New 5, 6105 RTR (2 Jan 2002) Alptraum must make a choice about which direction his quest takes.
(Alptraum) (Dream Realms) (Nordika) (A Dream of Seven Sisters) (Spheres of Magic) (Sylvania)
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New Year's Day passes in cold misery for Alptraum and his companions. A blizzard picks up outside, squashing any ideas of pressing on in search of better cover, and forces them to abandon their campfire, and build another in a corner near the altar, behind the scant cover provided by statues and fallen stonework, huddling together and occasionally trading questions and answers about the nature of Babel … and giving Alptraum more reasons to wonder just why he should ever want to go to this place.

Eventually, day gives way to night, and night gives way to strange dreams of being in some place even worse than the Sea of Souls – and this just on the heels of the bizarre experiences of New Year's Eve.

Alptraum finds himself on a mountain top, and for a fleeting moment, it seems he's in some sort of jungle paradise, a retreat from the bitter cold of Sylvania's harsh winter. This is a jungle, yes, steaming hot, and alive with the sounds of insects, but as Alptraum has a chance to examine his surroundings, he finds that this place is a witch's cauldron of disease.

The trees themselves fester with various infections, and the ground is heavy with decay and filth, with puddles of stagnant water, and the occasional half-rotted Eeee corpse erupting with boils and blisters. The air is choked with a horrid stench, and Alptraum can feel a nasty tickle on the back of his throat, as if even in this brief time, he's already being infected.

Inexorably, he is drawn toward a cave that seems to beckon to him, to offer some shade from the unrelenting heat. As if not in control of his own motions, he makes his way to the cave, stumbling down the muddy, filthy slope that leads into its mouth, reeling in pain as he catches himself on sharp bones jutting out from the mire, gagging as even worse smells assault his senses inside.

The cavern is swampy and partially flooded, opening into a wide and rounded chamber with a great pool of yellow-green liquid, with a mound of refuse in its center. Along the cavern walls, nooks have been carved in, and at first it seems that statues of Eeee are within them, but no – there are shriveled corpses of female Eeee rammed onto wooden spikes, their heads jerked back and jaws wrenched open as if screaming.

Seated on this throne of filth in the center of the stagnant pool is a reclining female Eeee. Somehow, at once, she seems to be larger than life, and then again, of normal proportions, but her fur is a vibrant green in color, where it shows through bandages that have been wrapped all around her body.

She is somehow both repulsive and enticing, and she lies lazily upon her "throne," being tended to by a female Eeee who carefully tends to the green one's bandages. Beside them is a wretched-looking creature which might have once been some sort of canine, perhaps a Gallee, who strums upon a broken lute, with only a single string remaining. He rasps out some wretched and incomprehensible song, and despite his obvious disease-ridden state, he seems somehow content to gaze upon the reclining green Eeee, enamored with her horrible beauty.

But there are others here: a Gallee noble-woman in armor and robes of a Rephidim Templar, and the strange winged gold-and-white being with the curved horn upon her head. There seem to be others in the room, too, but they seem almost shadows to Alptraum … unclear to him, or perhaps unimportant enough to focus on for very long. There is some sort of confrontation, though Alptraum's sleep-befuddled mind can't make much sense of it. The confrontation is ended as the noble Gallee takes out her sword and cuts off the head of the green-furred Eeee with surprising, alarming ease.

The winged creature and the Gallee debate over something … something having to do with the matter of whether or not they should kill the pathetic musician as well. But then the dream fades, as the whole world seems to melt away. It's almost with relief that Alptraum finds himself back in the cold world of Sylvania … though the tickle in the back of his throat is still there. It seems he's caught a cold.

Shrine of the Angels
This Sylvanian church has been long-neglected, the roof and south wall partially collapsed, and the glass in the windows long reduced to scattered shards. Toppled statuary and columns litter the tiled floors, and darkened spots on the floor hint at use of this shrine by travelers as a shelter for campfires. Toward the altar, several statues of "angels" stand, including the faintly smiling Angel of Happiness, Inala, and the somber-faced Angel of Death, Sunala.

Alptraum wakes slowly and growls. "Will these dreams never end?" he curses quietly and sits up. He stretches out his wings, missing being able to soar, then coughs softly. He makes a face, realizing that he has caught something; whether it was from the dream or just the harsh elements of Sylvania, he doesn't know. Briefly, he looks around for the others.

Nekara is already awake. She sits, staring at the fire – still burning, evidencing that someone must have been tending it while Alptraum was asleep. The fire reflects in Nekara's pale blue eyes, and she shows no reaction to Alptraum's movements. Nor, for that matter, does Autumn-Storm – she is still curled up next to the bat, twitching now and then, as she tends to do when asleep.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Alptraum asks Nekara, then proceeds to rub his neck to remove some of the stiffness from sleeping on the hard floor.

Nekara blinks, and finally removes her gaze from the fire. "Only for so long as is absolutely necessary." She frowns. "You sound hoarse." She leans toward Alptraum and sniffs … then leans back and starts to dig through her satchel.

"And I feel rotten," Alptraum replies with a shrug. "Either caught something in this weather, or from that plague-infested world that I dreamt of. I'd give anything right now to have the dreams just stop. I'm tired of seeing people in pain and torment. And that Gallee and bizarre winged creature were back, this time killing some green Eeee," he then adds.

