laughs replied "I don't know. I just found it down there sitting in a barrel. It smelled spectacular." Dolan took a long swig from the flask, then exhaled sharply. "That IS rough."

***

She stood and listened patiently as he read Fulgrim's letter, limned by the light of the hearth in Fulcairn's council chamber. Her expression was inscrutable, as it so often was. Her hair seemed afire with a warmth that almost never reached her eyes. He read quietly, without expression. He provided information for his lady, his liege, as was his duty. Freila Yngvi was gone, vanished, and Fulgrim invoked the pact between their houses to have Cathal return to Hogunmark. It was his duty as the queen's sworn huscarl to render council in such an event, and to be present to support her house. Cathal was still subject to the ancient oaths, and he must go north.

He did not speak of what he wanted. He was not sure he knew. He had a duty to fulfill, and Fulgrim was as much a brother to him as Corrac or Brynden had been. Yet he had a duty to his own house, to the Gorge, to Taeghas. He had a duty to her. He did not speak that he doubted he could be away from her side, or from their sister. That he did not trust that axe-woman to guard her life as well as he. That she needed his council for the conflict looming on their threshold. That despite all that had happened, he loved her still and would always, even as he rode the sky with Haelyn. Even if he could speak he knew he would simply make a fool of himself again. 

Her eyes pierced his soul as she casually leaned against the great table and listened. He could hide nothing from her, and she had moved on. It was time he did the same. 

He spoke with a steady cadence, willing his voice to evenness, depth and gravity. His shoulders square and his back straight. His hair and beard had been brushed neat, his tunic crisp, even despite the late hour.

"I must go."

***

The crew of the Anora, mostly men and women of an age with Cathal, were lounging about the deck now, partaking of their evening ration. Fresh produce and meat would be sparse in the coming weeks, so they went at it with gusto. They drank, those on duty sparingly, those not, with mild abandon. To be drunk was one thing, to be useless when needed was a heinous crime for any sailor. They had long ceased singing. Aye, once the sails were raised full and the ropes all neatly arrayed and belayed, the ship had shifted to the plain talk of sea-folk. What had been done while ashore, who had bedded whom, what news fell from what lips. The news of Queen Freila's disappearance had not yet carried to the ports. He did not know what to make of that, though it was likely a good thing. Taeghas was in turmoil enough without more news of Rjurikan upheaval.

Cathal gazed up at the stars through the Anora's rigging, his head fuzzy from whatever poison it was that Dolan had pulled out of the ship's bowels. It hit fast and hard and he had been staggering like a beaten pugilist by the time the sun began to descend. Dolan lay next to him, insensate on a bundle of sailcloth. The night sky spun above him, but he picked out the brightest stars and drew the constellations in his minds eye. There, the tower. There, the Siren. There Bolki, the thief who stole fire from the sun so Rjurik could live through winter. It reminded him of a time with Mara, it seemed lifetimes ago. A weight pressed down inside his chest; an oozing, cloying tinge. He swallowed and pressed it down.

And he thought of a song.

He had heard it on his first journey north, his mother's tears still damp on his cloak. The old captain of that ship had sung it for him to calm his nerves. Not a shanty, but a lament, and a ballad and an ode, all in one.

"For you, for you..." he whispered. His voice caught. It was an old song. An old Taeghan song that once had been known to every sailor and fisherman, or so the captain had said, but had long faded in memory. He cleared his throat.

"For you, for you I go my love," he sang. He heard some questioning noises from nearby crew members.

"Away away away," he continued, his voice slowly rising.

"Taeghan shores I know no more
Until my end of days

The sky was dark and clouds pulled close

the day we sailed away,"

One of the sailors near him joined her voice to his. It was light and sweet, though her face was scarred and her bare arms were corded with sinew.

I searched the shores for you my love

but had to turn away
I had to turn away,"

More of the crew began to join in on the next verse, one by one, gradually. The captain, standing on the poop at the opposite end of the ship, joined as well, his voice a rough but pleasant baritone. Cathal's own voice boomed up through the masts and into the stars above. He wondered fancifully if Mara could hear him.

"Out from Islien we coursed 

the rolling western waves
Until they filled the world below
As deep and dark as graves
O deep and dark as graves,"

On the second chorus a full third of the sailors, even the topman, high up in the main mast, joined in the song. They sang together, in a single unified voice. The volume caused Dolan to stir in his stupor.

For you for you I go my love
Away away away
Taeghan shores I know no more
Until my end of days

Our broad bright sheets snapped and pulled

as they drank the wind
Up from Mieres and down from Thaele

To send us to our kin
To send us to our kin

The storm it whirled above and through

the sleet it sliced like blades
But Taeghan sailors all were we

and would not be waylayed
Ho! we would not be waylayed.

The captain called the bosun roared

but we all knew what came
We furled the sails and braced for hell
Taeghan to the grave
Ho! In Taeghas dig my grave

For you for you I go my love
Away away away
Taeghan shores I know no more
Until my end of days

For you each day I search my love
While peering o'er the waves
To you I will return my love
Before my end of days

Blue sky it broke through the clouds
And flinders all around
Blood and tack and shredded sails

Still northward we were bound
E'er northward were we bound

I've seen isles of ice, leviathans,

and dragons on the wing
I've sailed the rays of the sun
I've won Khinasi rings
I've faced seven deaths, taken lives
I've heard the Siren sing
But all these wonders, e'en more
To me mean not a thing
They never meant a thing

The sea it calls to me my love
And every Taeghan heart
I thought, I thought for you my love
That we should have to part

For you, for you I left my love
I went so far away
Taeghan shores I knew no more 

For countless horrid days

Now home, now home I sail my love
The winds follow my heart
And ne'er again, I swear my love
Shall we ever part

No, I'll die before we part.

The song ended with cheers and laughter. The crew of the Anora were Taeghan almost to a person, and that song had been one of the things that once bound their people, his people together. Perhaps it would be again. Cathal had stood during the song, and two of those who had first joined their voices to his had thrown arms over his shoulders and stomped out a rhythm on the deckboards. They slapped his back merrily, the scarred woman shooting him a not so coy glance, and went back to their posts.

Cathal turned back to his makeshift bed of sacks and rope, his heart lighter though there were tears in his eyes. Dolan snored, obliviously.

Cathal chuckled, shook his head, and lay down to sleep.

Like A Thundercloud

This probably isn't the worst possible way to die, Adair thought.

She crouched above him on all fours, straddling him, her mouth locked on his flesh, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. The stars blazed in a cloudless night sky, so bright one scarcely needed a lantern. The earth was soft beneath him, the perfume of loam and the lush undergrowth of late spring filling his nostrils. A dreamy, dull heaviness filled his limbs.

He chuckled, and tasted blood. "You know, Reynhild, you shouldn't do that. The poison the bastards use absorbs through skin; it's likely to kill us both."

She lifted her face from the crossbow bolt wound on his chest, bare where she'd sliced his jerkin in two, and spat a mouthful of his blood into the grass. Bright, the blood was. Arterial. Her face was smeared with it. Her expression was unlike any he'd ever seen on her face before. The woman was cold granite like the temple steps on midwinter morning. Even at her husband's funeral, she'd barely shown a hint of emotion. But now her face was frantic, crumpled in anger and terror and powerlessness, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Stay with me, Adair! Gods damn it! STAY WITH ME!"

The ambush had gone poorly. The Ghosts had tracked the Duenes' caravan guards down the game trail they'd detoured onto. One of the younger Ghosts had stepped on a dead branch, and it had snapped with the sound of a whip cracking, and Nyrion's raiders let fly with a volley of bolts. This particular one would have likely taken Reynhild's throat, but Adair had lunged in its path instead. And now he was so cold, and the heaviness in his limbs was creeping inward, and her agonized face beneath that shock of russet hair was fading in and out of his vision...

"Stay with me!" she grated. "I'm not losing anyone else I care about to these gods-forsaken sons of bitches! We need you! I need you!"

"It's going to be alright, Reynhild. We got the bastards, and the Ghosts'll hound their comrades all the way back to Seamist. Cathal and Finn will beat the Duenes, I'm certain of it. Just... just do one small favour for me..."

