Uktar.
The final month of Harvest. In two days begins the Festival of the Moon, and in three, Nightal, the final month of the year and the dawn of winter...
Two great adventurers, returning from a near-month of hunt, crest the final ridge between the hilly tundra of the Cold Lands and the fallen leaves of the wooded Dales. Andrew Cord has spent the hours contemplating the strange feathers of a winged creature whose nest they found in a mulberry bush a fortnight ago. No eggs were found, nor was the former owner of the feathers, however the nest was obviously recently constructed as the mud was still soft. Strange indeed, for the feathers obviously appear to be those not of a flightless bird, but almost those of a griffon, only much, much smaller. . . "Perhaps my library at the inn will have some note of this unusual fowl", he ponders silently.
His accomplice, the Avarael known as Laethral Armaet, has been aloft most of the journey home. Not that Laethral dislikes riding, but he knows that in town, even a moderately accepting town such as Shadowdale, he won't have much call to exercise his ailerons, and this is as good a time as any to stretch his muscles and enjoy the lift of the late autumn breezes.
The mainroad of Shadowdale, though still a couple furlongs away, can be seen to be surprisingly bare. You had expected your arrival to coincide with the townsfolk preparing for Moonfest and the Ritual of Rememberance. Stranger still is the fact that no smoke rises from the farmhouse chimneys. Though it has been a mild autumn, the evenings in town certainly warrant some sort of warmth. Even the Old Skull inn shows only a slight wisp of hot ash rising from its smokestack...
Laethral Armaet looks down at the lands below. Enjoying the feel of the late autumn breeze flowing through the ebon feathers and against his skin. He has left his companion respectfully to himself understanding the other's way of private contemplation. Still, he too wonders at the strange feathers that were found in the nest, yet they were nothing like anything he had seen before. His mind then wanders to anticipation of reaching Shadowdale and the coming of the Fest. A sense of peace overcomes him. He looks forward to the season ahead and the celebration of the goddess.
As his strange violet eyes scan the outlying lands of the village, an unsettled feeling washes over him. Something is not right. Where there should be an abundance of people readying themselves, coming into the village for the festival, all appears quiet. . . .vacant. This is very troubling to him and the winged elf swoops down to land a short distance in front of Cord's horse. Facing the human, he holds up one hand to his friend to warn him that something is amiss and looks over his shoulder to the road ahead. His first instinct is to ask his friend to wait while he flies to one of the farm houses to investigate, but Cord and he had always acted together.
"Something is not right." he says to his companion in a loud whisper, still holding up his hand and listening for any out of the ordinary sounds or lack of sound. "There is no activity in Shadowdale . . .it appears deserted. There are no fires warming the hearths of the cottages, except for a dying fire from one of the Inns."
Laethral pauses, continuing to listen and lowers his arm. His senses are heightened in his caution and he looks back toward Andrew Cord. "Even the farm houses in the surrounding lands have no fires lit. Would it be wise to go to one of them first and see what is there? I do not get a good feeling from this." He pauses, awaiting his friend's response.
Meanwhile, Cord has been riding quietly through the late autumn day, not paying particular attention to the familiar road, but instead allowing the horse to pick it's own pace and way. From time to time he would look skyward to verify that Laethral was still matching him. Obviously his winged friend could make much better time than he himself, and Cord had suggested that he go ahead to town, but Laethral insisted that it wasn't necessary and that there was no rush to arrive home. One thing was certain, travelling with a flying companion left lots of quiet time during the trip, even if it did mean an extra horse for Cord tend.
Cord listens to Laethral after he lands in front of him. "I thought something seemed out of place, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Although the lack of smoke is odd, at least it eliminates an open attack on the town. I've seen enough of those to know that they create a lot of extra fire and smoke." Thinking for a moment, "Your suggestion seems sound. There should be a farm close by, lets check that out before we enter the main town. Hopefully there is just some preparation for the celebration which has most of the town busy."
Although Cord had said it, both he and Laethral know that the Mage is not the optimistic type. Bad situations just seemed to follow the spellcaster around and he had actually begun to think that it was about time for something to occur. Opening his saddle bags, Cord pulls out a brace of throwing knives and a short sword and begins strapping them on. He had not felt the need to wear his weapons through most of the trip, but now it seemed a prudent precaution.
"Do you intend to remain air born or are you going to approach on foot with me?"
Laethral looks again from his companion and back over his shoulder at the road ahead. He then turns back to the half elf. With his usual serious countenance, the corners of his mouth turn up slightly in an almost smile at Cord's question. Not believing in putting distance between them in what could be a threatening situation, he does not think it wise as immediate assistance may be required. "No, my friend. I will remain upon the ground."
He pauses, looking around and still listening for any out of the ordinary sounds, his senses heightened and aware. He points in the direction of the nearest dwelling that he has seen from the air. "I believe the nearest farm house is over that way."
Going toward his mount, he unteathers the beast from the back of the Cord's horse and swings himself easily up onto it's bare back. Quietly he says a prayer to the goddess for their safety and ability to meet any obstacle they may encounter. He prods the horse into motion, ahead of the horse his friend rides and moves in the direction of the nearest cottage.
