Tales of the Ironlands

Kalyra Sophisdottir

Episode 12: Bandits and Braggarts

Recap

Last time, on Tales of the Ironlands, Kalyra and Einari left Peilinham and headed for Eidynholt, where Kalyra intends to try speaking with the spirit of Halfdan Groasson.

Along the way, they stopped in the town of Orvindal, where they were questioned by a priestess of Lachliss the Sage before being admitted. She granted them permission to enter only if they agreed to deliver a message to her colleague Thorvaldr in Eidynholt. They agreed.

In the morning, the suspicious villagers of Orvindal refused to sell Kalyra any supplies; but at the same time must have been watching her closely, for once she left the town positively buzzed: Kalyra’s strange eyes and choice of traveling companion inspired endless gossip.

Shortly before reaching Eidynholt, Kalyra and Einari were waylaid by four bandits, who demanded all of their worldly possessions as a “toll.” Kalyra declined this demand, and promptly trounced them. One of the bandits was killed; the others fled, in varying states of health. Einari was wounded in the fight, forcing them to camp immediately rather than proceed to Eidynholt. Fortunately, his wound was not severe, and given some careful tending and a night’s rest, he was able to move on the next day.

When they came to Eidynholt, the guards promptly arrested for banditry, and escorted them to the Jarl’s court to answer these charges. There, before the Jarl could even speak, one of his thanes rose and accused Kalyra and Einari of banditry — and that man was himself one of the bandits who had assaulted them.

Session Report

Kalyra blurts out “That wasn’t us! That was you! You tried to rob us!” Whereupon she is greeted by a roar from the assembled retainers of the Jarl. Everyone is talking, asking questions, shouting insults and generally raising a fuss, until the Jarl — a man with thin, graying hair held back by a golden circle — stands abruptly from his chair at the head table in the room and raises a hand for silence.

It spreads across the room. Once everyone has fallen quiet, he says “We will have order, here! Bregi, you’ve already made your accusation. We will have the details out of you momentarily. As for you,” and he looks at Kalyra and Einari, “Name yourselves. Who are you, and what has brought you to this place?”

Kalyra steps forward and says “I am Kalyra Sophisdottir. I have come to Eidynholt on a number of different errands. I need to deliver a message to Thorvaldr, a priest of Lachliss the Sage, and I intend to lay flowers in the niche of my grandparents.”

“Your grandparents are buried here?” says the that says the Jarl.

“Yes. My mother Sophi Enyasdottir was born and raised here, and moved away only when she became an adult.” There is a brief stir. The woman from the head table who was seated to the Jarl’s right gives a slight start at the name Sophi Enyasdottir, and glances upwards towards the Jarl standing beside her.

He seems to take no notice of this. “Sophi Enyasdottir ... this is a name that is known to us. And you are her daughter?”

“I am.”

“You look nothing like her,” says the Jarl after a long pause.

“I’m told I take after my father. I got the red hair from him. My mother trained me as a herbalist. She, I believe, learned at the knee of Halfdan Groasson here in Eidynholt.” There’s another brief stir as people recognize the name Halfdan Groasson.

The Jarl nods reluctantly. “Very well. Regardless, I would also like to know who you are.” And he points at Einari. “Why are you wearing that mask?”

“Greetings, Lord,” says Einari. “My name is Einari. I am an elf, formerly of the Skaren tribe of elves from the Deep Wilds. And as for why I am wearing a mask, why, my Lord, that is simply the manner of our people. All of us wear masks once we come of age.

“Hmm,” says the Jarl. He looks over to one side and raises an eyebrow towards an older gentleman — perhaps even older than the Jarl — who gives him a nod back. “I see. So it is not merely that you wish to hide your face from us? for fear of being recognized?” Trimmed a few words compared to the audio here because in retrospect they didn’t really make sense.

“No,” says Einari. “There is only one person this side of the Deep Wilds who has seen my face, and that is my friend Kalyra here. Mostly because she broke my nose.”

There is a brief rustle and some slight laughter. Kalyra colors slightly. The Jarl raises an eyebrow. “Broke your nose? And yet you call her friend?”

“Eh, she wasn’t really herself at the time. It’s a long story.”

“My Lord,” says Bregi.

“All right, Bregi,” says the Jarl. “Tell your story.”

“Thank you, my Lord. Yesterday I went hunting in the woods with three of my companions. There, as we were hunting, we were confronted by this woman and her masked friend, the elf. They demanded that we give them our money, our weapons and our clothing! When we refused, they fell upon us and fought us. My friend Jerrik was killed in the fight, and we were forced to flee. They didn’t get our stuff, but ... my Lord, I demand punishment for these criminals!”