"I'm not doing anything for you, you son of a bitch, because you're coming back to the Keep with m--"

"No, Reyn, please." He coughed, and tasted blood again. "Listen. I... My younger sister. The one you've never met; the one who left Wilder's Gorge long before you arrived. I need you to send her my signet ring. She's with the Temple of Cuiraecen. Tell her I love her. Tell her we're all proud of her, no matter what my elder sister says..." Dark specks were fading in and out of his peripheral vision. "I can't wait for you to meet her. She's... cocky. Smart mouth. Unstoppable. She's like a thundercloud. She drove my parents mad... I hope life in the Temple hasn't changed her..."

Was it Reynhild, shaking him, weeping, alternately begging and commanding him to cling to life? Or was it another face, one that he hadn't seen in almost a decade... cheeks still cherubic despite the onset of adolescence, belying the steel in her gaze...

Adair thought he heard a roll of thunder somewhere in the distance, thought he smelled ozone... But how could that be? It was cloudless a moment ago... 

Then all was dark.

Duty Above All

Spring, 1127 Haelyn's Count.

"My love. I'll take the children for a stroll around the valley. Take your time."

She kissed him, her auburn colored locks brushing his tanned face as she left. He could hear her musical voice and the happy gasps of their children as they headed out, but nothing mattered. For all he cared, the beautiful day in Islien was full of ash.

He steadily gazed at his father's body, lying on the bed. 3 days and nights he mourned. He saw the proud features of his family's lineage trace his face; a composure that had known happiness but also hardship in life.

"You gave everything for us father. You fought and scraped and provided for us. I hope that we - that I - didn't fail you."

His fingers traced the signet ring on his hand, an old, worn ring that had seen centuries of history, and most recently two generations of suffering.

"Our family fought against all odds. Not only did they save you, but they saved us. They saved my children and their children's children. They saved our heritage and gave us a home when we were cast out. We will never forget this sacrifice."

As the last tear he had streaked down his cheek, the knuckles on his hands turned white, shaking with the intensity he felt coursing through his body, threatening to burst with powers he knew ran within his blood. Close by, family relics and a sword wielded by his ancestors almost vibrated.

"My sons and daughters will know of our legacy, father. I promise you. I will make sure that they know everything. We will never forget where we came from, what we went through and who brought us to this."

"I SWEAR."

Botild Valmyrri, son of Moerel, son of Ruormad and Etiene.

Catriona Fulcairn

House Valmyrri, Final Session

The Valmyrris have a heated discussion about what to do. Tieghan is in favour of honouring her word to Baron Calder and somehow finding the food tithe. Ruormad and Hadrien refuse, insisting they have given enough tribute to the Fulcairns in their own blood. Tieghan eventually relents, and they make plans to leave immediately upon returning.

The Valmyrris pack up their household, but receive a strange missive-- a magical letter borne by a crow, evidently from Catriona Fulcairn, offering to waive their food tithe if they submit the baby, Moerel, to her, in order to divest him of his magical gifts which, according to Catriona, belong to the land by right. Ruormad and Etiene refuse to turn their child over, and Tieghan respects their wishes.

The Valmyrris leave the next day, forming a caravan with their men-at-arms and all the refugee families that were willing or able to join.

They travel south through Seamist, attempting to hunt and forage enroute as best they can in order to feed their large caravan. They skirt the heartlands, attempting to avoid the fighting that has plagued the lands near Stormpoint. Eventually they glimpse armed retinues flying the colours of Brosien; they attempt to avoid them. They glimpse fire and smoke rising from the land behind them; Tieghan calls a forced march to try and outpace the trouble behind them.

Rain begins to fall heavily, and Etiene glimpses something ominous-- a circling crow. Not long after, she and Ruormad see the caravan is being followed by thirty of the Fulcairn's Black Hounds.

Exhausted from the previous night's forced march, the Valmyrris attempt to set up an ambush in the woods while turning Moerel over to the servants and ordering the caravan to flee ahead.

The Fulcairns' forces attack, aided by a sorcerous mist that materializes from nowhere. The Valmyrris and their men-at-arms are exhausted, outmatched, and under-equipped; it appears hopeless. Tieghan and Anuvyn are gravely wounded by the Black Hounds but stand their ground, then Hadrien does something mysterious-- kneels and touches the forest soil. Moments later, the Valmyrris are aided by a pack of wolves that appear from the woods and attack the Black Hounds.

Screams of panic are heard from the caravan ahead, but pinned in fierce combat with the Fulcairns' captain, Kerendred, the Valmyrris are unable to help. Ruormad takes off in pursuit, worried about Moerel, but Etiene attempts to stay and help her sister, mother, and brother.

The exhausted Valmyrri armsmen are cut down by the Hounds, and only the appearance of the wolves staves off complete slaughter. Anuvyn, severely wounded and barely able to remain on her feet, fires her crossbow at Kerendred, bringing him down; his men drag him off the field, a horn sounds, and the Hounds retreat. But more panicked screams are heard from the caravan ahead, and the Valmyrris run to investigate. A strange choking grey mist has descended and is killing the peasants and refugees; their corpses are scattered everywhere, and panicked survivors run in all directions.

Etiene manages to find the servant Astrid, who is clutching Moerel, unharmed. Anuvyn and Tieghan search for their loved ones... then Catriona appears and demands to know where Moerel is. Catriona enspells Tieghan, charming her, and compels her to call out for Etiene and the baby. A tense standoff follows. Ruormad appears from the mist and tells Etiene the witch has ensorceled her mother. They devise a desperate plan-- he takes Moerel and gives Etiene a bundle of cloth to use as a decoy. Etiene slowly heads toward Catriona as she forces Tieghan to count down from ten. But as she reaches them, Catriona enspells her too. Anuvyn, hiding in the mist, attempts to take aim at Catriona, but she employs yet another sorcery, conjuring multiple images of herself. She advises Anuvyn to reveal herself, or someone will die; she remains hidden, and moments later, Catriona hurls magic at Tieghan, who, already gravely wounded and helpless, falls.

Etiene, Ruormad, and Anuvyn attack Catriona and her cadre of mirror images. She launches a terrifying bolt of magic which strikes Ruormad, toppling him from his vantage point in the trees; Anuvyn deals her a serious wound with a crossbow bolt, and she disappears. A crow, shrieking in dismay, is seen circling above the trees.

Etiene and Anuvyn rush to their loved ones. Tieghan is alive, but barely. Moerel is unharmed, secured in the treetops where Ruormad left him. But Ruormad has been mortally wounded by Catriona's magic and dies in Etiene's arms.

The caravan has been decimated. Only four men-at-arms have survived the fight with the Black Hounds. The Valmyrris find Hadrien, unconscious but alive... but they also find Dietric's body, slain by Catriona's poisonous haze, and clutching the signet ring that will allow them to take refuge at his family's lands in Islien.

Armed men appear, but this time, it is soldiers of Brosien, including the one-handed soldier the Valmyrri women saved in the mountain pass. They gather the survivors and render what aid they can to the devastated Valmyrris. With what remains of the soldiers and families, the caravan moves on.

With their remaining strength, the Valmyrri family makes it to Dietric's ancestral lands. Finding a large farmhouse, they are greeted by what appear to be Dietric's ailing parents; taken in as family, the Valmyrris settle in their new home. And this story ends with the family once again having dinner together, remembering the fallen but united by Moerel's laughter around the table.

House Valmyrri: Etiene's Reunion

The fire is still cracking and spitting. The hushed chatter of those on watch and the steady susurrus of breath becomes soft and heavy to her ears. Ruormad’s skin - pressed to hers as much as they are able, on the ground, in the dark, amongst their countrymen - is rough and coarse from exposure. His body is leaner than she remembers and his face has changed, but somehow he smells still of the same pine and raw earth of their homeland. They haven’t spoken much to one another this evening - there is too much at stake here - and there hangs between them the unvoiced fear that this is all a dream. Soft glances and the furtive, confirming touch of hand against hand or cheek is all they allow themselves while amongst the others.

Ruormad is asleep now. He is barely visible by the faint dance of firelight, but Etiene is studying the new planes of his face. She doesn’t move, just watches as orange and yellow flit over what used to be handsome and proud and which now is scarred and sharp.

His breathing is even and warm and the promise of sleep is tantalizing; although her body is weighty with exhaustion and she would love to sleep, the tight knot of anxiety in her stomach won’t loosen. The wheels of her mind skip over thoughts of Moerel and the Fulcairns - they are painful and if she dwells on them there will be no rest at all tonight. Instead she struggles to distract herself with other thoughts...

