Mystery In The Snow Summoned to House December, Redmane agrees to look into the disappearances of winter people

It has been a Month since Muirenn Ruadhain, now the Knight Redmane, had won the great Spring Tourney. Not only did the King and Queen award her favors, but House May stepped forward and asked her to join their house. Against Thomas' recommendation on the matter, she accepted. The Lord Explorer once again expressed his misgivings about her joining a house; but once she reiterated she wished a true home, he spoke no more on it. The following day, Lord Thomas lived up to his 'legend'; he disappeared into the wilderness, presumably on some mission for the court.

In the next Month, Redmane has not seen or heard from the unusual man, though every now and then she could swear that she spotted one of the Golden Hawks scouts lurking in the distance. But perhaps not, as every time she blinked the person would be gone. There was never much time to pursue or even spend much time considering this oddity, as she was often requested to ride out on missions to defend May's lands. The days were often long and grueling, but at least now Redmane had a warm bed to return to, good food, and a place to call home.

As the Spring days have begun to fade to Summer, Redmane received an odd request: Lord Eclisair of December had requested an audience. As the Spring Court Houses had been recently attempting to form an alliance with the Winter Court ones, the current Lord and Lady of May bade her to go. The journey to the harsher and colder lands of Winter was not without incident, but as with all monsters before her, the Bugbears and Snow Wraiths fell before her blade. Before long, she found herself walking through the cool halls of Winter.

Castle of December
The walls of the castle are smooth and chill to the touch. Some of the outer walls seem to be made of ice, putting great windows to shame with their impressive vista, but the rest of the walls are of some whitish stone. In each chamber, at least one brazier burns to provide light and warmth, and thin furry rugs that suggest bears or deer provide some insulation between the cold floors and one's feet.

"Ah, yes, thank you for coming, Knight Redmane. I am honored that my cousins in the court of May accepted my request," Lord Eclisair pronounces as Redmane enters the throne room. Rumor has often spoken that the Lord of December is an imposing man, and they spoke true. The fey has sharp yellow eyes that flick around the room; keeping careful watch on his surroundings like a predator on the hunt. Pointed ears arch back from a thick head of hair and his strong jaw line is covered in several days' growth of beard. Still, with all that, his lips draw back in a welcoming smile and he stands from his throne and walks down the stairs to the floor to meet with Redmane. "I hope your journey here was not taxing? The lands of winter can be harsh to those who are not familiar with them."

"The route was not boring, Milord," Redmane replies, giving a small bow. At least she can look the Lord of December in the eye, given his size. "It was quite enervating."

"I am glad you feel that way, for what I need to ask requires a strong heart and steady nerves," the Lord of December remarks as he claps her on the back. He leads her off to one of the side rooms; a cozier room meant for more private discussions. Two plush chairs are drawn near the fireplace. With a flourish of his hand, he indicates the chair on the right. As he goes to close the door, he adds, "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Settling into the offered chair, Redmane says, "I hope to make a good impression for my House, Milord. Whatever task you set me, I will carry it out."

"Always eager to please ... such are the charms of those of a Spring house," Lord Eclisair comments as he returns and settles down into the chair opposite Redmane. "But, I have not asked you here to discuss the differences between our lands. Tell me; is it true that you are not of fey blood?"

"It is true, Milord," the knight admits. "My blood is not of Tir na-nOg and the sidhe, but of Lyonesse. My father was a Sea Giant and my mother a Fire Giant."

"Good, then perhaps you will be well suited to the task at hand," the Lord comments with a short nod. He sits back and steeples his fingers together, peering across them with those yellow eyes. "You have seen my lands; they are harsh. The people of my lands also share in this; they are strong. And yet ... somehow as of late many have gone missing. Something seems to be hunting my people, Knight of May. The guard which I have sent to investigate vanished. The knights I sent after them also vanished. There have been no traces of blood, no traces of battle. It is as if something spirited them away to some unknown fate." He pauses there, head canting to the side. As he watches the flames dance in the fireplace, he continues, "Their steeds, though, have always returned. So ... it appears that whatever is taking them is seeking only Fey. I presume, then, you now understand why I called for you."

"Ah, I see the strategy," Redmane says, nodding. "I'm close enough to seem Fey, but therein lays a trap for the villain."

"Correct," Lord December says. "But, realize that while we presume they seek only fey blood, it may not be the case. There is great risk here, Knight of May. You are not of my House and I cannot command you to take this task; all I can do is request that you do. Now, it is true that by accepting this task that it will do much to improve relations between our Houses. But, if you do choose to decline it, it will not worsen the relationship ... of that you have my Word."

"I am bound to battle against evil forces, Milord," the foreign knight claims. "I would have come of my own accord had I heard of these happenings before your request. I cannot refuse this task."

