Letter Eleven—Danse Macabre

Weaver

Dear Pino,
What I last remember was being picked up by the monster like a child’s toy. Then I was floating in a vast silvery landscape. I looked about myself numbly, as if in a dream. It was uniform sameness everywhere and I was alone. I don’t know how long I was there—a minute or an eternity was the same to me.

Eventually I came to realize that light was brighter on one side of the vastness and was getting brighter as if I was being attracted to it. I noticed faint mist filling the vault and eventually saw there was movement, a shifting amongst the clouds. Soon this movement came to resemble schools of fish swimming through water. At some point I realized that what I was seeing were the souls of the recently departed, like myself, traveling through the Astral Plane to be judged by great Pharasma. In time I joined one of the groups as we continued being attracted towards the light.

So, I was dead. Funny that. I always thought Piea or Cane would be the first to go. I suppose I should have been looking forward to an eternity of bliss in Erastil’s happy hunting ground but without you and Pirna it would seem an empty place. I wished you both a long life but eagerly anticipated you joining me someday. Don’t lose faith in Old Deadeye, dear girl, for I don’t want to lose you for eternity.

By this time I could see Pharasma’s great spire in the distance and more schools of souls moving there. When we finally reached the Boneyard, the tombs of the damned stretched far beyond sight, a vast graveyard where we milled about waiting to be gathered to our final destinations.

After a time I noticed a traveler standing next to me. She was a rare beauty, hair red, jade green eyes, a mischievous engaging smile, and regal bearing—a queen?

“My name doesn’t matter,” she said with a sad smile. “I’ve been called by so many. I lived in Old Korvosa. How about yourself?”

“Marquand of Tuskland,” I declared.

“Ah,” she smiled, “Then I’m probably not responsible for you being here.” She laughed, and several heads turned, grimaced sourly, and turned away again.

“No, dear lady, I was rent asunder by a very angry owlbear.”

I don’t know how to describe what follows, Pino, except as another drear lesson for your ever-thickening notebook. This woman, this infamous Queen—Ileosa, I was now certain—had killed her liege, seduced and murdered his brother, murdered his friends and guard, and half the population of his city—she had me smiling shyly like a schoolboy. Her warm open smile invited me into intimacy that was not natural. I wanted to share her laughter, ask her favor, gain her love. To touch her heart I told her about Lily.

She smiled sweetly, sadness on her face. “Well, there are only two reasons for a woman to ignore a man. The first is if she wants nothing to do with him—and I don’t believe that for a minute,” her hand touched my bicep intimately. “The other is that she desires you but fears the consequences.”

“My Lily fears nothing,” I protested.

Weaver

A bright smile parted her lips. “There is a third reason,” she said, hand on my shoulder. Pulling me down she whispered in my ear, “If you're brave enough to face it—she wants you bent to her will first.”

I sighed, looking out over the drear tombstones that mottled the landscape. “I don’t suppose it matters now.”

We embraced as the dead shuffled past. “I left someone I loved behind as well,” she said, face buried in my chest. “I always intended to return to him, but,” she shrugged. I brushed the tears away from her eyes. “I met Kazavon instead.” She reached up, placing the palm of her hand to my cheek. It was cold as death.

She felt it, too, suddenly hugging herself, while moving away. “I’m waiting until my true love arrives,” she said huskily. “It might take awhile so, you know, I have to keep moving or they'll find me first." She gestured to the sky, "It was good meeting you, Marquand of Tuskland. I'll see you in hell.”

She turned and walked away, joining a troupe of freshly murdered mimes passing by. "I have to doubt it," I thought.

Not long afterward I heard the rustling of large wings overhead and I saw a creature—creatures—descending. It hovered in front of me, two beings linked, one glowing white and blue and the other orange and ebony. It was Pharasma’s herald, the fabled Steward of Skein. It gestured my forward.

“You’ve been called back to the world of the living, Marquand.”

“But why?”

The blue/white one looked away but the orange/black one laughed out loud. “Piea’s eloped!” it cackled and that’s all I needed to hear. Duty called. The next thing I knew I was coughing up blood in a cleric’s back room, a jagged red scar crossed my naked body from stem to stern.

I slept for most of the week following, but you know that. I want to thank you for the many kindnesses you showed me and the many bowls of broth you brought me, even if they did grow cold eventually and gather flies. The world seems a dream to me.

My first official act was to preside over the dedication of Owlbear City Park. I was pleased to see my old adversary stuffed and leaking feathers on a pedestal in one corner, near the fangberry bushes. My speech was simple, “Et tu, owlbear,” but Lev more than made up for it with his speech. I slept through most of it but thanks to an elixir of eyes seeming everyone thought I was awake. Later, I tried helping with the rebuilding of the waterfront but they wouldn’t let a distinguished man like me haul lumber and I was fit for nothing else.

I was even indifferent to our most recent public scandal where Earle Varginia was arrested for accidentally chopping the arm off a complete stranger. Lev said that people were doubting our ability to keep the peace. I answered by tapping my whip.

Soon after I saddled Autolycus and joined my colleagues on the road south.

“Do we really want to go fight a bunch of big trolls without Piea?” Lev asked as they argued about where we should explore next. Piea and Arven have both disappeared. Perhaps youthful passion had overcome sense of duty. Let this be a lesson to you, Pino. Never fall in love!

I’m kidding of course. I’ve heard that Lily was upset by my death but even more upset by my rebirth. She thinks of me as somehow unclean and I must admit that I feel the same way. Erastil believes in honoring the natural cycle of life and death. I worry that I have failed him. (Not to mention the great cost to the city in resurrecting me, which I vow to repay.)

Bert Askew told me that he wouldn’t be accompanying us on this trip, preferring to stay behind to squire your Mother! I guess they met at a barn dance while I was recovering and now he thinks of little else. He surprised me by asking my permission to try and win her affection. What could I say? Who am I to stand in the path of love’s arrow?

Holy Symbol of Milani

Copyright Paizo

In his stead Lev introduced Vladimir to us, a Cleric of Milani, who has been declared Lev’s aide de camp. He studied at the Everbloom Monastery outside Artume, southwest of here, before receiving his Brothership. As you know, Milani is the patron of those who fight against oppression and unjust rule.

It's also Duke Lev’s deity.

West of the Tuskwater we encountered an old man traveling with a big mountain lion for companion.

“I like your lion,” Cane murmured shyly. “Can we take it in the woods?”

A long silence followed.

“What brings you to these parts?” Lev finally asked.

“I’m just wandering. Seeking out new places and new people to spread the word,” he replied, seeming drunk.

“Word of what!?”Lev yelped as the man suddenly lunged forward, stabbing him in the stomach, but it wasn’t much of a fight as Sizzles and Cane quickly subdued his cat while we disarmed the old man and trussed him up.

We took from him:
•    +1 leather armor
•    +1 whip
•    +1 ring of protection
•    masterwork short sword

“You got manners of a goat,” the man hollered. “I want to kill you! I wanna make soup out of your Mama!”

We looked at him aghast.

“Who put the polka dots on everything? Huh?”

“Have you been eating mushrooms, old man?” Cane mocked.

“Keep away from me with your flaming fingertips! I’ll kill you like I killed my brother and then I will eat you like I ate my father and then I’ll . . .”

Here I must decline to record his words, dear Pino, they are foul beyond imagining and were said simply to provoke us.

“You have problems,” Cane observed.

“You,” his head turned, “are the first of my problems and shall be destroyed and kilt!”

“Can I kill him, please?” Cane pleaded with us.

“You killed my cat!”

“I have killed your cat,” Cane agreed amiably.

“Oah” Putting his hands over his ears he yelled in a whisper, “Shut up!”

Copyright Paizo

We discussed what we should do with the madman as he simpered and raged, fouling himself like an infant. Kelm had no opinion either way, Cane, typically wanted to kill him but refrained in deference to me. Lev wanted to end his life “humanely” and bury him next to his cat. Only I held out for returning him to Tuskland.

Don’t think of it as softness of my heart, Pino, for it would be a blessing to end the man’s torment. It’s because I have a suspicion that he will help us later—madmen have insight where others are lacking.

