The Yule Log RPG

[Envinyatar]

Mori glanced briefly at his companion, the skin at his temples tightening; his eyes narrowed and one brow raised slightly. Stamo appeared not to have caught the glance. Instead he leaned forward, toward Birger, and studied him for a moment.

‘A serious question,’ he said, nodding his head at the youngster. Behind the boy's questioning look, it seemed almost that hope warred with fear. ‘And deserving of a serious answer.’ Mori’s grey eyes turned dark and though he feigned a certain casualness, his attention was riveted on how his companion might handle this.

‘What I think is that such a creature as prowls the outskirts of this village takes down his prey most by fear.’ His eyes flicked briefly to Wenda. ‘The battle against the shadow is over before the first strike falls when fear rides with you.’

There seemed a puzzled, disbelieving look on Birger’s face. ‘Not to say there shouldn’t be a healthy respect for this opponent. He is quite powerful. Quite.’ Stamo sat back looking for a moment into the distance, as if his gaze considered something beyond the room’s small space. ‘Still, I think that if a careful plan is put together, he can be slowed, as you say Birger . . . and you Master Andwise. And perhaps others here will lend their skills that he might be taken care of altogether.’ He nodded to where Old Goody had returned to her seat by the fire. ‘The Yule log burns bright now, as she said. The shadows that struck at its heart are fled. The light shines constant. The year will turn well this year, I think, for the Green Man. Hope is with us.’

Stamo’s eyes turned to Mara, who had been sitting quietly the while. ‘Tell us, Mistress Mara what do you see . . .

-----------------------------

As Stamo spoke, Mori ushered the owl to the far side of the room, their heads were bent together. The man sitting in a chair, the owl perched on the back of another.

‘My apologies, Master Owl,’ the man had begun. ‘I had forgotten the lessons of another companion. How fearless and how clever the smaller creatures can be in defense of their homes. Still, I would ask you let those who are the least able to defend themselves remain within the protection of the rear courtyard. Naught will pass in without my knowing and my leave.’

He grinned at the bird, who’d huffed his feathers at these words. ‘Others of the birds and beasts bear a great respect for you, is what I mean. And with your words and your spirit I can see you as some feathered chieftain who might marshal his troops with his zeal. And they would follow after you; some to their untimely deaths who should best have been left behind. Make them some small part of the effort against this foe, though. Let them have hope and a certain pride that their skills were put to good use.’

Mori glanced back to where Stamo and the others were talking, then, turned back to the Owl. ‘I think your ideas are excellent for the most part. Just make quite certain that none of your folk come close to this creature. They must be vigilant and very quick. None must try to engage him on their own. Working together is what will see you through, I think.’ He cocked his head toward Stamo. ‘And we will lend our aid as is needed and we can.’

The man stood up, offering the owl his cloaked arm. ‘Come, let’s go outside and speak with Tevildo . . .

[Folwren]

Berrick Andrail had sat opposite the two haflings. He silently held the steaming cup of tea in his hand as he listened intently to the owl and then the man’s replies. He turned his head and leaned slightly towards Madoc.

“This man knows the speech of the animals?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t exactly a question necessary to be answered, considering that the answer was evident, and yet Berrick’s wonder was greatly roused. He thought such an art had been lost. It had, at least, in his country. There was a short pause. “A wightish thing, your fainted brother said. Do I understand correctly. . .this thing. . .if it is a wight. . .can it not be killed? Surely by strength of arms it could be overcome and sent back to where it’s supposed to be.”

He had not heard the account given by Wenda, of the village and the dead. . .the corpses with the frozen look of terror etched in each and every one of their faces. Wide traveling had brought him into and through many adventures, but none with anything like this. Danger and fear he had overcome, but always with something mortal, something of flesh and blood. If this was different, he couldn’t be expected to know.

“Our brother seems to think so,” Madoc replied in answer to Berrick’s question. He nodded once again towards the hobbit who was off by the fire. Berrick looked around.