"Mmm," the Lord mutters as those predatory eyes shift back to gaze into Redmane's green ones. After a minute, he nods, now saying, "Excellent. Tonight you will be my guest, then. Tomorrow you will be given a map to where most of the disappearances have occurred as well as all the notes written by the author of the map. The location is deep within my lands, near one of the smaller settlements."

"Has there been any news out of that settlement since the disappearances began?" the knight asks.

"Yes. But the only news of note has been of the disappearances. Each report they have sent has stated that other than one of the townsfolk vanishing without a trace, all else remains as it always has. No strangers have visited; no interruptions with trade," Lord December answers. His thick brow ripples for a moment and it seems as if he's about to say more ... but instead seems content to leave it at that.

"I am eager to review the maps and notes then, Milord," Redmane says.

"I will have them sent to your room," the Lord says as he now stands. "Are there any further questions, or shall I have an attendant show you to your room?"

"I thank you for your hospitality then, Lord December," Redmane says, and stands to bow.

"I wish you well in your hunt. May the wind always favor you and conceal your sent from your prey," Lord Eclisair says and nods, "Wait here and an attendant will see to you shortly." The door then opens and the Lord leaves the room. Now only the crackle of the fireplace serves as company for the knight.

The knight stares into the flames for a time, wondering at what sort of creature would take men but not horses. "I hope the notes are thorough on the abductions of the townsfolk," she mutters to herself.

There's a soft knock at the door, then it opens. A thin woman, skin pale to the point of almost being translucent, and with long ears reaching up through a flowing mane of white hair steps in. "Welcome, honored Knight of May," she says with a voice tinted with the chimes of icy limbs blowing in a breeze, "I am Drift, your attendant during your stay. If you will follow me, I will show you to your room."

The tall woman nods to the Fey, and gestures for her to lead the way.

Drift rolls her hand gently in indication to follow, then leaves the room. The walk through the castle shows that like the land, it is devoid of many colors; much is simple whites, blues, and shades of gray. Grand sculptures are cut from blocks of ice in many of the halls that they pass through and tapestries depicting the founding of the winter house abound. Eventually, she leads Redmane up a curving flight of stairs. "You have been given a room in one of the far towers so that you may have privacy. It is also one of the warmer rooms and even contains a bath blessed by the magicks to always fill with warm water. I hope you find it sufficient."

"More than sufficient for my needs, Drift," the knight says. "Please have some food sent up in an hour."

Soon enough, they reach the door. The snow-fey opens it and curtsies. "Your Will, Knight of May," she replies, "The maps are on the desk inside for your review." She looks curiously at Redmane for a moment, and then asks rather strangely, "Forgive me for being so bold, but is your name Muirenn?"

"It was, once," Redmane says, looking sidelong at the attendant. "I had thought that only a very few in Mirari would know such, however. Why do you ask, Drift?"

The snow-fey reaches into a pocket and draws out a small note. She holds it out for the tall woman to take. "This was left, to be given to a woman named Muirenn. She was described to be a tall woman with eyes of the sea and hair like that of the leaves of Autumn fire," she explains. "You matched the description."

Redmane takes the note, and looks at the seal. "May I ask who gave it to you to deliver?" she inquires.

The note is sealed by wax, but the seal is plain and bears no ring mark.

"Forgive me; it is not for me to say. If the author wishes to be known, then surely it is quilled inside," Drift says and bows her head. "I will see to your meal now."

"Thank you, Drift," Redmane says as the servant leaves. She enters the room, and doffs her fur-lined cloak and gloves before sitting at the desk. Curiosity (and not a little suspicion) bids her to read the note first, so she cracks the wax and opens it.

The room is simple in decor, much like the rest of the castle. But unlike most rooms, the walls are crafted from stone, not ice. A large fireplace adorns one side of the room, and a bed and desk on the other. Atop the desk is a worn leather bag; presumably the maps and reports. Near the fireplace sits the bathtub Drift mentioned. It shimmers with an odd light.

After glancing at the magical bathtub, Redmane settles into the desk chair and unfolds the mystery note to read.

"Welcome to the hunt, dear Muirenn," the note begins, "If you're reading this, then what I suspected may have come to pass and they have called in another that is, perhaps, 'expendable'. Strange happenings are unfolding in the land of December. Be careful of who you trust, for in these cold lands, much may shift like the snow. Watch your back, for many predators stalk in these lands. Indeed, for now even I feel their silent eyes watching my every move. I suspect that within a few days I too will be amongst those taken. For what purpose, I do not yet know. Little more can I say at this time, other than good luck, stand tall, and be ready." There is no signature.

