Weaving Historie Redmane learns that sometimes Historie must be shaped by what is chosen to be spoken of and what is left unsaid.

Abnehmenvolf
Once this must have been a proud city wrought of marble and granite, but the Years have not been kind. Buildings now crumble and waste away in the snow as a once proud people of the lands, Cerridwen's Children they called themselves, now huddle amongst the decay. Some are in their wolf forms as they lope slowly through their home, some appear more fey-like, at least on initial glance. But, those yellow eyes betray the wild creature that lives beneath the skin. Many are emaciated and weak as well, though they strain themselves to never show weakness.

Things never go as fast as one would like. Lord December insisted on staying two more days, and that means Redmane also had to stay two more days. Still, it gave them time to see to freeing those under the lupine curse and returning them to their original form. As Redmane suspected, some decided to remain ... so though free of the iron collars; they have remained wolves. Naturally, it was primarily the young adults who seemed to find 'love' with one of the pack born.

Finally word came that they were to return to Lunafell. Erzabet would not be making the trip as she still suffers weakness from the poison. She promised, though, to join Lord December within a few days. Lord December, though unsatisfied to leave her, accepted the agreement. Instead, he spent the morning speaking with his recovered soldiers, instructing them to remain silent on the issue and if they have any grievance, to bring it up directly with him.

Thomas, though having tried to /hide, ended up being charged with guiding everyone back to town. He grumbled, but agreed. And lastly ... Redmane. She found herself helping Bravil skin the monster. His theory was the hide may make reasonable armor. He also agreed to help Redmane haul the head back to town, lest either one of them get too tired.

"Do you really have to bring that head?" Thomas complains as he approaches Redmane where she waits beside the severed monstrosity. He's definitely back to wearing his well-worn (ratty) clothing. Atop his head he's put a battered green beret. In this cold, it's better than nothing!

"The bit I chewed off before dissolved," Redmane tells Bravil as they pull the skull along. "That black goo is... squamish."

"Perhaps with a few spices it wouldn't taste too bad," Thomas offers as he now walks beside them. "Everyone is finally ready and feeling well enough to go. It'll be slow going, though, with this many. I expect at least eight hours."

"I don't mind having to stop and rest," Redmane notes. "Feeding them all, though.."

"Each will be carrying enough food for a single meal," Thomas explains, "So it won't weigh them down too much. Snow can be melted for water."

"Are any of the wolves going to come as escort?" the redhead asks Thomas in a quieter voice. "Just in case?"

"Will either, or both, of you answer a question?" Bravil finally asks, speaking up. "Were you tempted to remain with them as a wolf?"

"A couple will shadow us, but keep out of sight," Thomas whispers to Redmane. To Bravil, Thomas quips, "Oh, I thought about it. It was fun darting about on all four with no clothes on. But ... hard to do any actual exploring that way. Plus, this one wouldn't let me." He thumbs towards Redmane.

"As if Thomas would heed me in the first place," Redmane notes. "I like who I am now. I did not fit in a wolf's body well."

"I thought you fit quite nicely; firm thighs and tail," Thomas comments, grinning. "Besides, the offer remains. Should either Redmane or myself wish it, we can always return and join them."

"I fear wolf society is too orderly for Thomas," Redmane confides with a wink. "He is just too wild for it."

"Plus if I were around, it's not like any of the other males would ever have a chance with the females," Thomas quips, "So, it's best that I leave."

Bravil, for his part, just sighs and shakes his head. "That is ... more than I needed to know, I am sure. Do you ever stop joking?" he asks Thomas.

"Rarely," Thomas claims.

Redmane just rolls her eyes. "The females are easily impressed by someone who is well fed and can swim."

"Whereas this one prefers nobility, honor, and being stuffy," Thomas remarks to Bravil, "Someone like you." He even thumps the large man on the chest with the back of his hand.

"Stuffy?" Redmane asks.

"Stuffy," Thomas says with a grin, then walks a bit faster to get ahead of them. "I'm going to scout ahead a bit. Stay out of trouble."

"Do I seem stuffy to you?" Redmane asks Bravil. "I think Thomas is confusing stoicism for stuffiness."

"I can see why he has remained single," Bravil mutters. "I hope he has not offended you greatly. He is not known for tact; but his skills usually make up for it," he says to Redmane. "And you must realize, Thomas would call the court jester 'stuffy'."

"He has is.. good qualities, yes," Redmane notes, and pulls the skull along. "I don't know exactly how social knights of Mirari are expected to be."

"Honorable, approachable, and respectable. However you interpret that is up to you," Bravil offers. "We are not expected to drive fear into the hearts of the people."