“We shall see,” says the Jarl. “Now you,” he says, indicating Kalyra. “What is your version of these events?”

“Oh, my version is very similar,” says Kalyra, “Save that it was Bregi — if that is indeed your name — and his three friends who assaulted us. We were traveling on our way to Eidynholt. They confronted us on the road, told us that there was a toll, and when we asked what the toll was they demanded all of our worldly possessions. When we refused, they moved to attack us, no doubt thinking we would be easy pickings. In that they were sadly mistaken. It is true: one of them I killed. The other three I damaged in varying degrees: one man knocked unconscious, one man with a broken nose, and our dear friend Bregi here merely stunned.”

“And what did you do with Jerrik?” asks the Jarl.

“The dead one?” Kalyra asks.

“Yes.”

“Well, once I had finished treating the wound that my friend Einari suffered in the course of the fight,” and she indicates his bound and bandaged leg, “I went through his belongings and took a few coins, two apples and the four spears that I made them leave behind, as just recompense for having assaulted us.”

“Lies!” says Bregi.

“And how might I determine which of you two is telling the truth?” asks the Jarl.

“My Lord, how can you even consider that she might be telling the truth ... !” says Bregi “I, your loyal retainer, am well known for my honesty and forthrightness ...” And at that a man on the other side of the hallway lets out a loud laugh.

“Do you have something to say, Bard?” says the Jarl.

“Only, my Lord, that the only one who touts Bregi’s honesty is Bregi himself. He is well known to be a braggart and a bully.”

“Hmph!” says the Jarl. “The long history between you two is not unknown to me. For now, you are not a part of this conflict. Be silent.”

“Yes, my Lord,” says Bard, and settles down once again.

“Bregi,” says the Jarl.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“It seems strange to me that you think two people — an elf and this woman — would assault four men with boar spears. Surely the odds were in your favor in this fight? How is it that if they assaulted you, you did not trounce them?”

“The woman is a fierce fighter, my Lord,” says Bregi. “Indeed, she may even be said to be devilishly accomplished. Look at her eyes, My Lord! Do those look like the eyes of an honest woman?”

The Jarl turns his gaze to Kalyra who shuffles a little uncomfortably but meets his gaze. “You do have most peculiar eyes, young woman, says the Jarl. “What accounts for their strange appearance?”

“My Lord, I am what they call deathtouched.”

“Deathtouched?” he says. “And what does that mean?”

“It means that not long past, I ... died. In combat. I visited the Black Door; was on the verge of passing through it. And then the Black Lady spoke to me, and offered me a bargain: she let me return, resume my life, in exchange for a pledge of service to her.” There is much rustling and muttering amongst the crowd at this.

“And what did you agree to do for her?” says the Jarl.

“I do not see that it is relevant,” says Kalyra. “Yet I have nothing to hide. She demanded that I pluck a flower for her: one which grows in the Shattered Wastes, far beyond the Veiled Mountains.”

“If your task is to go to the Shattered Wastes,” says the Jarl, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m seeking information which will help me to get there. I have ... it’s a big task. It may be quite some time before I’m ready to embark upon the journey proper,” Kalyra says tiredly.

“Lies!” says Bregi. “Look at her spinning and twisting words.”

“You are such a foul-mouthed creature!” says Kalyra. “I demand satisfaction!” There is much rustling and muttering against this, but the Jarl holds up his hand and dies away again. He says “That seems as good a way to resolve this as another. Bregi, as you are the one who has been challenged, choice of weapon goes to you.”

Bregi smiles and cracks his knuckles. “Sword, my Lord.”

Kalyra laughs a little inwardly. The Jarl turns to her and says “Do you have a sword?”

“I do not, my Lord. Is there one I may borrow?”

“Mine!” says Bard, the man from across the room. He withdraws a well-made blade from his from a scabbard at his side and leans forward over the table, resting the blade on his forearm, the handle outwards.

“With your permission, my Lord?” says Kalyra, and the Jarl nods. Kalyra walks over to the left side of the banquet hall and accepts the blade from Bard.

“Give him what for. Watch out, he favors the right ...”

“Hush, Bard! This is not your fight,” says the Jarl. “Clear a space.” And a from the wings come forth the house servants, who pull the tables and benches backwards a little way to free up more space in the center of the hall.

Kalyra takes the sword and examines it. It seems well-made: the metal ripples with the twisting patterns of highly forged iron. She tests the balance — perhaps a little heavier than she’s used to, but nothing she can’t adapt to.