"Thomas," Redmane whispers, and shakes her head slightly. "Watch my back indeed, and now watch for you as well," she says, and refolds the note before feeding it to the fireplace. She's learned some of the politics amongst - and within - the Houses, and knows the note may well be referring to people rather than monsters.

The fire crackles as it consumes the small bit of paper. Within moments, it is nothing more than fragments of ash floating in the flames.

The knight next opens the satchel, and starts to go through the reports. She looks specifically for common patterns: were the victims all on horseback when they vanished, or did the abductions take place at similar times of day or night. She wouldn't expect villagers to be out at night, after all.

The reports indicate that whether the victims were on horseback or not seems to matter little; it is a mix on that front. For that matter, gender also seems to vary. Some have been men, some have been women. There are only two points of note in the report that indicate any possible commonality. All were of a prime age, adults, but still with the strength of youth and that all were taken at dusk, when the moon had just begun to rise.

The knight taps her fingers on the desktop as she ponders the information. Armed men vanished, sometimes in a group, while their horses returned unharmed. "Perhaps something or someone who can charm with glamour; a witch, perhaps?" she ponders out loud. A large flying creature, such as a gryphon, wyvern or dragon could pluck people from horseback and field, certainly, but not likely in a stealthy manner, nor multiple targets at once. The knight decides that something of intelligence is at work, possibly something that uses magic. Thomas' note hinted that the Explorer suspected men behind the mystery.

There are also a series of maps that indicate which town has seen the majority of disappearances. If the scale is correct, then indeed it is a fair journey from the castle. A dotted line has been drawn around a large section of the forest that surrounds the town. A note is written next to it: "Territory?" Apparently, someone has tried to determine how far out the abductions have tended to occur to try and define a border of perhaps the creatures' territory.

The forest location would tend to rule out a large creature, to Redmane's thinking. But it would be ideal for a group of bandits, if there was a motive to the abductions. "Not for ransom, surely," she mutters. "But all of them were fit and able adults. A labor force? Slaves. Hmmm." The knight studies the maps of the forest closely, looking for any noteworthy features.

The map indicates that it’s an area of deep forest. Along the edge of the map are some comments on the height of the trees there; an average of fifty feet tall and two feet in diameter. Some are even larger. Unfortunately, there are no landmarks that stand out; or at least none that have been recorded on the map.

Redmane leans back in the chair, and chews on her lip. She'll just have to investigate the woods, it seems. She gets up then and checks under the bed to see if anyone is hiding there. It's become a habit of late whenever the knight finds herself in an unfamiliar room for the night. She knows her apartments back at May are secure, since her fellow knights still prefer to think of her as some sort of 'unusually pretty ogre' instead of as a woman. After all, it's easier on their egos to have been defeated in the tourney by a monster; not bested by a mere female.

The bed is covered in a myriad of furs stitched together to form a blanket. Beneath those are simple linen sheets. Nothing seems to be hiding under the bed, not event some rogue dust bunnies. As she's investigating, there's a knock at her door.

"Enter," she calls, assuming it to be Drift.

The assumption was correct. Drift inters the room carrying a small tray. Without a word, she takes it over to the desk. As she balances it on the edge, she gingerly folds and puts the maps back into the satchel, then slides the tray onto the desktop. "I hope a venison stew is most pleasing? The Lord downed the buck this morning during the hunt," Drift explains.

Getting up from her examination of the bed, Redmane nods. "Quite an honor to dine on the Lord's hunt, I daresay," she notes with a smile, and approaches the desk. "Tell me, Drift, are there any ice-vines or what-have-you that climb the outer walls of this tower?"

"Of course not; the security of these rooms is of the utmost importance," Drift says, sounding shocked by the mere suggestion. And then an odd thing happens; the snow-fey's cheeks flush. "Oh, but if you were hoping for a night visitor, perhaps someone who has caught your fancy, well ... I can instruct the guards to let him in the back entrance for you. It is not as romantic as those who climb a vine to woo his maiden, but ... " she says in a low whisper.

"Ah, no, that will be fine," Redmane says, blushing a bit herself. "I just wanted to make certain I wouldn't be getting any surprise visitors."

"Yes, well, you should have the very best privacy here," Drift says quickly, recovering her composure. "Is there anything more you wish? Is everything satisfactory?"

"Everything is fine, thank you, Drift," the knight replies. "And while my journey has been long and tiring, I would appreciate it if you or another servant would rouse me before dawn on the morrow."

"It will be done," Drift says. The snow-fey curtsies, then backs herself out of the room. The door closes shortly thereafter. No squeaks; at least they keep the hinges well oiled.

