The Bearer of Ill Tides Redmane must go to Lord December and explain the situation ... and how he was duped into a war with his own people.

Erzsebet's Den
The house itself is all on one level and its rooms are not large. There are no decorations on the bare white walls or around the windows, but a few animal-skin rugs lie on the floors. There is also a small fireplace embedded in one wall. A fire burns dimly in it.

The jaunt across the crumbling town was fortunately without incident ... though there was a moment when it looked like Angryff was going to attack Redmane. Fortunately, he kept to just glaring. Erzsebet's den is now cold with only the faintest of embers still glowing in the fireplace. Atop the mantle rests Redmane's silver sword that she had given to the wolf woman earlier.

Redmane picks up the sword by the hilt, and hopes it doesn't burn her in her half-transformed state.

The hope is quickly dashed, because Redmane's palm suddenly feels like she grabbed a chunk of red hot metal! There's also a disturbing smell of burning flesh...

With a growl, Redmane lets go of the sword and blows on her palm. So much for that.. she'll just have to come back for it or get a new one. She heads outside to where her guide waits, and looks for a clean patch of snow to stick her hand into.

Her palm is a bit blistered, but thankfully once the sword isn't in her hand, the flesh seems to rapidly repair itself. The pads are a bit reddened, but at least it doesn't hurt too much. And once stuck into a snow drift, the pain vanishes. "Are you all right?" her guide inquires as he watches her oddly bury her hand into a snow drift.

"Hmph," Redmane replies. "Burned myself. I'll worry about that sword later, since I'm not sure it'll be any more effective against the monster than my steel was. Let's get to the cave."

Her guide smirks slightly. "Silver blade, by chance?" Dimitri asks as he peers inside the den's doorway and spots the blade. "I am in fey form, I could carry it for you if you wish," he points out. True enough, he is in the form of a fey currently and wearing tattered clothing to fend off the cold.

"The one the fey gave me," Redmane notes. "Erzsebet held it when she brought me in. And yes, you can carry it for me I suppose - it's just on the mantle in there."

Dimitri ducks in the den and returns a moment later carrying the silver blade. "If you are bearing any form of the wolf, silver is your bane. Just as iron is the bane of the fey; they burn equally," he explains. "Now, you said to head to the nearby caves? This way, then," he says as he walks off in an eastern direction.

While she follows along, Redmane wonders about the rest of the transformation process. I have to accept who I want to be without any reservations or self-delusion, she thinks. That could be tricky.

The walk back to the caves takes about fifteen minutes. There is still the strong scent of blood about the place, and Redmane can see several sets of fresh tracks leading back into the cave. Thomas' scent is strong and must have just recently entered. Sitting just inside the entrance is her bundle of clothing. It does look a bit damp, alas.

"I believe these must be the caves you seek. Much activity has been here recently," Dimitri notes, then sniffs the air. "My mate is also here. she must be tending to the wounded."

"It may take me some time to finish my transformation, if you want to go see her," Redmane says, sitting down next to her bundle of clothes. "I don't suppose you have any advice for me on how to make it easier?"

"Only so much can be taught; for it is instinct which drives the change. Whatever form you choose, it you must accept it and everything that comes with it. If you deny any part of it, then that body is not accessible," Dimitri notes and sets the silver sword down near the bundle. "Good luck to you, it is time I tend to family," he adds, then disappears into the cave.

Taking a deep breath, Redmane lies on the ground - her previous experiences telling her that it will be the least traumatic position. Then she has to clear her mind, and think about who she really is. Everything that comes with it, she thinks. All my weaknesses along with my strengths - and probably not just physical ones either.

Odd thoughts seem to mix in with her own as she lies there. What is a weakness? What is a strength? Why label things that just are?

"This is hard," Redmane mutters to herself. There are plenty of things I don't like about myself, she thinks. But now I have to accept them. I don't like being alone. When I get angry, I can lose myself in rage. I still... don't like the fey much. Cerridwen put me through this all before, back when.. I was a monster.

The thoughts continue to come. Do you fear being alone because in those times the only thing you can hear is yourself, your fears? The fey, are they so bad? You have friends among them.