Cane gagged him

“We could use him as bait for the trolls,” Lev jested.

“Blllaeiiourrgh!” the crazed man shouted through his gag, face red, veins standing out, capillaries popping in his eyes. “Aaaarrrrgggghhh!”

With the sound of his muffled screams in the background we continued our debate.

“He attacked us unprovoked,” Lev said, counting down his crimes. “He is crazy. These lands are soon to be in our realm.”

“I’m okay if he wants to take responsibility for him and take him back to the city,” Cane decided in my favor.

Then Kelm added his vote. “We can put him in the dungeon until we can cure his madness.”

“What’s a dungeon without somebody screaming?” Cane added happily. “He’ll be awesome.”

The others conceded his point and agreed to take him back.

We tied the crazy man on the back of my horse and headed to town. I couldn’t shake the notion that he reminded me of Bokken, our tame crazy hermit.

Once we had him secured in the dungeon we followed my notion by visiting Bokken but he refused to return with us, asking instead, “Did he have a locket? My mama’s on it, my precious mama!” He offered 300 gold pieces or 900 worth of potions. “It’s not worth much to anybody but me," he said unconvincingly. "Where is my brother now?”

"So he is your brother!" I muttered as we told him.

“I hope he rots in hell!” Bokken hissed. “He’s scum of the earth. Good riddance!”

Since he had not been bearing the locket on his person we rode back to the area where we’d first encountered him, quickly finding a hollow oak tree containing his worldly possessions: a few pieces of crude wooden furniture, a wooden bowl and spoon, and a pile of dried leaves that appeared to be his bed.

Under the leaves we found:
•    potion of cure light wounds
•    potion of invisibility
•    164 silver
•    31 gold
•    tarnished silver locket wrapped in a piece of cloth holding a faded portrait of a young woman worth about 10 gold

On the piece of cloth was a crudely drawn map to the Lonely Barrow, which we've explored.

We continued through the rough, wooded area until coming to a ruined circular keep looming out of the forest. It was surrounded by towering ancient trees draped with hanging moss. Four circular towers sprouted from the wall, which was nearly twenty feet high. One had crumbled into rubble. Twisting vine and thick moss covered the walls in verdant green, that would have blended the ruins seamlessly into the surrounding woods if it hadn't been autumn with the hills cloaked in gold and yellow. The overgrown remains of a path led to an open-arched gateway in the keep’s eastern wall, the door long since rotted away. There were ancient worn carvings on the parts of the wall we could see. The southern wall had been breached sometime in the distant past, leaving a rubble strewn opening leading inside

Kelm said that they were Elvin ruins, which brought me back to earth a little bit—Lily's promise. My eyes wandering in thought, I saw that there was a portcullis hanging over the entranceway. We decided it was a trap but Kelm tripped it anyway, lustily cursing as the heavy gate fell on him. We quickly freed him but that way was now blocked.

So we entered over the breached wall, wondering what old stories it could tell. It proved very difficult to get inside, overgrown as it was, and deeply shadowed. Above us a graceful tower rose out of the keep’s central courtyard, vines and creepers growing everywhere, on ledges and in cracks.

Suddenly there was an outraged shriek of pain. From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of color but when I turned my head it was gone. Cane was bleeding from a ragged tear in his arm.

We heard laughter—fey! I might have felt fear, or at least trepidation, but having died once there was nothing left to fear.

Cane and Sizzles "snuggled butts" to prevent anything sneaking up on them. Nevertheless, Cane was stabbed again as Vlad moved in to shield and bandage him.

“Stop this,” Lev called out in sylvan. “Come out and talk.”

“It’s too late for him!” Cane grumbled fiercely.

“Idiots,” came a voice, in Aklo this time. From the sound of it, it was behind the wall, possibly through an arrow-slit.

“Come on,” said Lev in aklo this time. “We don’t want to have to kill you. You’re making it hard on us.”

I cast Shield of Faith while moving in.

A shimmer of light pierced Vlad, stabbing him with poisoned blade. It retreated once more into the underbrush as Cane shot three arrows after it, missing every one as he cursed angrily.

Lev stepped forward. “Come out, come out,” he encouraged.

“So stupid,” came the voice behind the wall while behind us came a titter.

Copyright Paizo

Lev flung a fireball in its direction, incinerating some undergrowth. “I said stop it!”

The shimmering phantom reappeared heading straight for Cane, like a bottlenose dolphin attacks a canoe. It missed him and this time Cane was able to land a fortunate counterblow.

It whizzed toward me like one of Little Billee’s errant bottle rockets, which gave Lev a chance to strike it dead with magic missile. It lay twitching on the ground by my feet.

“It ain’t so funny now, is it?” Cane taunted, spitting on its face.

His name was sewn in his underpants—Rigg Gargadilly, quickling.

On this body we found:
•    +1 short sword
•    3 doses of poison

“Anyone else here?” Lev called.

We continued searching the ruin until only the central tower was left. Inside was a tall vaulted ceiling, the floor of smooth many-hued stone. The walls were painted with faded frescoes of sylvan life showing scenes of idealized elves engaged in hunting, feasting, dancing, singing, and other idyllic pursuits. To the west a graceful filigreed basalt staircase garlanded with flowing vines climbed to the level above.

“Look!”

A violet mist gushed from some internal chamber forcing us all up the stairs, except for Kelm, who found respite in a nearby tree. A graceful elf maiden, white gown flowing like a living thing, emerged on the landing above. Her thin waist tied with a blood-red scarf. She held our eyes for a moment before slowly raising her arms, body moving like a bird in flight. It proved impossible to resist the lure of her pure alabaster skin, the toss of her golden curls, tongue wetting ruby-red lips, the promise in her emerald-green eyes and inviting roll of her hips.

“She’s beautiful,” murmured both Lev and Vlad.

Not hesitating, I blasted her with Searing Light while Kelm pleaded with me to stop. “How do you know she’s an enemy?” he whined.

Grimstalker

Copyright Paizo

His answer came with a bellow of rage as a grimstalker emerged.

Cane plunked away at the dancer with an arrow as she focused her attention on me. I looked into her devouring eyes, reminding me of Ileosa (and not in a good way). She begged me to turn my sword on Cane.

Far away I heard Kelm muttering something about it maybe being a bad idea to have sold our cold iron weapon. It proved enough of a distraction that I was able to overcome the dancer's suggestion long enough to make a judgment of smiting. I knocked her back, breaking her spell on the others. She attacked me ferociously then, clawing and biting so frantically that she bit herself!

Fortunately (for me) the grimstalker had attacked Cane and then Lev instead of flanking me. It scooped Lev's kidney like a river clam. Despite his pain Lev hit the failing dancer with a ranged touch attack and she wilted to the floor, muttering a dying curse upon him.

The grimstalker let out a howl of sorrow and rage, standing like an ox in the slaughterhouse as Cane and I finished him off.

The dancing elf-lady had:
•    life-sized alabaster statue of a nude dancing Elvin lady worth 900 gold pieces and weighing, 500 lbs
•    masterwork harp
•    small carved jade statuette of a coiling snake, 75 gp
•    ancient filigreed Elvin waterclock, 1000 gp, weighing 200 lbs
•    bed covered with a snow-white bearskin coverlet, 50 gp
•    finely carved wooden wardrobe holding 2 royal outfits, 200 gp each
•    3 courtiers outfits, 30 gp
•    clothes stained with blood

A small wooden coffer atop a rosewood table contained:
•    3 vials of exotic perfume, 100 gp each
•    gem-studded tiara, 350 gp
•    magic potion

One chest held:
•    431 silver
•    370 gold

One chest held:
•    elixir of love

In the quickling’s lair was a clay urn hidden in a niche:
•    119 gp
•    131 silver
•    27 copper pieces
•    12 gems, 1800 gp total
•    Elvin artifact, a mithral statuette of a beautiful Elvin woman wearing archaic robes framed by an archway of branches—Findelavara, the Elvin goddess of architecture, 1200 gp

The grimstalker had a small locked chest:
•    fine velvet cloak, 10 gp
•    gold necklace, 100 gp
•    silver ring set with an emerald, 300 gp
•    bejeweled masterwork short sword, 500 gp
•    moonstone, 50 gp
•    31 gp
•    76 silver pieces

Kelm mocked my wanting to give Lily the statuette but somehow I feel in my soul that it’s the right thing to do. Unlike Kelm, I can’t prognosticate three months in advance that a woman is going to accept my entreaty.