Nekara freezes in the middle of pulling something out of her satchel, and then resumes, unwrapping a small parcel and pinching out some sort of dried leaf, powdering it with her fingers, and sprinkling it into a cup of water. "Gorphat," she says. "I had this dream as well. Gorphat was slain by the Templar." She puts away the remainder of the packet, and makes some more preparations of the cup, then heats it over the fire.

Autumn-Storm, meanwhile, makes an annoyed throat-noise, and snuffles as she reluctantly awakens to the noise of talk. She rubs at her eyes, and makes a whining noise as she stretches, yawning widely and showing off her sharp teeth.

Alptraum shakes his head slowly and says, "I'm sorry to hear that. Most of my dreams are that grim anymore. Whenever a holiday comes, I know I won't sleep well that night. It's predictable, at least." He then coughs again and looks toward Autumn-Storm and signs, "Morning, Autumn-Storm. Sleep better last night?"

Autumn-Storm rubs at her eyes, then signs, "Better than the last." Her posture doesn't suggest an opinion of any great improvement, however.

Alptraum nods to Autumn-Storm, then signs, "Well, that's something, anyway. I'll try and find us both something to eat shortly." He pauses, then signs the question, "What do you make of her?"

Nekara just nods. "I do not wholly know what to make of them, of the mage from Caroban, of the Gallee Templar, and their quest to destroy the Seven Sisters. Perhaps it is a prophesy that Rephidim and Caroban will strike against our temples, that Inala's temple will still stand, but Gorphat's will fall. I can only hope that my sisters have had these visions as well – and will know more what to make of them." She focuses on the cup she prepares, evidencing no notice of the finger-signing going on between Alptraum and Autumn-Storm.

Autumn-Storm's eyes dart over toward Nekara, then back to Alptraum. "I do not trust her. She is a witch,"she signs.

"Well," Alptraum comments, "I must admit that the more I learn of the Seven Sisters, the less I think of them. That 'Gorphat' seemed horrible." He then signs back to Autumn-Storm, "And I'm a vampire. I'm not sure what to make of her just yet. I'm not sure how much I trust her, either. Time will tell, I guess. She wants me to go with her."

"That is because She is horrible," Nekara says, and, with a gloved hand, takes the ceramic cup off of the makeshift wooden frame holding it over the fire. "Here. Let it cool a bit, then gargle this and spit it out – do not swallow, for I do not know what effect this would have on you, on account of your diet; for anyone else, it would result in getting sick to your stomach. It will burn your throat, but this is good – it will fight the infection."

Autumn-Storm looks warily at the cup, then glances back to Alptraum.

Alptraum shrugs at Autumn-Storm and waits for the cup to cool. Then he carefully picks up the cup and sniffs of it. "I'm not sure I want to go back to Babel, Nekara," he says. He then proceeds to gargle the contents and wince then spit it to the side of the camp in disgust.

True to Nekara's word, the mixture burns Alptraum's throat, although it takes a moment to hit full effect. The stuff tastes salty, and accordingly it feels much like salt in a wound. Watching the expression on Alptraum's face, Nekara says, "And it is hardly my desire to return, either. This is not a matter of desire. It is of duty – and destiny. The heavens are not populated with benevolent deities looking to make our lives comfortable and pleasant. Reality is far more harsh than that."

"Duty? To a family that abandoned me?" Alptraum says, still wincing and now rubbing his throat. "And one who would likely not accept me, considering my diet. How will I eat in Babel? For that matter, how will I eat on a ship?"

"Abandoned?" Nekara repeats, looking annoyed. "Tell me, has your time in Sylvania been so cruel? Surely it cannot have been so horrible, as you seem reluctant to leave it. You were sent away for your safety, so you might grow to be a man. And now that you are one, it is time to help your true family."

"Safety? Or perhaps a bit of being ashamed of me? I am a vampire, Nekara," Alptraum says and looks into the fire. "And you are right, I am loathe to leave Sylvania. I have a family here. They love me and I miss them. They took me in and raised me as if I was their true son."

Alptraum closes his silver eyes and sighs. "But I knew I would have to leave one day."

Nekara says, "And when this is all over with, you can return. I am here to show you your destiny – not to take you to your doom."

Autumn-Storm's brow wrinkles at this. She has the look about her of not being so certain of Nekara's claim.

"What if my destiny is for me to be sacrificed? I remember the altar clearly from the dream with that other Eeee," Alptraum says grimly.

Nekara frowns. "And what if it is? What if your destiny is to slip and fall and break your neck on the ice? There is no escaping destiny. You make the most of what you have."

"If it is, then the family will find that they have a son willing to fight against them, Nekara," Alptraum replies and shrugs. "But those are all 'what ifs', aren't they? If I don't go, I'll never know the simple answer of 'who am I'."

"No truer words could be spoken," Nekara says, and then looks down. "Who knows? Maybe your destiny is to go to Babel and wipe us all out, and bring judgment from the heavens. But that is not for me to decide. I have been only sent to contact you and to bring you back to Babel. Beyond that, what you do is for you to determine."

"I don't want to destroy you. I've been to, and in, the Sea of Souls. That's not a fate I would wish on anyone," Alptraum says, looking over at the other Eeee. "I am glad to have met you, Nekara. I just wish I understood more of what is going on. I'm afraid."