The Northern Woods of Wilders Gorge are a dangerous place: only the most foolish or the most skilled would tarry here. Etiene is in her fourteenth year when she ventures in alone. The Woods hold no fear for her - she is cocksure and flush with the invincibility of youth. At first the terrain is familiar and she slips through the light brush easily. She delights in testing how close she may stalk the hares and deer before they notice her presence. A solitary boar appears - a trophy too aggressive to risk on her own - so instead she follows it, hoping to be lead back to a sounder of sows. Its midday before she realizes she is lost. Etiene climbs a golden-leafed oak in an attempt to get her bearings - but a broad swath of mountain and trees rise up to meet the horizon in all directions. A few clearings dot the landscape, but their scale is hard to judge. The male boar is gone by the time she climbs down. She waits for the sun to fall enough so she may ken her direction..

Etiene is sitting in a sunny spot, warming herself in the autumn sun, when the hairs on her body bristle. Although there is no outward sign - the birds still sing, the wind still blows - she is suddenly aware of being observed. It's a struggle not to give into impulse and react - she keeps her breath steady, eyes heavy-lidded and repeats in her head the feeling of the motion of reaching smoothly into her boot for her knife. There will only be one chance. She’s so preoccupied preparing for the attack she knows is coming that when a strong hand clamps over her mouth as an arm snakes around her midsection, dragging her back into the brush, she reacts with a blitz of violence. Her body snaps taut, head back,smashing their skulls together, making her ears ring. She bites down on his hand while she brings both her arms up, hands cupped for a vicious clap to his ears. But too late Etiene realizes that he is also prepared - and much stronger. He rolls and her face is smashed into the dirt as he lets the full weight of his body pin her to the ground. He springs quickly to a crouch, her small frame trapped beneath his knees, freeing his hands to secure hers. There are hot tears of humiliation and rage muddying the dirt on her face but the final blow doesn't come. She waits, but he remains - poised taut atop her back, but low enough to stay beneath the cover of the brush. She can’t make out his face - his head is cocked, intently listening. Etiene closes her eyes and stretches her hearing as far as she might… a moment later she finally notices - it’s barely perceptible from the flutter of wind in leaves but something is moving between the trees, belied only by the soft noise of weight on mossy ground. It’s quite far from their position - but both Etiene and her captor instinctively hold their breath until well after it has passed them by.

“Please, “ he whispers, “ do not make a noise, Valmyrri. We must go, quickly and quietly.”

Etiene nods, and he allows her to rise, gesturing for her to follow. On her feet, she observes that the young man is only a few years older than herself - but he holds himself with a steady confidence. She thinks she may recognize him as the son of a Wilder, but cannot name him.

Travelling with the young ranger, Etiene is surprised to find it almost difficult to keep up. They make great time, and soon she is certain that she could find her own way, but allows herself to be led home. The young Wilder stops on the road, within sight of the Valmyrri manor house, and gestures for her to go on.

“Give me your name, Wilder, so that I may ensure you are thanked properly for your service to my family today.”

He inclines his head, dark hair falling over his eyes.

“I am called Ruormad, lady”       

Etiene inhales deeply, closes her eyes, and finally allows herself to follow her husband into sleep.

HOUSE VALMYRRI : Session 4 Recap

The Valmyrri women ride to Wilder's Gorge to tell Baron Calder they plan on annexing their land and leaving. He does not take the news well, angrily calling them deserters just like their menfolk, stating he will take their land regardless, and demanding they still pay the exorbitant food tithe. Oddly, he takes mercy on them enough to offer to pay Hadrien's ransom. They take his offer.

The Valmyrris begin the long and dangerous trek eastward to Vanilen. They opt for stealth rather than utmost speed, given their cargo of a thousand gold pieces; Tieghan manages to defuse a dangerous encounter with armed men in a remote mountain pass, and they continue on. They find dark reminders of the civil war everywhere, and manage to save one lone survivor of a recent battle; they are forced to amputate his arm, but do their best to patch him up and send him on his way.

Eventually they reach the lands of the Copperbornes, the Vanilen family who have taken Hadrien and the twenty Valmyrri men-at-arms hostage. Etiene glimpses a shadowy figure tailing them, but says nothing. They are cautious and bury the money outside the city, but their caution is unneeded-- Lord Copperborne proves to be an honest and honourable man, and the hostages are whole and hale, including Hadrien, who greets his mother and sisters with unbelieving joy. They thank Lord Copperborne warmly, and take their leave.

As they are encamped on their way east, yet another reunion occurs-- the shadowy figure tailing them turns out to be Ruormad, Etiene's husband. Ruormad explains he did not desert the service of the Fulcairns, but simply refused to abandon Hadrien and the men when they were taken captive. The reunited family savour a brief moment of joy, then contemplate what to do upon their return.

An Offer

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Black, beady eyes stare through the window.

CAW!

The flutter of wings, away into the night.

A rolled message. The unmistakable aura of power around it.

Sealed. Waiting to be read by those of the Valmyrri blood. What does it say?

CAW!

House Valmyrri: SESSION 3

The Valmyrri women return home from Fulcairn Keep, distraught. Etiene and Anuvyn decide to investigate rumours in town. A few shared rounds with returned soldiers reveal that the war is not over, and Baron Calder may or may not summon them back to the field. They also uncover that Lady Catriona Fulcairn is widely feared and considered a witch, and that the ransomed nobles are being held by a family of Vanilen called the Copperbornes.

News reaches the manor house that bandits are ravaging the refugee camp on their land. The Valmyrris gird for battle, taking with them the two elderly huntresses, battle-hardened since the fight at the old fort, a refugee who offers his services as swordsman, and Colin, the boy from the camp. They arrive to chaos-- refugees slain, tents burning, and bandits running amok. Furious, Tieghan and her party attack. They manage to cut down a half dozen of them, then Tieghan shouts for the refugees to take courage and defend their families. A hail of rocks flies from the refugees, the morale of the remaining bandits crumbles, and they flee. The Valmyrris make what attempts they can to treat the injured, but little can be done.

Three more refugee families arrive, begging the Valmyrris for shelter. Tieghan, determined not to turn anyone away, asks Etiene and Anuvyn to move into one room so they can take on more refugees. But Astrid, their servant, offers them her life savings in order to try their luck in the lands to the south.

Finally, Baron Calder summons them back to Fulcairn Keep, along with the Morgenstanes and the Haemings. They are asked for an account of the ongoings in the realm. Torel Morgenstane omits news of the slavers. When called upon, Tieghan tells Baron Calder honestly of the troubles with the refugees, the bandits, and finally the slavers they tracked to Three Corners. Catriona paces the room in the meantime, exchanges a glance with Calder, then Calder reproaches everyone except the Valmyrris for withholding the complete truth from him. He sends everyone from the room and addresses the Valmyrris, giving them grim tidings: Hedrien, Tieghan's middle son, made an error that cost the Black Hounds the lives of fifty men, and Ruormid, Etiene's husband and a Wraith (the forerunners of the Ghosts), deserted. He then tells them to keep the tribute of gold, and that the tribute this year is to be paid in food-- an amount impossible to acquire through hunting and foraging. He confirms that the Copperbornes have Hedrien, and the ransom for him and twenty Valmyrri men is a thousand gold pieces. Finally he states he doesn't care what happens to the refugees, as his priority is the survival of the Wilders.

They ride back home, despondent. Tieghan attempts to cheer everyone up, but it's a thin veneer-- in the night, she sneaks out of the manor house and rides back to Fulcairn Keep, intending to offer herself as an indentured soldier in the Black Hounds, in exchange for the rest of Hedrien's ransom money. The following morning on the way to the Keep, however, she comes upon Dietric causing a row with the castle guards. They argue, Tieghan asserting her actions are in the name of saving the family, Dietric answering the family will fall apart without her. She finally relents when he says they love her and want her with them. They return to the manor house, to an emotional scene with Etiene, Anuvyn, the baby, and the servants.

They attempt to come up with a new plan, but it proves no less desperate than Tieghan's. They decide to offer to annex the Valmyrri lands to the highest bidder, use the money to ransom Hedrien and the rest to journey with any refugees who wish to join, to Dietric's family's lands in Islien, as landless commoners.

