The party heads back in the rain, which is heavy now. Augustin gives the remaining five hounds permission to seek and destroy, targeting anyone with the Iron Circle symbol, and they bolt off into the gathering darkness. The few that saw Augustin with the hounds start the rumour that the Master of the Hunt was here today, hunting and killing Iron Circle soldiers. This story grows in the telling, and even generations from now it is said this was the first appearance of the Primal Spirits for a very long time. Considering most people have no idea about the Primal Spirits, the party suspect Reithann the druid or Dar Gremath may have started the story that would become legend.
The battle is over, the few Iron Circle troops remaining are leaving the field into the darkness, heading back to Harken village - no one has the energy to stop them, but some won't make it, brought down by black hounds with glowing green eyes and green flames for a tongue. The party pick up some wounded defenders as they come across them and help them back across the bridge. There is a cheer when they are told Nazin Redthorn is dead.
Wounded are searched for and found, brought back to be healed by mundane means as the druids are all out of healing. Although tomorrow will be different. Fires are put out by the rain, people can take a breath, and now those who need to grieve for those lost today can do so, alone or with family or friends, as is their want.
The party, along with other soldiers, have their wounds bound and given food. The inn is full of wounded who need the beds, so the party do not have the luxury of an individual bed tonight. But it doesn't matter. They are too tired to notice and sleep deeply, trusting to the soldiers on guard to keep them safe. They do.
Grimbald goes to gather the head of Nazin but can't find enough of it. He glares at Esa and Augustin and curses at them "Why are you so f$#king keen to die!?" His eyes welling with tears, he drops good berries at their feet and walks away.
Esa sighs and says to him "With your help, I admit, I lasted longer than I should have. That imp would have been my downfall had you not intervened. I was sure you'd have my back a second time."
Augustin tries to gently pick up the very lwounded Esa like a baby bird.
East their little one. That was a pretty big bang you had up your sleeve. *head boops* you can’t go dying on me ok, some of us actually like you around here. And besides, there’s only room for one dead hero in the party.
Esa looks away awkwardly, rubbing the skin where her burns were just moments ago. "If you die, where else would I get my entertainment? Where you go, I go, as it always has been. That includes the afterlife."
It was a cool day that the party awoke to. Mist from the river was all about, and grey clouds promised rain later that day. The ravens were still not back, Grimbald noticed.
The mood in Albridge was sombre, now the price of victory was apparent. A mass grave was being dug for those whose family couldn't be found or were not able to take them. All of the crop fields and many farm buildings south of the river were destroyed - it was going to be a hard winter.
Dar Gremath held a war council to debrief what happened. Everyone was there except Bran Torsson, who had been killed defending the bridge with his fighters. His son Micah Torsson was there in his place, feeling out of his depth and grief and loss written in his appearance and behaviour.
They honoured the dead, all those who sacrificed their lives and livelihood for the defence of Albridge and Harkenwold. Then they discussed the battle and many were singled out for praise, including the party, the fighters from Tor's Hold for their dogged defence of the bridge, the Woodsinger elves (who already left at dawn to go home), and the druids of Reithann's druid grove.
Someone had gone out to Ilyana' house (the party had seen it on fire which had been meant to lure them away from town) and found her and her sons safe - they had run and hid when the hobgoblins approached.
Scouts had been out already and reported the only Iron Circle troops left in Harkenwold were in Harken village. Marl was deserted, Dardun had been emptied of Iron Circle troops much to the delight of the inhabitants. There was some unrest as some people were taking the law into their own hands punishing those they saw as being collaborators with the Iron Circle, although Dar Gremath was sure folk were just doing what they had to in order to survive. At some point Dar Gremath would need to send a group to Marl to recover the bodies of those poor people sacrificed to bring devils into the world and give them a decent burial.
It was clear everyone was suffering, and the war was not won, not until every Iron Circle soldier was expelled from the Harkenwold. This meant plans were being drawn to liberate the village. The problem was that the majority of the remaining troops were stationed inside Harken Castle, now called Iron Keep by the occupants. There was no way an army of volunteers could storm a castle, so other ideas had to be thought up and put into action.
In the meantime Dar Gremath would gather information and see to the defences, and Gerrad the village Elder would see to the repair and restoration of Albridge as best they could.
The party were invited to stay to rest and heal. If they chose to assist they would be made welcome and put to work, and if they could put their considerable skills into the liberation of Harken village and Harken Castle, then everyone would appreciate that. Dar Gremath didn't have a time when they would be ready, or even if they could. Most of the fighters from other communities wanted to go home, to take their dead and be with their families, and Dar Gremath would not begrudge them that.