"There is nothing wrong with being afraid, my brother," Nekara says. "For example, we may be afraid to set out into that cold world outside, to abandon what little comfort we have in this shrine. But we must move on … to find food, to find water … or to find the village down the road. I have been this way before. I will help you find your way."

Alptraum turns to Autumn-Storm and signs quickly, "Will you come with me? I know we often seem to fight, but I trust you. You're my friend and I've never regretted meeting you."

Autumn-Storm signs, "We are still headed the same way. I am not going to stay behind here in the snow."

Alptraum starts to sign a response, then lets it drop. He turns back toward Nekara and says, "She's coming with us, at least part of the way. I suppose I'd better go find food. I'll eat before returning here, so you won't have to watch – unless you're that curious."

"No," Nekara says firmly. "I am not that curious."

Autumn-Storm shudders violently, and shuffles about, adjusting her thick cloak. Alptraum can almost feel the heat escaping as she moves.

Alptraum winces some at the response, then looks at Autumn-Storm and asks as he stands, "Are you all right?"

"Freezing," Autumn-Storm signs, only sparing one hand to form the sign, then quickly retrieving it to bury it under her ragged garb.

Alptraum reaches down and places a hand upon her forehead. "Hold still a moment," he says.

Her forehead feels very warm compared to their surroundings, but Alptraum's senses aren't so keen as to tell whether this is anything abnormal right here. She has been sniffling frequently, and she doesn't seem even as well adapted to the cold as Alptraum – and this without the extra problem posed by having a couple of natural "radiators" bleeding off body heat to the wintry air.

"How have you been feeling, other than freezing?" Alptraum asks, then kneels down in front of the Savanite.

Autumn-Storm sniffles, then signs, "Getting sick. Want warmth."

Nekara may not understand the signs, but she watches Alptraum's motions. "Is your Savanite ill? They do not hold up so well in the cold, though they're not so bad as Nagai. We had best get her somewhere better than this – but we still have some distance to travel down the road before the first village."

Alptraum curses softly and nods. "I thought so. I'm going to go get you something to eat and I'll be back as quick as I can. I'll try and help keep you warm when I return," he signs. He then looks back towards Nekara and says, "My Savanite? And yes, she appears to be getting ill. I'm going to get food for her too, then we'd better get moving. She needs someplace warm and probably a hot bath."

Nekara nods, and opens up her satchel again. "I'll tend her while you're gone."

Alptraum stands and nods. "I'd appreciate that," he says. Before going, he signs to Autumn-Storm, "She's going to try and help you, okay? Please do not hurt her." He then heads toward the doorway and off in search of food.


Inclement weather has frustrated the progress of the group in their northeastern journey, but they do manage to make it to a village, and to find some farmers hospitable enough to allow them to stay in the barn with the animals – alas, distrusting enough (as is not uncommon in Sylvania) to grant them much more hospitality than that. Still, it's a marked improvement over huddling in a broken down shrine. They continue onward, similarly taking their chances, at times having to set up camp in an old ruin or abandoned farmstead, at other times being fortunate enough to be granted hospitality (to greatly varying degrees) by locals along the way. Nekara's ministrations seem sufficient to keep Autumn-Storm and Alptraum in relatively good health despite the weather, and Nekara herself seems almost untouched.

At last, they reach the town of Bridgeport, located near a crossroads, and having its own port on a northward-flowing river. Asking around, Alptraum is able to determine that, yes, the sorcerer has been through here, and continued eastward … but has gotten considerable lead time, on the order of nearly a dozen days. For what it is worth, Nekara is respectfully if cautiously received by the townspeople, and she pays for rooms in the inn for them all.

Although Nekara seems to have little concern for such things as modesty – perhaps not all that surprising, if she is a physician – she apparently has some amount of funds on her person, and has picked up on Alptraum's discomfort. At the Leaky Keg, a typically Nordikan inn and tavern with upstairs rooms, Nekara springs for separate rooms for all three travelers, and hot water for baths. Once the arrangements are made, Autumn-Storm foregoes even getting a meal in order to get a hot bath drawn and to go straight to her room and soak in steamy water.

As for Alptraum, he takes advantage of a hot bath as well, soaking for a bit, this time without any interruptions. The experience is perhaps briefly darkened by unpleasant memories of the last time Alptraum thought he was getting a nice hot bath in an inn … but this time, he doesn't doze off to have any dreams of Paradise, nor does he awaken to find it's all some horrible illusion. With Nekara covering the bill, Alptraum's clothes are laundered, and by the time he's had enough of the bath, the maid drops off his clothes – still warm from drying over a fire, and showing signs of having a few tears carefully patched and mended. Being that it is winter, it's not long before sundown, and Sylvanian towns quite often roll in the welcome mat and lock the shutters once it gets dark out. (After all, there's no telling when something nasty might wander through at night.) Nonetheless, the town actually sports a few craftsmen and stores, being close to a hub of local trade.

One of the buildings serves as a general store of sorts, with a random assortment of dry goods, tools of bone and wood and occasionally chitin, simple items of clothing (no custom-tailoring here), and basic items geared toward travelers who might pass through by boat, wheel, wing or hoof.

The proprietor, a bespectacled Korv with baggy clothes and a pair of suspenders with a decorative floral motif running along them, perches behind the counter, cawing a greeting as Alptraum enters the store. "Ah! A good evening to you, sir. I was just about to close, but feel free to look around. No pressure, no pressure."