Bregi comes forth from his side of the table, calling for his sword as he does. One of the house servants comes running and hands it to him. He draws it from the scabbard.

“Heh heh,” says Bregi, smugly.

The two combatants face one another. The hall goes quiet. Draw the Circle: 4v5/6, miss. Bregi begins with initiative. In the forest Bregi was a troublesome combatant, even fighting in tandem with another bandit. But I think he’s tougher than that now. He’s had an opportunity to get her measure, and he’s fighting with the sword, which is a weapon he favors more than the spear. Marked him as a Dangerous opponent. Forgot to Pay the Price for the miss. Whoops.

Bregi and Kalyra face off against one another. The heat of the fire in the central pit roasts their sides. The Jarl stands at his table on the opposite side of the fire from them. There is sufficient room that they can maneuver without getting too close to the fire. The two of them take their swords and study one another.

Kalyra feels a little nervous. She’s never fought in front of a crowd of people before; and perhaps Bregi notices that, because all of a sudden he is in motion. Clash. 6v2/7, weak hit.

Bregi lunges forward, and Kalyra is almost unable to parry in time. In fact, she isn’t able to parry because he has faked her out. It looked as though he was coming in from the left with a long stroke, but at the last moment he flips the blade under hers and stabs at her shoulder with it. At the same time, however, she brings her sword up and jabs it into his leg. The two of them separate, each of them bleeding from heavy wounds, and circle one another. The hall has gone quiet now as everyone strains to see exactly what is going on. Took 2 harm, Endure Harm: 7v7/2. Also dealt 2 harm to Bregi for 4/10 progress.

“I see you’re better with a sword than a spear,” says Kalyra.

“Shut up!” snarls Bregi and he goes for her again. Face Danger +edge to dodge out of the way3v2/10, weak hit. -1 momentum to zero. She tries to dodge out of the way, but it does not work. He’s too quick for her. She manages to bring her blade up and pushes his aside, but she’s not able to get into an advantageous position

The two of them go back to circling one another for a moment. Kalyra says “I see you’re better when you work alone — does that come from practice in the long nights?” Secure an Advantage by angering him. Rolled +wits for this: 3v6/10. Miss.

Bregi laughs. “Maybe later I can show you how good I am in the night,” he says. Overconfident, Bregi moves in to strike at this foolish woman, but she dodges out of the way, spins around and brings the flat of her blade down on his wrist, cracking it and sending his sword flying. It skitters under the table and fetches up against the feet of the other retainers of the Jarl. Clash. 6v1/1: strong hit with a twist. The twist is that he lost his sword. Chose +1 harm for the strong hit, dealing 3 harm (6 progress), bringing the progress track to 10/10.

As Bregi turns around, having lost his sword and clutching his broken wrist, she brings the sword up to his throat and says “Yield, braggart!”

“The name’s Bregi,” he snarls. End the Fight: 10v8/6. After a moment he drops his eyes and nods.

“Yeah!!” says Bard from the far side, and the crowd breaks into all sorts of of excited chatter and discussion of the fight.

The Jarl lets it go on for a few moments until it starts to settle a little bit. Finally he holds up his hand again, and quiet falls. “The trial is concluded. Kalyra Sophisdottir has demonstrated that the charges against her were false. Bregi: for bearing false witness, you are exiled from my court for a period of three months. Think you well on what you have said and done here. At the end of the exile you may appear before me and humbly and ask my forgiveness for having trespassed against the laws of my land.”

“Yes, my Lord,” says Bregi, clutching his broken wrist and shooting a look full of venom at Kalyra. But he shuffles out. One of the other retainers has picked up the sword that Bregi dropped, and begins to offer it to him. The Jarl says “No. The sword belongs to the woman Kalyra Sophisdottir, by right conquest. Give it to her. And the scabbard.” Bregi bares his teeth in a snarl of hatred, and then he exits the hall forthwith.

Kalyra nods her thanks. “My thanks to you, my Lord.”

“Now, if we are done with this disturbance, I believe we were not yet concluded with dinner,” says the Jarl, taking a seat once again. “As for you, Kalyra Sophisdottir, you and your friend are free to go. Collect your sword, return Bard’s, and you may go.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” says Kalyra.

She returns Bard’s sword to him, and he takes it, saying “That did my heart good. Meet me later — tomorrow! — I would like to talk with you some more at that time.”

“Where shall we meet?” she says.