The pair on horseback cautiously follow the trail southward, joining the mainroad and following it in toward town. To the right is the first farm in town, belonging to Silas Standard. Though Silas and his family are not well-known to the adventurers, it is unusual for a farmer not to be seen in his fields or in the streets this closely to Moonfest.
As the riders approach the farmhouse, they see no cattle or sheep grazing, no farmhands reaping the grain, no movement whatsoever. Nearing the farmhouse (set back from the mainroad a bit) they see that the door is closed, as are the front window shutters.
Laethral quietly dismounts his steed, all the while listening intently for any sign of life... or trouble. Apporaching the door, he knocks. No answer. He gently swings the old maple door open and peers inside, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. No one is home. The hearth shows a kettle hanging in the cold unused fireplace, a ladle handle protruding from within. The dining table is set but no food has been laid out, and laying across a chair by the fireplace is a quilt, half finished with a sewing kit on the floor nearby. There are no indications of any intrusion. The winged-one stands in the doorway pondering the setting...
Cord remains on horse back as Laethral examines the farm house. Slowly his eyes scan the nearby area for any signs of movement, both friendly and unfriendly. Keeping an eye on Laethral, Cord slowly guides his horse around the front of the farm house, allowing Cord a clear view of the side and back of the house. Guiding his horse back to the front door. Cord speaks quietly, almost as if he were afraid to disturb the unnatural quiet. "This is most unusual, and unsettling... I have never seen anyone leave so completely... there isn't even a cat or dog to be seen. If they had left in haste they would surely have missed something, a stray cat or dog. If someone had attacked they would also have surely missed some insignificant animal or left some trace of struggle."
The young man gazes off into the distance... Laethral instantly recognizes the look of deep thought he has seen on his friend's face many times before. Cord continues after a moment, "I can only think of one thing which could be this quick and this thorough... magic." Almost as an after thought, Cord adds, "The strength of a spell required to perform this task would truly be awesome. I think we should move on to the inn. Perhaps there we shall find some clue as to what has occurred here."
The winged elf stands silently in the center of the room. Upon hearing Cord speak, he breaks out of what is almost a trance. "But what kind of magic could do such a thing?"
Laethral's expression is one of concern and contemplation. He expands his large wings once and retracts them again as he looks around the room, examining the floor for any footprints that seem odd to him. He then goes over to the kettle and peers inside. He gives the room closer investigation and scrutiny, examining anything that he thinks may be amiss. He then looks up at Cord and nods at him solemnly. Not finding anything, Laethral follows his companion outside. Again, he murmurs a prayer to the goddess that nothing truly bad has happened to the people who dwelt within or from any of the other empty places they may encounter.
Slowly, he mounts the horse and again nods at Cord in agreement. In his heart, he hopes that they will find some sign of life within the village or that maybe they will find everyone gathered together. Something tells him, however, that this may not be the case. There is a sinking feeling within his gut, yet as he rides toward Shadowdale, there is no hint of this upon his face. His features, finely chiseled, remain proud and do not reveal the doubts that seek to force their way into his mind.
As the two riders continue toward the center of town, their eyes scan the farmhouses for any signs of activity but find none. Even the familiar peal of the blacksmith's hammer is silent.
Taking the right branch of the main road, passing the old well, the men near by the stables. The riders are somewhat suprised to see Bardag Shultu, the Head StableMaster. He's grooming a mare just outside the open doors of the stable. He glances up, nods to acknowledge the riders, and continues brushing the horse with soapy water.
The 'well road' joins the 'common road' at the 'meeting post' about ten meters ahead. The Inn can be seen on the other side of the stables (on the common road). The Inn is quiet from the outside but does still have a wisp of smoke rising from a chimney. Continuing along to the common road which passes through town, the riders see the front door of the Inn. It's closed, and the shutters are closed as well. Usually the aroma of roast pork or fruit pies fill the air here, but not today...
Listening to Laethral's question about magic, "I'm not sure, but magic is capable of many things. I have read of great and tragic events caused by the misuse of magical powers. But anything I say would be only guesses. Let us go to town and investigate further before we invent possible answers."
Riding into town, Cord remains in deep thought. Spotting Bardag, Cord seems even more concerned. Leaning over to Laethral he speaks softly. "Well this makes things even more interesting. Bardag seems very calm considering that everyone else is gone. Perhaps there was no foul play involved after all. Since our options seem limited I suggest we question the only witness available and then go check out the inn. What do you think?"
Cord waits for Laethral's response before continuing with any actions.
Laethral nods at Bardag as the two of them ride into town. Cord's tone of concern is mirrored in his own thoughts. There is something unsettling to him about the stablekeep's calm appearance. He is quite in agreement with the half elf's suggestion and as he rides past, his eyes follow the man tending
the horses. In low tones, he whispers back. "I know what you mean. But perhaps he is under some sort of spell. This all seems so unnatural to me; not like the town we have come to know."
Again the sinking feeling of dread settles within him. This just does not seem right. How could the whole village be so deserted, especially with the coming of the festival? The peculiar feeling atmosphere and lack of preparation for the festival does nothing to ease his mind. He looks at Cord with his strange eyes and solemn face. "Let us go speak with Bardag."