"Good eve to you as well," Alptraum replies cheerily. "I'm looking for a few odds and ends of things as my friends and I are traveling through. Would you happen to carry crossbow bolts and some warm clothing that would fit a Savanite?"

"A Sava-who?" the Korv caws, looking puzzled. "Ah, but I have several quarrels here. Wooden ones are ten to a shekel. Chitin barbs are one shekel apiece. An iron-tipped one will run you ten shekels."

"Spotted cat?" Alptraum offers in description, then nods. "How sturdy are the wooden ones?"

"Here, see for yourself!" The Korv hops down from his perch, and waddles over to a rack, where there are several quarrels laid out. The wooden quarrels are carved with sharp tips, and it suspiciously appears that they've been fletched with spare Korv feathers. Against "soft" targets such as small game, they would do well enough, and are as close to disposable as one might hope. The chitin quarrels are much the same in construction, except that chitin barbs have been affixed to the tips, more appropriate for hunting bigger game. The iron-tipped quarrels are evidently designed with superstitious folk in mind, what with the little "star" runes engraved on them.

The Eeee inspects each one in turn and nods. "Functional. Can you show me what sort of travel clothes you have while I decide on the bolts?" he asks.

"And we have several nice goods for winter travel," the Korv continues, as he waddles over to several wooden hooks and shelves sporting cloaks and boots, trousers and jerkins, gloves and mittens. They range from the luxurious to the simple – heavy trousers with a rough feel no more pleasant than burlap for a shekel, and another shekel for a jerkin to match them … and on the other end of the scale, a luxurious heavy winter fur-lined hooded cloak with fastenable slots to put one's arms through and pouches on the interior, with some nice embroidery on the hem, for one hundred shekels. The boots do not vary so much in quality, since leather is leather, but they range from 10 shekels for a simple pair of travel shoes to 50 shekels for fur-lined boots, to 80 shekels for fur-lined boots built to handle the peculiar shape of digitigrade feet (such as those of a Savanite, even if that may not have been the intent of the maker.)

"You have exceedingly nice wares, good sir. I have been fortunate to stumble across a single gold coin in my travels in one of the ruins along the way," Alptraum says and digs into his vest to fetch a single coin. "Would breaking this into pieces be suitable payment?"

The Korv blinks a few times at the coin in Alptraum's hand … and then he breaks into a cawing laugh. "Ah! A joke. Aha!"

Alptraum holds out the coin. "A joke?" he inquires.

Strange, but the coin feels oddly light, and certainly doesn't feel as cold as it ought to. In fact, as Alptraum sees the coin in his own hand … he can see that it's not gold at all. It's a wooden shekel.

Alptraum laughs and realizes something. He digs back into his vest and into the pouch and traces his fingers over the coinage. So, this must've been the joke.

Sure enough, the whole pouch of "gold" coins … is full of wooden coins instead. Alptraum's not so inexperienced with the difference between gold and wood that he wouldn't normally have noticed that the pouch as a whole is lighter; evidently, there must be some magic involved to keep him from discovering this little secret for so long.

The Korv snickers. "Yes, a joke. It has been said that money does not grow on trees, but perhaps you have been trying to prove otherwise, eh? KAW! I am sorry, but I do not take wooden shekels."

The Eeee shrugs and considers, Perhaps the coins only appear as gold on holiday nights. Ah well. "It appears some spirits have been having fun with me, good sir. I'll not waste any more of your time and just buy two sets of the wooden bolts for now," he says.

"Very good, then. Two shekels for twenty quarrels, and I will wish you the very best of hunting!" the Korv caws, going to a bin and pulling out a bolt of remnant fabric, then counting out twenty bolts and using the fabric to bundle them up.

Alptraum fetches two shekels from his meager six and offers them to the Korv. "Thank you for your time, sir," he replies.

"And thank you for your patronage!" the Korv caws cheerily, as he eyes the shiny ceramic coins, then plunks them into a cashbox.

The Eeee bows slightly, then heads back outside and back towards the inn.

As the sun begins to descend, Alptraum wanders the streets for a short while, watching as the lamp-lighter makes his rounds to ignite lanterns hanging from poles and hooks along the short cobbled street that runs down the town's center and toward the docks, while lights flicker into existence down near the river, hinting at another lamp-lighter doing his work down there as well. A few of the locals leave the tavern, bidding farewells after a few drinks, and heading off to their homes before the sun goes down entirely, leaving only those inside that plan to stay the night in the commons room, or the more expensive rooms upstairs.

At last, when it's evident that Alptraum isn't going to find any more stores open, or any people on the street anxious to share news in the fleeting remnants of daylight, Alptraum heads on back into the Leaky Keg.

"Hail there, stranger!" a red-maned Rhian woman calls from a table near the door. Her garb is unlike standard Sylvanian fare. Rather, she looks the part of a warrioress, dressed in leathers and furs, with a patchwork sort of armor, with studs of chitin and some types of metal imbedded in the leather in no particular organization, with the look of pieces being added as they happened to become handy. "You look to me to be the sort of fellow to have a story to tell. Buy me a drink? Or do I have to buy you one?" She holds up an empty mug.