That night, Tieghan asks Dietric to marry her, as her status as noble had previously prevented it.

The next evening, Catriona Fulcairn mysteriously appears at the manor house. She paces the house, seemingly searching for something; she scatters a strange red powder in the air, which coalesces and takes a moth-like form as it lands on Moerel, Etiene's infant son. She leaves shortly thereafter, leaving the Valmyrris even more unsettled.

The Wraith Queen, Part One

'Midst the ashes of an Empyre, where smolder'd no more
The fyre of the Roeles, quench'd by red Tydes of war
No corner of the Realme, no family untouched by Woe
Yet in the Gorge, ever tall and green the Yewes grow.

On a great Steed the hue of moonless eventyde
'Cross the plains of the Cradle did a Warrior ryde
Once proud back hunch'd, Visage traced with scars unheal'd
And a bandage-swath'd stump where hand once held Shielde.

Marella Fulcairn, second chylde to Baroness Mhaeril,
Returned home from the blood-drench'd Battle of Hollow Hill,
Fought 'neath Boeruine's banner, till an Avanish blade
Took her hand, and of a fierce Warrior a Cripple made.

With all Haste she rode; her Heart long'd to Beholde
The Autumn Woods decked all in Crimson and Golde
And her elder brother Mheren, young Heir and Lorde
And in all of Cerilia, her most Adored.

For Mhaeril's second Chylde was as dark as bright was her First,
Grim of disposition, and oft rumour'd Accursed,
A bastard, the whispers in Tavernes would say,
The get of Baroness Mhaeril and a wand'ring Awnshegh.

To the gates of the wood Keep, Marella swift rode,
To see black Banners strung on the Fulcairns' abode.
The old Seneschal greeted her, eyes filled with payne,
"Lady, by Rhuobhe's horde are your mam and brother slayne."

To her knees fell Marella; she cried out, aghast,
"I'm not meant to be Baron, just a crippled Outcaste,
"Take my life, Haelyn, smite me with your divine Blayde!
"But return my dear brother; lo, I offer this Trayde!"

But Haelyn did not answer, so Marella broke
An Oath made to her mother; in Chyldehood she'd spoke
Ne'er to use the blood-gifts of Azrai, long Concealed
Lest her true Parentage be then thusly Revealed.

In her rage and her sorrow, she summoned the Blood
Through her Veines it did roar, in a vile, corrupt Flood
From the stump of her Arm, a horror all present saw--
Grew a Demon-Hand, night-black in Scale and in Clawe.

"I'm ill-suited to rule us," Marella proclaymed,
"So my gift to the Wilders shall be Blood and Payne.
"I'll Behead every Elfe whose footsteps foul our Home
"And I'll pile up their heads at the foot of Rhuobhe's Throne."

House Valmyrri: Session One & Two Recap

It is 1061 Haelyn's Count.

Almost 100 years after the death of Michael Roele, the Empire has been shattered due to civil war. Avanil and Boeruine quickly erupt in a bloody and prolonged conflict, recorded in history as the 'War of the Twice Lost', as two generations were almost wiped out.

Taeghas was already in a precarious and almost lawless state due to the civil war that claimed almost the entire Brosen family. There was never a clear leader after the Brosens, and the counts were eyeing each other warily, but no one had the strength to make a move. With the new conflict erupting, and geographically being in the middle, the kingdom was almost annihilated. Torn asunder between two great kingdoms, the various Taeghan provinces quickly turned on each other as they cast in their lot with the one of two sides.

Wilder's Gorge has been a refugee destination. With the proud Wilders already distrustful of strangers, the locals are now xenophobic and shun the desperate refugees.

House Valmyrri, one of the Fulcairns' vassal houses, has fallen on hard times. Two hundred years or so have passed since they assisted Vordhuine and the Empire to attempt to capture Melehan and depose Caedwyn Fulcairn, and the since-disgraced Fulcairns regard House Valmyrri with suspicion and distrust now.

The last remnants of House Valmyrri are Lady Tieghan (widowed since her husband Anuvier fell in the civil war), her daughters Etiene and Anuvyn, her steward turned lover Dietric, Etiene's toddler son Moerel, and their two elderly retainers, Vignar and Astrid. Tieghan's middle son, Hedrien, and Etiene's husband Ruormad, are at war, their whereabouts and condition unknown for years.

Winter falls on Wilder's Gorge, and the Valmyrris are deeply worried about the state of the House and its lands. A nearby refugee camp houses hundreds of people from elsewhere in Taeghas, displaced by the civil war, and is rife with illness, suffering, poverty, and crime. The House's stocks of food and supplies are rapidly depleting and will not get them through the winter. Moerel, the baby, is sick with a racking, persistent cough. Anuvyn, Tieghan's youngest daughter and somewhat of a reckless, free-spirited scoundrel, investigates the refugee camp and discovers that young women are vanishing, abducted by a group of men who are almost certainly Wilders. Tieghan and Etiene hunt, attempting to stock up on foodstuffs, and encounter more raggedy refugee families; Tieghan is moved by pity and allows them to camp near the Valmyrri manor house.

The Lord of Fulcairn Keep, Michael Baltanis, widower of the late, beloved Calindra Fulcairn, summons the Valmyrris. After lecherously leering at Anuvyn, he informs them that their yearly tithe of five hundred gold is due. This is a crushing amount of money to a struggling House, but Tieghan dutifully agrees to pay in two weeks. The Valmyrris discuss what to do. Tieghan instructs Anuvyn to pawn the last of the House's relics, despite Dietric's protests. Anuvyn, ever the scoundrel, goes instead to a smuggler connection of hers, who offers her a better price than the pawnshop, and sweetens the deal, offering her a substantial amount of money for a legendary relic which may or may not exist-- the Stone of Unity, an engraved stone in three parts bearing the sigils of the Fulcairns and their two oldest vassal houses, the Haemings and the Morgenstanes.

Further attempts to investigate the abductions at the refugee camp reveal that a red-bearded Wilder in leather armour is the ringleader. The Valmyrris track him to the town at Fulcairn Keep; Tieghan confirms that he is indeed the culprit, but also that they have been spotted and the thugs are on high alert.

Tieghan wishes to settle the matter lawfully, and she calls on the Magistrate in town to resolve it. The Magistrate promises to send men to investigate. She also requests to parley with the heads of House Morgenstane and House Haeming to discuss the refugee matter. Neither are interested in helping, stating they need to care for their own first, though Aidela Haeming is sympathetic to Tieghan's noble intentions. Both state they do not care for Michael Baltanis. Later that night, Anuvyn searches the storeroom and successfully steals one part of the Stone of Unity from the Haeming manor.

Aidela also warns Tieghan that bandits have occupied the ruins of the old fort west of Fulcairn Keep; Tieghan, Etiene, and two of the elderly women they have trained as archers ride to investigate. They slay a sentinel and sneak into the old hall, separate the sleeping bandits from their weapons, and, wishing to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Tieghan offers them the choice to leave forever, serve House Valmyrri, or die. They choose to leave, and she warns them not to return, and to seek honest trade. Tieghan and Etiene manage to secure a cart laden with trade goods, provisions, and the bandits' weapons. One of the crates of trade goods provides a delightful surprise-- a Cairnhound puppy. Unfortunately the rest of the trade goods bear a trader's mark, and Tieghan dutifully returns them. The trader is grateful and provides a small amount of gold as thanks.

Meanwhile, Anuvyn has returned to the refugee camp. Her informant there, a youth named Colin, tells her the kidnappers have been back and have taken more women. He spots one of them, and Anuvyn tails him into the winter night. She manages to take him by surprise and interrogates him at knifepoint. He identifies the red-bearded leader as Edric, a Wilder, confirms that they are indeed human traffickers, and states their base of operations is in Three Corners. Anuvyn slits his throat.

Tieghan is furious that Anuvyn took such a risk, but is proud of her for ridding the world of slaver scum. The Valmyrris ride for Three Corners. Tieghan, not wishing to step on Lord Torel Morgenstane's toes, informs him that the slavers are operating out of Three Corners. Irritated, he agrees to take action. That night, Anuvyn--just barely-- manages to steal the second piece of the Stone of Unity from Torel's very bedroom as he sleeps.