Everyone knew who the party were now, they were nodded at, greeted, given small gifts by everyone. Marigold gave Augustin a hug when they encountered her in the street and she said she was glad he was alive and thanked him. She asked if she could touch Augustin's horn, as a blessing and for luck, she said. She must have either spread the word, or other people had the same idea, because over the course of the day many people asked if they could touch Augustin's horn as a blessing and for luck. Augustin being of a community minded sort, allowed them to. Esa rolled her eyes and chose not to say anything - at least in front of the villagers.
The party saw druids moving from building to building, healing those who were close to death, and having to explain they did not have unlimited spells to those who were in pain but not close to dying. One of the druids, a youthful half-elf who called himself Leaflock, looked the party over, and took interest in Augustin's abdominal wound, and said only long rest - or healing magic the druids did not possess - would help him recover. Leaflock estimated 10 days rest would see it fully healed. He offered the paladin a small pouch of willow bark to chew raw or steep in hot water to make willow bark tea, which would help with pain.
Kathrid the dwarven armourer looked at the battered, blackened plate armour (once belonging to Nazin) Augustin brought to her shop. She grinned when asked if she could fix it and said that was what she did. She would need some money to buy or trade for some things, but 50 silver pieces would cover it. Some of it would need to come from Fallcrest, a town in the north, so it might be about 12 days before the armour was ready.
DM's Note: The next few days count as downtime, so the party may engage in any downtime activities.
On the evening after the battle most folk are exhausted, but a hardy few still attend the pub. Grimbald wanders in hoping to see, and does see, Israfen. The Woodsinger elf captain is at a table, talking to a human with a bandage over one eye and his hand bandaged. The human has clearly had enough to drink and as Grimbald approaches Israfen gently helps the man to his feet. The man heads out the door.
"He lost his sister, father, and nephew today," says Israfen. "He wonders how he survived when they are dead, and feels guilty for being alive now."
He walks over and grabs a wooden tankard from the bar and comes back to Grimbald and the table. He reaches down and grabs a green bottle and pours a yellow-green liquid into the tankard and gives it to Grimbald, and pours some into his own. They clink their mugs together and drink. The alcohol is cool and dry with a hint of leaves and bark. Elf wine. Grimbald and Israfen talk into the small hours of family, the forest, the mountains, loves and lost loves. They talk about the shock and horror of war. Israfen is well over a century old and has not seen a battle like this one. He does not like human wars, their savagery and brutality. But is moved by the small mercies, the little acts of kindness, the courage - even when all seems lost.
"That man who left before told me something strange," Israfen says after a lull in the conversation. "He said when you and I and our forces were on the north side of town dealing with the hobgoblins coming from the east, there was another force of hobgoblins trying to get across the river on makeshift rafts. They timed their attempt with a big push by the Iron Circle to take the bridge, and of course all of the best archers," Israfen smiled and pointed to himself, "were killing hobgoblins elsewhere. It looked like the plan might work, but then a dark skinned woman came to the bank of the river, oblivious to the arrows and bolts flying across, and raised her hands to the sky. The White River started to swell, then become restless, then a wall of water came rushing down the river and swept the makeshift rafts over and drowned all the hobgoblins. This sounds strange to me, I do not know this magic. Have you ever heard of such a thing, friend Grimbald?"
"I'm only guessing but it sounds like the Mother to me, or the Mother working through someone. To have influence over nature herself, it must be" he then goes on to show and explain the acorn and it's varied magic. "I must find this person"
"You are in luck, she lives here in the village. My new friend knows her. Everyone knows her because it's a small village. Her name is Missy White. And here is something even stranger, if it's true. Word is Missy White has not aged for over a century. My friend's long dead grandfather apparently used to try to court her - unsuccessfully apparently. And I believe you have met the half elf druid Lockleaf. He told me that he knew Missy - she did not call herself Missy White then, but Missy something else, when she came to Albridge from the south 120 years ago. She was nothing like she is now - she was an angry soul in a bad relationship with a merchant. Then.. she changed. The merchant died of natural causes and she took over the business and has run it ever since."
He listens to Grimbald and looks at the Acorn, and nods.
"We elves know of the Primal Spirits, but only the eldest of us know more than just they existed and protected the world from the gods and the primordials. You are blessed, my friend, or maybe cursed. Many will want this Acorn and the knowledge you possess. The Dark One who is behind the Iron Circle, will want it destroyed or at least hidden away, because the return of the Primal Spirits will limit his influence in the world."