The Eeee nods and replies cheerily, "Good eve." He tilts his head slightly, realizing how out of place she seems to be here. He makes his way over to the table and sits down, glad to talk to someone other than those he travels with. He says, "A story? Avralie, I do have that. As for a drink, I'm afraid I have little funds from which to buy. I've been on the road for many months, and it has drained what meager money I had. I'm Alptraum Reisender, who would you be?"

"I'd be the buyer of a drink, I'm afraid," the mare whinnies, waving her mug toward the feline barmaid. "Must be the scar on my face. Used to be, I'd have the boys falling over each other to buy me a drink. Ah well! Oh, right. I'd be Agatha the Red, soldier of fortune. More soldier than fortune, as of late, but enough to pay for an ale or two." When the maid takes her mug, she says, "One for the handsome lad, too!"

Alptraum laughs. "It's not that. I'm just a traveler, out from Blackshire and what little money I've had has been used to get supplies along the way. What brings you to these parts?" he asks.

Agatha frowns. "Blackshire, eh? It wasn't overrun by the primp-furs, now was it?"

"The Gallee? I'd hope not. It was fine last I was there. I've only met one Gallee since I've been on the road and he tried to skewer me," Alptraum replies with a frown. "Have you heard bad news of Blackshire?"

A couple of mugs filled with foamy ale appear on the table between the bat and the horse. The Khatta barmaid who set them down smiles at her patrons, and then goes back to tending a more busy table.

"No, no, not a word," Agatha says, looking faintly relieved. "Was just afraid you were a refugee, that's all. I came down the river, from Brandywine." She takes a swig from her mug, then licks the foam off of her lips. "It was a bloodbath down there. Broke up the whole company. Me and the boys, we're some of the lucky ones. We came up north a bit, hoping to run into another count with some fighting spirit, some other force to link up with. I might check out Countess Draco; I've heard bad things about her, the kind of bad things I can respect. The boys, they're talking about going all the way up to Northern Shore."

Alptraum takes a sip from his mug and nods, listening. "I'm pursuing some sort of sorcerer. He's gone east and I intend to follow. He stole an item from the Duchess Kurai and I'm trying to retrieve it for her. Odd that I am, really, considering I'm just a gypsy. But, life is strange that way. Older looking Khatta fellow, the thief was. Do you know what lies east of here?"

"East of here?" Agatha repeats, then snorts. "Unless you want to take your chances with the wilderness, you'd take the road up to Castle Draco, the heart of the Countess's domain," Agatha says. "But if I were some sorcerer running away from a Duchess, I'd probably do exactly the wrong thing, and take my chances with the wilderness. No doubt, there are plenty of monsters, and sorcerers seem to have this gift for getting them on their side."

Alptraum nods. "Who is the Countess Draco?" Alptraum asks. "I don't think I've ever heard of her before." He then takes a swig from his mug and taps a claw tip on it softly.

"Ah, she's a real character," Agatha says, "exactly the sort that every Gallisian poet casts as the villain, exactly the sort that every powdered poodle soldier dreams of vanquishing and gaining glory." The Rhian snorts. "If you believe all the rumors, she's drop-dead gorgeous, though some claim she's already dropped dead, just didn't stay that way. She's a blood-sucker, and a witch to boot, or so they say. But she's also a fighter, and won't tolerate any Gallisian incursions into her lands – not even those lone 'witch-hunters' scouting ahead of the lines."

Alptraum huffs softly. "Witch hunters. Why can't they leave well enough alone," he mutters. "So, they say she's a blood-drinker, eh? She an Eeee then?"

Agatha nods. "Yes. She's even got that glowing-red-eye business going on." She points at her own eyes as if to demonstrate, though her own eyes are turquoise.

"I've seen a few of those around. How long has she been ruling?" Alptraum inquires.

The Rhian just shrugs. "How long has Countess Ophelia of Northern Shore? The royalty, they have life spans far beyond us common folk. She's been the ruler of Draco County since I was just a wee filly, and likely long before that. Of course, some would claim she looks just as young as before, on account of witchcraft or living off the blood of mortals. Or else maybe she just keeps herself locked up and nobody's gotten a peek at her for the last decade or so. Who knows? All that matters to me is that I hear she feeds her people and pays her soldiers, and has a decent chance at holding off the Gallisian advance a little while longer. Unless our luck changes, it's only a matter of time; the rest of the world, they've already redrawn their maps, with Gallis marching all the way up to the Sea of Ice. Gallis fights their own battles, but they have the rest of the world to supply them with the arms and munitions to keep fighting, and the food for their soldiers."

Agatha snorts. "Us, we have hard enough a time as it is. My poor father, struggling to get that ground to bear crops … and then in come those powdered prissies on their pink Drokars, trampling the crops, breaking up the granaries, scattering all the so-called 'bandits' to the woods." The horse glowers, focusing on the wall … then silences her train of thought with a swig from her ale.

Alptraum shrugs and sips from his mug quietly. "I wish people would leave Sylvania alone," he says softly, tapping his claws against the mug. "I cannot stand the Gallee, who hunt those who might be slightly different than they are and brand them a witch or monster. I've got a desire to protect this place, then a Yodhsunala trying to drag me back to some place called Babel." He sighs. "But I am no fighter; there is little I could ever do to protect Sylvania."