The Valmyrris return home. Anuvyn goes back to her smuggler contact-- ostensibly to sell the House's relics, as the deadline for the tithe is drawing near-- but she sells the trader her two pieces of the Stone of Unity as well. Between that and the other pittances they were able to collect, they have managed to collect enough for the tithe. They ride for Fulcairn Keep.

They are greeted by Michael Baltanis, feasting on duck and leering as usual. He accepts their tithe and makes indecent overtures at Anuvyn; as a Haelynite mother, Tieghan indignantly attempts to intervene. But then, a commotion is heard out on the hall and a loud procession marches into Fulcairn Keep. It is Calder and Catriona Fulcairn, returned from the civil war, and their army, the Black Hounds. Calder, furious at learning his sister is dead and his brother-in-law is sitting on his throne, collecting his dues and feasting at his table, brutally slays Michael where he stands.

He then turns his attention to the Valmyrris. He informs them that Hedrien, Tieghan's middle son, who marched in his army, is alive but has been captured by the enemy and there is a demand for ransom, and the location of Ruormid, Etiene's husband, is unknown. He then gives them back their tithe, saying to keep it for the moment, but he would be summoning them for his due as Lord soon enough.

Ever the Digger of Graves

[A brief poem, anonymously penned on a crumpled scrap of paper, looking decidedly out of place stuck into one of the great gilded volumes of poetry from Melehan's hoard. The writing is hasty, hurried-looking, nothing at all like the illuminated calligraphy of the volume it was found in. A dark reddish-brown spatter can be seen on one corner. Cuinn has teased it out carefully, smoothed it and pinned it above her writing-desk.]

Ever the digger of graves, not of furrows.

Ever the hand wielding the scythe,
or pressing the torch to the autumn chaff,
not the hand cupping the seedlings,
not the hand tucking them into moist loam.

Ever the black-wing'd buzzard
scouring the fields of carrion,
not the white-plumed dove heralding spring.

Am I not also needed?
Am I not also worthy of praise?
No bard will sing songs of my scythe
to hearty cheers before a tavern's fire.
No maiden will embroider my black wings
into her bridal gown.

Ever the voice singing to soothe the lame calf
before I draw my blade across its throat,
swiftly, mercifully,
not the voice singing lullaby
above my own babe's cradle.

SESSION 24 RECAP

Cuinn, Cathal and Mara inventory the massive hoard of treasure, artifacts, and documents Melehan revealed in the catacombs of the Keep. Of particular interest are many documents affirming that the House once ruled over Taeghas. Melehan's farewell letter, both to his sister Caedwyn, and to Mara, is also found. Furthermore, the amount of money within is substantial enough that they are no longer certain they require outside aid to raise an army.

Mara is haunted by strange dreams in which her former master, Harald Khorien, pleads to know the reason of her betrayal.

A surprise occurs: the unlikely trio of Tashairah, Gwenevier and Dvorak appear, bearing a gift: a historical runestone bearing sigils of the ancient alliance between the Fulcairns and their vassal families, the Haemings and the Morgenstanes. They hint the stone was acquired through less than overt means, and Cuinn states she doesn't wish to know more.

A council is called between the Fulcairns and their vassal houses: the Haemings, the Morgenstanes, the Rhodwalchs, and the Kerendreds. They discuss the political situation, and the heads of the vassal families urge Cuinn to turn down Archduke Boeruine's offer of help, but rather to strike out as Taeghas alone. Cuinn agrees; with the newly discovered trove, they are less reliant on Boeruine's resources. There remains yet the matter of breaking the geass they've sworn to aid the Archduke.

Sir Varyan returns to Fulcairn Keep. Mara avoids him, plagued with guilt over her necromancy. Cuinn is torn between her desire to see him and her growing feeling that the moral compromises required of her as head of the House will drive a wedge between them forever. Cathal quite happily spars with him.

A message bearing the royal seal of the Yngvi arrives. Bound in black cord, it bears ill news; Queen Freila has gone missing and is considered dead. According to tradition, the thanes of Hogunmark will meet and elect a new King or Queen. With news of a war host gathering in southern Rjurik, the reach of the White Witch expanding and the ambitions of the rival thanes once again taking root, House Yngvi is facing dire times.

On Being Far From Home (by the Khinasi poet Tashairah)

I wake to greyness.
On the grey waters of Tael Firth,
grey sails glide through grey fogs,
half-glimpsed like souls
mid-transit betwixt this world and the next.

I pull the grey furs closer about my shoulders
but the damp grey chill, I fear,
has come to dwell in my bones
like a beggar clad in grey rags
sleeps 'neath the grey thatch of the inn's back wall

And I wonder,
O Ariya,

Your shining streets, inlaid with mosaic
Avani's face and crown and gown, rendered
In chips of turquoise and gold and vermillion
Do they miss the caress of my shoes' soles?

Your purple figs, so plump they bend the boughs
Almost to the emerald orchard's floor
Your graven silver tureens of lemon and rosewater
Do they miss the eager press of my lips?

Were your colours ever so dazzling,
your scents ever so intoxicating?

Or has my heart, sick from your absence,
And stranded in a world of grey,
Merely laid an extra coat of lacquer
Upon your memory?

An Inventory of Fulcairn Relics

Found in the catacombs of Fulcairn Keep:

Books, Documents

• Great House Records & Genealogies - since the arrival to Anuire. 368 HC [Hogunmark: Magnild the Doomed]
• Poetry: Such as "A Snake From Within", "Hymn to Valor"
• Epics: Such as "Wraithqueen"
• Imperial Codex of Taeghan Archdukes - Fulcairns
• Honors for Moryn Fulcairn, Imperial Scholar
• Imperial Condemnation of House Fulcairn by Magnus II
• Guardians against the Manslayer - Precursors of the Ghosts
• A Letter of Regards from His Imperial Majesty Raesene Andu *cannot verify authenticity, M*
• House Valmyrri, rise and fall
• Local customs, dances and recipes
• Songs - Flower of the Gorge, The Lass from Bayside, The Bitter Bard
• Local folklore - The Silver Stag, The Guardian, Stone Trolls
• Taeghan Trade Treaties
• Military Documents

Coat of Arms

• Old Anuirean Fulcairn Coat of Arms
• Post-condemnation Fulcairn Coat of Arms

Paintings

• Taeghas Landscape: Imperial Manor view [Oil painting]
• Stormpoint Landscape: banners of Fulcairn on the walls of city [Fresco]
• Wilder's Gorge - Seamist mountains [Oil painting]
• Caedwyn, Lorran, Conor, Calindra, Clodagh, Melehan, Marigold Fulcairn portrait 
  
• Portraits of past Fulcairns [Medieval, Baroque, Renaissance]
• Portrait of first Fulcairn Bladesinger hunter, holding helmeted elf's head - Marella Fulcairn [Pre-Raphaelite]
• Portrait of Caedwyn, Vigraf, Sigrid [Baroque]
• Anuirean bust of Cardew Fulcairn, 1st Archduke of Taeghas [Early Medieval]
• Small locket of Marigold Fulcairn

Arcana

• Bloodline Magic Spellbooks
• Rare Spell Components
• Arcana Library - Realm Magic, True Magic, Lesser Magic
• A treatise for creating Magical Items
• Notes on Cerilian Awnsheghlien
• Ley Lines in the time of the Empire (approx. 710 HC)

Trinkets & Valuables

• Statuettes, toys, woodcarving, leatherworks
• Hnefatafl board
• Platinum, Gold, Silver Coins from the Imperial Era
• Gold, Silver Bars
• Precious & Semi-precious Stones
• Jewelry

Armory

• Apparel
• Chainmail
• Plate mail
• Leather armor
• Longswords
• Greatsword
• Axes
• Polearms
• Shortbows, Longbows
• Daggers
• Shortswords

The Last Words of Melehan Fulcairn

*An ancient parchment, magically preserved and written in Old Anuirean*

My dearest sister,

If you are reading this, it means that I was unsuccessful in my endeavor to rid Cerilia of that terrible awnsheghlien that is nothing like an elf. If so, I pray that you forgive me. I know I have been bullheaded at times, and have not always discussed my plans with you, but know that it wasn't due to malice or pride; you would simply try to dissuade me from my course. Besides, we Fulcairns have always been single-minded in our purpose.