Some options of what you might do in Albridge for the 10 days while you wait for Augustin to heal his most serious wound.
Carousing
At the Mallard Inn.
Carousing has some risk (losing money, getting in trouble with the law, losing reputation) but you can gain money and make contacts (contacts are NPCs that share a bond with you).
Gambling
Also at the Mallard Inn. Gambling can make you some money but remember, the house always wins.
Relaxation
Can do this anywhere, no risk, no reward.
Research
Talk to Reithann about regeneration magic.
Find out more about Missy White.
Find out more about Harken Castle and make some initial plans about getting inside.
Crafting
Anyone with proficiency in smiths tools can assist Kathrid as she works on repairing the plate armour for Augustin. Each day spent assisting takes 1 day off the repair time.
Anyone with profiencity in herbalism kit can create healing potions - 1 per day at a cost of 25sp each.
Practicing a profession
Working during the day. Gains you 5cp per day. It can be farm labouring, scouting on behalf of the village, tutoring, repair work on the buildings. There's a lot of work available.
If you proficiency in performance you can earn up to 1sp per day instead.
Performing Sacred Rites
Someone who wishes to pray, practice holy/unholy ceremonies, engage in activities pleasing to their deity gains one inspiration for each 10 days spent performing sacred rites.
Selling Magic Items
If the party have any magic items they don't need and want to sell they can put word out and see if they can attract a buyer with enough wealth to purchase it from you.
Missy White's home and business is close to the river, and the hobgoblins coming from Easthill would have passed it. It is untouched by war, as are most of the houses here. Only one in this area was set ablaze by the hobgoblins to lure defenders away, just as they did with Ilyana's farm.
When Grimbald knocks, a large man with a long black beard answers the door. His brown eyes and olive skin remind Grimbald of Lady Regan of the Gravelstokes.
"Yes, can I help you?" he says in a similar accent to Lady Regan.
"I don't mean to intrude, well I suppose I do intrude a little. What I meant to say is, 'hello Missy White, my name is Grimbald' but you are not Missy White, clearly umm would Missy White be home? I have heard of her heroics and wish to make her acquaintance". he pauses for a moment "I'm sorry but you look familiar to me, have we met in passing before? my name is Grimbald, but I've already said that"
"What did you say your business with Missy White was?"
Then a softer feminine voice from behind him says "He's a friend, or will be. Let him in, Santo."
The big man seems to accept this instantly and nods at Grimbald and steps aside, allowing him to enter.
Missy White's house is comfortable and plain. There is nothing to suggest opulence, just functionality and comfort. The main living area is spacious and filled with an abundance of natural light streaming in through large windows that offer picturesque views of the White River. The floors are made of polished hardwood, looking rather worn and scratched. Comfortable and plush seating arrangements, including a large sofa and a couple of armchairs, are strategically placed for relaxation and socializing.
Adorning the walls are artwork and sketches celebrating the river's serenity and the abundant marine life. Paintings of vibrant fish and other aquatic creatures hang alongside captivating landscapes depicting the river's ever-changing moods.
In one corner of the living area, there's a modest dining table with a few chairs, where Missy White can enjoy meals with friends and business associates. The table is adorned with a simple centerpiece inspired by the river's flora, bullrushes and wild geraniums, with small river rocks.
Missy White is in the kitchen washing her hands in a bucket. She looks up and smiles at Grimbald. "This fish smell gets into everything," she says. Missy White is dark of skin and eye, with curly black hair turning to grey in a broad stripe held up with a red ribbon. She is wearing gold coloured earrings, and plain but bright clothing which is unsmudged by fish, indicating she usually wears overalls or other protective clothing when working. The kitchen countertops are adorned with river-themed decorations and small trinkets that add a personal touch to the space. She dries her hand on a towel while smiling at Santo who edges his way into the small kitchen and puts the kettle on.
"I'm having honey and lemon tea," she says. "I can offer you the same or blackberry. Normally I have a lot of other varietys, but times being what they are.." She waits for Grimbald's response.
"Honey and Lemon tea would be much appreciated" wiping imaginary crumbs from his beard and realising he did not groom himself or wipe his boots before entering. He exits briefly, wipes his boots, breaks some of the tangles from his hair, composes himself and re-enters. "Sorry, I forgot my manners but I found 'em now." he gestures in a query as to which chair to sit in, sits then immediately stands as tea is given to him, before sitting again.