Holy symbol of Gyronna
Copyright Paizo

We returned just in time to learn that a cult of Gyronna had taken root in our country. Skevins came up with the names of a dozen women in town, and farms nearby, whom he suspects of cultish sentiment. Gyronna is the hag-goddess of hatred, extortion, and spite. "Those attracted to Gyronna’s cult are often adulterous wives, embittered prostitutes, and spurned lovers." Women who have been wronged. Pity them, dear Pino, for “First you must respect yourself!”

Your loving uncle,
Marquand

Letter Ten—Death Eats a Cracker

Skot Skevens strummed the guitar in front of his rhythm section—a thin long-limbed elf on bass, a kobold on piano, a mite on washboard, and a dwarf on bongos. He let them settle into a long, mournful groove before singing:

Hey, hey

Love, love

Yeah, yeah

Ah, ha

Marquand is dead

That's what I said

Let the rap a plan

Said he'd see him home

But his hope was a rope

And he should've known

It's hard to understand

That there's love in this man

I'm sure all would agree

That his misery was his

Woman and things

Now Marquand is dead

That's what I said

Everybody's misused him

Ripped him up and abused him

Another Inquisitor’s plan

Killin’ owlbears for the man

A terrible blow

But that's how it goes

A gamer’s on the corner now

If you wanna be an Inquisitor, wow

Remember Marquand’s dead

We're all built up with progress

But sometimes I must confess

We can deal with kobolds and fey

But reality, what does it mean

Ain't nothing said

'Cause Marquand is dead

Hey, hey

Love, love

Hey, hey

Yeah, yeah

Ha, ha

Love, love

Yeah, yeah

Ha, ha

Yeah, yeah

Marquand is dead

All I want is some peace of mind

With a little love I'm trying to find

This could be such a beautiful world

With a wonderful girl

Why I need a woman child

Don't wanna be like Marquand now

'Cause Marquand’s dead

Hey, hey

Yeah, yeah

If you don't try

You're gonna die

Why can't we brothers

Protect one another

No one's serious

And it makes me furious

Don't be misled

Just think Marquand

Everybody's misused him

Ripped him up and abused him

Another Inquisitor's plan

Killin’ owlbears for the man

A gamer’s on the corner now

If you wanna be an Inquisitor, why

Remember Marquand is dead

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha

Marquand is dead

Hey, hey

Ha, ha

Love, love

Ha, ha...

Many apologies to the late, great Curtis Mayfield

Pathfinder copyright 2011 Paizo Publishing, LLC

Gosh, sorry Pino,

 I’m writing this to tell you that your uncle, Marquand, was killed deader than a skunk-mackerel today. He died bravely, though, and we brought him back to Tuskland packed in ice in my saddlebags on the off chance that the Duke can find someone to put him back together again, just like Humpty Dump . . . maybe that’s not the best example.

While inventorying his personal belongings I came across this unfinished letter to you and thought that I’d send it along posthaste.

Don’t lose heart,
Bert Askew

Dear Pino,
The month of Rova dawned clear and crisp but I wish I could say the same for the politics of the city of Tuskland for I awoke to the news that scandal has visited our little town. You’ve undoubtedly seen the graffiti that’s been defacing walls of late—of a man in open congress with a wolf. You’re too young to know what that means, of course, but I don’t fool myself thinking you don’t. It’s a disreputable act at best and hurts the worse for knowing the two souls involved.

Cane and Sizzles were caught in a corner of the park reserved for illicit love making little half-human-wolflings and the news spread through town like wildfire. We all met to decide our strategy while Cane and Sizzles competed on who could wear the most hangdog expression.

Lev made a long speech in the town square, which was filled with citizens, many hoping for a hanging, or at least a serious scourging, and watching me expectantly.

It was a good speech, full of the milk of human kindness. “It’s alright to be whatever you want to be, that’s what P.U.R.K. is all about,” Lev orated hoarsely, sincerity etching a sigil across his brow. “After all, we left Brevoy to be free—human, fey, beast alike. As long as there is mutual respect amongst us we can join together to create the most powerful nation in all the River Kingdoms. One that will benefit and enrich everyone—every person, every unperson—fulfilling their destiny, fulfilling themselves—everybody giving, everyone taking—without sacrificing individuality or point of view."

"Unless your name is Grigory!" someone yelled from the back of the crowd.

"Freedom's only boundary is the boundary of another's freedom," Lev summed up.

Then a druid halfling called Frulamin Milltall was brought up to publicly question Sizzles. On the dais where Skot Skevins gives his lunchtime concerts we'd set up a desk, chairs, and a waterdish. The old druid asked the wolf a few short questions. Sizzles answered with growls and yips, copious whining, and scratching behind his ear.

The druid turned to the crowd as Sizzles lay beside him, worried eyes watching every move. “Yes,” he reported the wolf saying, “Moochie (his pet-name for Cane) and I go a long way back. He’s been my constant companion since I was a pup freshly weaned from my mother’s tit. We feed each other, comfort one another, and share a den. We're much closer than man and wife. Do you eat the fleas and ticks that inhabit your lover?” she asked rhetorically. “We do. Do you lick their wounds and genitals? We do. Do you sniff each others b . . . ?”

“Ahem,” Lev interrupted. He pointed to the condemned lovers. “As you can see, it was a mutually consenting relationship. Isn’t that the essence of freedom?”

The crowd cheered Lev, carrying him off on their shoulders. “At least he’s not a rapist,” Piea shrugged.

At the Stag Lord's tree stump we found this notice:

Wanted: Troll Blood! One full waterskin of troll blood to use as a catalyst for healing potions. Reward of 1,200 gold pieces in potions. "Help make alchemical history!"

Conveniently, a messenger arrived from Restov with a offer to reward for us for clearing the southern border of a covey of Troll bandits. More disturbing, we also we received a report that a giant owlbear was wrecking havoc to the south, killing travelers and destroying farms. So we quickly mounted our horses and were soon on the road southward. We traveled along the east coast of the Tuskwater, crossing the Murque well upstream where, at this time of year, barely a trickle of water wet the horse's hooves. Finally, we reached a wooded karst, all rimmed crags and deep sinkholes.

I found myself riding next to Piea as we carefully inched along. She asked me how my romance with Lily was coming. I shrugged. Since the night of Lev and Ilse's wedding she has mostly greeted me with indifference. I’ve heard rumor that she’s been seen with a roguish half-elf known as Havain.

“You know my feelings about her,” Piea erupted. “I won’t say it again—yes I will—she’s a b—, a c—, and a w—! You can do better than that. Look, I got a friend I want you to meet, she can do 1000 push-ups with one hand!”

Mostly to distract her I asked about Arven. “We’re doing well,” she replied, brow furrowed. “I’m not going to marry him because I’m too young to settle down—also, I have to kill things, you know?”

Suddenly, we heard voices coming from the rocks ahead. Embarrassingly, it was a couple commingling in love. Piea gasped, for one of the voices we heard sounded like that of her beloved Arven!

She slumped in her saddle. “This makes me lose faith in all love in this world,” she lamented, then suddenly brightened. “I’m going to great-axe him in the back! I’m the jealous type!”

We quietly dismounted and approached the sounds, which were steadily coming more impassioned. Piea could barely restrain herself, such was her urgency to confront the couple, but the rugged landscape made finding them difficult. Then Cane was set upon by a ferocious leucrotta.

Write down the definition of leucrotta, Pino, and then compare it to my description. “This freakish beast has the head of a badger, the hooves of a stag, and a wide mouth with sharp ridges of bone instead of teeth. Reputed to be descended from hyenas and a demon lord, these creatures are intelligent and cruel, using their astounding vocal mimicry to lure foolish and unsuspecting creatures to where it can torment them at its leisure before finally devouring them.”*

They are fearsome clever beasts that stalk their prey until they’ve discovered its weakness, then use their gift of mimicry to exploit it—in this case Piea’s insecurity about her lover. It hoped to make her angry, jealous, and careless. That a creature smart enough to do all this would be stupid enough to attack the six of us is a puzzle we'll save for another time.