“My house.” He gives her directions to his house, which is located off a little side path just about halfway up the hill that leads to the Jarl’s palisade.

Kalyra, in possession of a sword once again, buckles it around herself and clutches at her shoulder, which is very painfully wounded. “Come on, Einari, let’s go. We need to find someplace to stay for the evening.”

The two of them depart the Jarl’s household. Orders have evidently been passed through to the guards, who let them go and return the spears that they had confiscated earlier. Einari hands in the stave that he had borrowed and takes his spear back. “Well, that was exciting,” he says.

“That’s not how I envisioned arriving at Eidynholt,” Kalyra says.

“Do you know where we could find lodging?” asks Einari.

“No idea,” she says. “Maybe I should’ve asked that Bard fellow if he could put us up for the night. He seemed pretty happy with this. Well, too late now ...” Asked the Oracle: where do they find a place to sleep? The options were: find a barn (1-24), camp outside the walls (25-49), find a public house like the on in Orvindal (50+). Oracle said: 83, there is a pub.

“Hey,” Kalyra says to one of the guards who is the giving the spears back. “We need some place to stay for the night. Is there someplace that could put us up?”

He says “Yeah, sure. Down towards the bottom of the hill. They call it the World’s End.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Damned if I know,” says the guard.

“All right. Thank you,” Kalyra says, and the two of them wearily walk back down the hill to a pub, which they discover is called the World’s End, as the guard promised. It has a sign outside which depicts a map of the Ironlands, only it has been torn in half and it looks like the rivers are cascading off into nothingness.

“That must be it: the World’s End pub. Come on,” Kalyra says. “Ow!” she says as they go inside, holding her shoulder.

Inside they find it well appointed. This is not just a public house, but is in fact a proper inn. There is a cheerful rather overweight woman with the dark blonde hair behind the bar, busily polishing a mug of lacquered clay. “Welcome to the World’s End,” she says. “Come on in, what can I do for you ... oh, you’re hurt! How did that happen?”

“I had a ... it’s a long story, Kalyra says. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it in short order.”

“Oh you can’t go and leave me hanging like that, my dear!” says the barkeep. “Come on, tell me!”

“I ... was accused of banditry — falsely, I might add! — and wound up fighting a duel against the man who accused me. In front of the Jarl.”

“Oooooooooh!” says the barkeep. “That’s juicy! Who was it? Who was it that accused you?”

Kalyra presses her lips together. “I don’t like ... I don’t like bearing witness against people.”

“Not even people who accuse you of banditry, love?” says the barkeep.

“Fine. It was a Bregi. I don’t know his full name; just Bregi.”

“Ooooh,” says the barkeep, who is an inveterate gossip it seems. “Well now, and how did the fight go?”

Kalyra laughs a bit and says “Well, he got me one good hit in the shoulder and then I broke his wrist for him and took his sword away.” She pats the sword on the side of her hip.

“Ooo ooo OOOO! So much ... oooo! I’ll bet Bregi is just stewing,” says the barkeep.

“Yes, he seemed pretty angry when I left. Is he going to give me trouble later?” says Kalyra.

“Huh.” The barkeep gets a little more serious and she says “I wouldn’t put it past him, honestly. Probably not within the bounds of the city. What did Jarl Trygveson say?”

“Bregi has been exiled for three months,” says Kalyra. “After which he is allowed to come back and beg for the Jarl’s forgiveness.”

“Oooh. You should be careful when you leave, dear,” says the barkeep. “That Bregi is a nasty piece of work: a bully and a braggart. Always has been.”

“Thanks, yeah. I got that,” says Kalyra. “Listen, we need some place to stay for the night. Can you put us up? Are there any pallets in the common room, maybe?”

“Of course, my dear,” says the barkeep. “I’m Tordis, by the way. Welcome to Eidynholt.” The two of them negotiate a price, which is covered by the coins that she took from Jerrik’s pouch.

They have a meal — there is in fact stew on the pot; or not so much stew, as a hearty soup, a sort of perpetual soup. One of those soups where the pot just lives permanently on the stove and they keep adding more ingredients and more liquid to it so that it’s just always there and ready. It’s thick; it’s hot; and it hits the spot.

After that Kalyra and Einari retreat to their pallets in the common room, which seems to be mostly empty this evening, and Kalyra sets about tending her wounds. Heal: 8v8/6, weak hit. Regained 2 health, -1 supply.

“Feels better,” she says, having bandaged her shoulder. “Let me take a look at your leg, Einari,” she says.

“All right.” Another heal check this time hoping for +1 spirit or momentum for treating an ally. 7v7/9, miss. Drat.