They aren't that bad, Redmane thinks. I chose to be with them over my own kind, because.. because I know they are better somehow. It's good to have friends, too. I just haven't shed all of my upbringing yet. Even you couldn't purge me of it completely, Cerridwen. Or was that deliberate, so I'd always remember?

People are the sum of their memories and experiences. If all were lost, the person is lost. Remember, the problems you face now are in part caused by people simply forgetting. If those feelings and that past was lost, would you still have the drive to change and to help others? Would you still have the drive to fight against evil?

I don't know, but they're part of me anyway, so that's what matters, she thinks. I want it all back. The monster and the paladin and the woman.

Why?

"Because I've fought for everything that I am," Redmane growls out loud. "And I'll never stop fighting! I've earned it."

But, if all you are is a battle ... then the form of an animal is more fitting, is it not?

"No, because animals fight for survival, not for ideals," the woman replies. "There's more than surviving. Fighting to protect others, fighting for what's right... and fighting for redemption."

There is more to life than fighting. Will you not allow yourself that?

"More," Redmane mutters. "I hope for more."

Is that why you fight, then? A hope for more. Something better?

Yes, Redmane thinks. It's all been for something better. Better than fighting for no reason - or because someone tells you to. I want a real life.

Silence falls and there's an odd tingle all over Redmane's prone body. A tickle, then an itch. Everyone carries burdens that weigh upon them. Even your friend, who seems so very free and wild, carries far more than he shows. To have a real life, you must accept burdens and come to terms with them, accept them. Nothing will ever be perfect. Do you understand?

"I understand," Redmane rasps. Not perfect, but maybe happy once in awhile..

The itching grows worse and Redmane feels like she's being stretched and pulled. Happiness must come from within. Much in life is how you react to what happens, not what happens.

Then I hope I react properly! Redmane thinks, as she feels herself start to warp.

This time, the process isn't painful, though it does seem to take some time for the fur to retract and her face to draw back in. Towards the end, Redmane is reminded of a couple things. One, her senses are so much duller than a wolf's. Two ... without fur it's REALLY cold on this stone floor!

Opening her eyes, the woman reaches for her bundle and undoes the cloak. Damp or not, it'll be warmer than nothing! She dresses as quickly as she can.

As Redmane dresses, a small note flutters from some of the clothing.

"What?" Redmane says in surprise, then plucks up the note to read.

The note reads: 'Pity. You made a beautiful wolf. P.S. Don't get killed! T.'

"Of course he transformed back without any issues," Redmane mutters, as she goes about strapping on the sword belt for the silver sword and the back-sheath for her steel one. Once finished, she goes to find Dmitri and check in on the others.

Redmane must go past the mural of history and once more into the waterway cavern to find the others wolves. The injured omega and Erzsebet have been moved from the water's edge and onto one of the more level banks. Dmitri stands by another wolf in female form and speaks with her in a low voice while she kneels beside Erzsebet's prone form and cools her face with a wet cloth. This other must be Dmitri's mate, Valeska, the healer. As she hears Redmane approaching, the healer turns her head and says over her shoulder, "I would know what happened here. I came prepared to treat one injured brother - but arrived to find an injured sister, as well as a full group of omegas frightened out of their wits!"

"A monster of dreadful shadow attacked them, hoping to make it look like they were killed by fey weapons," Redmane notes. "Erzsebet was struck.. and Thomas told me the claws were poisoned. Will she recover?"

Valeska frowns as she removes the cloth from Erzsebet's forehead and dips it again into the bowl of wather she has close to one knee. Her friend looks pale and tired and appears to be in a fitful sleep, but her breathing is deep and regular. "I think she will, but it may be some time in coming. She was so intent on caring for our brother's injuries that she neglected her own for too long, and thus has been more affected by the poison I found within her wound."

Redmane frowns, and asks, "Is it safe to move her? We can't have any wounded in here in case the Thomas manages to lure the monster back. One of the elders is coming to take care of the omegas."

Dmitri looks down the waterway, brow furrowed in thought. "Your friend took one of the boats and headed down the river to locate the creature," he explains. He left ten minutes before we arrived, from what little the omegas would tell us.