He drinks, focussing on the soothing aroma and steam rising from the tea. "thank you for inviting me, most hospital, most hospitable of you, especially in these times. I see you are a lover of nature, of the river at least. I have a similar appreciation for the forests, the trees, and the Mother's special critters, the squirrels.." He is observant of Missy's reaction to mention of the Mother.
"I heard of your deeds in washing away the hobgobs, an immense understanding of nature herself. I am new to this force, I don't seek to control it, but I need to understand it, and hopefully wield it without hurting those I call family. I'm sorry, it must sound gibberish to you"
Missy smiles and sips her tea, looking out over the White River.
"If your friend Esa was here, she would have told you not to accept food or drink from me without making sure you were not placing yourself in obligation to me," she said, still looking at the river. "I find myself in a quandry, knowing the enemy seeks me, and not always knowing who to trust. I tell you this because because if I am right I will be asking your forgiveness. But the stakes are high, so I AM going to call on the obligation you now owe me, Grimbald. To tell me the truth of why you are here, how you came to be in possession of the Mother's Acorn, and what you intend."
Grimbald feels that magic now, old magic from the making of the world, the magic of host and guest created when the world was new and trust and obligation were new. He feels it on his shoulders, in his chest, in his head. It makes him tremble. He knows he cannot lie. But, he can resist if he wants to. Meanwhile the water of the White River flows past, powerful, patient, life giving and life taking.
Grimbald feels a familiar of feeling of foolishness. He feels like a child yet again. "You didn't have to oblige me with magic, I was, until this moment, in awe of you and would tell you willingly. I know you are old but it was my mistake to assume you wise. I am here because I had hoped you to be a manifestation of the Mother herself, and I came to as a child seeks a mother.... for understanding. But with a sip of tea you have proven you have nothing of the Mother.
The Acorn? The Acorn found me, The Mother gave me the curiosity, for good or bad, of the squirrel. I stumbled upon a cave and was drawn deeper and deeper. It was as if I was sniffing it out. it was not chance or luck like I thought of at the time.
My intention? my intention? to be a servant to the Mother, I do not know, or understand what she intends for me, or why she entrusts the acorn to such a fool. But so far the acorn has given us power to fight and defeat the Iron Circle. My intention? my intention was to find answers about the Mother from you. I had no malice, just a fool's trust, wanting you to be more. Grimbald is unsure how the magic works but bargains on elaborating on the three questions in rambling detail, hoping to bore her or for the magic to wain with time. He does not let her get another word in before saying. "My intention? I believe my obligation to your questions is now completed, honestly and openly, I will take my leave. Do not hold me against my will any longer"
Missy looks sad. "You are foolish. But you are young. And you said what I hoped you would say, and now I know it to be true. I said if I was right I would have to ask for your forgiveness, and I do so now."
She sighs and sips her tea.
"You are released from the obligation, and you may partake in anything I give you this day free of any further obligation." She puts her cup down and looks at Grimbald, and in her look there is indeed regret, strength, disappointment, and kindness. "You cannot be foolish, Grimbald. There are those who will trick you, hurt you, turn you against yourself. There are ageless powers who seek what you have and will ask you to give it to them, and you might, because you trust too quickly, you are impulsive. I worry for you and the future of our planet. But I have done you wrong, even if it was for a good cause. I must pay the price of that act, and I will, in time. You have responded well, I think. If you wish, you may ask me anything, and I will answer truthfully."
Grimbald is both confused and stung by the look of regret and kindness. He wants to immediately trust again but hears only a few words 'trick you, hurt you, impulsive'. Already stunned by the recent actions of his own party, he is sick and tired of his naivety and misreading of others, blinded by a need to accepted. He scolds his own curiosity, catching himself about to ask about the river. He wants to storm off in a tantrum, but surprises himself by mumbling 'thank you for the tea' and with as much dignity he can muster gets out of the chair and leaves. To Missy he appears like a sulking child. He walks to his favourite tree, talking to himself 'thank you for the tea!' 'THANK YOU FOR THE TEA?' 'What the f&%k was that?'