Redmane makes note of the lack of squeaks. A secure room should have a very squeaky door and musical floorboards, in her opinion. But the Fey were the Fey, and she could at least appreciate their taste in plumbing. After enjoying her meal and feeling certain that she would not be interrupted or spied upon, the knight finally tries out the magical bath whose water never loses its warmth. Her bones still carry some of the chill of Winter's lands after all.

The meal was quite good: flavorful and filling, even with the meat being a bit tough and gamey. The buck must have been strong indeed and difficult to take down. But if the meal was good, the bath was even better. The warmth of the water seemed to flow throughout her entire body when she slid into the porcelain tub. And not only does it remain warm, no matter how much she may move, the water never flows over its rim. Somehow, it always seems to remain an inch below it. It's almost idyllic, in truth. The fire nearby crackles with a cheerful tone, and outside she can hear the winds of Winter blowing past the tower windows. Through the window the knight can see the bright starts of Mirari shimmering like ice crystals in the sky.

Weary as she is, the knight closes her eyes and momentarily considers sleeping the night in the tub. But that would be silly, and likely leave her wrinkled as a prune by morning. She reluctantly escapes the warm embrace of the water for the warm embrace of the bed. She wants to gather up all the warmth she can, for the road ahead is likely to have little of it to go around.

The bed is soft and envelops her in its warm embrace. As the night wanes, the fire dies down in the fireplace, leaving only the soft glow of embers to illuminate the room. Redmane isn't quite certain when she fell asleep, but dawn comes all too quickly. She feels a cool hand come to rest on her shoulder and rock her gently. "Honored Knight of May, it is just before dawn; the sunlight just barely kisses the horizon," flows the whispery voice of Drift.

"Your beds are far too comfortable, Drift," Redmane complains. "I should have slept in the stables. Please prepare me a quick breakfast and a cold lunch that I can take with me. I will be down soon."

"Breakfast already awaits you on your desk. I will go see to your lunch and make sure that your steed is properly fitted with its tack and ready to leave," Drift whispers, then draws away. Redmane can hear the door close a short time later. The scent of warm porridge now drifts to the Knight's nose and true to her word ... from where Redmane lays, she can see through the window that the edge of the horizon glows with a faint red line.

The woman forces herself out of the cocoon of furs, and dresses while she eats - a talent she learned early on in her travels, on those occasions when she could do only one or the other in the time she had. Once finished, she takes up the satchel with the maps and notes and leaves the tower room for the long stairs.

The walk down the stairs is long and uneventful. The castle is quiet; almost to the point of being like a tomb. Only now and then does she hear the rustle of a maid that tends to some early morning duty. Rarely, though, does she actually see them. Waiting in the main hall is her attendant, Drift, and Lord December. As Redmane enters Drift curtsies. Lord December, for his part, merely nods his head. "I hope your accommodations were satisfactory, Knight of May?" he asks. "And that my servants were prompt in their attending to your needs?"

"It was far more luxury than I am used to, Milord," Redmane says, bowing to the Lord of December. "And Drift seemed to anticipate my needs. I leave to my duty now for fear that another day would leave me unable to abandon such opulence!"

There's a huff of amusement from Lord December. "For a non-fey, you have learned the proper graces quickly. That too speaks well of you," the Winter Lord comments. He looks towards the entrance now, adding, "Your steed has been attended to. You have enough rations for a week in the wilds and you have been provided some better blankets and a small tent as well. I wish you luck in your quest, Knight of May, for all our sakes."

"Farewell then, and thank you for your blessings," Redmane says. "I hope to find the missing people alive, and return them so, Milord."

As Redmane rides through the gate into Lunafell, she gets her first good look at the people of these lands. Most look like Drift did; icy-transparent skin with flowing white hair and pointed ears. They are not, however, as thin as she was. In fact, most of the males are thick-limbed; muscles born from having to endure the harsher climes. Most of the people ignore the strange red-haired woman, but a few watch her out of the corners of their eyes with suspicion and distrust.

Redmane's steed only gets about a dozen feet from the gate before one of the men steps before her and holds out a hand. "Halt, traveler," he rumbles, his voice strong with the tone of a winter storm. "You are not of the Lands of Winter. Declare your name and purpose here. I warn you now, if you seek to cause harm, know that our archers’ eyes are sharp and you would have no chance to draw that blade ay your side before you were adorned with Winter's fletching."

"I am Knight Redmane of May, here in service to the Lord of December," Redmane replies matter-of-factly. "I've come to look into the disappearances of villagers and the fighting men sent to investigate."

"It is easy to claim you are in the service of my liege," the man replies, "But, do you have proof of your claim?"

"I have documents recovered from the previous men, given to me by Lord December," Redmane says, starting to lose patience. "What proof would you have of me, Winterman?"