“Have we had a fatality in this party yet?” Kelm suddenly asked apropos of nothing—another of his predictions? As Piea and I carefully climbed towards the combatants he stood unmoving nearby, staring at the rocky outcropping with a perplexed look on his face. “Should I climb?” he said, putting up one hand tentatively then lowering it again. “Should I stay?”

Cane had killed the beast by the time we could reach him. “Its brain makes a good pudding,” he said as way of explanation.

We followed its tracks back to its lair, finding:

•    blue dragonhide breastplate
•    blue dragonhide heavy shield
•    tree feather token
•    ivory comb worth 50 gp

Piea made her claim on the comb, coyly batting her eyelashes and asking, “See how long my hair is?”

There were also:

•    86 gold pieces coated in a fowl smelling slime

Bert Askew refused to touch them. “I think they were pooped up!” he shivered.

As we patched Cane up he noted that Kelm had no trouble getting over the rocks once the battle was finished.

“I just didn’t want to climb when there was fighting over there,” Kelm said.

But this was getting us no closer to the owlbear so we next headed along the southern shore of the Murque, then the Candlemere, until we were once again on the plains east of the mudhole where we killed the tendriculous.

Nethys

We began seeing signs of destruction by a very powerful creature. Trees were broken and ripped from the earth, tufts of dark fur were snagged in the branches, and huge feathers littered the ground. We sent Kelm into the entrance of a dark, gaping cave. While his vision is limited at the best of times it is the same whether it's light or dark. “I have faith in magic,” he said, “and in Nethys, the god of magic.”

Lev followed him inside and soon they were cloaked in darkness. We strained to hear their progress but there was only silence dripping like a faucet at midnight. Then a nerve-jangling shriek!

Cane and I quickly entered as I cast light. We saw that the entire cave was filled with a dark fungi. There was a sea of large, red mushrooms. Amongst them were larger gilled fungi with writhing tentacles atop their glistening purple heads. With a shout Piea charged, lopping the top off the one that was shrieking and the room fell eerily silent. A second one suddenly moved and attacked her, its poison causing the flesh of her arm to shrivel grotesquely, exposing the bone. Worse, several more of the marauding purple morels turned slowly to the attack.

“Think of it as a learning experience,” Bert Askew called from the cave’s entrance.

Copyright Paizo Publishing, LLC.

Cane attacked one while I shot another. Lev handed Piea his morningstar and she fought on one-handed. I don’t know how she withstood the pain. Then Lev unlimbered his crossbow and finished off the one I’d hit.

One of the mushrooms juiced Kelm and his flesh began to rot in front of our eyes, bubbling off the bone, its stench overwhelming. I felt myself slipping exhausted to the floor.

Piea whacked it with Lev’s morningstar, then Kelm killed it with magic missile. “Touch me again!” he taunted the now flaccid creature.

“You’re still rotting, aren’t you?” Cane asked him. “Your arm smells like death.”

“It’s all an illusion, a flesh wound. See?” Kelm waved it at Kane. Ahhh!!!!” he cried in anguish.

We found:
•    5 gold pieces
•    12 copper
•    +2 dagger with a dragon carved in the handle

Suddenly we heard another nerve-jangling shriek, only this time it was Bert Askew crying a warning, “Shambling Mound!” and we turned to see one of the bushy bruisers approaching us from the cave’s mouth.

Lev scored the first hit with a ray of exhaustion, causing the Mound to stagger like an overfed mule. I found that I had recovered somewhat but still needed help standing before I could shoot it with my longbow.

Piea hit it with the morningstar, but it whacked her hard on the head, grappling her like Arven after an evening's drinks. “Why are they always grabbing me?” she cried in frustration. By then I had recovered somewhat, driving my sword home and ending its misbegotten life before it could damage her further.

We had barely caught our breaths when we heard Bert scream again, “Centipedes!” We looked up in time to see three giant black creatures emerging from the Mound’s heart. Fortunately, they proved easy to kill.

In the Shambling Mound’s lair we discovered the week-old tracks of an immense owlbear. Another tunnel led back from there and, to our relief, we found the owlbear’s rotting corpse amongst the bodies of the eight bandits it had killed. We stripped the corpses before giving them cursory burial. Perhaps one of them was a believer.

•    8 suits of studded leather
•    8 light wooden shields
•    8 daggers
•    8 longswords
•    8 shortbows
•    84 arrows
•    96 gold

We were arguing about how to claim the reward when Cane noticed that there were also fresh owlbear tracks amongst the carnage. “It had a mate,” he stated grimly.

“And it’s probably out for revenge,” Lev gulped.

Quickly we limped back to Tuskland, Piea and Kelm, riding downwind, putting on brave faces despite their discomfort. “I like scar-flesh,” Piea insisted. “It’ll heal cool!”

Copyright 2011 Paizo Publishing, LLC.

We heard the frantic approach of a horse and were soon intercepted by Skot Skevins. “Where have you been?” he cried, voice cracking. “A huge enraged owlbear just ripped up the town. It tore everything to shreds!”


We followed him back/ "Make way, make way!" he cried to every cow and hog that we met. Lev was a’twitter, thinking about our potential losses. We saw ripe fields ruined before their harvest; trees uprooted and thrown against houses and barns. A pall of smoke and dust hung over Tuskland and even from a distance we could see that part of the city was in ruin. Citizens walked around with dazed looks, in shock. We learned that five squares had been destroyed. Only a pile of blood-soaked splinters remained.

We lost a:
•    dump
•    tannery
•    graveyard
•    mill
•    brothel

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Kelm noted hopefully, already planning our new waterfront."

“We’ll see what you say when the taxes come due,” Lev grumbled. “Time for a speech!”

Lev sent for Jhod who took Piea and Kelm off for what he called “Holy scalding,” as the rest of us inspected the damage and quieted the town. Thank you and little Billee for bringing the refreshing mint tea, although I think Billee may have put a tad too much hot sauce in mine.

Lev gave a real barnburner of a speech, promising to nail the owlbear’s ears to the front gate.

“Yahoo!,” the crowd cheered. “We’re going to rebuild better than ever! Tuskland! Tuskland! Tuskland!" the chants resounded.

For a moment I spied Lily, peering from an alleyway that leads to the Stumble Inn. The look of concern on her pretty face quickly melted to feigned indifference when she saw I was watching. I bowed my head to her as I rode past. Did I imagine her mouthing the words, “Be careful”? Or was it, "Get stuffed"?

I felt a sudden rush of despair. I let it go on for a moment, build to a crescendo, and then I took myself in hand and joined my colleagues on the road south. When all else fails there is always duty. “I feel sorry for that owlbear,” I said, morose.

“Aw,” Piea mocked as she and Kelm joined us, their skin red where Jhod had healed them.

“It destroyed a quarter of our city!” Lev protested incredulously."And you're sorry for it?"

It proved dreadfully easy to track, shrieking in the distance and leaving a wake of destruction straight back to its cave.  When we reached it again we surged forward, screaming, “I want to kill this thing!”

“Hold on!” Lev commanded. “I want everyone to shut up! We'll keep our heads and go in order." He took a deep breath. "I’m going to cast Personal armor on Sizzles and myself before we go in.”

I cast Shield of faith.

At the cave we split up. Lev and Cane waited by the flue at the top of the cave while the rest of us carefully approached its mouth.

“That’s a pretty big owlbear,” Kelm mused as he noted the torso of a man who had been ripped in half and thrown against the wall. “Don’t let this happen to you,” he said disconcertingly, milky eyes appraising me closely. As we awaited Lev's signal I passed the time by updating this letter. . . This is where Marquand’s narrative ends.

Hi, Pino, it’s me, again, Bert. I thought I should finish his account before sending it to you.

I was outside with the horses, of course, but once the almighty Lev had disappeared down the flue I hurried over to watch the battle and I’m sorry I did.

Lev did some hocus-pocus to the owlbear and it reeled suddenly as if fatigued. Your uncle approached it slowly, carefully. “Go on and hit the gol-darned thing!” I shouted, unable to restrain myself. Marquand shot an arrow to little effect.