“I think I will go see what talk they hold now amongst themselves,” he said. “Thank you for the tea.” He offered a smile to the hobbit before turning and walking towards the hearth. He spoke to no one as he stopped at the edge of the circle formed by three women and the hobbit. He was content to listen. . .but at the time, no one was speaking.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo sat at the top of the old stone wall, glowering miserably at anyone who dared approach him. He was not in a very good mood. Snowy Owl had told all the animals to hide, but the cat was not going to listen to the prattlings of a pushy bird. He should just take off on his own, he reasoned, like the other cats in his party who had left the Inn a few hours before. He could race across the meadow into the thicket and leave this sorry scene behind. Tevildo knew enough of the ways of Wraiths that he felt confident in his ability to keep hidden from the shadowy nemesis that was terrorizing the countryside. Let the others manage on their own.

With that comforting thought, Tevildo settled in for a short snooze. Curling up so that he resembled a large white puffball, he nestled his head on his paws and wrapped his tail around his body. Soon his eyes were closed. Within a moment he was dreaming......

In his dream, there were the usual flashes of glory that he had earned as the hunter for the household of Melko so many years before. He saw himself curled up victoriously at the Dark Lord's feet while the latter bent down to stroke his head and speak kind words about Tevildo's ability to leap out and dismember any prey. He had been a great deal larger then, and the two-leggeds had no trouble understanding his speech. Such a pity, he thought, that the two-leggeds in this age were so blind and dumb.

Usually, the dream stopped at this point, and Tevildo awoke, feeling good about himself. But this time, it was different. The cat found himself walking down a large dark tunnel in the very lowest level of Melko's great fortress. It was not a place he cared to visit. There were usually screams and shrieks coming from behind the heavy stone doors, hideous reflections of an ugliness that even Tevildo preferred not to probe. Elves were taken down into these chambers. The cat did not know what happened to them but he had never seen any emerge alive. Still, these were Elves and their misfortune did not really concern him.

This time, one of the stone doors had been left open an inch or two. Tevildo could hear noises coming from inside the room, but these did not seem to be from Elves or Humans. Rather the dreadful shrieks and howls could only have come from a cat who is being pulled apart limb from limb or turned into a ball of flame. Too curious for his own good, Tevildo crept through the opening and hid behind a large barrell that someone had set down near the door.

Peering out from his hiding place, Tevildo saw the greatest of the Lord's wraiths sitting with a large cloth sack. His regular job was apparently done, and he was now stopping to relax. Inside the sack were ten kittens piteously meowing. One by one, the Wraith removed the animals from the sack and proceded to have his sport with them. Those images had embedded themselves on Tevildo's mind. One kitten lay broken and bleeding, his eyes separated from his head. Another had its tail cut off, still another had been set on fire, and a fourth lay disemboweled. By the time the Wraith finished with his play the only sound heard inside the chamber was that of his own raucous laughter.

At this point Tevildo could take no more. What a terrible waste of talent! Those kittens would have made fine hunters in just a little while. He wished he was large and fierce enough to make this murderer go up in smoke the same way that the Wraith had set the small grey kitten on fire.

Then Tevildo did a very foolish thing. He gathered all his courage and emerged from behind the barrell racing straight for the shrouded figure, attempting to clamp his front claws into the torturer's shadowy body. The hideous creature stared down in disdain, howled in laughter, and tossed Tevildo across the room with great force. The cat smashed against the cold stone wall; his body instantly went limp. He awoke several hours later, with one front leg broken and a bloody gash across his chest.

It was at this point that Tevildo pushed back his own wall of sleep, shaking like a young green leaf that has been pushed from a tree too early by a terrible windstorm. He had made a decision. He was not going to take off across the field. That thing approaching the village was the same thing he had seen in the dungeon that day. The terror in the eyes of the human victims was the same terror he had seen mirrored in the eyes of the kitten. Tevildo was absolutely certain of who this creature was, and he wanted to make him pay.

[Envinyatar]

Mori let fly the owl as soon as they passed out into the back courtyard. ‘Gather your troops, Master Snowy-wing; sort them out to your liking and set them their tasks. I think those who are making plans within will be glad of any information with which to pin down this creature in some way.’