"Babel, eh? Now that's a long way off," Agatha says, nodding appreciably. "Home to all the night-folk. I suppose it's just as well you all head back there, if Sylvania gets overrun. No telling how many of you the Gallee will brand as 'vampires' and skewer through with a wooden spike. You know, you'd think that the fact that someone doesn't turn to ashes in broad daylight should be enough … not that we ever get broad daylight enough up in these parts, eh?" The horse nicker-laughs. "Heh, so what's the story with you then? Quite the odd group you've got. You don't strike me as looking terribly rich, but that lady with you – your sister? your mother? – seems to be doing well enough. And what's with the spotty-cat? I don't see any of those up in these parts. A runaway from Gallis perhaps?"

Alptraum laughs and nods about the comment on "turning to ashes." Alptraum then proceeds to retell the story of the trip, minus a few bits such as his own vampiric nature and the odd dreams that tormented him thus far. It starts off with how he met Autumn-Storm, then fast-forwards some to telling about the incident at the inn, and later about the battle with the blood beast. "And as for the other with me, that's Nekara. She says she's my sister and come to take me home. She's part of some religious group, probably where she gets the funds. Neither Autumn nor I have any money to our names."

Agatha soon forgets what's left of her ale as Alptraum's tale gets rolling. "With a story like yours, I'm afraid to sleep in the same tavern! I half expect a swarm of zombies to fall upon town this very night, and us to spend the evening fighting them off. Mind you, not that I wouldn't appreciate a little sport with some good clean zombie-bashing fun for a change, but I was hoping for something a little less eventful tonight. And you still say you're not a warrior, eh?" She absently wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Got to hand it to you, though, you've got grit. As for me, well, Papa would put it best. 'Aggie,' he'd tell me, 'in the stories, the heroes hear about the monster terrorizing the village, the treasure in the haunted cave, the bog nobody comes back out of. And what do they do? They go right on in. In the real world, you go the other way, hear me?'" She giggle-whinnies.

Alptraum laughs and shakes his head. "Well, my friend was in danger so I did what I had to do," he replies and pauses to take a long drink from the mug. "I still intend to find that sorcerer. Whatever he's up to, it is not good. Anyway, what were you hoping for tonight? Myself, I'm hoping for some nice, dreamless, sleep."

"Ah," Agatha says, "sleep is good. Not a bad place to hang one's shield for the night. Me, I'll probably stay up late a bit, enjoy what passes for music here – " She gestures toward an amateur lutist pricking out a pleasant if simple melody near the fireplace. " – and enjoy the company. After spending too much time on the road with the same mercenaries, the stories get old. Plus … " She frowns. "… I don't fraternize with the boys. Not in my profession. Don't want to make too many friends. Not when they might be dead after our next bit of work."

"Well, I don't generally fraternize much either, but for other reasons," Alptraum says glumly, then abruptly quiets for a moment. Perhaps the ale has made him a bit more free-talking that he'd want. Breaking the silence again, he continues, "Anyway, I may head up toward the Castle Draco. It'll depend on if the trail seems to go that way. It'll also depend on what Nekara wishes to do, I guess."

Agatha nods and grins. "Well, if you do that, maybe we can form a caravan, swap a few more tales along the way – and have more people to divide up the night watch duty across." She whinny-laughs, but then sobers as she looks past Alptraum.

Alptraum's ears flick, then he follows the Rhian's gaze and looks back.

Nekara walks toward the table, dressed in her usual attire – high-collared, thick, black and red robes, with heir bleach white hair bound back. She dips her head slightly. "Good evening." She looks directly to Alptraum. "I have found a boatman who is willing to ferry us as far as Northern Shore. From there, we will have to go by sea along the coast, until we are far south enough to catch an airship."

"Good eve, Nekara," he replies and swallows. "But the sorcerer has moved east. He's ahead, but the trail is still there. I still want to reclaim that dream-pendant."

Nekara frowns. "Neither you nor your Savanite will last long in these snows. Surely you know that. And if you winter here to wait for the thaw, his trail will be long lost."

"And if we just let him go, there's no telling what horrors he may cause with that thing," Alptraum replies, fingers tightening around his mug. "And why do you keep calling her my Savanite?"

Nekara says, "He may cause horrors, yes, but there are many horrors being caused, and some of them you have a better chance of halting than others. As for the Savanite – if she is not yours, then whose is she?"

"No one's. She's free to come and go as she chooses. She's her own, and her name is Autumn-Storm," Alptraum replies. "So, you would have me abandon the reason I left Blackshire?"

"You left Blackshire to find yourself," Nekara says, raising her chin. "You may have covered your departure with an excuse of tracking down some petty sorcerer, but deep in your heart, you know what truly motivates you."

Agatha takes a sip of what's left in her mug. "You know," she says, "this is fascinating, really it is … but I'm feeling a little awkward here. I'd offer to move on, except I was sitting here first. But if you don't mind me sitting here while you talk … well, carry on."

"So sure of that, are you?" Alptraum replies, irritated. "I came because I wanted to protect my parents from the Sheriff of Blackshire. He hated me, all because of the pendant I wore. I figured the pendant also was the cause of my dreams." He then turns back to Agatha and apologizes, "I'm sorry, Agatha. Thank you for the ale and I'll leave you in peace." He politely stands and pushes in the chair, then heads toward the stairs.

Agatha calls after Alptraum, "If your discussion turns ugly, I'll still be here!" She winks, and raises her mug again for another refill from the barmaid.