"I'm not exactly the more fear-inspiring type anyway," Redmane notes with a grin. "I get along okay with the people. It's the other knights I'm still working on."

"Some are more difficult than others. For all his bluster, Thomas' goal is an honorable one. He does try to get others to think beyond the confines of their Houses and for the people as a whole," Bravil notes as he looks ahead, in the direction Thomas vanished. "Some knights agree with him, such as I. Others do not. His cousin, for example, does not care to associate with those not of his House. Is there a particular reason the opinions of the other Knights concerns you so?"

"Because of the way December's troops reacted to me, yes," Redmane notes. "It was.. disrespectful. As an outsider, I seem to get that often, even within May. If there is something I can do to change that, I would like to know what it is."

"Prove yourself," Bravil answers and rolls his broad shoulders. "Skill will eventually outshine their opinions of what you are. Plus, many think you a monster; do not give them more reason to think that by acting as one. You must remain calm and not allow things to upset you."

"Easier said than done," Redmane notes. "I suppose I need to slay a dragon or something then. I don't think this monster here will add much to my reputation, since only a few have seen it."

"Why do their opinions of you matter?" Bravil asks, "What matters is your opinion of yourself."

"If I have to lead in battle, I will need their respect," Redmane notes. "And I don't wish to be lonely either."

"It is unlikely you will ever lead any of December's men," Bravil points out. "As for the other, well, I am sure that would improve in time. You seem to get along well enough with the Lord Explorer. He knows many people and I am sure if he thinks well of you, he will speak well of you to them."

"So long as my fellow knights don't feel slighted by that, it sounds good," Redmane notes. "I don't suppose you can recommend a good armorer, Sir Bravil? My breastplate is ruined, and fey armor will help me fit in better as well."

"I know a few. The closest to the lands of May would be Rastung. He is also fair in his prices. Since your armor was unusual, he might be willing to craft you a set in trade for your old. He likes to examine the armor made by others. Likely because he is seeking its weak points," Bravil offers.

"I will seek him out then," Redmane says. "Do you have any other advice for a low-ranking knight?" she asks.

"That would depend on what your goals are," Bravil notes after some thought. "Do you wish to be high in the court of your House, renowned by the crown, or something else?"

"I wish to.. do good," Redmane says. "Whichever ranking will give me the most opportunity towards that goal is what I wish."

"Ah, well, the definition of good is subjective by the rulers. My best advice there would be to follow your heart and find allies with those who do not have political goals," Bravil offers, "Be willing to listen to others without judging them, and be kind to all you meet until they warrant otherwise. And you already have one thing in your favor to reach that goal."

"What is that?" Redmane asks curiously.

"You are friends with someone who knows more about what is going on in the various lands than most. Information is always valuable in the pursuit of justice," Bravil explains. "For example, Thomas always sends me word if something unusual has cropped up in the Lands of December or those nearby, such as November."

"Hmmm, what other knights do you know who are more focused on the kingdom itself than on House fealty?" Redmane asks the big knight.

"Mmm. Jassic of February, Altir of June, and Ichiric of October, come to mind. There are likely others as well. For House April a good contact to speak with is Randall of the Guard. An honorable and just man with the desire to protect the kingdom. I hear rumor the Hawks are trying to recruit him," Bravil answers as he shifts a bit and strengthens his grip on the misshapen head.

"Thomas chides me for having allied with a House," Redmane notes. "Can you tell me of this smoldering 'fued' between December and May?"

"Well, Thomas is bitter for many reasons. I cannot begrudge him for his opinions," Bravil comments, "As for the feud? Well, that goes back a bit. It originated with December feeling that a grain trade agreement was unfairly weighted in May's favor. Then when several caravan shipments arrived tainted with mold, it became for some, proof that May was trying to undermine December. Some even claimed it was an outright attempt to poison the people of December in preparation for an invasion. Paranoia, if you ask me. I am not as certain how May views it; I only know how some in December do."

"Invasion?" Redmane asks, sounding shocked. "To be honest, I do not even know what December's lands produce, much less why a Spring House would wish to invade. Sure, the King forbids such actions."

"Invasions happen, regardless of what the King may state," Bravil comments and shakes his head. "As for what we produce ... furs, meat, ore, and wood, for the most part. We also have rich coal deposits."

"Ah, I wondered why Lunafell was so far out in the wilderness," Redmane notes. "But fur trapping and hunting do require a lot of wilderness. If I may ask, what did you do before becoming a knight, Sir Bravil?"