“I don’t think there’s anything more I can do for it,” she says, after having examined. “It’s healing up all right. Another couple of days and you’ll be just fine.”

“That’s pretty much what I figured,” he says.

“I’m exhausted,” Kalyra says. “I’m going to bed.”

“I’m going to go out and talk with that barkeep,” says Einari, “And to anyone else who happens to be out there. So many interesting people to see and meet!”

In the morning, Kalyra wakes feeling stiff and sore. She opens her gummy eyes and rolls over to discover that Einari must’ve come back at some point last night, as he’s occupying the next pallet over and snoring.

She rolls back onto her back and stares up at the beams of the ceiling. They’ve been painted with elaborate geometric designs all along the sides. It’s quite pretty, actually.

She stares at the ceiling for a while, and just wonders: How did I come here? Why am I doing all this? “... all because of that stupid boar,” she says aloud. Nobody seems to notice. “Nothing for it but to press forward,” she whispers to herself. Rest my momentum to +1.

After she has rested her for a while, she gets up and gets dressed. Einari is still asleep when Kalyra wanders out into the public areas of the inn. This early in the morning, it’s basically empty of customers, but she can smell breakfast cooking. “Oh, there you are love,” says the barkeep, Tordis. “Would you like some porridge with honey in it?”

“Yes, I’d like that a lot,” says Kalyra. And so she has breakfast — sweetened porridge.

“Now I imagine that fighting a duel with Bregi wasn’t what brought you here. And what strange eyes you have, my dear! Won’t you tell me about them?”

“UGH!” says Kalyra and flops backwards in her chair. “I am so tired of telling people about the stupid ... it’s just a thing, all right?”

“No need to snap at me, my dear,” says Tordis. “If you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to.” But she’s clearly been offended.

“I’m sorry,” Kalyra says. “I’m not used to it yet.” But she doesn’t offer to tell the woman about her bargain.

“It’s all right, love. I imagine with eyes like that you get that sort of question quite a lot.”

“I do now,” she says. “But aside from that, what brought you to Eidynholt? I’m sure you didn’t come just to fight a duel with Bregi.”

“No,” says Kalyra. “I have a couple of tasks here, actually. One is I need to deliver a message to a priest of Lachliss named Thorvaldr.”

“Oh, Thorvaldr, yes. You can find his house halfway up the hill on the right, second close past the maple,” says Tordis. “Look for the little cottage with the three chickens clucking in the fenced in yard.”

“Three chickens, fenced in yard. Got it, thanks,” says Kalyra.

“And what else? You said you had other errands.”

“Well, I’m ... my mother asked me to lay some flowers in my grandparents niche in the catacombs,” says Kalyra.

“Ooooo, so your mother’s from here is she?” says Tordis. “Who was she then?”

“Sophi Enyasdottir,” says Kalyra. “She grew up here — left when she became a young woman.”

“Why’d she leave?”

“I don’t know,” says Kalyra in faint surprise. “Actually I’m not sure she’s ever told me why she left Eidynholt. Anyway, I was coming here, so she asked if I could lay some flowers in their niche.”

“Well, the catacombs are a ways outside of town, love,” says the barkeep. “On the southeast side. It’s about a 15 minute walk outside the bounds of the palisade.”

“Mother said there would be a priestess there who tends it.”

“Oh, aye,” says Tordis. “Yes, there is a an acolyte of Miršanu who watches the catacombs.”

Kalyra nods. “Where can I find this acolyte?”

“Oh, she stays out there,” says Tordis. “Has a little house out by the entryway. It’s easy enough to find,” and she gives directions to the catacombs to Kalyra.

Around about this time, Einari stumbles into the into the common room of the inn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Forgot about the mask. Guess he must have stuck his fingers up under it. It must be terribly inconvenient to wear a mask all the time.

“Good morning,” he says, yawning.

“Good morning, Einari,” says Kalyra. “Care to join me for breakfast?”

“Yes!” he says.

“How do you eat with that mask on?” says Tordis.

“Oh,” he says, “Well ...” and he demonstrates. He just sort of pushes it just a little way up on his forehead to free up his mouth a little bit so that he can spoon things into it. Kalyra, of course, is already familiar with this procedure, having spent some time in an elven village.

“Why are you wearing a mask in the first place?”

“Inquisitive, aren’t you?” says Einari around a mouthful of porridge.

“Oh, well, it passes the time!” says Tordis.