It grabbed Piea violently, blood spurting from her ears. She struggled valiantly to no avail. It then grabbed Sizzles. I covered my eyes at this point until I heard a surprised yelp and saw that Marquand had somehow missed the giant beast, shooting Sizzles instead!

I heard another cry and turned my horrified eyes to Piea, who had been throttled by the beast and was now hanging limply in its ferocious claw. It then brutally threw her to the stony floor. She looked dead as Lev hurried to reach her, pulling a vial from his pack as he ran. I shut my eyes again in horror.

“Get ’em, Sizzles!” I heard Cane cry below to snarls and howls.

How unlike the common citizens are your uncle and his friends. The owlbear had ravaged the town with barely a nick whereas here it was fighting for its life—and knew it. I admit, this frightened me more than anything else—what if they lost? I wanted to run but could not get my legs to move.

I heard Marquand shout in frustration—another miss. Then my eyes flew open against my will when he screamed horrifically as the owlbear clawed and bit him, then held him aloft. Cane and Sizzles continued their assault around its giant bulk as Lev plunked it from afar.

Pino, I don’t want to describe what happened next, so shut your eyes. Your poor uncle was torn in half like a big dog would a chicken. The sound was terrible, like ripping canvas. Even that brave man screamed like a murdered beast. Oh gods above! It sounded like the time Blinky Walker was caught between a milk cart and a stone wall, his blood and guts squirting everywhere.

“Yeeearghh!” it bellowed in triumph even as Cane found it’s weak point and thrust his blade home. It fell with a thud.

You can open your eyes now, little one, it’s mostly housekeeping from now on. Kelm gave me this list of items they found:

•    +2 chain shirt
•    +1 longsword
•    ring of bestial friendship, seemingly fashioned of hair woven around small gemstones
•    2 masterwork throwing axes
•    2 potions of speak with animals
•    a jar of restorative ointment
•    vial of antitoxin
•    2 smokesticks
•    tanglefoot bag
•    2 thunderstones
•    145 gp

The owlbear was wearing barding worth 250 gold.

I ran out to get my bags where we packed your poor uncle’s remains, including all the little pieces I could find, and several sponges filled with blood. “The good news is, we can raise him,” Kelm assured the others. “We have it in the slush fund.”

Let this be a lesson to you, little girl: never get into trouble until you know your way out.

Pray for your uncle,
Bert Askew

* From PRD Additional Monsters Index 

Map of the P.U.R.K. as of Letter Nine

Map Legend for P.U.R.K.

1. Explored*—Barbarian’s cairn

2. Explored—Empty

3. Explored—Trap-filled glade

4. Explored—Empty

5. Explored*—Oleg’s Trading Post

6. Explored*—Bokken’s Hut—Farm

7. Explored—Empty

8. Explored—Empty

9. Explored—Dead trapper

10. Explored*—Tyg Titter-Tut & Pervilash

11. Explored*—Radish patch

12. Explored—Trapdoor spider nest (defeated)—Farm

13. Explored—Empty—Farm

14. Explored—Empty

15. Explored—Frog pond at springs that feed the skunk (defeated)

16. Explored*—Temple of the Elk (tended by Jhod Kavken)

17. Explored*—Thorn River Camp (Staglord’s bandits) (defeated)—Bridge

18. Explored*—Gold mine (Resource)—Farm

19. Explored—Forgotten cache—Farm

20. Explored—Empty

21. Explored*—Statue of Erastil

22. Explored*—Boggard lair (Garuum and his pet slurk, Ubagub)

23. Explored—Tuskgutter’s lair (defeated)

24. Explored—Empty—Bridge

25. Explored*—Old sycamore tree, Mites (defeated)—Farm

26. Explored—Nettle’s Crossing—Bridge/Farm

27. Explored*—dead unicorn

28. Explored—Tatzlwyrm den (defeated)—Bridge

29. Explored—Trapped thylacine (defeated)

30. Explored*—Fangberry thicket

31. Explored—Empty—Bridge/Farm

32. Explored*—Sootscale kobolds—silver mine (Resource)—Farm

33. Explored—Empty

34. Explored*—Grove of Tiressia (forest nymph) & satyr Falchos

35. Explored*—Coachwood trees (Resource)

36. Explored—Empty—Jubilost Narthropple

37. Explored*—TUSKLAND, capital of the P.U.R.K.—former hideout of Staglord—Bridge

38. Explored—Howl-of-the-North-Wind, a worg (defeated)—Farm

39. Explored*—Lonely barrow (defeated)—Farm

40.                         

41. Explored—Empty—former lair of a scythe tree (defeated)

42. Home of mad hermit (according to Old Beldame)

43. Explored*—Old Beldame (i.e. the swamp witch)

44. Explored—Old Crackjaw (defeated)—Farm

45. Explored—Empty—Bridge

46.                         

47.                         

48. Explored*—Lizardfolk encampment (defeated)

49. Explored*—Candlemere Tower (infested with will ‘o wisps)

50. Explored*—Mud bowl (former lair of tendriculos) (defeated) (Resource)

51. Explored—Empty

52. Rumored troll lair (according to Munguk’s map)

53.

54.  

55. 

56. Explored—Empty (defeated the hill giant Munguk)

57. Explored—Abandoned ferry station—Bridge

Thanks to Juan Franela

Letter Nine--Justice Received

“A ferocious worg stalks the KamelandsI” began the notice posted to Tuskland’s News Bureau—a huge tree felled in the days of the Stag Lord. “. . . and he’s been eating bandits and hunters for years.” Another monster for us to fight, dear Erastil, your world seems full with them. My eyes hurry to the bottom of the missive. “The kingdom approves a reward of 1,200 gp to the heroes who slay Howl-of-the-North-Wind.”

They’re singing our song.

Another poster stated: “A local herbalist has found that the sap of a shambling mound works wonders for cultivating certain medicinal herbs. 600gp for the sap, along with 3 potions of cure moderate wounds."

I walked down to where we were celebrating the opening of our new Municipal Community Public Library (MCPL). Featured speaker at the event was an artist named Trinia Sabor from Korvosa. (I know you attended her workshop.) She sang the long, sad ballad that’s sweeping Avistan right now, Sneffles y Cordobles. Let this cautionary tale be a lesson to you, Pino, to never let your reach exceed your grasp. I admit that, beside the central tragedy, the story is very amusing, especially her description of the angry cross-dressing halfling known as Finarfin/Findis. Another lesson for you, dear girl, this time about how zong addles the brain.

I ran into Piea, who told me that Arven sent a letter asking her hand in marriage. “I’m fond of him, but his lazy eye bothers me,” she admitted. “I thought about it—I could gouge out that eye and get him an eyepatch,” she added enthusiastically. “He would look cool!”

After the reception our crew gathered down by the town well to decide which problem we should address first. Since we knew where we might find a shambling mound we decided to head north where we’d encountered one of its kind over a year ago.

It’s much easier getting around, of course, with the roads we’ve built. We encountered many a pilgrim making their way south to find new lives in our fair land—all the more reason for us to eliminate the dangers that remain. Above us, once again I spied the raven that so often tracks our progress. I would dearly like to know what it makes of all this hubbub.

We were wandering around a field looking for shambling mound spoor when I clumsily slipped in a pile of its flop. I fell hard enough that I was concussed, seeing little birdies ’round my head. I heard Bert Askew laugh and saw him pointing before his jaw suddenly dropped and he hightailed off in fright as two of the ferocious creatures suddenly emerged from a nearby gully.

Lev used a line of cold to great effect as Cane put several arrows up their backsides.

Both mounds attacked Piea, hurting her severely. Sizzles ripped a chunk out of one, but it hardly noticed. Lev fumbled his next spell, falling stunned to the ground. I prayed that we could keep the mounds from sucking out his vital juices while he recovered. Piea hacked one as it passed her and Cane poured arrows into the other but when Piea attacked again it brutally took her down.

Seeing her lying there bleeding Kelm ran to her side, heedless of danger. “I am the chosen one!” he cried.