"I've no idea how much time we have now before things go too far," Redmane tells Dmitri. "If I were to follow the guidance of history, then I should carry Erzsebet to Lord December to be treated by his healer, and forestall his attack. But that same history suggests the monster will attack and try to kill Erzsebet on the way. We'd need a sizable escort of fearless wolves."

Valeska stares absently into her sister-wolf's face for a few moments, considering the question. Then she says, "I believe it would be safe enough. With help, I could take her and our brother to a shelter where I would have access to more of my herbal remedies. There I would stay to tend to them. Is this acceptable?"

"That sounds safest," Redmane agrees.

"You wish to put one of our wounded in the hands of the fey, then?" Dmitri asks, brow arched slightly. To Valeska, he asks, "Would she withstand a journey that far, or should she be treated further first?"

Dmitri's mate shakes her head firmly. "I would not move her so far. Exposure to the elements for that long would only worsen her condition. She needs more of the medicines I can provide, plus warmer surroundings."

"Mmm, that is what I thought. I will carry the other wounded brother, if one of you tends to her," Dmitri says and goes to the other fallen wolf, then hefts him up. He looks to the other cowering omegas as well, telling them, "You will follow us and remain quiet. Another of the elders will come tend to you soon enough."

"I can carry her," Redmane offers, kneeling down to scoop up Erzsebet in her arms.

Valeska looks to Redmane and nods. "Very well. I will pack my kit and follow behind you." Erzsebet shivers and moans a little in her sleep when the knight picks her up, but she does not wake or offer any resistance.

Dmitri for now waits quietly for his mate to pack. "I assume you wish to take them to the old infirmary?" he inquires.

Valeska nods as she puts the last of her things away and ties up the leather pouch they are carried in. "I will have access to all I need there," she agrees.

"I hope it isn't far then," Redmane says, and looks to the omegas. "The rest of you move into the first chamber for now."

"Omegas, this way," Dmitri orders the other wolves. Tails lowered, they follow after him as he ascends the stairway to the cave exit.

Stateroom of Decay
This room was once an infirmary of sorts, or perhaps a morgue, judging by the equally spaced stone beds. Along the walls are row after row of old bottles and clay pots containing an odd mix of strong smelling herbs and liquids. Though the room is crumbling as are all buildings in this ancient town, this one has been kept generally clean, probably to help keep the rate of infection from wounds being treated lower.

The walk from the caves to a nearby building is thankfully short. Dmitri throws the door open and carries his charge inside. There he lays the injured wolf upon one of the stone tables, then strokes its ears. "Just rest, you are in the best of care here," he tells the wolf.

Redmane follows with Erzsebet and lays her on the next slab.

"Thank you," Valeska says quietly to Redmane, then adds, "Now I must fetch something to put over her to keep her warm. I will return shortly." And with that, she leaves the knight alone with her mate for the moment.

"What are your intentions now? Are you still part of this pack, or do you wish to return to your fey Lord?" Dmitri finally asks Redmane as he watches the injured wolves worriedly.

"You're part of my pack, as far as I'm concerned," Redmane notes. "You're the same bloodline as the Lord of December. You've both just forgotten that."

"Hmph," goes Dmitri and he looks in the direction Valeska went. "Do you have anyone to go home to?" he now asks.

"What?" Redmane replies. "What's that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing. I am just curious. You have seemed to wish to leave since you arrived," Dmitri notes and actually flickers a small smile. "I merely assume that you have family or a loved one to return to."

"I don't," Redmane says, sounding a bit upset. "Time is just short. We have to stop December from attacking, defend against a second threat from this monster that's been causing trouble since the founding of your line, get Erzsebet in shape to see December without revealing where the city is.." The woman pauses and takes a deep breath. "It's just been a very long day for me."

"It could be worse," Dmitri notes with a small shrug. He now kneels beside Erzsebet and lightly pets the back of her neck.

"I'm sure it could," Redmane says, looking at the sleeping woman. "I'll just have to hope I can get December to come to the cave and look at the history."

"And what do you feel that would accomplish?" Dmitri asks Redmane. "Do you hope to remind him of how things began? Do you think he will care? I have never met this Lord December, so I know not his character."

