The Sigil of Memory Redmane learns the fate of those who have gone missing, including Thomas.

"That makes me of an older line than yours, perhaps," the wolf-woman snarls at Redmane, her posture still wary and watchful. "I have no fear of iron when I am able to run with the winds but if you were to strike me now... well, I would feel its bite quite keenly. Although I wonder how you are able to wield weapons of steel. Have the fey learned of some magic that protects them from its touch?"

"I'm not fey," Redmane admits. "It's that simple. You are one of the old gods of the wood then?" she asks.

The woman actually barks a laugh at this, although its sound is hard and hollow. "There are no gods in this wood," she answers bitterly. "If there were, they would be able to solve all problems with divine power, don't you think?" For a few moments she is silent, simply allowing the winter breeze to toss her black-and-silver hair around her lean shoulders. Then she adds, more softly now, "No, I am merely one of those who settled in these lands long before House and Lords came to it."

"And you wish to discourage fey from following voices among the trees," the disguised knight points out. "Is this something you have only just started doing, or is it a habit?"

The wolf-woman stands at last and folds her arms across her chest, looking the knight over more carefully now. "Believe me, this is no habit," she replies. "My tribe does not usually seek the company of fey." Then she arches both of her heavy black eyebrows in Redmane's direction and asks, "And do you make a habit of blundering about after those you do not know, or is this one of your more recent acts of foolishness?"

"Fey have been disappearing in this area," Redmane notes. "I am trying to find out who is responsible and where the fey have been taken. I don't suppose you'd happen to already know about it?"

The wolf-woman snorts and shakes her head. "Yes, many fey have disappeared in these woods - and yet the Houses keep sending out more to vanish as if they had never been. If you are smart, you will vanish back the way you came. Then tell all others to avoid this place, unless they also wish never to see home nor hearth again. And I..." she trails off and looks into the distance beyond Redmane's shoulder. "I will continue to do what I can."

"I prefer to simply deal with the source of the disappearances," Redmane notes, sheathing her sword now. "If you can't help with that, then kindly cease blocking my path. I've no love of the fey, nor they for me it would seem - but I still have my duty."

A low rumble of frustration issues from deep within the woman's chest. "This one is nearly as stupidly persistent as the last one," she grumbles, more to herself than to Redmane. At last, she says directly to the knight, "If you walk right into the middle of that source, you will never come out again! That's what I've been trying to tell you for these last few blasted minutes! Nor will you remain what you are now. Mark me, if you follow those voices as all the others have, you will be forever changed. You will never more be able to return to civilized lands. Is that what you truly want?"

"Ah, so you do know what's going on!" Redmane says, crossing her arms across her chest and grinning now. "If you know that much, you can tell me what is at the root of it, so that I do not stumble in blindly."

The wind around the bickering women starts to slowly grow in intensity. At first it's not noticeable, but soon enough it is swirl of snow and chill. Out of the dance of snow, a new figure coalesces, a woman made of dancing white flakes of light. "Erzsebet," she says with the whisper of the wind, "Trouble has grown; the other has been caught. He found our homeland ... but quickly the elders found him. Get this woman out of here, now."

"I'm not going anywhere without answers," Redmane insists, even as she tries not to shiver from the sudden extra chill. "I am to bring those who are lost home, whatever forms they now have, and put an end to this situation."

The snow-woman moves close to Redmane, leaning in so that each flake is almost visible as it dances. "This is not your concern. Go home. Learn a lesson from the other, there is little you can do here. Even those who have shown compassion have not left the grip of the elders unscathed," she whispers.

Gritting her teeth, Redmane stands firm. "If these elders are the ones responsible, then I would see them. Know that I am the last resort to resolve this before an army is likely sent in."

