Bern
Our travels back toward the inn were interrupted by a rain of fire. We paused, took shelter and waited it out, but the delay was costing time we couldn’t spare. It cleared up by noon, and we moved on, but the next day was filled with storms. Normal storms, just rain and lightning and wind, not the burning . But it cost us more time. And we were off schedule. Pelf seemed antsy, She was on a timer to deliver her ingredients and they would likely go bad if she took too long.
Another unusual delay we encountered on the way back was a telepathic tree. It seemed to think both u-Heury and I smelled of death and didn’t want either of us to come anywhere near it. That seemed off – the rest of the party were fine, according to the tree. More ominous hints about the pillar of Ambule, perhaps? We eventually agreed to detour around the tree. I wanted to get more answers about that from someone or some thing that might know, but Pelf was the only one the tree was willing to tell whatever it knew to, and Pelf was too cowardly to spend the time alone with a tree. We had to move on, but I marked the tree so I could find it again and ask more.
We made it to the inn in time only by pushing our pace, wearing ourselves out on the road. Pelf went directly to the kitchen with her sack of ingredients (which I had been carrying, you’re welcome). She was greeted warmly enough, especially when she announced that the ingredients had been successfully procured… But the hag was disturbingly interested to hear the details. Especially how her pouch went missing along with its gold. Pelf provided the knight’s full name and everything else she had managed to collect about him. The hag promised he would not be a problem anymore. That seemed ominous.
I had been scouting ahead, traveling twice the distance the rest of the party did just from walking forwards and then backwards and then forwards again. And it was wearing me out. I ate my rations and went to bed, but before it did any good, Pelf woke me by shaking my shoulder and demanding we go to look at the witch who is flying over the lake? Or living under it? Or some fool story? I didn’t want to, but my rest had already been ruined. I suppose I might as well. We took the opportunity to visit the Pillar of Ambrose, just to see if anything had changed there. But it all looked the same as before.
That night, in the middle of my regularly scheduled Mossy nightmare, a terrifying Cry from the Leviathan of the lake woke me and sent me fleeing through the walls of the inn. Stark naked and mad with fear, I ran into the woods, with the full moon high above me and Pappy’s curse clawing at my heels. The trees flew by in the darkness, deeper into the woods. Finally, out of breath, I curled up under a tree and collapsed. I’d be fine by morning. That’s what Pappy always said.
I had barely closed my eyes when a second trumpeting call echoed from the trees. I looked up to see a snake-like monster from the lake charging in my direction. This was a different lake monster, with six heads instead of tentacles, and nasty teeth. And evidently the ability to walk on land. Before I could think, my primal instincts answered its challenge with one of my own. A howl tore from my throat with all of my strength behind it. And then sanity took hold. Perhaps my Pappy could have taken this thing down with claws and teeth. I was all the man he was, but less of the wolf. Fighting this hydra head to head would be suicide even before taking into account the other five heads.
It was moving toward me as fast as I could run, even without my armor and shield. My only advantage was agility, and the terrain itself. I ran toward a small group of trees nearby, shading small pond, and threw myself inside. Taking advantage of the moment out of view, I jumped into the pond and slathered my body with mud and leaves from the shore. Lying flat in the water, still and silent, I watched the beast trundle past into the distance.
Decades from now, the Hydra and the Leviathan and the Hag of the lake will meet on their little island, and tell tales of the Ghost Wolf that challenged all three on the night of the full moon and lived. Hah!
When the creatures had vanished, my exhausted rest was interrupted again by a nagging telepathic voice. The “tree” is actually a miniature dragon of some kind. I was too tired to try to convince it to tell me anything. Perhaps I can find it again later, though I’m not sure it actually knows anything useful. I hope Father Dougan in Fort Vulgar found something. If not, well, even a very small dragon needs to and occasionally, and that will leave marks I can track.
The next day, Pelf chatted up a woman in a nun’s habit who was staying at the inn. She had rented the expensive tower room for twice the previous price due to Pelf’s bookkeeping – we were also paying higher prices, except Pelf who was staying free, thanks Pelf! – and seemed to be interested in the lake witches. Pelf scared her off with aggressive questioning, but she did mention that the Maidenhead Priory was located far to the west of here. That particular useful question was my idea. She might know more, but was headed away from Fort Vulgar, and we had more pressing research to collect there.