Finally, Valeska returns with the coverings she needed for Erzsebet. They are blankets made of leather that have been well-treated until they became supple and almost as soft as cloth. The first one she spreads over top of the woman, then she folds the second one into a makeshift pillow and places it under Erzsebet's head. She says nothing, but quirks a curious eyebrow at the other two when she hears what they are talking about.

"He'll have no choice but to care," Redmane notes. "His forefather swore an oath to protect the wolves. He can't break that oath without dire consequences."

"Everyone has a choice, pup," Dmitri notes and casts a glance to Redmane. "Peace cannot be held by force, even that of an oath. Is this Lord December an honorable and truly caring man?"

Redmane growls at being called a 'pup', and says, "He'd better be. Let's go find him."

"You are also very impatient," Dmitri comments as he goes to Valeska. There he lightly nuzzles her cheek, telling her, "It looks as if I must escort the welpling to the forest edge so she may find the Lord. Will you be all right alone or should I send you assistance?"

"Have a guard posted at the entrance," Redmane suggests.

Valeska actually smiles at her mate's affection, which does much to soften the hard lines in her face. "I will have one of our trusted betas guard the infirmary, as this one wants," she answers, nodding in Redmane's direction. "Otherwise, I will be fine here. Do not worry about me."

"I will return as soon as I can. May the moon watch over us all," Dmitri says as he now heads towards the door. He waves towards Redmane, adding, "Come."

"Right," Redmane says, following him. "And I'm older than I look, just so you know."

Dmitri could almost be called a slave-driver given how fast he moves through the forest, even on two legs. He rarely stops for rest, and only does so when it seems Redmane truly needs it. Again the woods pass in a whirl of turns and twists, over hills and through thick underbrush. But after several hours of travel, the edge of the wood can be seen ahead and the dim lights of the walled city beyond it. There are more lights than Redmane remembers ... campfires outside the walls. It appears Lord December must have set out not long after Redmane left. He must have figured she would either fail ... or need help.

"Okay," Redmane says, catching her breath. "Wait here in the forest. If you see me and a big man come this way, meet us here. If any other group approaches, use your judgment. Make sure the elders know if a force is searching the woods."

"As you wish. Nothing happens in these woods that we are not aware of," Dmitri notes as he slips back into the shadows of the trees. Up ahead Redmane can now make out the outlines of tents in the pale moonlight.

Standing up from her crouch, Redmane walks out of the trees towards the encampment. It's only been two days, she thinks, but it will feel odd seeing men wearing clothes again.

Not only clothing, but armor and lots of very pointy and deadly looking things. As Redmane approaches the gates, a small platoon of pale and rather elven looking soldiers step onto the road and lower halberds towards her. "Halt and state your business. This town is under military quarantine by order of his most noble Lord of December," the head of the platoon announces.

"I am Knight Redmane of May," Redmane replies. "Sent here by the Lord December himself. I've come to make my report."

The soldier looks Redmane up and down. "Mm, yes, you fit the description of the foreigner that the Lord hired," he admits. "Give me your report and I will convey it to him."

"And who are you, to be privy to confidential information meant only for the Lord's ears?" Redmane asks, stepping up closer.

A soldier in his service and not some hired mercenary sent to get it," the man remarks, brow arched slightly. Apparently, this one doesn't think to highly of having a non-citizen of December being sent on official duties.

"I am a Knight of Mirari," Redmane says, narrowing her eyes. "I report to the Royal Family and the Lords and Ladies of the Twelve Houses." She leans in, trying to loom a bit over the fey. "Call me a mercenary again, and I'll have your ears, pikeman. Now either open these doors, or summon your officer. Or must I write a note on your chest and throw you over the wall?"

"I am the officer, and to threaten me, you threaten the army of Lord December," the fey warns Redmane, "So you would do best to curb your tongue or I'll order the archers to drop you where you stand. Do you understand me now? Now, would you kindly step back? You are blocking the moonlight."

"Hmph," Redmane snorts, and does take one step back. "My message is that I wish to see the Lord in private then, officer," she says.