After the battle RL will shun the attentions of the townsfolks as much as he possibly can, preferring to leave it to Augustin and the rest of the party to get the attention in the main. He will slink off behind a building at the first opportunity and utilise his wild shape to transform into a black wolf with brown leaf coloured fur around his head that gives the impression of being hair. He runs at a fevered pace through the town and out into the woods around Albridge as if pursued by devils still. He enjoys the pull and strain of muscles while running, dodging and weaving between the trees and bushes, not thinking, just taking in the sights, sounds and feeling of being alone in what passes for the wilds so close to a town. A poor substitute for the real forests of the world but all that is available to him at present. After a while he will find a nice hill where he can curl up and overlook a section of woodland hopefully with a glen or a creek and try to relax his mind to release the pressure from the anguishes of war and towns and so very many people, noises and sensations. He will spend as much time as he can just observing his surroundings, the small sounds and movements of lights as the wind flows through the leaves, the insects chattering to one another, the birds being flashes of colours both bright and dull as they fly past singing their songs and the trees moving their limbs as if in their own slow dance.
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The party heads back in the rain, which is heavy now. Augustin gives the remaining five hounds permission to seek and destroy, targeting anyone with the Iron Circle symbol, and they bolt off into the gathering darkness. The few that saw Augustin with the hounds start the rumour that the Master of the Hunt was here today, hunting and killing Iron Circle soldiers. This story grows in the telling, and even generations from now it is said this was the first appearance of the Primal Spirits for a very long time. Considering most people have no idea about the Primal Spirits, the party suspect Reithann the druid or Dar Gremath may have started the story that would become legend.
The battle is over, the few Iron Circle troops remaining are leaving the field into the darkness, heading back to Harken village - no one has the energy to stop them, but some won't make it, brought down by black hounds with glowing green eyes and green flames for a tongue. The party pick up some wounded defenders as they come across them and help them back across the bridge. There is a cheer when they are told Nazin Redthorn is dead.
Wounded are searched for and found, brought back to be healed by mundane means as the druids are all out of healing. Although tomorrow will be different. Fires are put out by the rain, people can take a breath, and now those who need to grieve for those lost today can do so, alone or with family or friends, as is their want.
The party, along with other soldiers, have their wounds bound and given food. The inn is full of wounded who need the beds, so the party do not have the luxury of an individual bed tonight. But it doesn't matter. They are too tired to notice and sleep deeply, trusting to the soldiers on guard to keep them safe. They do.
Everyone has a long rest.
Esa sighs and says to him "With your help, I admit, I lasted longer than I should have. That imp would have been my downfall had you not intervened. I was sure you'd have my back a second time."
Esa looks away awkwardly, rubbing the skin where her burns were just moments ago. "If you die, where else would I get my entertainment? Where you go, I go, as it always has been. That includes the afterlife."
4th Day of Latesummer
It was a cool day that the party awoke to. Mist from the river was all about, and grey clouds promised rain later that day. The ravens were still not back, Grimbald noticed.
The mood in Albridge was sombre, now the price of victory was apparent. A mass grave was being dug for those whose family couldn't be found or were not able to take them. All of the crop fields and many farm buildings south of the river were destroyed - it was going to be a hard winter.
Dar Gremath held a war council to debrief what happened. Everyone was there except Bran Torsson, who had been killed defending the bridge with his fighters. His son Micah Torsson was there in his place, feeling out of his depth and grief and loss written in his appearance and behaviour.
They honoured the dead, all those who sacrificed their lives and livelihood for the defence of Albridge and Harkenwold. Then they discussed the battle and many were singled out for praise, including the party, the fighters from Tor's Hold for their dogged defence of the bridge, the Woodsinger elves (who already left at dawn to go home), and the druids of Reithann's druid grove.
Someone had gone out to Ilyana' house (the party had seen it on fire which had been meant to lure them away from town) and found her and her sons safe - they had run and hid when the hobgoblins approached.
Scouts had been out already and reported the only Iron Circle troops left in Harkenwold were in Harken village. Marl was deserted, Dardun had been emptied of Iron Circle troops much to the delight of the inhabitants. There was some unrest as some people were taking the law into their own hands punishing those they saw as being collaborators with the Iron Circle, although Dar Gremath was sure folk were just doing what they had to in order to survive. At some point Dar Gremath would need to send a group to Marl to recover the bodies of those poor people sacrificed to bring devils into the world and give them a decent burial.
It was clear everyone was suffering, and the war was not won, not until every Iron Circle soldier was expelled from the Harkenwold. This meant plans were being drawn to liberate the village. The problem was that the majority of the remaining troops were stationed inside Harken Castle, now called Iron Keep by the occupants. There was no way an army of volunteers could storm a castle, so other ideas had to be thought up and put into action.
In the meantime Dar Gremath would gather information and see to the defences, and Gerrad the village Elder would see to the repair and restoration of Albridge as best they could.
