54 – Liminal Spaces

Sojourn w/ Heart + Bond (4, 9, 1+2+1). Miss. Burn Momentum. Reset [+2]. Weak Hit. Choose 1 option +1 for bond. Recuperate +2 Health [+5] & Plan +2 Momentum [+4].

The few days spent in Greymoor had been good for them. Fully supplied, fully healed, and for what seemed like a very long time receiving a fond farewell. “It was good of you to see us off.” Branwhyn clasped forearms with the thane. “I’ve written a letter on your behalf, introducing you to the alliance.”

“Someone there will be able to read it” Hjalmar inquired ruefully. “Most Ironlanders don’t read but a few runes. Even most thanes.”

“Lief, steward of Twin Rivers, Erling the husband of Greybrook’s Thane, and Thane Thorsten of Crow’s perch all read letters.” Pulling the letter – wrapped in oiled leather for protection – Branwhyn handed it to Greymoor’s Thane. “This will work for introductions, but someone smarter than I will have to figure out how we’re going to keep everyone focused on the same goals. Especially as the alliance expands.”

“That’s why you have me. Leadership will have to be local and independent. Just like on a raid, everyone knows the plan and you have to trust that everyone is doing their part.” Hjalmar laughed at Branwhyn’s doubtful look. “You just be glad you don’t have to deal with squabbles between the thanes.”

“If only that were true.” Branwhyn looked around at the houses raised above the lake. His eyes rested on Ragna’s house, Corinna and Leon’s sparring had descended into a wrestling match. Despite being young the boy was giving Corinna a challenge, or she was holding back, the shaman was uncertain which. 

Gather Information w/ Wits + Bond (7, 3, 2+3+1), Weak Hit. +1 Momentum [+5]. Introduces a new danger. Action/Theme Oracle says: Falter Direction.

“I asked about this Håkon, son of Aðalsteinn, that you mentioned.” Hjalmar broke into Branwhyn’s musing. “He took to sailing when he reached the ragged coast. Was a successful raider by all accounts.”

“Was?” The shaman inquired already fearing what was coming next.

“His ship was lost in a storm, there were a few survivors, but Håkon was never found.”

Pulling an iron coin from the leather satchel he wore around his neck, Branwhyn turned it over in his hands. Focusing on it and his vow to find the thane of Twin River. “Lost isn’t dead, or at least I must hope that it isn’t. I must try, Hjalmar. I have to be in the north by winter.” He looked out at the sodden timbers of the Flooded Lands, and felt the wind rustling down from the north. It brought with it a taste of a chill. Summer was coming to an end, and Autumn’s beginning was near at hand. His time was running short. “I have to be in the North come Winter. If I can, I’ll pass this way again. Thank you Thane Hjalmar, for everything.”

“Until we meet again.” The Thane corrected and proffered his forearm.

Branwhyn clasped the other man’s forearm once more and allowed himself to be pulled into the embrace. “Until we meet again.” The two men parted in friendship. Branwhyn called for Corinna, who bid Leon farewell, and they joined Estrid in the dugout canoe with the carved dragon head above the prow. 

Undertake a Journey w/ Wits + Bond (1, 6, 1+3+1), Weak Hit. Progress 14 of 20, -1 Supply [4]. Waypoint: Forgotten Cairn

The canoe had seemed comfortably close when it had just been Branwhyn and Corinna, with the addition of Estrid, it felt cramped. No one complained of proximity, but it was noticeable in small ways. Branwhyn and Estrid were more careful to not spread out too much, not encroach unbidden. Corinna however, had taken positioning herself in the middle of the canoe, seated between Estrid and Branwhyn, and often leaned against him – her mismatched green and golden-brown eyes usually watching Estrid as he did so.  The desired physical contact was unusual for her and while Branwhyn didn’t understand it, he didn’t want to draw attention to whatever need was being fulfilled by the contact and so let her do as she wilt.