"Good, you can learn some manners. That will keep you alive," the fey comments, "Secondly, most of the men, as have I, have faced trolls before. So trying to stand over us does not frighten us. Another thing you may wish to bear in mind in the future." He turn spins around and marches towards the town gate.

"I've faced dragons," Redmane mutters, and wonders if any of December's actual knights are here.

A few banners in the encampment indicate it's likely at least some of the knights are present. A couple she even recognizes from the Tournament.

Now, do they serve the Lord first, or serve their vows? Redmane wonders as she notes the pennants. She tries to see if any non-December forces are present as well.

It looks to be of a force entirely made up of December's men. At least from a cursory glance from where she currently stands. she can't see all around the town from here, after all.

Rather than cool her heels waiting, Redmane tells the other door guard, "I'll be back shortly," and then heads into the camp. She counts heads along the way, and aims for the closest pennant.

The closest pennant is readily recognizable. Sir Bravil, Knight of December. Redmane remembers him as quite a challenging opponent during the tournament. Strong and very calm; he could not be taunted into mistakes or missteps. He was also gracious in defeat and complimented Redmane on her prowess. As for the number of heads. It is a force of maybe a thousand. Not large by any means. Probably an advance force.

"Ho, Sir Bravil!" Redmane calls from just outside the tent.

The tent flap is drawn back and a man standing around seven foot tall steps out. It's the first time Redmane has seen him without his armor and help. Long black hair with a mix of gray flows from his head and is tied back in a ponytail. His face is worn and craggy from many ears of service and yet his eyes still shine bright blue; still full of life. "Hmm?" he calls out, then looks down to Redmane. "Ah, Knight Redmane, is it not? The Townsmen said you had vanished. Eaten by demons, they claimed. It is good to see that such rumors were unfounded," the man says.

"I've only been gone a day and a night, but much has happened it seems," Redmane says, smiling to the big man. "And since it took me several days to get here, I can only assume this force left on my heels. Is there something I should know, Sir Bravil?"

"There was discontent among the soldiers that a person not of the House was sent to deal with House matters. To placate the soldiers and keep morale, Lord December send a small advance troop here to 'assist' you, as it were," Bravil explains. "Also, if you must know, and please do not repeat this ... it was not so long ago that December feuded with May and some soldiers still bear a grudge. Knowing that a Knight of May was sent in their stead angered them. I tried to defend your honor to the soldiers, but they would have none of it and complained to the Lord. So, instead I volunteered to come along, to keep an eye on things and make sure that no soldier did anything 'accidental'."

"Thank you for that, Sir Bravil; you are a true gentleman," Redmane replies. "But this force has come for nothing, I must report. The situation is in hand, and the danger here grossly exaggerated. Aside from the one demon, and a plot to undo the House, that is. I could say more, if you'd allow me the sanctuary of your tent. I haven't been able to sit down on something dry for too long."

Sir Bravil's response to that is to push back the tent flap and dip his head politely.

Redmane enters the tent gratefully, finally out of the cold for a moment.

The inside of the tent is rather spartan. A small chest, a cot, and a stand holding the knight's armor and sword. Bravil follows Redmane inside and lets the flap fall closed. "Now, what is this about a demon?" he asks as he waves a hand towards a cot, offering it as a chair for the woman.

Redmane takes the offered seat, and takes a deep breath. "How much do you know of the origins of December's bloodline?" she asks instead of answering the knight's question.

"Not much, admittedly. He was blessed by the ancient Gods of these lands with the gift of shifting and has ruled since," Bravil admits with a rolling shrug of his broad shoulders. "That is all I know of it."

"Well, I happen to know the god responsible, and there is more to the story," Redmane notes. She tells Bravil the history from the cave, and how the wolves and the line of December are intertwined. She describes the monster that ultimately brought the two together in detail as well. "Ever since, it has been working to break the bonds between the House and the pack. It hopes that December will attack them, and in so doing suffer the effects of breaking the oath which is the foundation of his family."

Bravil listens quietly to the story, his face never once showing much expression during the tail. When Redmane comes to the end, he finally speaks, "Mmm. And you have seen this demon and fought it? You said the picture told the tale that it was killed. How then can it still be alive? And why would it have waited this long before trying to damage both?"