But even he couldn’t stop the marauding mound from attacking her again. Fortunately, by this time, I’d recovered enough to lop a huge gelatinous chunk off its top, exposing its brain and putting an end to its foul and profane life.

“Somebody give me those healing kajiggers,” Piea pleaded as Kelm put a soothing hand to her forehead, bringing a flood of relief from a spell of healing.

The other mound continued giving us what-for but I could tell that it was losing heart. Perhaps it was sickened by what I’d done to its companion. Except for laming Sizzles we quickly pruned it back until Kelm strolled over and put the kibosh on it. He then joined Piea in a rousing victory song.

“Let’s get some sap from these things,” Lev said when they had finished. We built a huge fire, cutting the creatures into pieces that we then fed into a cauldron normally used to boil brine into salt. We left Bert Askew to tend the fire overnight and, of course, he immediately fell asleep. We took turns managing the fire for the rest of the night without waking him until the smell of coffee roused him with the dawn. If he was surprised at finding the bladders containing the Mounds’ renderings already loaded onto the horses and the cauldron scoured clean he didn’t say so.

For our trouble we got:
• 1200 gold
• 3 potions of cure moderate wounds

A few days later we were back in Tuskland, sitting on the veranda at the Stumble Inn having breakfast while debating which area we should explore next. After her recent smackdown Piea was filled with urgent bloodlust, wanting to mix it up with the lizard men down south. That’s when Tig Tannerson’s mother came running up the street to say that Tig has been missing for nearly two days.

“We were ’oping he’d just run off to shag one o’ the neighborhood girls,” she said breathlessly, “but they was all in school this morning!”

“Oh goodness!” Lev replied gravely, while the rest of us groaned.

What gets into lads like Tig and Little Billee? I suppose they need a good chastisement from a sharp-tongued whip or maybe runes of discipline burned into their arms but, really, I’d rather face a shambling mound.

We wondered if he might have returned to the Old Beldame but Mrs. Tannerson assured us that Skot Skevins had already ridden there to ask. She led us to the last place where he’d been seen (a hidden place where smokers gather). Sizzles sniffed around intently as Cane turned over a few rocks. With a yip the great wolf ran south as Cane beckoned us to follow. We followed Tig's tracks along the shore of the Tuskwater, examining the places where he stopped to skip rocks or snack on hoe cakes and cheese. We then crossed the Gudrun River where he’d spent the night, reaching the confluence of the Tuskwater with Candlemere Lake. We continued following the shoreline south until we were once again gazing out over the water at the haunted Tower thinking, hoping, “surely not.” Fortunately his tracks continued around the southern end of the lake, crossing the Shrike River west, where we found another dead campfire.

Maybe Cane should take this boy under his wing and make a Ranger out of him. The lad has both courage and chootzpah to strike out over this wild land alone. These are qualities that should be encouraged and channeled.

At the mouth of the Murque River a low muddy hummock protruded from the middle of the stream. It was surmounted by a palisade of outward facing sharpened wooden stakes. We watched thin tendrils of smoke rise from a handful of huts clustered around a single large mound. Tig’s tracks had disappeared but in their place we found the clawed hind feet of lizard people. In all probability, we decided, he had been picked up and carried back to the village. Leaving our horses with Bert we crossed over the knee-deep water to a simple wooden gate on the eastern side of the hummock.

“Hmmph,” Kelm grumbled, needing an excuse to roust them. “Officially this is our territory.”

“Kill them,” Piea trilled with anticipation.

“We could talk to them,” Lev ventured quietly.

“Duke, they just stole one of your citizens!” Kelm protested. “You want to talk?”
In the distance we heard the unsettling sound of a child’s scream. Too bad it wasn’t Little Billee they grabbed because, assuredly, they would be begging us to take him away.

Two lizard folk stood at the gate, not suspecting our business. Lev tried to squeeze through the palisade while we diverted their attention but, clumsily, he gave himself away. They immediately charged after him but he squirmed away, slapping one with a line of cold as Piea shattered the gate with her Great Axe. “Size does matter!” she crowed as Sizzles followed her into the compound.

Cane shot one, killing him as I dropped another with my longbow. Sizzles took some hits, suddenly laying down and whining, while arrows whizzed about us. I fumbled, dropping my arrows, hopelessly scattering them.

“Justice,” I squeaked lamely.

One of the lizards managed to wound Kelm in the side with a spear as Lev jumped onto the wall, balancing there precariously. He then tickled several of the lizards with cold while Piea and Cane rode roughshod over the rest. Piea slew the Lizard King, slicing him lengthways like a Crystalhue eel. His last two attendants cowered before her, on their knees, offering her their necks in submission.

“Take me to Tig!” she demanded hotly.

“The spirit will get angry,” they groveled.

“Well I’ll kill the spirit,” she fiercely replied. “Take me to Tig!”

“He’s on the other side of the palisade,” they moaned, voices quivering. “He’s in the swamp.”

With Tig’s screams echoing in the background I watched Cane and Kelm strip the lizard king of his possessions:

• +1 natural armor
• +1 trident
• 5 javelins
• 2 golden arm bands worth 100 gold each

Tig screamed again.

“Let’s go get the stupid punk!” Cane growled, turning to go.

“Why did they steal this kid to begin with?” Piea wondered, following him, dragging the two bewildered lizards after her.

“Probably going to sacrifice him to some god or something,” he spat. “That’s what lizard people do.”

As we made our way past the palisade into the swamp, which stank of fetid murder, large fat mosquitoes buzzed us like horseflies. My colleagues began arguing about what we’d just done. “We killed these lizard men for pretty much nothing,” Lev noted dryly.

“No,” Cane protested, “We killed them for fun.”

“No,” Kelm corrected. “We killed them for profit.”

At the swamp we found our old nemesis—Will-o’-wisp—rising from the swamp. “It’s the spirit!” the two remaining lizard men cried as they threw themselves onto their faces. Things were finally starting to make sense—the wisp had trapped Tig here to feed on his fear. The lizard-men were innocent, at least of this crime.

The wisp disappeared briefly but reappeared to attack Sizzles. Learning from our previous encounter we all waited for it to appear to attack before unloading on it. This time it disappeared with a “pop!” and we knew it was gone.

Tig was tied down in the swamp up to his neck in the fetid water, leeches succoring him everywhere, verily unto his mouth. We quickly freed him, then listened to him whine as Cane removed the fattened leeches from his skin. The judgment of Erastil is justice received.

In the will-o’-wisp’s domicile (and who would of thought that will-o'-wisps lived like ordinary people) we found:

• masterwork cold iron longspear
• tree feather token
• ring of swimming
• animal skins worth 100 gold pieces
• 3 citrines worth 50 gp each
• 119 gold in assorted coins
• tridents and spears

We returned to the encampment only to discover that three lizard females had emerged to hiss and spit their objection to us and what we had accomplished at their expense—they were the dead king’s harem, apparently. Piea like them immediately: “Stupid skanks,” she sneered.

They picked up the scattered spears and shields dropped by their warriors and waved them ineffectually at us while ululating fiercely, their thick forked tongues reaching out greedily.

“Surrender now,” Lev pleaded, “or you will meet the same fate as the rest of your group.”

Thankfully, after a little more posturing the lead lizard-lady haughtily set her shield and spear down, raising her tail and peeing on the weaponry.

We searched the huts, finding two monitor lizards in one of them. Cane led them to the marsh where they quickly swam away.

In the big hut we found:

• coral crown embedded with lapis lazuli worth 500 gold
• malachite statue of a serpentine dragon worth 200 gold
• various furs worth 300 gold
• 575 gold pieces
• each of the harem with 1000gp jewelry, which we confiscated

Then we told the lady lizards and two guards to “Get off our lawn!” Watching us with hatred and hissing spitefully they disappeared up the river.

On the journey home we visited the Old Beldame on the way home who slathered the boy with salves and unguents until even his bones were soft. I’m including cookies she gave us for you with this letter.

Take care of your Mother and make sure Big Billee keeps his hands to himself,
Your uncle Marquand

Letter Eight—Lily of the Valley

Dear Pino,

Running a nation is dry work—between bloodlettings, I mean. Taxes, defense, expansion, enrichment, culture, and basic needs are all things that have to be thought about and planned for. Pay attention when your teachers speak, Pino, no matter how boring you think they are, it’s all information you’ll need later.