The party were invited to stay to rest and heal. If they chose to assist they would be made welcome and put to work, and if they could put their considerable skills into the liberation of Harken village and Harken Castle, then everyone would appreciate that. Dar Gremath didn't have a time when they would be ready, or even if they could. Most of the fighters from other communities wanted to go home, to take their dead and be with their families, and Dar Gremath would not begrudge them that.
Everyone knew who the party were now, they were nodded at, greeted, given small gifts by everyone. Marigold gave Augustin a hug when they encountered her in the street and she said she was glad he was alive and thanked him. She asked if she could touch Augustin's horn, as a blessing and for luck, she said. She must have either spread the word, or other people had the same idea, because over the course of the day many people asked if they could touch Augustin's horn as a blessing and for luck. Augustin being of a community minded sort, allowed them to. Esa rolled her eyes and chose not to say anything - at least in front of the villagers.
The party saw druids moving from building to building, healing those who were close to death, and having to explain they did not have unlimited spells to those who were in pain but not close to dying. One of the druids, a youthful half-elf who called himself Leaflock, looked the party over, and took interest in Augustin's abdominal wound, and said only long rest - or healing magic the druids did not possess - would help him recover. Leaflock estimated 10 days rest would see it fully healed. He offered the paladin a small pouch of willow bark to chew raw or steep in hot water to make willow bark tea, which would help with pain.
Kathrid the dwarven armourer looked at the battered, blackened plate armour (once belonging to Nazin) Augustin brought to her shop. She grinned when asked if she could fix it and said that was what she did. She would need some money to buy or trade for some things, but 50 silver pieces would cover it. Some of it would need to come from Fallcrest, a town in the north, so it might be about 12 days before the armour was ready.
DM's Note: The next few days count as downtime, so the party may engage in any downtime activities.
Downtime activities are listed in:
On the evening after the battle most folk are exhausted, but a hardy few still attend the pub. Grimbald wanders in hoping to see, and does see, Israfen. The Woodsinger elf captain is at a table, talking to a human with a bandage over one eye and his hand bandaged. The human has clearly had enough to drink and as Grimbald approaches Israfen gently helps the man to his feet. The man heads out the door.
"He lost his sister, father, and nephew today," says Israfen. "He wonders how he survived when they are dead, and feels guilty for being alive now."
He walks over and grabs a wooden tankard from the bar and comes back to Grimbald and the table. He reaches down and grabs a green bottle and pours a yellow-green liquid into the tankard and gives it to Grimbald, and pours some into his own. They clink their mugs together and drink. The alcohol is cool and dry with a hint of leaves and bark. Elf wine. Grimbald and Israfen talk into the small hours of family, the forest, the mountains, loves and lost loves. They talk about the shock and horror of war. Israfen is well over a century old and has not seen a battle like this one. He does not like human wars, their savagery and brutality. But is moved by the small mercies, the little acts of kindness, the courage - even when all seems lost.
"That man who left before told me something strange," Israfen says after a lull in the conversation. "He said when you and I and our forces were on the north side of town dealing with the hobgoblins coming from the east, there was another force of hobgoblins trying to get across the river on makeshift rafts. They timed their attempt with a big push by the Iron Circle to take the bridge, and of course all of the best archers," Israfen smiled and pointed to himself, "were killing hobgoblins elsewhere. It looked like the plan might work, but then a dark skinned woman came to the bank of the river, oblivious to the arrows and bolts flying across, and raised her hands to the sky. The White River started to swell, then become restless, then a wall of water came rushing down the river and swept the makeshift rafts over and drowned all the hobgoblins. This sounds strange to me, I do not know this magic. Have you ever heard of such a thing, friend Grimbald?"
"I'm only guessing but it sounds like the Mother to me, or the Mother working through someone. To have influence over nature herself, it must be" he then goes on to show and explain the acorn and it's varied magic. "I must find this person"
"You are in luck, she lives here in the village. My new friend knows her. Everyone knows her because it's a small village. Her name is Missy White. And here is something even stranger, if it's true. Word is Missy White has not aged for over a century. My friend's long dead grandfather apparently used to try to court her - unsuccessfully apparently. And I believe you have met the half elf druid Lockleaf. He told me that he knew Missy - she did not call herself Missy White then, but Missy something else, when she came to Albridge from the south 120 years ago. She was nothing like she is now - she was an angry soul in a bad relationship with a merchant. Then.. she changed. The merchant died of natural causes and she took over the business and has run it ever since."
He listens to Grimbald and looks at the Acorn, and nods.