Bravil actually smirks a bit. "I cut lumber," the large man answers, "And later managed a sawmill. Not a glamorous life, nor one worthy of story. Nor was how I came into service; no great quests or somehow becoming an accidental hero. After my wife died during a border skirmish, I just decided I wanted to do more to protect people. I started as a foot soldier and worked my way up. Even went on a few missions with the Lord Explorer, believe it or not."

"I imagine he hasn't changed much since then," Redmane says. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife though. Did you have any children?"

"Physically, no, he has not. But there are many facets to him. I do not see him now as I saw him then. He is quite good at hiding the 'real' Thomas, as it were," Bravil explains. At the comment about children, the large man sighs, admitting, "I had a son and a daughter. My daughter died in childbirth, along with who would have been my grandson. My son disappeared while with a caravan. They were attacked by goblins and only a few escaped."

"These lands are harsher than they first appeared to me," Redmane says. "At least I know I will be of use here. What do you make of Lord December's order for the restored soldiers to remain silent on their ordeal?"

"He wants a unified story to be presented to the people. One that is carefully worded to help allay any fear and possible formation of mobs," Bravil explains. "As powerful as a Lord may seem, he is as much at the mercy of the opinion of the people as any other. He must carefully craft that which he wants them to see."

"Oh.. well, I hope he tells us what that will be, before we are asked to speak upon it," Redmane notes. "Perhaps when we stop to rest he will have it ready."

"Or perhaps he is letting you decide what it will be, due to you not being of December and perhaps may appear more impartial," Bravil notes with a momentary curl of his lips.

"That is a frightening thought," Redmane admits.

"Well, I expect it is several more hours until we stop," Bravil comments with a sigh. His shoulders roll and he doubles his efforts in hauling the head along. Behind them, the restored and tired townsfolk walk onward...

Time seems to move a lot slower when you're hauling a head. The next four hours are grueling indeed and everyone is thankful when the group draws to a stop. Thomas identified a good place to camp for a few hours. A large overhand of rock acts as a natural tent here, sheltering the travelers from falling snow. A bit of work with some blankets and the cold wind is also halted. Bravil and Thomas currently tend to preparing dinner; which leaves Redmane alone with a bunch of weary townsfolk, soldiers, and Lord December.

Approaching the Lord, Redmane bows her head and asks, "May we speak in private, My Lord December?"

Lord December excuses himself from the soldiers and townsfolk, then motions for Redmane to follow. He walks outside their makeshift 'home' and back into the cold wind. "What is on your mind, Knight Redmane?" Lord December asks. Up close, Redmane notices something different ... he's wearing a rough cord necklace now. On the end is a small band containing a tuft of gray fur.

"Well, My Lord, I am wondering what to say to the people of Lunafell and your troops when they ask what has happened," Redmane explains. "I was of a mind to simply present the head of the monster and explain that it was the root cause of the strife between your people and wolves, and that neither side was therefore to blame for their actions. However, I do not know your people - would they feel insulted or incredulous? This campaign of divisiveness has been brewing for Years now, and I do not know if the people can set aside their prejudices without something more than fact to encourage them."

"How good are you at stirring emotion, Knight Redmane?" Lord December asks as he watches the fiery woman with those yellow eyes. "If you want to counter prejudice, you must show the wolves are just people like they are. People with hopes, families, love, and children. If you craft them as a people not unlike themselves, often anger will be much less. It will not placate all, but it often goes a long way to calming them. They cannot be seen as monsters, but as a people scared and dying, trying desperately to hang on. So, if they can be portrayed as a people needing help ... then anger may shift to sympathy."

"Those who are returning to the village will be the best to speak to that, having spent the most time with the wolves," Redmane says. "Although I can try to speak on their behalf as well. More pressingly: how much should I relate of the external threat? Only we and the elders know that the monster was not working alone. That kind of information could be disruptive, or hinder an investigation to uncover further agents within your House."

"I would prefer to leave the knowledge of a lingering threat unspoken," Lord December says, then takes a deep breath. As he releases it in a cloud of smokey mist, he continues, "Right now I wish the people to believe the crisis is over and that a brighter tomorrow will begin for both them and the wolves. It is not lying ... just not including some information."

"There is also the matter of your family line, My Lord," Redmane says, after nodding to the suggestion. "The wolves are the descendants of the first Lord of December, after all, but there can be questions as to succession. I am uncertain how to deal with that, or how much those who were taken understand of it."

"I do not think that will be as much of a concern. Given the numerous generations between myself and the first, as well as for the wolves ... " Lord December begins, then reaches up to cup the tuft of gray fur on the necklace, "A renewed courting between one of the feyborn, such as I, and one of the wolves, will do much to allay any concerns there."