Kalyra takes pity on Einari, who clearly just wants to eat his porridge, and says “Einari comes from a clan of elves in the Deep Wilds, and it is the custom of their people that grown-ups among them wear masks. They only show their faces to family and lovers. Children don’t wear masks, though,” she adds.

“Ooo! And have you been to there? Have you seen them?” asks Tordis.

“Yes,” says Kalyra. “I was there for a few days.”

“OOO!” says Tordis, and launches into a torrent of questions about how elves live. Kalyra starts feeling quite desperate to get away from this exceptionally curious woman. She answers as best she can, and satisfies Tordis’ curiosity — insofar as it is possible to satisfy an endless thirst.

Finally she says, after she notices that Einari has finished his porridge, “We have things to do, Tordis. Thank you very much for the food and lodging. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here but it’s likely to be at least one more night, depending on how long these things take.”

“All right then, love,” says Tordis “Go on! Be about your business.” And she takes their two empty bowls and clears them away, bustling towards the kitchen cheerfully. Clearly she is an excellent mood for having gotten some really interesting gossip from out of town — and also in town.

“Well,” says Einari as they emerge from the World’s End pub, “What first?”

“Uh ...” says Kalyra. “Well, we have to deliver the message Thorvaldr. That fellow Bard who lent me his sword last night asked to see me at his place, and I need to go to the catacombs. Let’s start with Thorvaldr. It seems like the easiest thing. Tordis gave me directions. This way.”

The two of them make their way uphill towards the center of town, and at the second right after the large maple tree Kalyra takes a right and makes her way down the close that’s there. It’s a narrow path. Off to one side she discovers a small wattle-and-daub cottage, much like the one that she grew up in, with a small fenced-in yard where three chickens are pecking and scratching in the dirt.

“That’s the place,” she says. She approaches the door and knocks on it.

There’s a muttering and rumbling from inside. “One moment!” They stand there waiting awkwardly for a few more moments. Finally the door opens, and reveals the older man that the Jarl had looked at yesterday evening. “Ah! I thought you might be showing up,” he says. “You said you had a message for me.”

“Oh! Yes, I do,” says Kalyra. Then she rummages around in her pack and extracts the scroll that Sigrun had given her — still bound, still sealed with black wax. She hands it to him.

“There you are. Thank you!” And then she turns to go.

“One moment,” says Thorvaldr “Let me get you something for your trouble.”

She pauses for a moment while he while he goes back inside, and they hear a series of clatters and rattles and him muttering to himself “Where did I put that? No ... nope ... not there ...’ A moment later he emerges clutching a small pouch and pulls out a silver coin, which she presents to her. “Thanks! Goodbye,” says Kalyra.

Thorvaldr says “Thank you for carrying the message!” And then he closes the door and they go on their way.

“I kind of wonder what was in that message,” Einari says.

Kalyra says “I don’t. We have enough entanglements as it is.”

“Where now?” says Einari. “This Bard fellow, or off to the catacombs?”

“Well, we’re in town. Also I kind of wonder if Bregi might be waiting for us to leave the town,” she says. “So let’s go talk with Bard first.”

Making their way to the place Bard had described to her the previous evening in the Jarl’s hall, she finds a much larger and more sophisticated dwelling. It has a porch. The beams are made of yellowed pine which has been sealed with yellowy lacquer. It’s got some rather nice carvings above the door. She knocks on it, and a young blonde woman with the rosy red cheeks who is in the advanced stages of pregnancy opens the door and says “Yes? May I help you?”

“Good morning, madame,” says. Kalyra “My name is Kalyra Sophisdottir. Is Bard around? He wanted to speak with me.”

The woman’s face goes quiet and closed for a moment. She looks at Kalyra guardedly and says, “What about?”

“I don’t know. He lent me his sword so I could fight that Bregi guy last night.”

“You fought Bregi last night?” asks the woman.

“Uh, yes!” says Kalyra. “And won!” She pats Bregi’s sword there on her hip.

“Hmm. Well, that’s probably what he wants to talk to you about, then. The two have hated each other since they were children. Come on in.” And she brings Kalyra and Einari into their house sets them at a table which is just inside.

“One moment. He’s still abed.” She climbs up a set of stairs so steep that they might actually be a ladder to a loft up above, and the two of them can hear from up there the young woman shaking Bard awake. They politely study their fingernails and look out the window until Bard comes down.

“Ah! You’re up and about early,” he says.

“Well, I have things to do,” says Kalyra.

“I just wanted to thank you for finally putting that ass Bregi in his place.”

“I take it you two don’t like one another very much?”