"It hasn't been waiting," Redmane says. "Whenever the wolves sent emissaries to see December, I'm certain it killed them. This creature claims to be immortal, so long as there is hatred and greed to give it life. And my iron had no more effect on it than the sharpness of my blade. It hates the fey, and hates cooperation between them and others the most. It must weaken it."

Bravil traces some of the creases along his chin (scars possibly), as he thinks. "There were the occasional reports of wolves slaughtering soldiers on patrol," he notes, "But the lands are wild, so we thought little of it. Do you think that this creature may have been responsible for those as well?"

"I can't say," Redmane admits. "It has been acting to sow hatred between both groups, but I do not know if it can change form. When it attacked the captives in the caves, it let slip that it would be made to appear that they had been killed by fey weapons. I imagine it could do the same in making soldiers appear to have been killed by wolves."

"So, why tell me this?" Bravil finally asks.

"You know Lord December better than I," Redmane says. "If I tell him this as I've told you, will he be willing to see further proof, or dismiss it?"

"I have always known Lord December to be a just and honorable man. He does what he believes is right," Bravil offers, "I know that it is not the simple yes or no answer you seek, but it is all I can offer. Well, outside of if you wish it, I will also tell him that I believe you. You were honorable in the Tourney and fought well; your actions showed you as a person of integrity."

"Thank you," Redmane says. "I do not know how much of this the Lord already knows or suspects. His reason for asking me to investigate was that I was not fey, which suggests some knowledge of what is really going on here. And yet, when I came to the gate I was blocked from reporting to him. Perhaps that is simply due to the army's enmity towards my adopted House though."

At that Bravil just shrugs. "Politics are never as clean and simple as the blade, Knight Redmane," he offers.

"Aye to that!" the woman agrees. "Give me a monster to slay or a law to enforce or people to protect. I will return to the gate now to see if my audience has been granted. If for some reason I do not return.. please don't let the Lord make a terrible mistake, Sir Bravil," she asks, standing and putting a hand to the man's shoulder. "To attack the wolves would be akin to fratricide. And I don't know if Thomas can lure the monster all the way to the army."

"I will do what I can," Bravil promises as he reaches over and draws the tent flap back for Redmane. "And do not count the Lord Explorer incapable of such. He is rumored to be a most unusual, and frustrating, man."

"Hah, that is a rumor you can trust," Redmane says with a grin, as she leaves the tent for the cold air and heads back towards the town gate.

The officer Redmane managed to insult and annoy earlier is standing outside the gate, tapping his foot. "Do you delight in trying to waste my time?" he demands as Redmane approaches.

"No," Redmane replies. "Has my audience been granted?"

The man's left brow twitches in annoyance as he admits, "Yes, it has. The Lord was displeased I did not send you to him the moment you arrived."

"Ah, well, you have my sympathy," Redmane says. "Please show me too him, Sir."

The fey just glowers as he leads Redmane into the town. They march through the center under the stares of the townsfolk as they look out through their windows. They arrive at the largest house in the village ... apparently it has been commandeered for the Lord himself. The officer opens the door and steps aside, noting, "He is waiting inside."

"Thank you," Redmane says, and enters the house. She figures it belongs to Genrick Altsturm as she looks for Lord December.

The inside is furnished rather well, given the remoteness this town has with respect to the House center. The main room has a vaulted ceiling with intricately carved beams crossing overhead. At the far end is a great three-chamber fireplace, each lit and burning brightly. Standing at the center fire and leaning against the mantle is Lord December; the man is quite unmistakable. He's looking into the fire, lost in thought.

"My Lord December," Redmane says standing to attention. "I have finished my investigation into the disappearances and am ready to report."

"Did you kill the wolf demons responsible for the attacks on my people?" Lord December inquires quietly as he continues to look into the fireplace.

"My Lord, I have not, for they are not demons nor the ones responsible," Redmane states, watching the man's reaction. "There is a demon though, which is a true enemy to your House. What I found among the wolves was.. your family, My Lord. There is one woman in particular, that if you were to see her or smell her, I am certain you would know her as kin. A monster has been manipulating events in an attempt to destroy you both."