The man extends his hand up to the mounted woman. "Let me see the documents," he says.

Producing the satchel from a saddlebag, Redmane removes one of the field reports and offers it to the man.

The snow-fey flips slowly through the report as his gray eyes scan the pages. "Mm," he grunts as he offers the report back to Redmane. "Then things must be desperate; the last hunter must have fallen as well," he notes grimly. "But, so be it. Since you are on Lord's business, you are granted room and board at the inn. A stable will also be prepared for your mount."

The knight dismounts and repacks the report, before asking, "Tell me of this other hunter, and any other strangers who have visited. And what may I call you?"

A white eyebrow arches a bit. "You were not told who preceded you," the man says. "That is ... curious. But, I suppose the Lord wished to avoid potentially uncomfortable questions. The last hunter was the best of all, for no quarry has ever eluded for more than three days under his track. My most Noble Lord contracted the Lord Explorer himself to locate the cause of our trouble. He arrived less than fourteen passings of the Sun ago. Seven passings of the Sun ago, he headed into the wilderness. He has not been seen since. Rumor was that he returned to Lord December to report what he had thus uncovered, but ... it appears that was not true. He too must have fallen to the shadows." There he pauses and waves for some younger fey to come tend to the horse. "I am Genrick Altsturm and this is my town," he adds.

"Thomas found what he was searching for then, certainly," Redmane mutters. She hands over the reins to the younger man, warning him that horse bites if mishandled. To the headman, she asks, "Tell me then, Headman Altsturm; have the families of those who have vanished seen any sudden windfalls or upturns in their fortunes?"

As Redmane's horse is lead away, Genrick says, "No. People that are outside the walls vanish at dusk. No note left, no traces in the snow. It is as if they simply disappear from the world. Truth be told, even an impossible ransom demand would be preferred to this ... silence. At least a demand would indicate that they are still alive."

"If they vanish without trace of struggle, then they are likely still alive," the knight says. "The reports say they were all adults, fit and in their prime. Or have children and elders vanished now as well, for simply being outside the walls?"

"No. Children and the elderly are never taken. We know this for some of the families have gone in search of their own and have dared remain outside when night fell. They were never harmed, nor did they see anything unusual," the Headman explains. With a wave of his hand, he now heads towards the inn.

Redmane follows with her travel pack and the satchel. "Did the Explorer stay out at dusk to tempt fate himself?" she asks along the way.

"Many times," The Headman notes. The door to the inn is swung open and he steps through. A stocky older woman stands behind the bar. When Redmane and Genrick enter, her eyes drift to the Knight. "Another sacrifice to the Winter Gods is it?" she comments, then lets out a long breath, sounding tired. "First room on the second floor, same as all the others have used. Some of your predecessor's things may even still be there. Take what you like; I'm certain he won't need them anymore."

Redmane nods to the old woman, and asks Genrick, "Where can I find you after I have settled in?"

"Around. Though, more often than not I am in the town hall, settling disputes over some trivial matter," the Headman comments.

The red-head nods to the Headman then, saying, "I shall seek you there should I need more assistance. Thank you for your hospitality, Master Altsturm."

"Most do not thank the reaper when they come for them, Knight Redmane. I have given you the key to your passing; just as I have all the others. You would do well to abandon your quest here and return to safer lands," Genrick finally says after a moment of looking at the tall woman. "But, I imagine you will not. So ... I wish you the best and hope that you find the answer ... though my hopes are not high."

Redmane smiles to the man, and says, "Then I will just have to keep hope enough for both of us." With that, she turns and heads to the offered room. If Thomas managed to leave a note for her at December's manor, then he's probably left information for her in the room as well.

The inn room is a far cry from the rooms at the Castle. The walls are rough-hewn wood with little in the way of adornment. A cobblestone fireplace in the corner burns dimly, bringing only the barest of warmth to the room. The bed ... it may as well be a bench; for all it is just a series of planks with a small covering of straw and cloth atop them. Even the blankets piled near it are timeworn skins, fur missing in large patches. If Thomas left anything, it's certainly not obvious.

Undaunted, Redmane begins her search. She sifts through the straw, checks for loose cobbles in the hearth and tests the floorboards for hiding spaces.

It takes quite a bit of time searching to locate anything, but eventually Redmane finds a sheet of parchment that may have fallen from a bound notebook. It reads: "Four nights have past in the wilds. Four nights of listening to the cries of the animals of these lands as they seek out an existence in the ice. But ... I think I have finally caught the trail of the shadows that consume the people of these lands. They thought they could elude me through glamour and through using the winds for concealment. But ... nothing can hide from me for long; I located a trail. Tonight I shall follow that trail to its source and find the answer to this mystery. Spirits willing, the townsfolk taken will soon be reunited with their families."