For a moment, the wolf-woman known as Erzsebet closes her eyes, a hopeless expression passing swiftly over her face. At the knight's last comment, she says in a low voice, "An army that would never find us, for we are few and know these lands as the fur upon our backs, while an army would wander aimlessly about and continually give away its position. No, warrior, it is best that you leave. There is nothing you can do for the dark-haired tracker now, nor any of the others that have been taken by our elders."

"Oh Gods, Thomas," Redmane says with a sigh. "Look, you'd better take me to him. Trust me, he's more trouble than you realize. I can settle this whole mess, I'm sure, if you just let me meet with the elders."

This time it's the snow-woman that barks a laugh. "Trouble? From the chase he gave the elders, of that I have no doubt," she says. Then for a moment the snow-woman looks between the knight and the wolf-woman. "Perhaps showing her what happened would change her mind."

"Anything, so long as it does not involve standing still in the snow," Redmane agrees.

Erzsebet slowly nods her assent to the other but looks at the knight with a slow understanding dawning in her yellow eyes. "You know the tracker," she says. "Is this why you are so insistent upon going into danger? Just to find a friend?"

"You haven't proven this danger to me yet," Redmane notes. "And as I said, I have a duty. If it happens to involve pulling a friend out of the stew-pot, well that's just a bonus."

“This one has had one too many blows to the head," the snow-woman mutters. "Take her to your den, Erzsebet. I will meet you there with the sigil of memory. Perhaps seeing the danger will send her home."

Erzsebet's lips curl into a fangy smile. "Then you are either brave, loyal, insane, or a combination of all three," she says to the knight. "Very well, I will lead you to where you may rest and view what the sigil holds. Just try to keep up." With that, the dark ripples encase the woman's shape again and in a few moments, Redmane is faced with Erzsebet's wolven form, which quickly trots off into the trees.

"Nothing is ever simple," Redmane complains, and jogs after the wolf while hoping not to trip over snow-hidden roots or rocks.

Storm-weathered Shelter
Erzsebet's 'den' in these woods is more of a simple escape from the wind and cold. A small cave has been cut into the side of a rock outcropping, offering shelter. The cave is deep enough that any gusts of wind cannot reach the furthest points in the cave.

After an hour of walking and occasionally running through the snow, making sharp turns and twist backs, Redmane finds herself led into a cave deep in the wilderness. There are no blankets or the remotest form of comfort, but at least dry rock is better than the seeping cold of snow.

"So," Redmane says as she finds a dry place to sit and shake the frost from her boots, "Where are the unfortunate souls you wish to frighten me with?"

Erzsebet stands at the mouth of the cave to shake snow from her pelt, and then shifts back into her other form so she can answer the knight's question. "Their stories are held within the sigil of memory that I keep in this cave, which you just happen to be sitting on." Giving the knight another fangy grin, she says, "So now I can add 'careless' to the list of things that you are."

The knight grunts and stands as best she can in the cave, looking down to her former seat. "Magic?" she asks. "I thought you were going to show me directly."

"Showing you directly would mean you sharing their fate, pup," comes the voice of the snow-woman from outside. Only this time the visage of snow is gone and another wolf-woman now enters the cave and brushes off some of the snow from her shoulders. Thinner and a bit shorter than Erzsebet, with nearly coal-black hair, this one. "Are all your kind so impatient to go to your ends?"

"You have no idea," Redmane says, then shakes her head. "Very well, show me what you will, maidens of snow and forest."

The as-yet unnamed wolf-woman now walks over to the octagonal block of stone and crouches down beside it. "There are many magics in the land. Some the fey have mastered, others the fey have long forgotten. The arts of blood are powerful and ancient," she comments as she lifts her hand, exposing her palm to the disguised knight. Her other hand rises as well and one finger twists as it shifts into the talon of a beast. She draws it slowly across her own palm, leaving behind a line of blood welling from beneath the surface. While her yellow eyes look deep into Redmane's dull green ones, her hand lowers to the block. It draws across its surface, leaving behind a crude shape of the crescent moon.