At the weekly P.U.R.K. Cabinet meeting Lev was anxious that our nation soon reach the legal status of duchy. “I want to get married,” he lamented, crossing his legs.

“Have you found someone?” Piea asked, disbelieving.

“I have. It’s just that she can’t marry anyone less than a duke.”

“Or be less than virgin.”

“There’s no worry about that,” he replied stiffly. “I’ve known her a long time.”

Overall, P.U.R.K. is a happy land. Our citizens are content, our finances sound, all threats cleared out.

“It’s crazy,” Kelm noted. “It’s like—we killed the guy who was being a rabble rouser and now it’s all calm!”

“I’ve spent two months going around making speeches, making sure everyone’s happy and fed,” Lev protested.

“It’s worked!” Piea agreed somewhat amazed. “And all this time I thought we should just go and hang everybody!”

Kelm reported that it was time to extend our control south while the land stood unclaimed. We don’t know how much the other groups have expanded or when we might butt heads with the River Kingdoms, so it’s essential that we lay claim to as much as we can. “We can claim the swamp-witch hex,” he added.

“But she’s nice!” Cane and Piea both objected.

“We’ll see how nice she is when we claim her on our tax roll,” Kelm chuckled. “Or we can claim the pool with the murdered lovers.”

“Oh! The murdered lovers,” Piea sighed. “Let’s do that!”

“That’s sweet,” Cane agreed.

So we claimed the east side of the Tuskwater and the delta of the Gudrin River near where we dined on Old Crackjaw.

We then received a delegation of kobolds from the silver mine. Chief Sootscale, seeing which way the wind was blowing, had decided it was time for his community to ally with P.U.R.K. as a vassal state. We quickly accepted his offer, sending back a handsome legal document suitable for framing along with our standard regulatory package, bundled with a flag and sundry other welcoming gifts.

We turned to lighter things, rewarding citizen Daveed for his portrait Bokken en Coitus. I admit, having broken a few on the wheel, that artists don’t bring out the best in me. They tend to be tobacco smoking rulesbreakers, living on the margins, providing camouflage for real criminals. Still, their work has some value, I suppose, if it keeps our people happy.

Skot Skevins announced that he had finally finished the national anthem, excitedly ushering in a chorus of eunuchs from the new Academy to sing it for us. I was moved, although in what manner I’m still uncertain. He said he was leaving immediately after our meeting to play it for everyone in the realm. Climbing onto stages all over the country is not exactly the low profile you might expect of your Spymaster. “It’s the perfect cover,” he laughed, taking a big swig from a flagon of fangberry wine. “This way I can interrogate the local ladies without anybody suspecting a thing.”

“Except their daddies,” Cane muttered.

Piea reported that the rumors were true about her and Arven the fisherman, but claims they haven’t gotten past “first base,” or, as Arven puts it, “A nibble don’t make a bite.”

“I don’t want a ring yet,” she shrugged dismissively. “It’s still too early in our relationship.”

For myself, I’m getting nowhere fast with darling Lily. She was understanding about my not finding the Elven ruins but I couldn’t help noticing that she wasn’t servicing my table as often as she had in the past, favoring others with her charms. Be glad you’re a woman, Pino. We men are laughable creatures when ruled by our hearts, whereas women rule by theirs.

Right before the meeting broke up a messenger arrived from Brevoy. After breaking the seal Lev let out a yelp of surprise before telling us with excitement that P.U.R.K. had finally been recognized by Brevoy. Lev immediately sent his own messenger north to House Lebeda, where Ilse his lady love lies waiting, to prepare for his imminent arrival.

With Lev heading north  to meet his new in-laws I decided to go on pilgrimage west of the Thorn River to the Temple of Erastil. I found that Jhod Kavken and his disciples have cleaned up the site admirably while leaving the nearby forest wild. A soaring bower of old oak trees serves as the temple's nave while a vigorous spring emerges from beneath the carving of Erastil to spray downwards before flowing along one perimeter. Nearby I spied Jhod helping a young man transplant a small honeysuckle bush to a more convenient location. We warmly embraced.

Pausing to give tribute to Old Deadeye, I thanked him for my peaceful journey and prayed that all those I love remain safe in my absence. Then I repaired to a nearby place to freshen up, the cold water invigorating me after my long ride. I put on the plain gray robe offered me, joining the other acolytes for a modest dinner of lentils and rice, its saffron and herbs saturating my senses for a long time afterward. Then I walked with several others up to the cave where we’d fought that wild grizzly so long ago.

For the next week I would get up an hour before sunrise and wash in the cold stream, then hike through the woods until the place seemed right and spent the rest of the day in silent repose with the forest about me. I ate what the land offered and drank where I could. Elk piss tastes like fine wine when you’re thirsty. At night I would join the others in their Ritual of Sacred Humming. Then it was s'mores and ghost stories around the campfire before retiring for four hours sleep.

When I returned Tuskland was busy preparing to welcome Lev and their new Duchess. A festive air pervaded the town, garlands of flowers decorating streets cleansed of the offal and trash that usually lay there. When Lev arrived with his new bride the streets filled with cheering citizens.

 Of course you know all about that, having spent the reception sitting next to Duchess Ilse. She couldn’t help but be charmed by you, Pino. You’ve made a good friend there.

I invited Lily to the wedding's reception but was afraid that she wouldn’t accept due to her pique with me but the attraction of a prime seat at the social event of the year triumphed over her reservations. You can ask why I continue to pursue a woman who seems to care so little for me but it’s a true thing that all people desire what they can’t have—especially when it comes to love. A lucky person it is who can love easily. Most of us stir and stop, wallow and prevaricate. Remember, Pino, it is never a tragedy to lose at love. The tragedy is never to try.

Yes, Lily was beautiful that night. She wore a long blue silk taffeta gown with décolleté neckline and delicate lace trimming. I was nearly struck dumb as she approached the carriage for our short ride over to the Academy where the reception was held. I helped her remove her cape before entering the great hall to the cheers of the hoi polloi. How she glowed! I think her beauty rivals that accorded the legendary Queen Ileosa of Korvosa, or so I told her. She blushed, smiling warmly at me for the first time in weeks, twirling spontaneously like a young girl, her gown billowing, revealing a glimpse of her strong supple legs. I caught her hand, for a moment holding her closely, her eyes challenging me, laughing, provocative. She escaped with a light “Tra-la,” and soon we were in line waiting to be presented to the happily married couple.

I envy Lev’s happiness, although I share in his joy. As you know, Duchess Ilse was weaned on the intrigue within the court of the Swordlords. Something I, too, am familiar with. (I’m sure I’ve met her sometime in the past and probably dandled her on my knee as I did with you before you grew too old.) Lev couldn’t have found a better helpmeet. That he loves her too—well, that’s the blessing of Erastil.

The first dance, of course, I saved for you, my darling Pino. But the second, third, and fourth I gave to Lily and we glided around the dance floor in mutual embrace, feelings I’ll never share with anyone but her. Then I had to give her up to my many rivals and watch helplessly as she danced and laughed with each in their turn.

When I could stand it no longer I went to a bountiful table where an impeccable servant—part of Ilse’s entourage—offered me fruit punch with a hint of fangberry brandy. I saw Cane sulking in one corner of the room, wearing his tuxedo stiffly like armor, sneaking a plate of ribs outside to Sizzles, who seemed to prefer the attentions of Ilse’s mastiff Tinkerbelle, causing Cane to slouch inconsolably back into the hall. That’s where he discovered—too late—that Little Billee had left him a big watery surprise in a trashcan over the door. I can’t say that I’ll begrudge Cane his reckoning when it comes.

Kelm was showing off his new grill to several bridesmaids. They tittered as he leered at them, smacking his golden choppers with their inset diamonds and rubies glittering, slapping his naked chest with excitement. The young women seemed impressed, at least until later in the evening when he tried to show them how to dance without moving. “It all happens inside!” he crowed as they left on the arms of various counts and haberdashers.