He turns his horse around, and rides toward the stablekeep. "Well met Bardag." he calls out in a strong, steady voice. "We have travelled long days to bring our bounty back into Shadowdale. Strange, but no one seems to be around to ready for the great festival of Remembrance."
The Stablemaster turns with a familiar smile and calls back, "Ah, Hail friends, and well met." Dropping the brush into the bucket of frothy water, he walks wipes his hands on his apron and walks
over to you.
Eyeing the game-meat on the horses he replies, "It appears your hunt was well founded. Jhaele will be most appreciative. Perhaps this bit of good news will lift her spirits." He pauses a moment as if deep in contemplation. "Hmm, the festival", he mumbles softly, then looks Laethral in the eye. "If we be to have a festival, we have to be rid of these damned troubles we be havin'."
His accent becomes thick showing the concern in his voice, and he catches himself. Slowly, more calmly, he continues, "Jhaele will want to get your game cured and cellared soon. She's inside probably warming the bricks. I'd suggest you speak with her before goin' up and bothering Mourngrym. He's had more than enough questioned asked, and he knows even less about this
scarecrow than we do."
He pauses again, then says with a nod, "Jhaele will fill you in as best can be. And festival or no, the stables need working, so I'd best be getting on." He nods again, and turns back to his chores.
Listening intently to the new information, Cord glances toward the inn. As the stable master finishes, "Thank you for the information." Glancing at Laethral, Cord shrugs his shoulders once and then begins to guide his horse in the direction of the inn. After they have left the immediate area of the stable Cord speaks quietly to his friend. "Things are very strange here. I guess the good news is that at least there is someone here to inform us about what has been happening. Hopefully Jhaele will have some useful information."
Glancing over his shoulder at the stable, Cord still wonders how someone could simply continue his normal activities in the midst of such events. As they reach the inn, Cord ties his horse to an available post. Waiting for Laethral, he enters the inn and begins looking for Jhaele.
The winged elf stares at Bardag for a moment, taking in the Stablemaster's words. A small bit of relief washes over him for the simple fact that the man still continues his work. *Perhaps the people of the village had not been magically whisked away.* he thinks hopefully. A frown crosses his face, however as he contemplates the implications of Bardag's words. "I hope there are still some around who can make use of our goods." he says quietly, raising an eyebrow at the man in speculation. "Very well then."
Laethral guides his horse to follow Cord in his approach of the Inn. His hand rests upon the beast's mane as his eyes search the Weregund's place and the Wood worker's establishment. He leans in, as the half elf speaks, the frown of contemplation still prevalent upon his face. "Yes, this is true. At least we will find out something . . and that Bardag seemed upset, but not in a state of panic. Perhaps this is a situation that can be remedied in some way."
The winged elf grows quiet again as they approach the Inn and dismounts. He follows suit in tying the beast to an available post. As Cord goes into the Inn, Laethral walks up to the front door as well. He follows his companion and enters the common room, looking around as he does so. "Jaele! We have returned!" he calls out. He greets her normally, his expression solemn.
Within the inn the mood is somber and subdued. The local 'regulars' are no where to be seen and the few travelers and merchants strewn around are basically just staring into their drinks. Jhaele sets a couple steins and a handful of jerky at your usual end of the bar. She doesn't say a word or even flash a smile. She just makes brief eye contact and returns to wiping tables. You do realize that it's quite unusual for Jhaele to be so distracted. "Brynn", she calls out without looking up. "The boys are back with yer mounts."
From up the stairs you hear the sound of bootsteps, and see the familiar shape of your Stablemaster descend. "Welcome home friends!" he calls before even reaching the bottom. "Well again, and how is the bounty?" He greets you face to face, elbow bent and palm forward in traditional human fashion.
"Come," he says stepping past toward the doorway, "let us get the horses back to the stables. Oh, but wait," he pauses looking almost embarrassed. "here, eat first. It's been a long ride I gather, from the dust on your trousers. Jhaele has a kettle of pork roast in back. Only lukewarm, what with no smoke allowed and all, but it'll still fill your bellies."
He turns away and starts for the kitchen...
Cord carefully takes in the interior of the inn, noting where each of the patrons were seated and noting any unfamiliar faces. Cord was already familiar with the layout of the building, so he skipped his normal scan for available doors and windows. He did however automatically check each main entrance to see if there were any unusual obstructions. Cord's life had been full of quick escapes and with everything going on this town didn't feel as safe as it had in the past.
Whispering to Laethral as they cross the threshold, "Actually better then I had hoped. I was afraid this room would be completely vacant." Cord walks up to the bar and takes a long drink from his stein as Jhaele calls for Brynn, taking a second as Brynn comes down the stairs. Gripping Brynn's hand firmly, Cord responds to the man's casual comments, "The hunt was good, but a night in a soft bed will be most welcome. Anything from Jhaele's kitchen will be most welcome after a month of my own cooking." As Brynn turns to go, Cord adds, "Perhaps you and Jhaele could fill us in about what is going on here while we eat."
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