My sister, ever since we were born, we had been destined for greatness. In our veins runs the blood of old, of heroes, of Cerilia itself, and yes, those that the common folk think they were gods, though I have seen the truth. If there is something I have learned from Rhuobhe, it is that he doesn't think in terms of years or decades; he thinks in terms of millennia. I know that you worry about our House and our family - but I saw a chance to finally free our lineage from our family's ancient burden. I have attained knowledge and power that few magi before me have; it would be a waste to not use it in such a noble purpose.

If there is one thing I regret, is not seeing my daughter rise to prominence. Her innate talent and bloodline strength is one of the most powerful I have seen ever, rivaling some of Anuire's greatest heroes. With proper training, she can become a force for good. I will not see her become so, but I know that you will. And to me, that means the world.

Know that I love you, regardless where I am.

Your twin brother,
Melehan Fulcairn

*A new script, written in the modern tongue*

Mara, my child. This was to be given to my sister in case of my death by my greatest apprentice. When I realized what had happened, I understood that she never saw it. In a way though, it is fitting that you read it. The rest, well, is history.

I do not ask your forgiveness. That, is reserved for my daughter and family. Perhaps though, you may understand me. The only piece of advice I can give all three of you, is that once you know what you want to do with your life, never hesitate. You must unite, or die. Blood is everything. Trust me. I learned this the hard way.

This chamber is the legacy of the Fulcairns and it is my gift to all of you. I made sure that as much of our history, culture, and heritage that I could find was kept safe here. And for you Mara, I have left for you my knowledge in Arcana. Study. Learn. One day, you will forge your own path.

Eyes Ever On Our Prey.

This Old Bitch

"Mother! Father! Aunt Sigrid's here!"

The golden-haired young man bolted across the yard behind the newly-erected wooden fortifications-- so fresh one could still smell the sweet sap of the yew planks-- with the exuberance of a boy, rather than the decorum of the adulthood that the occasion was intended to bestow upon him. Banners flapped above the new palisade, and festoons of spring blossoms scattered petals in the breeze, speckling a grey-clad figure that dismounted with some difficulty from a tall roan mare. She wore a mail hauberk, old but finely-made and well-cared for, and sported a flanged mace at her hip; both belied the cane she leaned upon to walk, and the fingers, gnarled with arthritis, that gripped it.

"Of course I'm here, silly boy. You think I would miss your wedding? I may be three-quarters in the grave at this point, but I'd crawl all the way out to be here-- Haelyn, look at you, Conor. I swear you're twice as tall as the last time I saw you. And look at those shoulders! You haven't been neglecting your drills, I see!"

"Never!" The young man grinned. "I have to impress my new bride, after all. She's the daughter of Hjalmur Yngvi, after all, and they say she can throw a spear through an oaken door six inches thick."

Aye, Conor, Sigrid mused, sadly even though she beamed outwardly. 'Tis lucky indeed that the Fulcairns have always remained close with the Yngvi. For what Anuirean noble would wed their son or daughter to one of the children of doomed, disgraced House Fulcairn? Even if those children are the finest, and brightest, and best children to walk Cerilia. She reached up-- she was a tall woman, but age had stooped her, and Conor would be a giant of a man once he'd reached his full height-- and cupped his cheek tenderly. "You are a fine boy, Conor. You do your House proud, always. The Yngvi lass is lucky to have you, and you will have a good life together."

And indeed, in his clear blue eyes, his handsome, guileless face, Sigrid saw hope, saw a light, breaking through the darkness that Melehan had dragged the House into all those years ago. A wooden castle now stood on the island in the river, the blackened and blasted ruin fading into memory. The shame, the ostracism, the plunge into shunned obscurity-- what did any of that matter, anyway? They still had each other. And the Wilders had what they always had-- their woods full of game, the rivers full of fish, and that intractable, indomitable Wilder spirit...

"Come on, Aunt Sigrid, let's get to the new great hall! I can't wait to show you around!"

Aye, titles and estates come and go. But the Wilders will always be Wilders. And the Fulcairns will always be Fulcairns.

*******

"To the bride and groom! To my dear son, and our new daughter-in-law! Long life, good health and many heirs! And may the friendship between our Houses last as long as Eirik's green earth and Nesirie's blue sea!"

Sigrid gripped her tankard, precariously in her swollen and aching fingers, hoisted it at Caedwyn's words-- Baroness Caedwyn, now-- and quaffed gladly. Gods, it made her heart ache worse than her knuckles to see her oldest and dearest friend like this. Caedwyn was smiling broadly, her voice cheerful, but her face was gaunt, her eyes ringed with dark circles, her proud bearing slumped.

Also, I don't trust that young whippersnapper who guards her these days. He looks lax, slow. If only the damned arthritis hadn't forced me into retirement. 

A hand fell on her shoulder. "Any room on this bench, Mistress Haeming? I'm inexcusably late, but better than never, as they say..." The man reached up to muffled his racking cough with a doeskin-gloved hand.

"Vigruf!" Sigrid laughed, delightedly. "It's been forever! Sit down, get some ale into you." She waved at a servant. "Miss, a tankard of ale for Master Morgenstane, if you wouldn't mind! Vig! How have you been? Where's Leisha and your brood?"

Vigruf's dour demeanor softened a touch. "Leisha's to deliver our fourth child any day now; she wasn't fit to travel. I bid the children remain behind to help; it has been a difficult pregnancy. I would never have left her side, but--" He motioned at the Fulcairns, drinking and dining merrily at the head table. Conor seemed positively smitten with his new bride, a small girl with a riotous blaze of orange curls, who'd apparently seen fit to wear a well-worn hand-axe strapped over her wedding garb. The twins were radiant in their matching green dresses. Caedwyn sat, a smile on her face but a shadow lingering in her eyes, and Lorran hovered protectively at her side.

"Listen, Vig..." Sigrid lowered her voice. "I know you and I haven't always... seen eye to eye. I just want you to know that I have always held the deepest respect for you. You have continued to stand with them staunchly even though--" she trailed off, as neither of them needed to hear the words spoken-- "and you have been the wisest and most honourable ally a House could have."

Vigruf raised an eyebrow. Aye, nothing gets past you, Vig. "Sig... what's going on? Why the speech?"

"I'm an old woman now, Vig. I've always said I wish to be useful as long as I'm alive, and alive only as long as I'm useful. I'm of no use to the Fulcairns anymore... but there's a service I'd still like to provide for them, while I can." Sigrid met his gaze, and held it a moment, and he understood, and he nodded, once.

"Vig, if you ever see... her... again... tell her her family loves her. Tell her I love her, that we will always love her. Tell her we think of her every day, and the pain of being apart from her is only eased by knowing she is safe. Tell her I, all of us, will do anything to keep her safe."

He nodded, again, silent. The serving girl returned, a tankard brimming with white foam in her extended hand.

"Let's drink, shall we? To the Fulcairns."

"To the Fulcairns."

**********************

As night fell over the Arnienbae, an accursed rain began to fall, first slowly and steadily, then fiercely, soaking through Vordhuine's embroidered velvet cloak in moments, chilling his skin. It fits my mood, at least. Foul weather for a foul mood. A foul day, all in all. His magical research had been going so well; he'd been so close to the breakthrough that would cement his position as the greatest wizard of his age, and finally show those uptight pricks at the College. But no, rebellion had broken out in the east, and Magnus had diverted his funding to the military.

I'll roast every rebel like a boar on a spit, personally, if I can get back to my work as soon as pos--

A jerk, a crunch, the bone-chilling sound of his horse shrieking in pain, and suddenly he was flying over the saddle pommel, over his own horse's head, to land, with another crunch, and a breathtaking stab of pain, flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He struggled to rise, and almost instantly fell back down, the pain blinding. Something's broken. How the hell did this happen? Healing, unfortunately, was not his specialty, and it might be hours before any traveler passed down this back road through the woods.

And then he saw the old woman shuffling down the path, leaning on an iron-shod cane.

"You there. Come, assist me," he barked.

...And then he saw the flanged mace, tied with rope into a gnarled fist that could no longer grip it properly, and with a sick shock realized he knew her face, knew it from all those years ago.

"You're... you're Caedwyn Fulcairn's dog."

"Aye. And you should have never come near this old bitch's pups, you son of a whore!"

The mace arced, a streak of silver, even as Vordhuine gestured and frantically yelped the words of a spell.