Lord December reaches into his vest and draws out a small slip of paper. He holds it out for Redmane to come and take from him. As for his expression or posture, they remain completely unchanged. Likely having to deal with all the houses have taught him how to conceal his true thoughts and feelings.

The knight strides forward and takes the paper, then steps back to read it.

The paper is wrinkled and torn and there are many stains on it. the lettering itself is in a disturbing shade of brown; likely dried blood. "My Lord, if this letter reaches you, know that we have fallen to demons that walk in the shapes of Wolves. They have killed and devoured each of my men, one by one, taking only one of us from our prison each day. I fear they do this to crush our very souls before they sup upon them. But ... it will be their downfall. I have managed to lure one of the carrion birds with scraps of meat to come to our window in hopes to get a message out. It is a small hope that this will even be found ... but it is better than just allowing them victory. Their leader is a man who has the gift of shift, just as you do. Know that he has declared he is the rightful ruler of these Lands and intends to kill all who serve you and then regain his throne. I pray you get this message in time. I pray you hunt these monsters down and kill them. Yours in service, unto death, Captain Vrossik"

"It is not true, My Lord," Redmane says. "On my honor as a Knight. It is a trick by the true enemy to goad you into action that would bring down your House."

"Is it, Knight of May?" the Lord inquires in a cold and somber tone. "That note was found by one of my most trusted guard and brought to me in secret. I could not allow the knowledge that someone claimed my throne become public. It would, well, it would cause issues in dealing with the other Houses. Trade leverage, for example ... they could use small threats such as if I didn't agree to better terms, they would speak with the true ruler of House December. So ... I had to call in outside help in both a hope that you would destroy them ... and if not, that at the least the other Houses would side with me."

"There is no such person as this leader," Redmane promises. "All of the wolves can shift, My Lord. I can show you the truth of what I tell you, if you will come and see it. And the true enemy is being hunted now by the Explorer, who hopes to lure it back to be defeated once and for all. All of the people who have been taken are still alive."

Lord December turns away from the fireplace and finally walks over to Redmane. He stops about two feet away and peers into her green eyes with his sharp, wolven, yellow ones. "How can you prove this?" he asks. There's no threat and no obvious undercurrent to his voice. It seems a genuine question.

"The history of your lineage is recorded in a cave - an old dwarven trading post, to be precise," Redmane explains. "And proof in flesh and blood, and in demonic shadow. I've fought with the demon who seeks to make you break a blood oath. For the past day, I have walked on four feet and know what it means to see the world colored by scent. I've burned my palm on a silver blade, I've gone hoarse trying to reason with stubborn.. ahem. The proof I've found was enough to convince the wolves, My Lord."

"If what you tell me is true, it brings me no comfort, Knight of May," Lord December says.

"Forgive me, My Lord, but innocent lives outweigh your discomfort," Redmane says. "These people are supposed to be under your protection, but someone has robbed them of that. It is your duty to put things right."

"That is why this brings me no comfort, Knight of May. If what you say is true, I have failed in my duty to protect these wolves as members of House December," Lord December says with a wry and yet sad, smile. He turns away and walks back to the fireplace, looking into the burning flames. "How far is this cave of which you speak?"

"A few hours at a good jog, through the woods," Redmane replies. "I have a guide waiting, for I could not find the way myself."

"You suggest that I travel with this guide alone then, to this cave?" Lord December asks.

"I would be with you, of course," Redmane says, even though the prospect of repeating that run so soon isn't pleasant for her. "If you wish, I think Sir Bravil would be willing to come as well. I would not mind having his strength and sword at our side should Thomas bring the monster to us."

Lord December remains silent for a time, his weathered fingers tapping lightly on the old mantle. "If you have armor, I suggest you wear it. Go speak with Sir Bravil and tell him to meet us at the gate, ready for battle, within an hour. I will trust what you have told me is true, and follow you and your guide to this cave," he finally says.

"Thank you, Lord December," Redmane says, and bows. "I will prepare and be ready with Sir Bravil at the gate." An hour, she thinks. Time enough to get a hot meal, I think. And then I can finally carve out that demon's eyes.

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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.