Several evenings later found them pulling the canoe up the bank of a small island, at its heart was a stacked pile of stones, overgrown with moss. It was a cairn, likely from the early days of when the Ironlanders first came to these lands. There was no sign of who was buried beneath, only the stacked stones as the marker of their grave. The place had a somber piece to it though and the travelers respected it, keeping their words few as they settled in for the night to share the bit of land with the long-dead Ironlander beneath the stones.

Undertake a Journey w/ Wits (7, 7, 3+3), Miss, no match on odds. Fail track 25 of 40. Waylaid by a perilous event. 

Branwhyn woke the next morning to find the fire from the previous night burned low. He stoked it before putting on a fresh cut of wood, it was wet and fresh and would smoke horribly, but there was likely enough for it to burn once the heat from the coals had dried it. A hot breakfast would do them good. No one else was moving and he performed his morning constitutional before returning back to the camp. It was only then he noticed that Estrid was gone. Her sleeping mat was there, along with her pack and supplies, but the woman was gone. Their canoe was present as well, so she had not left. Frowning the shaman turned in a full circle, there was nowhere to go. Their small island was by its very nature surrounded by swamp, Those who lived in the Flooded Lands knew the secret pathways that lay beneath the waters, but surely she would not have left without her things or without telling one of them.

“Corinna.” It only took the call of her name for his adopted daughter to wake. The darkness of tone was cause enough for her to reach for her bow even as she came to wakefulness. Her mismatched green and golden-brown eyes spotted the absence of their compatriot.

“Estrid?” Knocking arrow to bow, the changeling turned in a full circle just as he had. “Where could she have gone?”

Turning once more, Branwhyn stopped when his eyes fell upon the cairn they shared the island with. Fearing the answer that was growing inside him, he unfocused his eyes to pierce the veil that hung over the world. 

Gather Information w/ Wits + Sighted (7, 2, 5+3+1), Strong Hit. +2 Momentum + 1 Sighted [+8]. Enter the Fray w/ Heart (8, 1, 5+2), Weak Hit. In Control. This is a Bonewalker, so Dangerous. Strike w/ Iron + Bind (4, 1, 4+1), Strong Hit. 2+1 Harm, so 6 or 10 Progress. 

He had not seen the undead often, but enough to recognize the corrupted and rotting essence of what remained of the life they once had. Pulling on his leather gloves, Branwhyn attacked the cairn, pulling stones from the pile and casting them aside. He saw the change in the energy, swirling beneath the stones, it gave him the warning he needed to get out of the way before the corpse of the Ironlander burst out of the pile of stones. A few of the rocks pelted his side but he shook off the blow as he scooped up his leaf-bladed spear. In the midst of the chaos, Estrid’s cry for help was heard and abruptly cut short as cairn stones flowed like sand back over her briefly exposed body. 

The corpse of the Ironlander, buried in its hide armor – now molded and rotten – clawed at Brawnwhyn with bone fingers while its rictus maw gapped open wide. The leaf blade spear slammed into the Bonewalker’s ribcage, shattering the brittle bone but found nothing to harm within. Still, the strike provided Branwhyn leverage. He bore the horror to the ground, putting all of his weight and strength into the blow. More bones cracked as the skeletal remains of the Ironlander were smashed into the ground, yet the corpse didn’t crumble or cease its struggle.

Strike w/ Iron + Bind (2, 8, 3+1+1), Weak hit. Lose Initiative but 2 Harm, for 4 more progress 10 of 10. 

Skeletal fingers grabbed hold of the spear’s haft and pulled, breaking its own ribs to pull itself up the spear to try and claw at any part of Branwhyn’s body it might reach.