Parchment in hand, Redmane lies on the bench-like cot to think. They must only want snow-people, she decides. Even Thomas, wiry as he is, would be worth something as a slave in less severe conditions. Still, she wasn't a tracker. Her best chance of finding the others would be to lure the kidnappers to her and get information from them directly. But for that she'd either need live bait or a very thorough disguise: neither of which would be easy to obtain.

"The old crone might know about make-up," she mutters out loud, and gets up to go find her.

The innkeeper is still downstairs. Currently, she's wiping down the few tables there are. "Kitchen's closed," she mutters as Redmane descends the steps. She doesn't even bother to look up.

"I'm not hungry," Redmane notes. "Except for information. You mentioned sacrifices and winter gods when I arrived. Where you being glib, or is there something more to that comment?"

"Old legends, child. This land used to be alive with creatures of old and many Gods were worshipped here. But, no place for them now, no place at all. All pushed away in the name of civilization. Another tree falls, another animal downed for food and skin, and the wild world dies a little more. It's angry, is what it is, angry for what we took, so now it takes from us," the woman says without once looking up from where she continues cleaning. "Sickness took my husband; now the wilds have taken my children. Everyone wants to find who to blame for this ... and all they have to do is look in a mirror."

"Old legends, eh?" the knight asks, finding a seat. "Were there sacrifices made in the old days as well?"

"So the stories say. None were done in my day, though," the woman says.

"But how detailed do those stories get?" Redmane asks, pushing a bit further. "Were they of men and women, like those who've gone missing?"

"Depends on the story and who was telling it, doesn't it? That's the funny thing about them; they too grow as they age. Much like people, really," the woman comments as she stands up and tucks the rag into her apron. "As for the stories of sacrifice, well ... they were about the wilds demanding replacements for what was taken for us to survive. A life for a life, child. Oldest laws in the wilds are all about survival."

"But how did they make their demands, do any of the stories say?" the tall woman asks. "Were they called by the wilds, and then went to them willingly, or where they chosen by the people and given up with some sort of ritual?"

"The wilds called and people went willingly back then, or so it goes. But back then people listened more to what the lands told them. Now, well, everyone is so deaf," comes the answer as the innkeeper returns to stands behind the worn counter. "A few people still know how to listen, though. That's why the Explorer was such a hunter, you know; he knew how to listen to the land. But now ... doesn't even matter. Lands are angry. They take even their allies."

"Is there anyone in town who's been saying that people are being taken because the wilds are angry, or is it just something you felt was the reason," Redmane asks next, watching the woman closely.

"Don't have to ask when you reach my age. You just know," the woman explains. "Think he knew too, or at least suspected. Older than he looks, that one."

"Thomas, the Explorer, you mean," Redmane says. It's not even a question. "Tell me, Innkeep: could I be made to look like one of you, without any glamour?"

"Who else would I mean, child. Met him once when I was half your age. He looked near the same then as he does now," the woman chides. With a tired sigh, she walks back around the counter and over to where Redmane sits. The old woman's calloused hand cups Redmane's chin as she considers it. "A bit of powder and soot and you could be made to look more like one of the October or November kin. Black hair runs in their line, you know. Much easier to manage black hair by sooting that fiery mane of yours than it would be to bleach it."

"Would you help me with that, then?" the knight asks. "If I go out to face your old gods, I should at least look like a suitable sacrifice."

That calloused hand pats Redmane's cheek. "You're a brave one and all right by me for someone of Spring. I'll see what I can do," she says, "Just wait here." The stocky fey then heads off through a swinging do to where presumably the back quarters are.

Redmane waits, and goes over plans in her head. She should leave on foot and head towards the woods marked on the map to look properly lost and harmless. I'll need to wear Morrighan unsheathed beneath my cloak to help ward off spells, she thinks. The silver blade she carries at her hip should be fine to wear. Whoever is taking people isn't fighting anyway, but luring them along, she's certain.

After a few minutes the woman returns with a couple of small bags. She draws up a chair besides Redmane, and then says, "Just close your eyes and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Redmane says, and closes her eyes. It's a chance to rest, at least, since she probably won't be getting any sleep that night.

And rest Redmane does get, for the next hour at least the old woman works on her appearance. Her hair is dampened slightly and combs drawn through it, depositing a thin film of black soot over the fiery strands. It's actually the longest part of the process to cover all that visibly red hair. The next part Redmane can feel involves a cool, almost lotion-like substance applied over her entire face neck, and even partway down her shirt ... both front and back. The last bit takes only a few minutes and it's to cover her forearms in the same lotion. She doesn't bother with her hands because, well, she will likely be wearing gloves anyway. And there it stops. A minute or so passes before she hears the woman speak again. "Hah, you look like a right lady of October, you do; a tall willow tree of shadow and pallor."