Nekara, meanwhile, is much more sour in complexion, as she turns to follow Alptraum. "Sylvania is already doomed. Gallis is marching through it, and one Eeee will not make the difference – not in this land where the Sisters are only a vague memory. But in Babel, you can make a difference. There, the power of our faith is strong."

Alptraum turns and glares at Nekara, his lips pulling back slightly off his fangs. "Doomed or not, Sylvania is my home, Nekara. It's all I've ever known. You … ," he says, then halts. He lets out an exasperated sigh and starts heading up the stairs.

Nekara presses her mouth firmly shut, and silently follows Alptraum up the stairs.

Alptraum heads toward his room, trying not to pay attention to the Eeee following him.

Nobody bars Alptraum's way, though Nekara keeps in step behind Alptraum, still quiet.

Alptraum quietly opens the door to his room and steps through. He turns and looks back at Nekara, hand resting on the doorknob. "Are you following me inside as well?" he asks.

Nekara blinks. "We are not finished discussing what will be done next," she says.

"We aren't?" Alptraum asks.

Nekara frowns. "Are we going down the river to begin our journey to Babel on the morrow, or are you still insistent upon this 'quest' of yours?"

Alptraum crosses his arms and replies, "Autumn-Storm has a say in answering that. If I decide to continue my quest, is that it? Do we part ways tomorrow, then?"

"What will happen once you kill this sorcerer?" Nekara asks. "Will you then be willing to come to Babel?"

"I never said I intended to kill him," Alptraum replies curtly. "But to answer that, yes I would. However, if Autumn-Storm is also willing to give up the quest in pursuit of warmer climates, I will delay the hunt until after Babel. I won't let her go off into the winter alone. That would kill her. And strange as it is, she is my friend. We've been through a lot."

Nekara is quiet a moment, looking very much as if she's carefully and quietly weighing something in her mind. "Very well then," she says at last. "We will see what your friend says. I will leave you your privacy. May Sunala grant you a dreamless sleep."

"No time like the present to ask her, Nekara," Alptraum says, stepping back outside his room and closing the door. The Eeee then walks down the hallway to Autumn-Storm's room and knocks.

There are sounds of splashing water from within, as if Autumn-Storm were still soaking, and was startled by the sound.

Alptraum huffs a small bit of laugher and says, "It's just me, Autumn-Storm. I need to ask you something."

There is some more splashing, then a creaking of wooden floorboards.

Nekara sighs impatiently.

Alptraum glares over at Nekara.

Nekara doesn't return Alptraum's glare, but just focuses on the door.

Alptraum watches Nekara intently, wondering if she's up to something.

The door cracks open, and Autumn-Storm – adorned in a jerkin tied at the waist with a sash, and with a towel binding back her wet hair – peers out the door, her eyes flitting from Alptraum to Nekara, and then back again.

Nekara, for her part, just looks back at the cheetah, evidently allowing Alptraum to do the talking here.

Alptraum returns his attention to Autumn-Storm and signs, "We have a choice to make. We either continue east after the sorcerer through more winter. Or, we catch a boat north, then head south to catch an airship to Babel and abandon the quest for now. Nekara wants to hurry to Babel and feels it's too cold and dangerous to continue eastward. I want to find that sorcerer, but I am also curious as to Babel. Plus, I'm tired of being frozen, as I'm sure you are. Going the boat route would be warmer. What would you want to do? Even if we abort now, it doesn't mean we cannot return when the weather improves, although the trail will have long faded."

Autumn-Storm bites her lip, closing her eyes for a long moment (longer than Nekara would like, judging from the priestess's expression). At last, she signs, "What is your opinion? I can't continue without you. Not in this weather. I'm not made for the snow."

Alptraum nods and signs, "I know you are not. I wouldn't abandon you to go it alone, which is why I ask. If we go to Babel, we may have a chance to learn more about this type of sorcerer. Even with a cold trail here, the knowledge we might gain would allow us to track him down anyway. You still have that ivory pendant, right? Perhaps that will tell us where he would have gone and perhaps how to combat him. Do you have the other one you got off the beast? May I show it to Nekara?"

Autumn-Storm nods, and motions for him to enter, as she opens the door wider. The room is dimly lit with an oil lantern turned down. (Nekara was extravagant enough to pay for fresh oil for the lanterns, too.)

Alptraum steps into the room and motions to Nekara. "I want to show you something, Nekara. A symbol we uncovered that the sorcerer uses," he says.

Nekara nods and follows him in, looking about.

"Where did you put it?" Alptraum asks Autumn-Storm.

Autumn-Storm closes the door, then walks over to her bundled things – It looks like she keeps everything together, even while staying at an inn, as if ready for a quick getaway. She grabs a blanket from the bed and throws it around herself like a shawl, then stoops over to dig through a bag, pulling out a couple of amulets. One of them is metal, the other ivory.

Nekara holds out her hand for the items, and then furrows her brow as she examines them.

"Do they mean anything to you?" Alptraum asks as Nekara examines them. "One we took from a zombie, the other from a great spidery blood creature."

"Necromancy," Nekara hisses, frowning more deeply. "This is a gross affront to Sunala. If you will permit me the time, I shall need to perform a ritual to Sunala and pray to Her for guidance as I examine these. Perhaps this will give me some greater insight." She looks to Alptraum. "Necromancy is abhorred by Sunala and all of Her followers. It is a corruption of the natural cycle of life and death, an aberration that must be done away with."