"Cerridwen's sigil?" Redmane asks. "Old magic, if that."

Erzsebet exchanges surprised glances with the other wolf-woman. "For all her faults, she certainly knows something of the history of the old gods, Sveta." Turning her gaze on Redmane now, she says to her, "Your reckoning is correct. We are Cerridwen's children, although she left us long ago. As I said, gods no longer live in this forest."

"My people worshipped her as Danu, before the fey drove us from our lands," Redmane notes.

"The forest was once much larger than it is today; before the fey came to these lands. In the beginning, they lived in peace with us, sharing the land and its beauty ... but as will all those who follow civilization's call, they slowly took the lands from us; their wars cut deep into the land, wounding it ... and us," Sveta says. "We are dying; but our elders found a way for us to survive, for good or ill..."

The air around the three starts shimmering as if rising from some unknown fire. The blood-moon mark upon the crescent stone ripples and begins to beat with a red glow.

"Then it is no wonder you are not of the fey." Erzsebet's eyebrows travel up her forehead again. "By the way, I would know what you are called. I cannot continue to refer to you as Careless, now can I?"

Redmane hmmphs, but replies, "I am now called Redmane. I have given up my old name."

Erzsebet nods and smiles at this, then turns her attention back to the sigil and the magic it is working.

"With the last of our magics, our people withdrew to these woods, its heart being the refuge for our kind to live our remaining days in peace," Sveta continues. The shimmering around them becomes more distinct; almost as if they were amongst the treetops ... and then even the floor begins to ripple. Below them in a valley that cuts through the very heart of the wood is a crumbling city of stone and caves. "We were safe ... but now we were so few. Our elders thought ... well, found a way for us to continue. But; that drew his eyes. The tracker. Erzsebet did an amazing task of keeping him occupied with false trails that led him far from our lands ... but eventually, he managed to see through them and found us."

Below the three, at the edges of the village, there is a rippling shadow that glides from tree and rock without making a sound. Something this Redmane may recognize well; the work of glamour.

"The Explorer always finds what he is looking for," Redmane explains. "It is his wyrd."

Erzsebet snorts again, her frustration returning. "And here I thought he was merely irritatingly persistent, as someone else I know - only to a much greater degree. Cocksure, as well. An unpleasant combination." She gives the knight a sideways glance. "Are you so certain you want him back?"

"He reminds me of a pony I had as a child," Redmane explains. "But I want them all back, not just him."

The landscape beneath them draws up ... or do they flow down? It is hard to tell, in all honesty. As they draw closer, that shadow flits itself. For the time being, the wolves that prowl the ruins seem to take no notice of him.

"On your head be it, then," the wolf-woman says, although there is a hint of laughter in her yellow eyes.

"But as good as this Tracker may be ... these are our woods. We know their soul better than most. We know when something is out of place," Sveta continues, tone growing a bit dark. The image beneath them blurs ... and soon the three find themselves flying through the forest. Ahead of a pack of wolves, Redmane recognizes the man running: Thomas. He moves with an uncanny swiftness through the forest, nearly matching his pursuers' speed. Now and then the hunted counters his hunters by vaulting himself up into the branches of trees and goes bounding through the treetops.

"This is what has already passed?" Redmane asks, trying not to sway with the apparent movement.

"A day ago, yes," Sveta answers. "After Erzsebet left to keep others from being caught by the patrols of our people."

"Where is he now?" the knight asks as she watches the hunt unfold. "That man has the luck of Herne, to be sure."

Beside Redmane, Erzsebet sighs. "There is only so much one can do," she mutters. "None of the others of my people would make such an effort."

"I do appreciate it, Erzsebet," Redmane says. "So far."