********************

The Imperial guard came looking for Vordhuine when he did not appear at the Emperor's court for nearly a week. On one of the back roads approaching his estate, they found a strange sight indeed-- the Imperial court wizard's corpse, skull crushed, and next to him, the burned corpse of an elderly woman with a mace tied to her hand. Horrifiedly, they gathered the court wizard's body, and unceremoniously dumped the old woman in the woods.

At least one of the guardsmen noticed that the old woman, though her face was burned nearly beyond recognition, appeared to have died smiling.

**********************************

In the Great House Records and Genealogies codex, retrieved from the Fulcairn Keep Catacombs by Cathal, Cuinn and Mara, was the following entry:

Sigrid Morgenstane
Fourth Child of Vigruf and Leisha Morgenstane
Chief Advisor to Baron Conor Fulcairn the Second

 

 

Session 23 Recap

Choosing to stay in Boeruine a while longer, the Fulcairns curry some political favour. Cuinn shares an evening drink with the Archduke in an attempt to gain more of his confidence, and to gain more information as to his motives and plans. She discovers little, but Boeruine displays both shrewd diplomacy and boorishness in equal measure.

Cathal seeks out Tashairah at a diplomatic dinner feast elsewhere in the city. Tashairah greets him warmly and Cathal, rather stoically, has her recount all she knows of the political goings on in Boeruine. She tells him that people come and go from everywhere, that it's mostly business as usual, but the people of Dhoesone have brought troubling news of a Rjurikan horde massing somewhere in Stjordvik under a ferocious warrior queen. Cathal seeks out the ambassador from Dhoesone and confirms the rumours. While the ambassador has little else to add beyond what the astute Khinasi poet had already said, his tale intrigues Cathal further. Cathal says his farewells to Tashairah and returns to the Fulcairn rooms.

They return to Fulcairn Keep shortly thereafter. They speak with Melehan on their return, explaining that they have been forced under a Geass by the Archduke and his mage. They ask if he knows of anyways to dissolve its magical shackles should the alliance with Boeruine become untenable. Melehan reprimands them softly for allowing themselves to be dominated so, but graciously agrees to research a means to do remove the Geass.

Abbess Gwenevier requests an audience with Cuinn. She declares that she has determined an appropriate quest to serve as penance for the fiasco that befell the Sword of Haelyn within the walls of the castle town. She asks that they travel to a remote settlement in the Seamist Mountains where a great threat to the world, in the form of a child, has been divined to reside. Cuinn is skeptical of the value the quest, and Cathal and Mara are both reluctant to remove a child from their family, but the Fulcairns acquiesce for the sake of their relationship with the Abbess.

They travel east and Cuinn leads them through the rugged wilderness until they come upon an uncannily idyllic village in a hidden vally deep within the mountains. Cuinn gathers the villagers in the main square and, approaching them respectfully and fairly, speaks with hetwoman openly about their purpose there. Cathal manages to talk a young boy into coming forward, and then brings the voice of Anduiras to bear, convincing the boy's parents to accompany their son back to Fulcairn Keep. They are compelled to agree, and Fulcairns return to the castle, the boy and his parents in tow. Mara studies the boy with her magic, and determines that the threat is a frighteningly strong bloodline derived from Azrai, the old, dead god of darkness.

Upon returning, they speak shortly with Gwenevier about their journey. Cuinn speaks frustratedly about their penance, questioning its necessity and validity. Gwenevier, distraught that the baroness may have learned nothing from the task, chooses to leave Fulcairn, and serve the people of Wilder's Gorge in the fields and hedges, as a missionary. Cathal, knowing that they would much rather Gwenevier on their council than a more opportunistic priest from the Western Imperial Temple tells Cuinn that he'll get her back and rushes after the Abbess.

Cuinn and Mara go to speak with Melehan, and he informs them that he has a plan to deal with Ruobhe Manslayer once and for all, but the effort will probably destroy him. Regardless, he wishes to do it, and claims that he will not truly die, but pass into another form. Mara is saddened, and troubled by the prospect of no longer having a mentor to guide her. Melehan reassures her, and asks to be left to prepare.

Cathal catches up with Gwenevier and asks her to stay on at the castle, if not to save Cuinn, then to protect his own soul. He persuades her of her importance on the council, even if Cuinn does not much care for her religion. Gwenevier is appeased for the time being and Cathal returns to the keep.

Cathal is informed of Melehan's plan, and, embarrassed for his ill treatment of his uncle, Cathal asks that they journey to his mother's old cottage at the edge of the Aelvinnwode. There, Melehan and Mara scrawl their names in the flesh of the Carving Tree, and Cuinn cuts her new name in under the old. Mara is made a Fulcairn in full, and the for once in a long time, a sense of family settles upon them. They stay a few evenings at the cottage, then return to the keep so Melehan can begin his ritual.

The Fulcairns ascend to the uppermost reaches of Fulcairn Keep, where Melehan has prepared his altar. Mara helps Melehan with the ritual, aiding him in channeling the massive energies of the Mebhaigl and Caermebhaigl, the two sources of divine energy residing in the earth of Wilder's Gorge. Melehan crafts a great maelstrom of magical energy, and sends it into the northeast to bombard Ruobhe in his stronghold. Despite the great distance, Cuinn and Cathal can see enough to watch the titanic magical battle unfold. Melehan's might, bolstered by both of the Gorge's arcane wellsprings, is too much for the Manslayer, whose defenses begin to crumble. All is not quite well, however.

Mara is able to see Melehan's true intentions through the energies they share. The archmage plans to drain Wilder's Gorge of its Mebhaigl, the land's lifeblood, in order to destroy the Awnshegh. But not only this, Melehan intends to absorb the energy of the Caermebhaigl and ascend to a higher state of being. Mara is left with a hard choice.

She can cut the ritual off abruptly, returning the Caermebhaigl and Mebhaigl to their within the land. Doing so will release Ruobhe from the shackles Melehan had previously placed upon him. It will also utterly destroy Melehan.

She can allow the ritual to continue unabated, which she is sure will destroy the Awnshegh forever, but Melehan will take all of the energy of the Caermebhaigl for himself. The Mebhaigl will be completely consumed, sickening the land of Wilder's Gorge, possibly forever, and making its energies untappable in their upcoming conflict.

Lastly, she can allow Melehan the Caermebhaigl, and he can use it to ascend. However, she can wrest control of the Mebhaigl from him, and hold its power just long enough to ensure Ruobhe's imprisonment for at least the near future. The Caermebhaigl, possibly the greatest source of magical power in Anuire, would be gone for good, but she would finally control the Mebhaigl of Wilder's Gorge, the strongest of its kind in Taeghas.

Mara, showing her evolution as a person and the bearing of a true mage, chooses the last option, the compromise. Melehan senses what she is doing, and after a moment's protest relents, absorbing the Caermebhaigl, and ascending into the heavens. The great roil of magical energy dissipates, and Mara slumps to the stone of the battlement. Cathal and Cuinn, baffled at the events that have unfurled before them, rush to their beloved sister's side. She is tired, but unharmed, and a new day dawns over the crenels Fulcairn Keep.

SESSIONS 20, 21, 22 RECAP

Reynhild confronts Cathal about the recent events in the capital and states that the responsibility of leading the House, which he accepted reluctantly after fate thrust it upon him, has changed him, and not for the better. Cathal shocks Reynhild by stating he wishes to divest his bloodline and abdicate as head of the house... to her. With some bewilderment, she accepts. They go to tell Mara, and Reynhild discloses the truth of her identity to Mara as well. Mara does not shun her either, reminding her that she stayed steadfast in the House's darkest hours.

The news is announced to the rest of the House. Finn decides to retire; Cathal is appointed leader of the House's armed forces in his place.

The Fulcairns hold a ceremony to formally pass the leadership of the house to Reynhild. The priestess Gwenevier is called in to conduct it. Mara surprises everyone by also divesting part of her bloodline to Reynhild. The bloodlines of all three mingle, and the powers of the gods induce a vision in all three Fulcairns. Reynhild is granted a vision of the first Fulcairns: a twin brother and sister, blonde and dark haired, fighting at Deismaar. Mara sees a vision of the mage hunters trying to encircle Melehan in Fulcairn Keep. Cathal sees a vision of Caedwyn Fulcairn embracing Marigold, Melehan's daughter. A mysterious denizen of the forest also visits Reynhild and states someone will need to guard the forest after him.