"You intend to propose to Erzsebet?" Redmane asks, a bit informally.

"If all goes well, yes," the Lord answers. "I wish to show her my world and let her decide then. She may not wish to deal with the issues of court and the scrutiny of the public."

"I suppose getting her to wear clothes will be the easiest part," Redmane notes, then sighs. "I wish I were a storyteller like Thomas. I've no experience with public speaking. If I make a mistake, or allow myself to be misinterpreted, it may undo what we've been able to accomplish so far. I don't even know yet what the those returning will tell their friends and families."

"If it worries you so, have you asked him to speak in your place?" Lord December asks, for the moment sounding less like a Lord. "I know he wishes you to speak to help you bridge the gap between yourself and the fey; he has great faith in you. As for the people, perhaps you should take some time before we reach town to speak with them and learn how they feel."

"I will do that then," Redmane says. "Thank you for your advice, Lord December."

"One suggestion more, if you will. Give your story to them some history. Tell them of the original Lord of December and the love that grew between him and the wolves of the land. Tell them of how it drove out a great evil. Then ... perhaps show them the head of the monster and explain what has happened now. It gives ... perspective," Lord December offers. "If I told it, it would appear as if I was trying to reassert my position. If you tell it, it seems less political."

"That story did not help to convince the elders of the wolves," Redmane admits. "Not until they saw proof of the beast, anyway. So showing the skull at the right moment should work, as you say." Looking back to the temporary camp, the woman says, "I will speak to the townspeople. They will have stories as well."

"You must think me a manipulative man for sending you here without telling you all I knew," Lord December comments as he follows Redmane's eyes to the camp. "And yet you still follow the oath of assistance. Why?"

"Because it is the right thing to do, My Lord," Redmane says. "I will protect the people of Mirari, regardless of how many feet they walk on and despite any machinations of their leaders. You sent me here to do a job, and I did it. I cannot fault you for your choices."

"Kinder words than those spoken by your friend," Lord December comments, then nods his head to Redmane. "You are excused if you wish to go speak with the others."

"Thank you, My Lord," Redmane says, and bows her head again before returning to the camp to look over the fey who are returning to their homes.

Redmane walks into ... something. The people are all eating some of their meager supplies in a semi-circle. At the center is Thomas, hands spread and crouched down. In a low, whispery, voice, he says, "And there we were, riding out one of the worst storms in History. The waves were taller than mountains. And if that weren't enough ... the ship was beset by a great sea dragon..."

Grinning, Redmane joins the circle to listen to the tale - and to observe how the fey react to it.

"Now, all we had were some harpoons and sturdy rope. but in that wind no harpoon would fly true. But ... if we could lure the serpent closer ... well, we could stab it. Now, how do you lure a great serpent, you might ask," Thomas says, grinning maniacally, "Well, you do it with bait." He thumps his chest. The fey, while looking tired, chuckle a bit. Some even roll their eyes.

"The more fragrant the better, isn't that so Thomas?" Redmane asks.

"But of course!" Thomas says triumphantly. "So, what I did was roll around in some fish entrails then tie a rope around my waist. The other end was hooked to a ballista bolt and loaded in the device. Well! So I jumped overboard. The thrashing in the story waters certainly caught the attention of the serpent! One man overboard is a lot easier to eat than a whole ship. So ... it came for me. I swear, the jaws were large enough to devour a small house..."

Redmane leans forward, her chin propped on her fists as she smiles and listens further, while occasionally watching the audience. If they can spare some of their attention for the story, then perhaps they have not been too traumatized.

Thomas crouches down, voice dropping low. "Right as the jaws were about to close around me ... they fired the ballista! I shot out of its mouth and went soaring! Boy, was the serpent sore, too," he says, pausing there for dramatic effect. The effect is, a few of those gathered around groan at the play on words.

The knight can't help but wince a little too. No wonder Thomas has a minstrel to recite his adventures for him.

"So ... it chased me. When its long neck reached over the ship, the crew struck with their harpoons," Thomas declares, smacking his hand together for emphasis. "Me, well, I cut the rope around my waist, caught a hold of some of the rigging ropes, and swung down to safety. But alas, I couldn't join in the fight, for the crew had already run the beast through. Still, I had quite the part to play in that little adventure. A tale I fondly titled, 'The Wyrm felled by a Worm'."

"Ugh.. fondly?" Redmane has to ask at the horrible title. "Honestly?"

There's a chorus of groans from the fey gathered around in the circle. They even throw bits of scrap food and dirt at Thomas. For his part, Thomas just grins, looking for all the world delighted by the reaction. "Hey, it's better than what Sam wished to call it, "Dope on a Rope."