"He also has compassion which was his undoing," Sveta notes. As she looks down, the image below them shifts again. This time Thomas can be seen sprinting across a frozen lake. Only ... a long rope is trailing behind him. It whips and sways from where it has been latched to a tree by a grapple. The wolves are closing on him furiously, the barking and snapping mere inches from his heels. And that's when he does something the wolves didn't seem to expect. He drops down to his knees and goes sliding across the ice. The trailing rope snaps taught and now instead of going across the lake, he's making an arc across it, sliding rapidly towards shore. The wolves do not fare as well as their claws start scrabbling against ice and they go sprawling. And that's also about when the ice beneath the pack starts cracking loudly.

"I would not fault him for it," Redmane notes quietly.

The ice gives way under the lead wolves. With a howl silenced all too quickly, they vanish into the freezing water. The remaining wolves scrabble and grip with their claws, sprinting back towards shore as fast as they could manage. Now at the edge of the forest, Thomas is watching the wolves retreat, leaving their fallen comrades in the ice. Now and then, a head surfaces or paws, as they try again and again to find purchase. Thomas looks to the woods, then back to the ice. The three can see him draw a breath as a decision is made. He darts back onto the ice as he's tying the rope around his waist. Without even hesitating, he leaps into the icy water.

"Your elders have strayed far from their Mother's justice," Redmane comments, "if this is what they condemn others for."

One by one, Thomas heaves the wolves from the frigid water. Even with the ice tearing deep into his muscles, the pain searing as his pale face twists from the exertion. Only when all have been pulled free, does Thomas use the rope to haul himself out. He staggers and falls to his knees upon the ice; the cold and numbness’ vice-like grip taking hold. The pack, even those he rescued, now encircles him.

"When can I meet with your elders," Redmane asks as she surveys the scene. "And what has Thomas been changed into?"

The muscles in Erzsebet's jaw begin to tighten as she stares at the vision granted by the sigil. She does not dare meet Redmane's eyes now, but merely tells the knight, "Keep watching."

The tired green eyes of Thomas meet with the wolves' yellow. "I understand your love of the lands and your wish to live," he says, "I have seen the harm fey have caused. I have also seen the beauty they can grow. No people are all evil, nor are they all good. There are ways to survive without resorting to what you have done. I can find them. I can show you."

Some of the wolves around him now shift: some male, some female. Each though looks at Thomas with an ashen expression. "You are a child of the wilds in so many ways, and yet you lack the true connection. You will understand why we are doing this when you are one of us," the head 'wolf' says. One of the younger males draws up behind Thomas now. Without a word, he lifts up a chunk of ice and brings it down hard on the back of the Explorer's head. Thomas' falls forward into a crumpled pile.

"Huh," Redmane says. "I imagined his skull to be much harder."

Everything goes murky below them. As if they were Thomas' waking, shapes return .. overlapped and indistinct. Eventually, though, Thomas finds himself lying in the center of a great circle, atop the mark of the moon. The explorer has ... well, been stripped down to nothing. There's irony in this, given it wasn't long ago Thomas had spied upon Redmane.

The knight raises an eyebrow at this vision, but says nothing yet.

From the shadows a group of older wolves walk in to view. They take up seats equally spaced around the circle. As Thomas pushes himself upright, an elderly woman slowly walks into the circle. She's wearing thick gloves ... and held in them is an iron ring - no, a collar. With every step towards Thomas, she winces ... for certainly even with the gloves, holding the iron must be true agony.

Redmane's eyes narrow at this new element, and her jaw sets into an angry frown.

Thomas starts to draw back from the elder. But, he only makes it a few feet when the wolves around him lift their heads and begin a mournful howl. The Explorer's eyes dart to his captors, a sudden realization crossing his face. But, there is little time he can act on it. The circle and moon flare to life with a pale light. Thomas drops to the floor hard, curling in on himself. Through the howling, Redmane can hear the disturbing sounds of bones snapping.