Opening her eyes, Redmane raises up her arm to see the effect, and brings around a few strands of hair to check as well. "Amazing," she says. "How long will it last?"

"Till you bathe or otherwise get very wet," the innkeeper explains as she packs away her things.

"I'll try not to fall in the snow then," the knight says, standing up to stretch. She checks the window to see how close it is to dusk.

The Knight may have 'slept' longer than she thought. It's already dark outside.

"The gate will stay closed until dawn?" she asks the innkeeper.

"It will unless ol' Genrick opens it," comes the answer.

"Well, perhaps he will be eager to see me gone then," Redmane suggests, and goes to get her gear. Hopefully the headman will still be at the Town Hall when she goes looking.

Redmane has to wait several minutes after loudly knocking on the town hall before anyone opens the door. "Eh, how did you get into," Genrick starts to say when a slot in the door opens and he peers through ... right before he realizes who it is. "Ah, Knight of May; playing dress up now is it? I suppose you hope to lure whatever it is into trying to take you, then. So ... you need the gate open, then?"

"Very astute of you, sir," Redmane notes. "That is precisely why I came to disturb you, if you don't mind."

"Mind sending someone to their death? Now, why would I mind that?" Genrick grumbles as the locks are thrown on the town hall door and he steps out into the cold air. As he heads towards the gate, he asks, "Have any kin that you wish notified?"

"None," the knight says, and follows. Along the way, she asks, "Who did you think I was when you first looked through the slit?"

"One from the neighboring Winter lands. Though why they would come to this forsaken place is beyond me," Genrick mutters. Once they are at the gate, it takes a good fifteen minutes for the Headman to pull every locking bar and release every latch. With a loud grunt, he shoves on the main gate and it opens with a groan of protest. Outside, the far trees look as great, dark spires reaching towards the icy sky. In the distance, a menagerie of howls and other noises cut through the night.

"Sleep well, Genrick Altsturm," Redmane bids the man as she steps out into the night.

"Yes, well," the Headman says, for a moment at a loss on quite how to respond to the pleasant farewell. "Just don't go disappearing or dying. Even if you don't have kin, someone will miss you and I'm tired of having to bear the news to them," he seems to decide on. There's silence, then a loud crash as the gate behind her closes. And as she has been much in her recent life; Redmane finds herself alone in a foreign land. Ahead the forest waits.

The knight starts towards the dark mass of the woods, listening to the various sounds. "Well then, Old Forgotten Gods or Tricky Men, here I come," she whispers, watching her words become clouds of mist.

For the long walk towards the forest, the only sound that keeps her company is the soft crunch of snow beneath her feet. The light from the moon far above glints off the eyes of animals of the wood as they appear to warily watch her approach.

"The Fey use all kinds of tricks to cloud your mind," whisper the words of Redmane's old instructor at arms. "So it's not enough to wield iron in your sword, you have to wield it in your mind too. Glamours are fuzzy things, and a sharp mind can cut through them."

"Yeah, yeah," Redmane mutters. "Easy to say when your eyelids aren't close to freezing shut," she tells the memory.

Perhaps there is truth to those words. For the briefest moment, Redmane could swear she saw the figure of a man peering out around from the trunk of a tree. But, after a blink from the cold, he's gone. Maybe it was just a gnarled old tree in shadow after all.

Taking heed of the Innkeeper's advice, Redmane listens. Glamours can fool the eye, but not so easily the ear. She keeps going, and makes an effort not to react to things only half-seen.

Up ahead the sound of a broken branch can be heard, and then another. A shadow ripples and again for a split second Redmane sees something moving just beyond the tree line.

Don't be distracted, the knight tells herself, and ignores the shadow for the sound, trying to determine where up ahead it came from.

Several branches snap at nearly the same time just up ahead. The shadows from the trees now ripple and roll in unnatural movement, extending, swaying, and then contracting ... all while the moon above stays still. There it is again, a face peering from behind a tree, eyes glinting in the moonlight. Blink It's gone.

"H-hello?" Redmane calls out with a tremulous voice (which she could hardly prevent due to the cold making her teeth chatter). "I was turned away at the village. Is there someone here who can help me?"

Suddenly, the knight is rocked forward on her toes as a large clump of snow falls from somewhere high above and lands squarely between her shoulder blades. The blow isn't hard enough to hurt, but it does surprise her a great deal.

"Damned squirrels!" she curses quietly, and turns to look up into the tree.