"We elves know of the Primal Spirits, but only the eldest of us know more than just they existed and protected the world from the gods and the primordials. You are blessed, my friend, or maybe cursed. Many will want this Acorn and the knowledge you possess. The Dark One who is behind the Iron Circle, will want it destroyed or at least hidden away, because the return of the Primal Spirits will limit his influence in the world."
Israfen has a far away look, then looks at Grimbald.
"I think I have worked out the conundrum of Missy White. But I will leave that discovery for you to make on your own, friend Grimbald."
He pours you both some more elf wine and will say nothing more about that.
Downtime in Albridge:
Some options of what you might do in Albridge for the 10 days while you wait for Augustin to heal his most serious wound.
Carousing
Gambling
Relaxation
Research
Crafting
Practicing a profession
Performing Sacred Rites
Selling Magic Items
Grimbald will seek out Missy White and introduce himself.
And Grimbald is never seen again.Missy White's home and business is close to the river, and the hobgoblins coming from Easthill would have passed it. It is untouched by war, as are most of the houses here. Only one in this area was set ablaze by the hobgoblins to lure defenders away, just as they did with Ilyana's farm.
When Grimbald knocks, a large man with a long black beard answers the door. His brown eyes and olive skin remind Grimbald of Lady Regan of the Gravelstokes.
"Yes, can I help you?" he says in a similar accent to Lady Regan.
"I don't mean to intrude, well I suppose I do intrude a little. What I meant to say is, 'hello Missy White, my name is Grimbald' but you are not Missy White, clearly umm would Missy White be home? I have heard of her heroics and wish to make her acquaintance". he pauses for a moment "I'm sorry but you look familiar to me, have we met in passing before? my name is Grimbald, but I've already said that"
The large man looks at Grimbald.
"What did you say your business with Missy White was?"
Then a softer feminine voice from behind him says "He's a friend, or will be. Let him in, Santo."
The big man seems to accept this instantly and nods at Grimbald and steps aside, allowing him to enter.
Missy White's house is comfortable and plain. There is nothing to suggest opulence, just functionality and comfort. The main living area is spacious and filled with an abundance of natural light streaming in through large windows that offer picturesque views of the White River. The floors are made of polished hardwood, looking rather worn and scratched. Comfortable and plush seating arrangements, including a large sofa and a couple of armchairs, are strategically placed for relaxation and socializing.
Adorning the walls are artwork and sketches celebrating the river's serenity and the abundant marine life. Paintings of vibrant fish and other aquatic creatures hang alongside captivating landscapes depicting the river's ever-changing moods.
In one corner of the living area, there's a modest dining table with a few chairs, where Missy White can enjoy meals with friends and business associates. The table is adorned with a simple centerpiece inspired by the river's flora, bullrushes and wild geraniums, with small river rocks.
Missy White is in the kitchen washing her hands in a bucket. She looks up and smiles at Grimbald. "This fish smell gets into everything," she says. Missy White is dark of skin and eye, with curly black hair turning to grey in a broad stripe held up with a red ribbon. She is wearing gold coloured earrings, and plain but bright clothing which is unsmudged by fish, indicating she usually wears overalls or other protective clothing when working. The kitchen countertops are adorned with river-themed decorations and small trinkets that add a personal touch to the space. She dries her hand on a towel while smiling at Santo who edges his way into the small kitchen and puts the kettle on.
"I'm having honey and lemon tea," she says. "I can offer you the same or blackberry. Normally I have a lot of other varietys, but times being what they are.." She waits for Grimbald's response.
"Honey and Lemon tea would be much appreciated" wiping imaginary crumbs from his beard and realising he did not groom himself or wipe his boots before entering. He exits briefly, wipes his boots, breaks some of the tangles from his hair, composes himself and re-enters. "Sorry, I forgot my manners but I found 'em now." he gestures in a query as to which chair to sit in, sits then immediately stands as tea is given to him, before sitting again.
He drinks, focussing on the soothing aroma and steam rising from the tea. "thank you for inviting me, most hospital, most hospitable of you, especially in these times. I see you are a lover of nature, of the river at least. I have a similar appreciation for the forests, the trees, and the Mother's special critters, the squirrels.." He is observant of Missy's reaction to mention of the Mother.
"I heard of your deeds in washing away the hobgobs, an immense understanding of nature herself. I am new to this force, I don't seek to control it, but I need to understand it, and hopefully wield it without hurting those I call family. I'm sorry, it must sound gibberish to you"
Missy smiles and sips her tea, looking out over the White River.