“Corinna!” The shaman dared not look away from the horror he wrestled to keep pinned in the ground but trusted that his daughter would follow his lead. He let his eyes unfocus and drew upon the memories in his blood, manifesting and projecting energies with words of power. Corinna slammed her hatched into the horror’s skull, pinning it to the earth, while echoing his words until she knew the repetition to synchronize with him. It was nothing they’d ever practice, words he’d never taught her, and yet she uttered each with more certainty and force than he did.

Face Danger w/ Wits + Sighted + Shield Kin (9, 7, 6+3+1+1), Strong Hit. +1 Momentum [+9]. End the Fight w/ Progress (8, 8, [10]), Strong Hit. w/ Match. Action/Theme Oracle says:  Affect Bond. I take this to mean this a bonding moment for Corinna and Branwhyn and so I’m going to advance the related vow. Vow Progress: Mentor Corinna 14 of 20.

The unlife of the horror was utterly undone by their combined working, it collapsed to the ground, its broken bones scattering across the sodden earth. Branwhyn and Corinna smiled at each other, each with giddy looks of relief and pleasure, but then remembered Estrid trapped within the cairn. 

A few frantic moments of digging later, they hauled a wide-eyed and panicked Estird out of the grave beneath the stones and put her back on her feet. She clutched at Branwhyn for a moment, her breathing ragged and gasping. When her eyes caught sight of the skeleton, she snatched the smoldering log from the fire and in a howling rage, and wielded it as a club to smash the bones of her kidnapper. 

Undertake a Journey w/ Wits (10, 2, 3+3), Weak Hit. Journey Progress 15 of 20, -1 Supply [3]. Waypoint: Empty Hall

There were other Ironholds and Circles that they could contact as they traveled further South, but by mutual consent, the small company thought it best to avoid other Ironlanders when possible. The whispers out of Mournful Cairn were too likely to have spread, especially in light of their recent defeat. The death of the Hag who apparently had built up cults in multiple settlements might also add to the turmoil. So they paddled through the murky waters steering wide of settlements and keeping only to their own company.

When they spotted a mead hall, half submerged and apparently empty, they almost avoided it. It was after dusk though and they hadn’t found any other place to rest for the night. Warily, they steered the dugout towards the double doors. Carefully shifting to the front of the craft and letting Estird take the oar, Brawnhyn pushed open the double doors with the haft of his spear. The doors created small waves as they pushed the water aside as they opened. The building – partially submerged and the interior flooded – allowed them to row their canoe inside and thus conceal it from passing or prying eyes. 

Lighting a torch and raising it high above his head to light the darkened interior, they could see the tops of long tables, wooden islands amid dark water, and a dias at the back of the hall that was still above the water line. “We’ll camp on the dias, better than sleeping on a table I think.”

Resupply w/ Wits (4, 10, 2+3), Weak Hit. -2 Momentum [+7] & +2 Supply [+5]. Make Camp w/ Supply (10, 10,  2+5), Miss w/ Match – You take no comfort. Fail Track 24 of 40. Pay the Price – It Causes a Delay. Combined with the match, I take the delay to me they are detained long enough for the Threat Tracktrack to tick. Threat Oracle says: The threat works subtly to advance toward its goal, or the danger escalates. Mark menace. Threat Track 4 of 10.

It was hard to tell, but it looked like there might have been fish swimming in the dark waters of the flooded hall. Branwhyn and Corinna dropped lines into the water and were rewarded soon after with curious and questing nibbles. They had a full line in short order and the fish were still biting. Handing the line and pole off to Estrid, Branwhyn moved to clean the fish, enough for dinner and the rest to smoke and preserve for their travels. 

After eating, their lids felt heavy with sleep, and with full bellies, it seemed like work to unroll their beds and kick off their boots. Seeking sleep in earnest, they had not thought of watch or guard and had all slipped out of consciousness before their campfire burned low.