He let his gaze rest for a moment on the old apple tree whose branches leaned over the courtyard fence, and in a most attentive way it seemed. ‘I wonder . . .’ he said softly to himself. There was something that Goody had said as they’d stoked the fire in the hearth and talked of the Green Man of the Woods. ‘He be a secret, a mystery ‘mongst the trees,’ she had said. ‘He serves for good, I think,’ she went on. ‘But might not be your notion of such. Sees to his creatures, he does.’ He remembered that she had poked the fire with a charred piece of rowan and the sparks flew upward, bright and thick. ‘But ‘tis said that when the shadow stretches long and brings a killing cold to root and stem and those as goes about the forest on four legs or more, or belly, or by wing, then he rouses up in anger and in strength.’ She nodded at her memories, speaking an old saying. ‘He gathers all unto himself and his strength is assured.’

Mori was thinking on this when his eye caught the figure of the white cat, hunched down on the stone wall to his left. Tevildo’s eyes were bright in the pale winter light. And behind them seemed a banked anger. Taking a chance that such anger was not directed at him, the man drew near and spoke softly to the feline.

‘Tevildo,’ he began, leaning on his staff, his eyes gazing in the same direction as the cat’s. ‘There is need of your knowledge and your skills. Will you lend your aid, Master Hunter?’

[Tevildo]

At first, Tevildo did not respond. He glanced off in the distance with a disdainful eye and then began to preen his coat, pretending he had not even heard what Mori had asked. A tiny war was going on inside. It was against his nature to cooperate with two-leggeds. Working on the same side as wren and owl also made him uncomfortable. Still, he could not discount or set aside the terrible images that he remembered .

He stared down at Mori, ignoring the particular question that the two-legged had raised, and instead began speaking about the Wraith in general terms. “This creature…. You should know what we are up against.” Tevildo hesitated a moment as disturbing memories pressed against his mind. He collected himself before continuing. “I have met this Wraith before. He is one of Melko’s chief lieutenants, an unfortunate mistake that my master made in delegating his authority. Perhaps you already know this, or perhaps not.”

He exchanged quizzical glances with Mori before going on. “This Wraith can look into the eyes of an Elf and change his very nature and fëa without even laying a finger on him, or so I have heard many say. A master of terror and deceit, he is no friend of cats.” These last words were said with particular emphasis. The cat went on, lowering his voice, as if confiding a very great secret. “Like the two-leggeds, I hunt to survive, though my play and achievements bring me great pleasure. This creature hunts for no reason at all, other than to see terror in the faces of his victims. I would dearly like to see him fall, but we must be very careful in what we do.”

“This creature has one weakness. He hates the light of day. I do not mean he is like a troll who turns to stone at the first hint of daybreak, but his strength and resolve are at their weakest when the sun first comes up. If there was some way we could find his lair and spy him out in the early hours of the morning before he settles down to rest, that would be a wise move. No one should be so foolish as to try and confront a Wraith on the battlefield of his own choosing. If you pursue him by night, stay well hidden: do not let him get a whiff of you. And, whatever you do, do not look directly upon his shadowy visage or form, or you will rue the day you ever walked upon this earth.”

[Nerindel]

Mara replies to Stamo!

It was true Mara had not spoken in sometime, unable to find her companion and seek his counsel on the things that troubled her she had slipped into silent reverie. Listening carefully to the thoughts and plans of the others, but all the while unable to shake the chill memory of her dream!

Wenda’s recount had all but confirmed that what she had been shown was the horrific fate of that little village… men, women and children all gone, souls ripped violently from their bodies and thoughtlessly discarded, lost and confused these poor souls would wander the confines of their village searching for the peace that was so cruelly denied them! that was what the deafening silence had shown her and it saddened her heart greatly, silently she prayed to Eru that they might find their way into his waiting embrace. It was only then that she became aware that someone was speaking her name.

‘Tell us, Mistress Mara what do you see . . .

Slowly lifting her eyes she saw the same tall gentleman who had held forth the door and beckoned her to bring Wenda inside, the same man who had banished the darkness from the flames and to whom now many offered their thoughts and ideas and as she studied his dark eyes she could see why, for beneath the kind and patient gaze sat a depth, an ageless wisdom that she had noted much among the elves that had raised her, a wisdom that was not quite without burden, this is what she saw as she looked in Stamo’s eyes and knew not that he wished an insight to her thoughts on the matter but that he sought instead that which was shown to her.

She nodded then and spoke softly, “Each seeing is different, sometimes clear pictures are revealed and others only sounds and thoughts as this last was,” she paused for a moment feeling the eyes of the others upon her, But Stamo held her gaze encouraging her to go on.