“Oh, can’t stand the man! He’s been a braggart and a bully since we were children. I hate him.”

“Do you think I’m going to need to watch my back when I leave here?” Kalyra says cautiously

Without even a moment’s hesitation, he says “Yes. Bregi is not one to take an insult like that lying down. That said, it looked to me as though you broke his wrist pretty thoroughly, and that’ll be a while healing. So you may have a grace period.”

“Wonderful,” says Kalyra sourly. “I guess I should finish my business quickly and go ... wherever I have to next.”

“It seems a strange sort of task you are on,” says Bard, thoughtfully.

“Well yes. I suppose,” says Kalyra.

“Have you delivered your message to Thorvaldr? I can give you directions to his house ...”

“Yes, we just came from there,” says Kalyra.

“Hmm! Don’t waste any time at all, do you? Well, thank you again for the wonderful experience of seeing Bregi bested. You handled that sword quite well.”

“Uh, yes. My father taught me sword-work. I didn’t have one when I came, but it worked out well! I think he must’ve expected me not to know how to use one.”

“Clearly,” says Bard. “Well listen, it was worth its weight in gold to see that happen and I would like to reward you for it. So here.” He pulls out of the pocket of his jerkin a gold coin, which he hands to her.

“Oh, there’s really no need,” she says.

“I insist! It was worth it, completely!”

“Well, thank you very much,” says Kalyra. “All right, we have things to do. Thank you for the loan of your sword last night.”

“Anytime,” he says, and the two of them make their farewells.

“Hmm. Seemed like a nice fellow,” says Einari as they are they walk out again. He is still favoring his leg slightly, but it’s recovering well.

“Well, I suppose the next stop is the catacombs,” says Kalyra.

Following the instructions that Tordis gave them, the two of them make their way to the southeast of the village. There they find a path marked with a standing stone. “Like the cromlech stones,” says the Einari, looking at it. “Only no carvings.”

Kalyra looks at the stone, which is a roughly rectangular standing stone marking the beginning of the path. She reaches out and touches it; then shakes her head and says “It’s just a rock. The cromlech stones sing when you touch them. This one’s ... empty.”

The two of them follow the path outside. Asked the Oracle: will they get ambushed by Bregi and his allies now or later? 25 or lower means now. The Oracle said: 77, later.

They are alert as they pass along the path, but soon find their way to a small clearing in the forested areas of this land, at the base of the hill that leads up to Eidynholt. It lies directly between a long narrow lake and the base of the hill, and there is a small cottage there.

Kalyra walks up to the door of the cottage and knocks on it. After a moment the door creaks open, and a rather old woman all dressed in black stands there. “May I help you?” she says.

“I ... yes, I hope so. My name is Kalyra Sophisdottir and ...”

“You are deathtouched!” says the woman.

“I ... yes. Yes, I am,” says Kalyra.

“Please, come in,” says the woman. “I am Dagny Olgasdottir, the caretaker of this catacomb. Enter, honored one.”

Slightly creeped out, Kalyra steps into the house.

“How may I assist you?” says Dagny.

“Well, I have two tasks,” says Kalyra. “The first — my mother, Sophi Enyasdottir, has asked me to lay a flower in the niche where her two parents are buried.”

“I see,” says Dagny. “I can show you this.”

“Good,” says Kalyra.

“And the other task?” asks Dagny.

“I need to speak with the spirit of Halfdan Groasson, dead these 30 years. He can answer a question that I need answered.”

“Ahh. That is more difficult,” says Dagny.

“I have spoken with the dead before.”

“Have you?” says Dagny.

“Yes. I spoke with an elven spirit in an abandoned village, and before that with the spirits of three elves that I slew in combat, and before that — briefly — with the spirit of an elf who rose as a Hollow.”

“Ah. Well, I think you may find that so far you have only spoken to spirits who have come back of their own accord. Halfdan Groasson, I believe, is long past the Black Door. Speaking to him will not be nearly so easy.”

Kalyra sighs unhappily. “Can it be done?”

“Oh yes,” says Dagny. “I can show you how to do this thing. But it will take time; and there is something I wish you to do in exchange.”

“Of course,” says Kalyra politely. Inwardly she is thinking “Of course!” in a distinctly crabby tone. “What is it you need?” Asked the Oracle: what does Dagny need? Rolled on theme: 55, disease.

Dagny says “There are certain herbs that I need to gather. They help me with a disease that I have suffered from for many years, alleviating its symptoms a little. However, these days I cannot easily get way to harvest them. Bring me a supply of these, and we can begin your training, which may take some time.”