 * * *

The gloaming golden-green light of late summer sun – filtered down through a dense canopy of lush green – shown throughout the mead hall. The tables – resting upon the surface of the water – were full to brimming with a kingly feast of wild fruits, grains, and meats from the hunt. Around the tables seated a fair folk of noble bearing, ethereal grace, and the bearing stature of their ancestral kin undiminished by the countless sweep of generations. They made merry with drink and food, laughter and song, and bright conversation – sounds more satisfying and satiating than the foods upon the tables. As they drifted between tables, moving lightly across the surface of the water, they left gentle ripples in their wake. 

Rising with an enforced languidness, Branwhyn and his companions looked on in weary wonder at the celebrating host. The shaman’s caution was only sharpened at the sighting of the triplets, the three fey maidens who’d been tormenting and feasting on the misery of Leon but had also admitted to being subject to the shaman’s authority in some unknown and nebulous way. Corinna’s caution in rousing mirrored her adoptive fathers, moving slowly to not draw attention to themselves. It was Estrid, who shot up from the bedroll, muffling a startled exclamation, that brought the hall to a standstill.

The gentle lapping of water against the dias became a cacophony in the stillness that followed. Dozens of paired predatory eyes set in sharp noble features eyed the trio of clumsy humans who’d fallen into the midst. Flowing up from their place at table, the triplets – their long blond hair flowing and floating in their wake – drifted on bare feet across the water’s surface to stand before Branwhyn. Verdant green eyes danced with mirth and pleased smiles grew on their faces. “Brother to Ravens. Child of the Old Ones.” Each sentence was spoken by a different triplet, though it was seamless in transition from first to second and a new title was finished by the third. “Father of the Lost.” They reached out their identical hands to him but stopped short and looked for permission, not from Branwhyn, but at some point behind him on the dais.

As one, Branwhyn, Corinna, and Estrid turned to where the trio looked. Seated upon a throne of woven hornes sat a figure draped in a cloak of deepest forest green. Above and below a loin cloth of fur was the bronze skin kissed by days spent beneath the sun. Cutting blue-gray eyes looked out from beneath a mask of bone, made of something like a caribou’s skull but with eye sockets not on the side of the head as they ought, but facing forward like a predator. The twelve-pointed rack of horns atop the skull whispered through the air as the Horned-Hunter turned its head to regard each of Branwhyn’s companions in turn and then to the shaman himself. With a subtle nod of the head, the lord of the hunt gave his permission for Branwhyn – who for many years had born the Horned-Hunter’s visage in a mask of carved wood – to join their feating.

Hands strong with desire took hold of Branwhyn and his companions, gentle with concern for handling delicate things, snatching hands and pulling into dance, and song, and conversation.

~fin

Journey to Ragged Coast [Extreme] – 14/20

Branwhyn ap Hugh
Health +5 Spirit +5 Supply +3 Momentum +5
Edge: 1 Heart: 2 Iron: 1+1 Shadow: 2 Wits: 3
Bonds: 14 – XP: 19/39
Debility:

Assets:
[Paths]: Sighted+, Ritualist+;
[Rituals]: Augur, Bind, Sway, Visage, Ward
[Companions] Kindred (Corinna) +4 – Shield-Kin;

Active Vows:
Kingmaker [Epic] 4/40
Break the Power of the Broken’s Apostle [Extreme] – 5/20
Mentor Corinna [Extreme] – 14/20
-Rival [Monster Within] – 5/20
Find the Heir of Twin Rivers [Formidable] – 3/10
Winter Meeting at the Seven Strong Men [Dangerous] – 0/10

Threat: Corruption in the North – 4/10 

Failure Track – 25/40

Bonds: ???, ???, ???, Esyllt the Herbalist, Ironhold of Crow’s Perch, Björn Blacksmith of Greybrook, Valknut, Ironhold of Twin Rivers, Ironhold of Greybrook, Priestess Indirra of Wolves Haven, Old Gray [wolf], Bohumil of Grimwick, Triplets of the Shadow Fen, Ragna of Greymoor, Thane Hjalmar of Greymoor