Piea, of course, was with her Arven, who was managing to watch the dancers and his beloved at the same time. She wore a long gown, mithral halter top, thick metal bicep bands accentuating her feminine muscularity, causing more than one potential suitor to gulp fretfully when he saw them. Arven seemed blissfully unaware that she could snap his neck as easily as she was the breadsticks she was casually noshing. But I did observe him slyly putting his arm around her to sneak a kiss behind the ear. She ignored him, waving her hand idly as if shooing a mosquito.

I danced with you one more time before your Mother and Big Billee took you children home. Never have I seen you more radiant or happier. It was your night as much as it was Lev’s or Ilse’s. I pray that there will be many more like it in the future.

I walked Lily home afterward. She said she was too excited to ride in the coach. I held her hand as we traveled the darkened streets, stars blinking in their vault overhead—I made out the constellations for Desna and Sarenrae. Lily responded by taking my hand and outlining the forms of Shelyn—the Eternal Rose—and Cayden Caylen. At the door to the Inn, where we could still hear merriment inside, I finally kissed her. She gasped, smiled shyly—a look I’d never seen—before hurriedly excusing herself.

Nothing has been harder for me in my life than obeying propriety and turning away from that door—and nothing more necessary for the spiritual leader of Tuskland. I spent the rest of the night on my knees south of town with the other penitents in a cove sacred to Erastil.

Life fell back into its familiar patterns in the days that followed. Lev paid to imbue weapons for Cane and myself with magic. I hate taking charity but in this case it’s for the good of the nation. “I am not a thieving lord,” Lev said to explain his generosity. “I make sure that there are no starving people in our kingdom before I take any pay.”

“A mix of social politics and totalitarian police force,” noted ’Bert Askew, who had recently been appointed court gofer by Lev.

Then Kelm filled us in about the notorious Candlemere Tower where we were to begin our next adventure. There are many stories about strange lights, cries, and screams in the night. Few venture there and fewer return. The tower is said to be about 40 feet high, amongst crumbling ruins, and the island is covered in fangberries—your uncle’s greatest foe—and spotted with willow trees.

When we reached the shore of the lake and could see the tower clearly in the distance over the horizon, Lev paused to give a speech. “It’s time to quiet this plague on our border!” he proclaimed booming out over the water. This inspired Piea and Kelm to sing a bawdy tune that is a bit too salty for your ears, dear Pino. Let it be said that I hope never to hear you singing it.

We found a small boat by a rickety pier and, for a few silver pieces, rowed it to the island. Candlemere Lake was quiescent, its pristine waters vibrant with the bright colors of spring reflecting from the surrounding forest.

Pulling our boat onto the beach we made our way gingerly around the fangberry patches to the tower, overgrown and long disused, where we were greeted by a faintly glowing ball of light—hard to see in the sunlight—containing a nebulous image of a skull in its depths—a will-o’-wisp feeding off the fear of its victims. It was something like the costume Little Billee wore last All-Nethys-Eve to extort candy from the neighbors.

Wisps only appear when they attack, although the ones on Candlemere Island seemed to forget that. Their main weapon is a bolt of electricity that burns, which Piea quickly discovered to her anger. Most of us missed hitting the thing but Lev managed to tame it with magic missile until Piea could get her revenge.

The tower was long disused, open to the sky. It’s an ancient edifice, dating from the Age of Destiny—when civilization first rose from Chaos. We could make out faint ancient carvings of disturbing Aklo symbols representing fragments of blasphemous prayer given to Yog-Sothoth, one of the Great Old Ones! What had we stumbled upon? I was shaken with unnameable dread.
 
That’s when the second will-o'-wisp appeared.

This time Lev and Kelm were ready for it, hitting with magic missile as it shot a bolt of lightning through Piea. Cane finally hit it hard enough that it fizzled out.

Even though there was nothing else at the tower Lev wanted to stay for nightfall but every hour a will-o'-wisp would find us—even though everyone was more bored than scared—and we took turns killing them while taking considerable damage of our own. It was no fun, Pino. As Erastil says: “Know when to cut and run!”

We decided to come back another time when we were better prepared to find out why there was a nest of will-o’-wisps here and weed them out. So we retreated to our boat and rowed back across the evening waters to our camp, finding Bert Askew sleeping in the shade of a large oak tree while our horses foraged willy-nilly throughout the woods. That night, with the campfire’s glow reminding me of the will-o’-wisps, I thought for a long time about the Old Gods. Erastil preserve us if there is a connection between them and Candlemere. 

The next morning we set out on the second part of our quest to find the burial spot of the "Lonely Warrior," passing by the tendriculos' mud bowl and weeding out a few of its babies, before taking the road east past a gang of convicts tending our new highway. Crossing again overland through barren plain we eventually reached an ancient burial spot, grassy knolls hiding barrows of the dead surrounding us. We searched until we came to place where the earth had cracked open, allowing us entry beneath the ground, then followed a cobwebbed tunnel deeper, through a swarm of bats flying past us. A disgusting thick cover of guano coated the floor crawling with insects that squished under our boots, the sharp tang of ammonia suffocating in the still air.

Soon, we were standing in an octagonal chamber, its walls decorated with crude mosaics depicting hunting, fishing, farming—could this be the resting place of an early cult of Erastil? Four tunnels exited the room’s cardinal points. At each tunnel’s entrance a monstrous face leered and grimaced. Kelm said they represented the four winds incarnate as malevolent elemental spirits.

“I like that,” Piea said.

A skeleton lay face down in the middle of the room, most of its gear rotted away—except for a single ring, which Cane immediately bent down to take. Suddenly the four monstrous faces gasped as misty tendrils blew softly into the room. Piea and Kelm reeled suddenly with exhaustion. Sitting heavily, Kelm, grabbed the ring from Cane, slipping it on his finger with a sigh of contentment.

"It's a ring of sustenance," he explained, waving his hand to show it off. "I feel better already." 

We were interrupted as we heard scraping sounds from two of the tunnels surrounding us. “Oh my goodness!” Piea exclaimed as the creatures emerged. “That’s a lot of skeletons!”

“We’ll weed through these things like they’re chicken feed!” Cane replied dismissively.

Lev immediately stepped forward. “Could I be in front of everyone?”

“You?” we gasped.

“I have an idea,” he said, annoyed.

“You always never want to be in front,” Bert Askew, who had followed us into the tunnel instead of watching the horses, added unhelpfully.

“All I want to do is cast a spell and then run into the back,” Lev replied testily.

“Don’t put me forward!” Kelm protested when Piea suggested he join Lev. “I’m not playing this crazy ‘in the front’ game. That’s not how I roll!”

Lev cast a cone of cold down one of the tunnels, freezing the group approaching us from that direction.

“Maybe we should stay out of your way,” I bowed to him as the rest of the skeletons tried futilely to overwhelm us. Piea, despite her weakness, reaped them like wheat, leaving a very skinny one for me to polish off.

We searched the side rooms as Cane rode Sizzles like a “lover,” in his words.

One wall was adorned with weaponry, shields, armor, tattered banners and standards; interspersed with scenes carved in the wall of battle, pillage, and conquest. Flaking pigment was all that was left of the once brightly colored walls, which looked as if they’d been defaced by repeated blows from a weapon. At the far end of the room a withered corpse lay atop a stone catafalque, bony hands clutching a sword.

It did not take lightly our disturbing its slumber, rising with an eerie moan as we entered the room.

There is no reasoning with the undead, dear Pino, try to remember that. I ignited my sword with Flames of the Faithful while Kelm and Piea engaged the creature. Piea took a good shot from the desiccated swordsman. Kelm hit him with magic missile. Using Sizzles as a diversion, Cane thwapped him hard across the skullcap. Then we all took our turn as the creature concentrated on Piea. Incredibly, Lev and Kelm took this moment to argue the finer points of power attack while I finished him. He had:
•    +2 fey bane bastard sword
•    broken chain mail
•    heavy wooden shield

Everything else had been removed long before, although how the tomb raiders had avoided waking the overly sensitive warrior is beyond me.

Once more outside the chambers in the sweet night air I reflected that there was still a lot about our realm that we do not know. I thought pensively about Lily and then about you, my most faithful friend. I trust that you have spent your day productively.

All my affection,
Uncle Marquand