“Oh! Well, as it happens I am a somewhat accomplished herbalist,” says Kalyra. “Harvesting herbs and plants is something I’m well familiar with. What sort of plant do you need?”

“I do not think you have encountered this sort of plant before,” says Dagny.

“Oh? Well ... what is it?”

“The herb that I need grows in the center of a glade south of here. It is a blossom, purple, rimmed with black around the edges and the brightest yellow pollen in the center. It’s called Night’s Ease, and is used for ... dulling pain. It is most potent; a little bit goes a great, long way. But even so, my supplies are running quite low.”

“Why do I think it’s not going to be as easy as walking south and cutting some plants?” asks Kalyra.

“Oh, you are perceptive, daughter,” says Dagny. “The clearing is guarded.” Spent some time studying the bestiary, and decided it was either Beast or Horror, with Beast more likely. Asked the Oracle: is it a Horror (1-25) or a Beast (26+)? The Oracle said: 15. It’s a Horror. Looked over the entries and picked Bonewalker (1-40), Chimera (41-80), or Iron Revenant (81+) and asked the Oracle which it was. the Oracle said: 28, Bonewalker.

“The clearing was once a settlement of our people. But they fell to a disease ... the same disease that plagues me. They had discovered a palliative, based on the flowers that grew in the spot. Unfortunately they did not discover it in time, and almost all of them perished. I am the last survivor of that settlement myself. For many years I tended a small patch of Night’s Ease that I brought with me. But they were killed in a hard frost this past winter. The only place I know to get more is the ruins of that settlement. Unfortunately it is now haunted by the corpses of those who fell there. They shamble, and walk. However, I believe you may be able to retrieve what I need.”

“Do I have any other option?” Kalyra asks.

“This is the price that I am demanding,” says Dagny.

“All right,” Kalyra says. She draws her new sword — Bregi’s sword. She holds it to her chest. “I swear an Iron Vow on this iron that I won in honorable combat: I shall go to the ruined settlement ... what was it called?”

“Elenmir,” says Dagny. “It was called Elenmir.”

“I swear on this iron that I won in honorable combat: I shall go to the ruined settlement of Elenmir, there to harvest Night’s Ease and bring it for Dagny.” Swear an Iron Vow: 6v3/3. +2 momentum. Marked it as Dangerous. Did not give myself a twist for the doubles, but I may give her an advantage at some point during the quest to reflect that.

“How far is it to Elenmir?”

“Not terribly. About half a day’s travel further south of here. I can give you directions,” says Dagny. “Although there is no longer really a road. The path that once existed has been overgrown. Still, I think you should be able to find it if you look carefully.” And she gives directions to the two of them.

“All right,” says Kalyra. “There’s no time like the present! We have our gear; we know where we’re going. We’ll come back with the Night’s Ease that you need.”

“Very good,” says Dagny. “I await your return with interest.”

Kalyra and Einari emerge from the cottage. Walking a little ways further off from it, towards the south, Kalyra says “Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?”

Einari laughs. “Not for you, it seems,” says Einari.

“I wonder,” says Kalyra. “I think I need to try my keen ritual with this new sword. I want to have it ready to go if there are ... things to fight. Or if our good friend Bregi decides to finish things, I want to be ready.”

Bregi shudders a bit. “Suit yourself. I’ll just wait over hear.” He steps a little ways away.

Kalyra draws her new sword. It is a tolerably decent blade. It looks serviceable. It hasn’t been kept quite as sharp as she might hope, and she notes with displeasure that there is a spot of rust along the blade. She wipes at it. “I’ll have to polish that out, later,” she says.

In the meantime she holds the sword blade to her chest, closes her eyes and hums, listening for the answering hum from any souls the sword has severed. Keen ritual, with +1 from deathtouched: 6+4 = 10 v2/3, strong hit. +1 momentum from Deathtouched to +4.

Kalyra hums, and the answer is immediate: this sword has been used to kill, and kill, and kill again. There are many, many souls singing in this blade. As she finishes, it hums slightly with a faint metallic hum, and she knows that it will cut more keenly than it had before. She sheathes it carefully.

“All done,” she says to Einari.

“All right,” he says. “Come on. She said it was about half a day’s travel. If we’re lucky, we can get there, do the thing, and come back today.”

“Yes,” agrees Kalyra. She glances back at the hut behind them. Why did she call me “daughter?” she wonders.

Then she turns her face to the south. and the two of them begin their journey to the lost settlement of Elenmir to harvest Night’s Ease for the dying priestess Dagny.