The groaning only gets worse ... and yet the fey are actually smiling; something Redmane hadn't seen from them since they changed back. To Redmane, Thomas tries to comment while ducking and dodging the bits thrown, "Sure. The title has to be memorable. No one ever claimed it had to be good." He winks.

"I hope the others here will have better titles for the tales they will tell of.. having tails," Redmane says.

"Why Redmane, was that a joke? Are you hoping for a great tale of tails, to be the mane event of the mysterious hunt? The frolic through the fronds on the legs of four? The defeat of the Lizard Of the Blizzard? The ... " Thomas croons ... right before he goes down when one of the travel packs is thrown from the crowd and catches him square in the face!

Redmane laughs briefly, and shakes her head. "What I am hoping for, right now, is forgiveness. I put you all in danger by having you brought to that cave - more danger than the wolves put you in. I wanted you to be safe should Lord December's forces attack, but I was not expecting the monster. If any of you wish to express your anger with me, please do not hold back."

"Forgiveness?" one of the fey asks, looking a bit confused, "You did what you thought was safest based on everything you knew. What is there to be mad about because of that? You came to help us; that meant a lot. Even if it wasn't the best thing to do in the end, it gave us hope."

"Aye," another says, "We can't be angry with you for trying to help us. No one knows everything, not even the Lords."

Thomas' hand comes up and from underneath the bag on his head, he's head to say, "I know everything!" He's promptly buried in a dozen more thrown travel packs.

"Well, it felt like a mistake to me," Redmane notes. "I am glad that you see it that way, though. And Thomas does not know everything! But all of you here know more now than your friends and family back home about the wolves. What will you tell them, when they ask what happened to you?"

"Do too," Thomas claims from under the mound of packs.

The people gathered around grow silent at the question. "Well, I won't claim I'm not angry with them. Just being taken like that and changed," one fey, a young male, says. "But, I guess I kind of understand why they did it too. If I felt my world was dying, I might do some extreme things. As wolves, many did try to teach us. They tried to find things to make it easier. I guess I will just tell people they were scared and lonely. I don't see any point in trying to make others mad at them too."

Another young male speaks up, "I look at it this way ... I had a Week of getting to pretend I was Lord December himself. I mean, I was shape-shifted into a wolf ... not many can do that. Beats shoveling out the stables."

"And would you work with them now?" Redmane asks. "Hunt together? Trade? Let them court your sons or daughters or siblings?"

"Sure. It was fun when one of the girls was in hea..." a grinning male starts to say ... right before the young woman sitting next to him elbows him hard in the ribs. "Boys," she grumbles.

Another woman now speaks up. "I won't say I trust them ... but I am willing to give them time to earn the trust," she says. "If they prove themselves honorable and honest in dealings, then I see no problem if there is courting."

"You only say that because your sister stayed behind with one of the males. She fell in love with being a wolf and being with him," another fey points out. "I don't trust them and won't."

The knight chuckles at that. "I have to ask you this, because how you view the wolves will ultimately be how the others come to see them - if you don't give into those who prefer things they way they've been. There will always be some tension and competition, and those on two legs or four who... well, tend to set bad examples. I'm sure you can name some from town and from the pack. If you believe that you can coexist with the wolves, and that they deserve to coexist with you, then it can come to pass and all will benefit. Trust is something that has to be earned, just like forgiveness. But you have to give it the chance to be earned."

There's a collective muttering from those gathered amongst themselves. "We are to meet with them again in a Week," one of the fey finally says to Redmane. "That was decided upon by Lord December, to give time for the people of Lunafell to calm once we return. We are to agree on a neutral meeting ground and the leaders of each are to converge there. I cannot say if an agreement would be formed, but that is the hope. All that can be done is try."

"I'm glad to hear that you are willing to give peace a chance, after all you have been through," Redmane says. "I was only a wolf for one day, but found it very difficult myself. You are all much stronger than me for having gone through what you have."

"We are no stronger. We had each other to rely on and find comfort in. You were alone," the woman who spoke earlier points out, "We have known each other most of our lives."

"Aye. All you had was that right?" one of the males asks and points to the pile of bags where Thomas' feet stick out. "I think that made it worse."

"Well, I had Erzsebet too," Redmane points out with a grin. "That makes up for a lot of things."

"Hmph!" goes the pile of bags.

"Of course, we're all now a part of one of his stories, you know," Redmane points out. "So if you want to be remembered for not being used as monster bait, it might help to be a bit more polite to Thomas."

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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.