"Oh dear," the voice of an old woman calls back on the wind, "Another poor child left in the snow. Dear me, travelers have such hard times in these lands. Come, child, follow my voice and I'll lead you to our camp. We do not have much, but we can offer you a warm meal and a blanket this evening. We dare not come to you, for those who live in that town are terrified of everything these days and would sooner put an arrow in us than help us."

"Thank you!" Redmane calls, and follows the voice. The snow cover on the ground makes it impossible for her to look for trip-wires or other obvious traps, however, and she wonders if anyone else would actually be taken in by such an offer.

"And don't dally," the voice calls back, "Many creatures roam these woods. It is dangerous to be alone in them. All too often have we seen a person who strayed too far find their fate in the jaws of the beasts here."

Just as Redmane starts forward, however, an entire cloud of snow plummets from the treetops and forces her to retreat a few steps or risk losing her disguise.

Redmane once more stops to look up into the trees, wondering if someone is there trying to actively prevent her from moving forward.

Now that much of the snow has been cleared from the nearest tree branches, Redmane can see some sort of shape outlined in the moonlight. It certainly isn't part of the tree, but it's not moving towards her, either.

"We cannot wait any longer, my child. Hurry, hurry, before they come for you too!" the old woman's voice is head again, only this time fainter, growing distant as it appears to be moving away. Deep ahead, she can hear the faintest sounds of branches snapping.

Grinding her teeth to keep them from chattering, Redmane ploughs ahead towards the voice. Every so often, she glances upwards to make sure she's not about to be dumped on by an overburdened tree branch. "The ground is treacherous, please wait for me!" she calls ahead.

"Hurry, hurry." comes the old woman's voice. It's even fainter now, barely audible.

They must be trying to exhaust me, Redmane thinks, since the voice is moving faster than should be possible. The snow drops could be meant to obscure my trail so that I can't find my way back. The only way to test it, she knows, is to feign injury or exhaustion. She deliberately trips and stumbles, falling to her knees.

When she looks towards the forest's canopy, she does not see branches bending above her - but a long, dark shape that leaps from the top of one tree to the next, showering snow on her again. More ominously, there is a soft, feral growling that seems to issue from its new position.

The knight remains on her knees, and moans as if injured. She brushes the cloak away from her shoulder as well, so that she can reach the grip of her steel-bladed sword.

The moment Redmane's hand touches the hilt of her blade, the growling becomes a fearsome snarl and the shape throws itself from the trees to land in front of her. For an instant, the knight could have sworn that the shape was that of a woman, but when her eyes focus again, she finds herself staring into the yellow eyes and bared teeth of a gray wolf.

The knight draws her blade, but doesn't strike. Instead she brings it into a guard position to intercept those jaws should they strike. She's not about to let go of her first impression of the shape: if it's a transformed fey, it will pull back from the iron.

Apparently, the creature has no dear of her blade, for it lunges towards the knight and snaps its powerful jaws within inches of her legs.

Redmane takes a swing at the beast with her sword, so that she can get to her feet. "A tree-climbing wolf?" she asks, a bit gruffly.

The wolf dodges her swing easily, but this gives Redmane enough time to stand once more. Once she is on her feet, however, the creature rushes forward and makes another snap at her, this time aiming for her knees.

The knight brings the heavy blade down to block again. "A shifter of December, is my thought," she tells the wolf, bracing for the impact.

Seeing the blade come down, the wolf pulls away at the last second and narrowly misses closing its mouth around steel. Yet it does not back down, seemingly intent on blocking the knight's path further into the woods. Next, it tries feinting to the side and ramming into the knight bodily, knocking her back the way she came.

Redmane gives ground, testing to see if the wolf really is trying to drive her back instead of attack her.

The wolf lands heavily in the spot where Redmane used to be and then leaps for her again. It is barking and snarling and showing its teeth at every opportunity, but it always stops short of actually biting her.

The knight finally just stops, and plants the tip of her sword in the ground while holding the hilt with both hands. "Alright, enough of this posturing," she tells the wolf. "I know shifters can communicate in either form, so let's communicate."

The wolf's golden eyes consider the knight as a growl continues to rumble deep within its chest. After a few moments, the growl seems to change in pitch, getting higher rather than lower. Odd, dark ripples pass over the wolf's body, taking away the fur and paws and tail and replacing them with hands, hair, and skin. At last, Redmane no longer sees a wolf but a woman crouching in front of her in the snow. Her yellow irises lock onto the knight's green ones and she shows dangerous-looking fangs when her upper lip curls back from her teeth. "By all the wind-swept wilds," she tells Redmane, "you are one of the most persistent and irritating fey creatures I have ever had the misfortune to meet!"

"Well, then you aren't as unfortunate as you think," Redmane says to the odd woman. "I take it though that you are not fey yourself, since you didn't shy from my blade. What does that make you, then?"

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.