“Darkness filled my mind a darkness filled with unrestrained malice and hatred, then came the screams, tormented soul wrenching cries that froze my very heart, but still the darkness was not appeased I could feel its anger and frustration growing as it drew more screams, I can only guess as it moved through it’s unfortunate victims! Then as quickly as the screams had began they were silenced leaving only the lost and confused fears of the dead whose souls ripped violently from their bodies were then left to wonder aimlessly through the darkness. But still the Darkness remained brooding in it’s anger and frustration, till a new sound roused it, a sound that the screams of the dieing had driven from my mind until again I heard it within the courtyard of this inn!” And at this her eyes swept sympathetically over Wenda.

“It was the sound of the grinding hitching’s of a sledge!” she continued turning back to face Stamo.

“And that is not all master Stamo,” she added leaning closer that only he would be able to hear. “Just before the vision faded and I became fully awake, I sensed the darkness shifting and it’s mood changing to that of gleeful excitement, not the happy exhilarating type of glee mind you but a cold and evil sort, that left me fearful for this new thing that had roused it‘s excitement!” and again she glanced back at the young skin-changer.

She rose then and placing a hand on Stamo‘s arm gently guided him away from the others “I believe her still in grave danger, but I would speak not of it to her,” She went on in light tones, “already she senses the danger she may have brought to the Green Man and wishes to leave, but know my mind master Stamo, I intend to stay near her that if this danger threatens perhaps the good graces of Irmo will allow me to see more, perhaps something that will aid us and keep the young woman safe, no keep all of us safe!” she whispered wistfully.

“I do not pretend that like the others this thing does not frighten me, but that the portent of my vision may yet be a look of what could be here if we do nothing, frightens me more so that I will do what I must to prevent it! But since my vision two questions have puzzled me and I would pose them now to you if you would hear Master Stamo?”

Then when he nodded that he would hear she continued. “firstly thus, why does this thing so desperately search for a solid form to sustain it? and secondly what were to happen when and if it finds what it needs? Will it then be more dangerous?” as she spoke she stared at the growing flames in the fire as though somehow they would hold the answers that eluded her.

Then another though came to her unbidden, it was not a pleasant thought and she hesitated over it awhile and before the other could speak she posed yet another! “ This thing what ever it is or was, if it took a body that could sustain it, would it not then be venerable to death like the rest of us?” she knew what she asked was grave, but she felt it needed to be asked.

[piosenniel]

‘Well now, who’s going to notice a little brown wren?’ the bird thought to himself. ‘I can slip in as quick and quiet as any old shadow. I’ve only to keep my wits about me and my beak shut. And ‘twill seem that naught but some old brown leaf drifts from bough to bough.’

The effects of the mead were all gone now, and wren’s little black eyes were glinting with possibilities of some heroics on his part. He had heard, somewhat from Owl and somewhat from eavesdropping as he hid in the rafters of the Inn, the plans the two-leggeds were hatching. He wanted to be in on the carrying out of them. Perhaps someday a wren would be the main character in a story of bravery against an awful foe; the sort of story told from parent to child down many generations.

It was always the eagles and hawks and ravens and such that played great and notable parts in what few battles he’d heard stories of. Why couldn’t a small bird be counted among the principals, the champions of the hour, he wondered. And why couldn’t that bird be he?

‘I can fly as well as any,’ he boasted to the breezes as he flew over the Inn’s fence and toward the forested foothills. Below him, along the bare wintered ground, he could see other of the animals fanning out, taking up their watches as owl had suggested. He shivered for a moment deep within his coat of feathers, thinking how awful it would be to be bound to the earth . . . unable to take wing.

He got, finally, to the line of trees which stood at the edge of the foothill forest. With only the barest of fluttering noises he landed on the middle layer of branches of one of the taller trees. Wren pressed his body in against a small clump of brown, withered leaves and stood stock still, his little eyes roving about as he took in the forest floor below. From his vantage point, he could see the bare, snowy ground, the rocky outcroppings between the forest and the village’s wall.

“Well, so far, so good,’ he whispered to himself, noting nothing ominous in the scene spread out before him. ‘Not too hard, at least for someone such as I . . . this being a hero . . .’