"If your friend Esa was here, she would have told you not to accept food or drink from me without making sure you were not placing yourself in obligation to me," she said, still looking at the river. "I find myself in a quandry, knowing the enemy seeks me, and not always knowing who to trust. I tell you this because because if I am right I will be asking your forgiveness. But the stakes are high, so I AM going to call on the obligation you now owe me, Grimbald. To tell me the truth of why you are here, how you came to be in possession of the Mother's Acorn, and what you intend."
Grimbald feels that magic now, old magic from the making of the world, the magic of host and guest created when the world was new and trust and obligation were new. He feels it on his shoulders, in his chest, in his head. It makes him tremble. He knows he cannot lie. But, he can resist if he wants to. Meanwhile the water of the White River flows past, powerful, patient, life giving and life taking.
Grimbald feels a familiar of feeling of foolishness. He feels like a child yet again. "You didn't have to oblige me with magic, I was, until this moment, in awe of you and would tell you willingly. I know you are old but it was my mistake to assume you wise. I am here because I had hoped you to be a manifestation of the Mother herself, and I came to as a child seeks a mother.... for understanding. But with a sip of tea you have proven you have nothing of the Mother.
The Acorn? The Acorn found me, The Mother gave me the curiosity, for good or bad, of the squirrel. I stumbled upon a cave and was drawn deeper and deeper. It was as if I was sniffing it out. it was not chance or luck like I thought of at the time.
My intention? my intention? to be a servant to the Mother, I do not know, or understand what she intends for me, or why she entrusts the acorn to such a fool. But so far the acorn has given us power to fight and defeat the Iron Circle. My intention? my intention was to find answers about the Mother from you. I had no malice, just a fool's trust, wanting you to be more.
Grimbald is unsure how the magic works but bargains on elaborating on the three questions in rambling detail, hoping to bore her or for the magic to wain with time. He does not let her get another word in before saying. "My intention? I believe my obligation to your questions is now completed, honestly and openly, I will take my leave. Do not hold me against my will any longer"
Missy looks sad. "You are foolish. But you are young. And you said what I hoped you would say, and now I know it to be true. I said if I was right I would have to ask for your forgiveness, and I do so now."
She sighs and sips her tea.
"You are released from the obligation, and you may partake in anything I give you this day free of any further obligation." She puts her cup down and looks at Grimbald, and in her look there is indeed regret, strength, disappointment, and kindness. "You cannot be foolish, Grimbald. There are those who will trick you, hurt you, turn you against yourself. There are ageless powers who seek what you have and will ask you to give it to them, and you might, because you trust too quickly, you are impulsive. I worry for you and the future of our planet. But I have done you wrong, even if it was for a good cause. I must pay the price of that act, and I will, in time. You have responded well, I think. If you wish, you may ask me anything, and I will answer truthfully."
Grimbald is both confused and stung by the look of regret and kindness. He wants to immediately trust again but hears only a few words 'trick you, hurt you, impulsive'. Already stunned by the recent actions of his own party, he is sick and tired of his naivety and misreading of others, blinded by a need to accepted. He scolds his own curiosity, catching himself about to ask about the river. He wants to storm off in a tantrum, but surprises himself by mumbling 'thank you for the tea' and with as much dignity he can muster gets out of the chair and leaves. To Missy he appears like a sulking child. He walks to his favourite tree, talking to himself 'thank you for the tea!' 'THANK YOU FOR THE TEA?' 'What the f&%k was that?'
After the battle RL will shun the attentions of the townsfolks as much as he possibly can, preferring to leave it to Augustin and the rest of the party to get the attention in the main. He will slink off behind a building at the first opportunity and utilise his wild shape to transform into a black wolf with brown leaf coloured fur around his head that gives the impression of being hair. He runs at a fevered pace through the town and out into the woods around Albridge as if pursued by devils still. He enjoys the pull and strain of muscles while running, dodging and weaving between the trees and bushes, not thinking, just taking in the sights, sounds and feeling of being alone in what passes for the wilds so close to a town. A poor substitute for the real forests of the world but all that is available to him at present. After a while he will find a nice hill where he can curl up and overlook a section of woodland hopefully with a glen or a creek and try to relax his mind to release the pressure from the anguishes of war and towns and so very many people, noises and sensations. He will spend as much time as he can just observing his surroundings, the small sounds and movements of lights as the wind flows through the leaves, the insects chattering to one another, the birds being flashes of colours both bright and dull as they fly past singing their songs and the trees moving their limbs as if in their own slow dance.