The source of the sound is evident enough as Thomas' body twists and crackles. His spine arches and presses upward, lining the ridge of his back with knobs. Legs shift and rearrange, parts lengthening and others shortening. His hips crack and shift and his stomach draws in all the while his chest seems to expand and curve outward. Gray-Black hair flares to life all over his body, his neck and chest growing a thick winter 'mane'. And for the last, the lithe face, contorted in agony, explodes outward and the final phase of the ritual takes hold. As the howling dies down, a wolf lies limply on the floor where Thomas once was. The elder kneels down and lightly slips the iron collar around his neck, then locks it closed. "Welcome to the pack," she whispers in his ear. If Thomas hears, he makes no obvious sign; all he does is twitch a foot now and then.

"You turned the fey into dogs?" Redmane all but growls.

Erzsebet frowns angrily at the knight's description but still refuses to look her in the eyes. "Not dogs - for what are they but weak creatures that depend upon the fey even for their food and water?" she hisses in reply. "The fey that are captured, like your Thomas, are made into wolf-men and women, to expand the line of my tribe. This is the means for our race's survival that was devised by our elders. They take fey and force them to become one of us." She turns her head away from Redmane's, disgust written across her face. "Several of our tribe, like me, do not agree with this, but the elders will not listen. We have tried to tell them, again and again, that the fey should come to us and our ways willingly or not at all. Yet all of our entreaties have fallen upon deaf ears."

"Then I will make them listen," Redmane claims. "Take me to them."

"If you go there, you will join in the fate of all the others. That iron collar is placed to keep them from shifting back. If one brought to the pack changes back to their natural form before the passing of a Month, then their induction into our race is broken. For the fey, shifting back while wearing that ... well, you can understand why none have returned," Sveta comments darkly. "And, in time the memories of their old life will fade, washed away by the moonlight. A small mercy, I suppose." The scene around the three fades, leaving them once more in the spartan cave. "Erzsebet has been doing all she can to keep others from falling in their hands, but ... sometimes it is not always successful. The elders tailor the lures to those they seek: a lost love for a townsman, perhaps, or a fellow soldier calling for aid to the warriors who come searching. The illusions are varied and powerful."

"Your people are doomed if you do not take me to the elders," Redmane says. "I have hard-won wisdom they will want to hear."

"In their defense, they are wolves backed to a wall. They are fighting for survival against a fading world. I understand their dreams to live on, even though I do not agree. But ... if they are willing to take someone who, against all reason, was willing to return to save them ... why do you think they would listen to you?" Sveta asks.

"Because I have been where you are now," Redmane explains. "My people fought for their lands for centuries against the fey, and it was all for nothing. There is only one way to survive, and hiding or hoping you will frighten them away is not it."

The sound that issues from Erzsebet's throat is a cross between a sigh and a defeated, wolfish whine. "Then are you committed to do this?" she asks at last. "Is there nothing else I can say, nothing else we can show you that will change your mind?"

"You haven't shown me anything I need fear," the knight says, stubbornly. "That which might restrain the fey is of no consequence to me."

"That which they could not restrain they would kill," Sveta says as she stands. "And I must return, for I have been gone far too long. They already suspect Erzsebet may be acting against the pack, but they have yet to suspect me. What you decide, well, Erzsebet ... I leave to you to assist or not. May you always hunt free, Redmane, not of the fey."

"Bring me in, and that should allay their suspicion of you," Redmane offers to Erzsebet.

Erzsebet stares up into Redmane's eyes at last. "Then it will be as you wish. Your plan will probably keep the tribe from attacking me outright, at least for a while. Once you try to reason with them, however...then I may need your protection. It humiliates me to even ask this but as Sveta has said, the tribe already suspects me of sedition and will treat me as a traitor if they suspect anything is amiss. Are you willing to do this?"

"Of course," Redmane promises. "You will not stand alone."

"I thank you, Redmane," the wolf-woman replies quietly. "We will depart as soon as you are ready."

"Very good," Redmane replies. "I just need to wash my face and hair first.."

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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.