The first Fulcairns

Reynhild assumes leadership of the house and also states she will be now named Cuinn, in order to honour the traditions of the Fulcairns, but she is driven as much by a desire to leave the lie of her assumed identity behind her and start anew.

Cuinn writes letters to the other heads of Houses and to Countess Thaliere, greeting them as the new Baroness. Thaliere responds with the expected felicitations, but also with Imperial edicts-- that they are to send a unit of archers to bolster the Imperial Army, and shall receive in turn craftsmen to repair the roads. In addition, legislature will be coming that will change the various counts and barons into governors under the new Imperial laws. The Fulcairns receive this news with consternation.

Cuinn and Cathal wish to assess the character of the newly appointed Count of Seamist, Caron Duene. They ride to meet him with an armed retinue, ostensibly to escort him through orog-infested country. Mara reads his mind with magic; he is terrified of the Fulcairns and thinks them murderous maniacs come to slay him. He cannot be negotiated or reasoned with; the Fulcairns ride home, at least temporarily reassured he is not a monster like his predecessors.

Melehan states he wishes to take Mara on a journey around Anuire to explore the mebhaigl of all the lands and to activate the focal points for the ritual he wishes to undertake, that will contain Rhuobhe permanently. Cuinn and Cathal bid her farewell.

Several months pass quietly.

Mara returns with a gift from Melehan-- a relic confirming House Fulcairn's ancient and distinguished history, and directing the way to an ancient relic of Taeghas: a crown of the Taeghan kings, hidden in a barrow in a remote island. They leave to retrieve it, despite Cuinn's reservations. The Fulcairns take ship at Stormpoint and sail to the remote uninhabited island. As they follow the trail of ancient ruins through the island, they find traces of a great beast; not long after locating the site of the barrow they seek, they are attacked by a wyvern. It nearly kills Mara in one attack, but the three Fulcairns manage to slay it. Within the tomb, they find yet more clues to an ancient mystery-- the Taeghans' ties to the Rjurik run far back into history, and the Fulcairns were at one time known as the Falkjärna. They find the crown-- a simple and unadorned circlet-- take it, and leave for home.

Shortly after returning home, a band of forty armed templars arrives, announcing they are members of the Sword of Haelyn, a militant sect of the Southern Orthodox Temple of Haelyn, from outside Taeghas, traveling with Countess Thaliere's permission. They claim to be hunting an evil necromantic artifact-- a spellbook of great evil. Cuinn insists that such an artifact had passed through, but had been destroyed. The templars state that it has not, and that Cuinn has been deceived. Cuinn leaves to question Mara. To Cuinn and Cathal's shock and anger, Mara reveals she kept the book and deceived them with an illusion of destroying it with a fireball. Mara is determined to convince the Templars that she has done no wrong, and submits to their magical interrogation. However, their interrogation reveals that she has used necromancy (though it was in the name of saving Melehan from Faysal's magic) and that she intends to use necromancy in the future. They insist she will be taken with them to be dealt with. 

Faced with either losing Mara or being branded necromancy sympathizers in the eyes of the other Houses, the Fulcairns attack the Templars. They slay the leaders of the Templars, then take warriors to the temple of Haelyn to slay the remainder of their forces.

The Haelynic priestess Gwenevier is horrified and asks to be removed from the House's council. Cuinn asks if there is a penance that they can undertake to propitiate Haelyn and his priesthood; she states she will think on it.

Cuinn and Cathal struggle with their anger at Mara, but eventually realize that while she deceived them, she has never employed her magic in any cause other than the House's protection, nor has she used necromancy carelessly. They resolve to move forward free of any further secrets or lies. Mara confesses she has scribed half the book; Cuinn urges her to scribe any morally neutral spells for her own use and donate the rest to the Imperial magical college's library.

A letter arrives from the Hrodmars, Reynhild Andersdottir's clan in Rjurik. Torn by guilt and wanting to finally lay the deception to rest, Cuinn asks Cathal to write them back, saying Reynhild has died in childbirth and Corrac has fallen to illness, and trying to give them some manner of peace and closure. Cathal sends one of the house's treasured hawks along with it.

Geoffrey Khorien replies to Cathal's letter and invites the Fulcairns to his estate at Portage. They ride for Portage, and are graciously hosted by Geoffrey. There, they openly discuss their chafing at the rule of the Empire, and Khorien asks if they will back him in a rebellion as rightful leader of Taeghas. They do not see him as a fit ruler of Taeghas, but they agree for the moment. He mentions his "friends" in Boeruine and states they should be expecting an invite from Boeruine soon.

In order to stall the Empire's request for Wilder troops, Cuinn responds stating that the western mountains are dangerously overrun with orogs and the troops are on a campaign to eradicate them entirely, and it is too dangerous for the Imperial craftsmen to travel. The army is shortly dispatched to do just that. 

Another Imperial edict arrives, ordering Mara to leave the service of the Fulcairns and serve the Empire with her magic instead.

A rider arrives bearing an invite from the archduke of Boeruine himself. The Fulcairns leave for Boeruine. They are greeted after the long journey by their ally Tashairah, who helped orchestrate the meeting. The Archduke himself is an impressive man. He states he does not care who rules Taeghas, but if he helps them gain control of Taeghas, they will support him in his fight to take the Iron Throne from Darien Avan. He then asks them to submit to a geass forbidding them from turning on him.

After some deliberation, they agree to the geass, and swear allegiance to the Archduke and his sorceress, the Dragon, who is revealed as Darien Avan's daughter. 

SESSION 19 RECAP

The Fulcairns receive a message from Emperor Avan himself-- a summons to the Imperial City. Before leaving, Merrec wishes them each a fond farewell and thanks them for their contributions to the House.

The three travel to the Imperial City and are summoned before the Emperor. Emperor Avan asks them the specifics of the situation with the Duenes; they relay events and state they have installed Caern of Redstone as regent until Niela Duene comes of age. Emperor Avan introduces Thaliere, a member of his Dragon Knights who he plans to install as Count of Taeghas, and the Fulcairns pledge allegiance to her. He then gives Cathal the dire task of executing the delegates at Stormpoint who failed to maintain order while the province was without a Count. Cathal is horrified, but there is little that can be done.

The Fulcairns briefly meet with Mara's erstwhile Master, now court wizard to Avan, Harald Khorien. He appears gaunt and ill-used by the burdens of his new role. He grants them access to the Imperial libraries.

They go to the libraries to try and learn more of who erased the Fulcairns from history. They make several shocking discoveries-- Cathal's ancestor, Caedwyn Fulcairn, as well as Melehan himself, are implicated in some great and horrifying crime, and an elite order of soldiers known as the Dreelgair, the Mage Hunters, were dispatched into Taeghas, presumably to bring them to justice, at the command of a man named Vordhuine of Medoere. Reynhild researches the laws of magic at the time and discovers that no school of magic was illegal during that era, therefore the crime was not likely to be magical in nature, nor related to Melehan's sobriquet (the Blood Magus).

Determined to try and save the delegates from their draconian punishment, Reynhild writes Leandra and requests she discreetly spread rumours around Stormpoint that Avan is furious at the delegates.

The Fulcairns sail to Stormpoint. Upon arriving, Cathal attempts to gather the heads of the other Houses to try and persuade them to plead for clemency for the delegates. Blaede Sloere is as shocked as he is, and Gaelin Isilvaere tries to stop him from antagonizing the other heads of the houses, but he garners no support from any corner.

The execution proceeds. Reynhild and Dolan, sensing Cathal is about to do something rash, try and convince him to carry out the Emperor's orders without incident. Cathal takes the stage and angrily accuses the other heads of the Houses, as well as himself, and the delegates, of having failed the people of Taeghas. The Dragon Knights begin to advance on the stage, so he beheads the delegates as per his orders. He leaves, as Thaliere glowers behind him.

The Fulcairns somberly ride home, only to be greeted by yet another tragedy at Fulcairn Keep-- the elderly Merrec has died. They hold a funeral. Cathal is nowhere to be found; Reynhild, after drinking uncharacteristically heavily, attempts to discover a human side to Melehan, and only partly succeeds, but then finds Mara and the two drunkenly affirm their trust, friendship, and solidarity.