"That is who I seek, Nekara, a necromancer. Perhaps it was Sunala who sent me after him," Alptraum says. "As I think you said, one cannot escape destiny. Would those in Babel perhaps know more? He seemed quite powerful and perhaps going to Babel first would prepare us for facing him later." The Eeee then shrugs.

Nekara grasps the amulets in her hand tightly. "He has made a critical mistake in leaving these amulets behind. They are a cheap means of boosting his power, of allowing him to extend his sorcery remotely, without being around to subject himself to personal risk … but they also provide a link to him. If I can take these to a seer, we might yet find a means of tracking him down – or at the very least, to be able to sense when he is using more of his sorcery anywhere nearby."

Autumn-Storm smiles at this notion. "Good thing I took them!" she signs. "Figured they were important… "

Alptraum nods to his Savanite friend and signs, "I'm certainly glad you did. Perhaps we can find out where he and not have to trudge through winter." He then addresses Nekara, "How much can you infer from them through this meditation you speak of? What do you wish to do now?"

Nekara holds the amulets in her hands, considering, and then she hands the metal one back to Autumn-Storm. "I can do nothing with this iron one. I do not understand what sort of necromancy this might be, and I am not so powerful in the works of the Lady that I would be able to work with metal such as this. Metal is often the bane of magic, and it must be a peculiar magic indeed that would use such for its focus." She holds up the ivory one. "But this, this I can work with." She looks to Alptraum. "I do not know what I will find. Perhaps I will be granted a dream by Sunala, a vision of this item's creation, of its history, of its use … or maybe even a vision of its creator. I will not know until I try. But I will tell you this – if you will come with me to Babel, I pledge to you, I will do everything in my power to see that this necromancer is hunted down. That you are on the trail of such an abomination must be Sunala's will."

Nekara looks back to the amulet. "But be that as it may, he must have some source of power. Sorcerers themselves may be careless or incompetent, but they are so often pawns of greater powers. He may not be alone – there may be others – and if he can create such monsters, we may easily be outmatched, without adequate preparation."

Autumn-Storm carefully wraps up the iron amulet in a scrap of cloth, and tucks it back away amongst her things.

Alptraum then nods. "Agreed, then. If you gain insight that will help us find him quickly, we pursue him now. If not, we go north and to Babel, taking me home and to seek out the knowledge that may help us stop him," Alptraum says. He then describes the storm cloud that the necromancer summoned before Kurt became that creature. "If that gives you any indication of his powers, we have seen him do that," he explains.

"He just did that," Nekara asks, looking incredulous, "without having to perform a full ritual? Yes, it sounds like he has some sort of pact with greater powers, or an arsenal of enchanted devices. Either case would make him a formidable opponent."

Alptraum nods. "Then I think we wouldn't have much of a chance against him as we are now. We must find allies and ways to counter him. To Babel we go." He then signs the same information to Autumn-Storm, to make sure she understands what they're planning.

Autumn-Storm bites her lip and nods. "Should I be going with you? Or should I stay the winter here? I … don't know the least thing about Babel, except that my kind are slaves there." She pats her satchel. "I have a few parting gifts from our Gallisian friend, and I can probably find a job, if need be."

Alptraum signs in return, "I'd like you to come with me. I trust you and may need your help. Plus, it'll be warmer there." He winces at a notion, then signs, "I suppose if anyone there asked, we say you belong to me. I don't like doing that, but if it keeps you safe… "

Autumn-Storm bites her lip again, then nods and signs, "Just as long as you don't let it go to your head. I can swallow my pride."

Alptraum nods and signs, "It would only be a last resort gesture. If we don't have to do that, we won't. Plus, keep in mind your Gallee friend may come looking for you… "

Autumn-Storm gulps, and her eyes widen in an "Oh yeah" expression. "I'm coming with you," she quickly signs.

Alptraum can't help but grin. "And hopefully by the time we get back, he'll have forgotten you and taken fancy to someone else," he signs, then chuckles. He then turns back toward Nekara and says, "Well, you win. We go to Babel."

Nekara looks up from the ivory talisman, which she's still holding in her hand. She nods. "Very good, then. If you will allow me, I will take this to my room to examine. You should get some rest. We will be heading further north – it will get colder before it gets warmer."

"Indeed," Alptraum replies and heads toward the door, pausing to sign a goodnight to Autumn-Storm. "And consider this, Nekara. I've been to the Sea of Souls in my dreams, right? The necromancer has a pendant of dreams now. How bad would it be if he gained access to the Sea?" Alptraum says grimly. "Just food for thought."

Nekara broods as she hides the talisman in her robes. "We won't let him do that," she says, as she gets up and heads out the door as well.

Alptraum makes his way back to his room and unlocks the door. "Goodnight, Nekara," he says down the hall to the other Eeee, is a much more pleasant tone of voice, then steps inside. Quickly, he prepares for sleep, then collapses into the bed, his thoughts drifting to Sunala. Is this really my destiny? Is she actually guiding me to fight these things? He shrugs. Who knows?

---

GMed by Greywolf

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Today is 5 days after Candlemass, Year 29 of the Reign of Archelaus the First (6128)