That night the company was entertained by the hospitality of Commander Setela, a late middle-aged man with a hawkish face and the reserved, refined manners of a loyalist of the old Orrinuan faction. The company told them all their tale, minus the existence of the sword of Mawish and the specifics of some of their more unusual experiences in the Serth Hatama (specifically the Swan-Woman's lake and the tusked lion Teithbor encountered). Setela spoke bitterly and--perhaps--a little too freely of the troubles they had experienced as the strange corruption of the Serth Hatama crept ever closer to the River, and the Nalshbori marched ever more boldly against them. "And such things will continue until the Sword of Kings is wielded again by one who sits upon the throne in Sencankarr." Then he fell silent.
Sitting quietly at the table, a few places down from Commander Setela, was Vanera, a young scholar from Sencankarr [and Hope's new character, replacing the fallen Hasanyah] who had come North hoping to compile a book of lore on the Serth Hatama. But, not knowing well the land or the weather, he had timed his trip poorly, and was forced to winter with the legionnaires of Hural Yalir as the cold nights stretched on and the supplies grew ever more scarce. He proved of little use in the defense of the fort during the Nalshbori assault a couple of days prior, and by now the men of the fort had grown tired of the useless scholar consuming their rations and contributing little to their aid. But as the commander's guest Vanera still sat at the table, and as he listened to the company's story he recognized several elements from his own studies:
1) Mawish, the name of the Nalshbori commander with whom Tanurendal evidently has some experience, was also the name of the Nalshbori commander at the Siege of the Red Isle. Vanera particularly recalled a few verses which told of the slaying and capture of the two paladins Neras and Neralu by the monsters under Mawish's command:
A double sorrow even once to tellOf how the sons of Orufal their swordsQuenched, as 'round their feet the foemen fell,And spent their strength their monarch's flight to guard.Their eyes were shining as the Western stars,Which green as em'ralds blaze at break of day,And at their wrath the Nalshbori gave way.
Then Mawish, who with coldly burning hateTheir valor watched amid his black-helmed guard,Commanded that the brothers should be chainedAnd taken down to torment in the dark.But the Nalshbo captains feared those flashing swordsWhich helm and sark alike did bite and hew.But Fanhal's forces fled as the brothers slew.
Then round them monsters ranged, their eyes as coals--Those horny-headed creatures of the NorthWho raged among the wastes of winter cold--And fell upon those mighty men of worth.How great the battle when they sallied forth,The sons of Orufal in shining wrath,To cleave their way as ship's prow cleaves a path.
Then one beast leapt on high; his gaping mawWas full of bristling teeth in many rows.He clutched at Neras with long and poisoned clawsAnd pulled him down amid his own death throes.For Neras' sword had pierced that savage foe,As hunter's spear the charging leopard slays;But burning poison coursed through Neras' veins.
Then, high and piercing Neralu cried outAs thrice his flashing blade that awful hostDismayed, until a rushing scarlet goutOf blood from neck a gory wound disclosed.He falls, but shouts drive back the fearful foesAs Fanhal's rear-guard rally to their aidAnd scatter beasts with spears and flashing blades.
Then up they bore the bodies of those twainWho spilled their blood to guard the holy king.And from the precious life-blood of that swainA crimson stream had run down to the sea.And issuing from the rock a crystal springJoined the blood, and cleansed the purple stone,And made a certain wall against the foe.
For none who were by Orkon's pow'r corruptWould dare that crystal barrier essay,Nor would the hallowed waters dare to touch,So Fanhal won the passage of the gate.And still the Ambori revere that placeWhere long ago the brothers stood and died,And by their blood all Orkon's host defied.
2) Concerning the vulture cult and the altar in the Bent Grove, Vanera recognized clear elements of the ancient cult of Tauran-Tauror, Devourer of the Slain, an ancient deity or demon who has cropped up numerous times in the history of the Ambori. The worship of the Bloody Vulture is said to have originated in Feihoth of old, where it was taught to the apostate Treianraal by Vishnarr himself. It was brought to the North during the Dark Years, when Orkon subjugated the young Ambori nation, and elements of the cult still linger in the North today, in the form of the great vultures which the Cheybori often train as hunting birds. The rise of the vulture cult is always a sign of ill-omen, a presage of more dire things to come, as is told in the lay which is called The Siege of the Red Isle:
Great and globe-eyed monsters, long of tooth,
Scrape the slimy depths and curse the Day.
They pull down mighty forests for their food,
And breed and feed in ecstasies of hate.
The poisoned tides, like crooked fingers shaped,
Retract and grasp with the waning of the Moon
And trace the cancerous litany of doom.
And on the moor a Vulture circles high
And croaks a song of dead men's bones and spleens.
He laughs to watch the hapless mortals fight,
And sacrifices to his altar bring.
There the blood runs down like ragged wings
On stones no song of love can ever cleanse
Until the Making Song is sung again.
...
"Then too, a bloody vulture darkly flies
Above our towns, and calls to desperate men.
They, hearing Death's own promise in his cries,
Have followed him into the withered fens.
From thence, when drums are heard, with fell intent
They come to carry off again some wight
To sacrifice amid the grove at night.
"Nine of birds and beasts and sons of men
They hang about their groves which drip with gore;
Nine of birds and beasts and fish that swim
They gut, and paint their blood upon our doors.
And in the stony forest sound the horns
Of Orkon's host, the Nalshbori in arms
Who yielded long ago to Orkon's charms."
The party rested four days at Hural Yalir, during which time Reiana approached Commander Setela, trying to intimate that she too was a loyalist and of his party. The commander remained standoffish, perhaps because of Reiana's clumsy approach. Tengelbur questioned Vanera to see if he knew anything about the Swan-Woman they encountered, or what Orusen's fate might have been, seemingly determined to rescue his friend if possible. But Vanera had never heard of anything like the Swan-Woman, and could only draw vague parallels to enchantresses in other stories he had read. But the scholar offered to accompany Tengelbur should he return to the Serth Hatama, as his own research would lead him there sooner or later.
At last, their wounds healed and their weariness somewhat abated, the party returned without incident to Karet Cheykor, which after everything they've been through over the last two weeks is beginning to feel like home. There we had the Spring Fellowship Phase:
- Reiana used her newfound treasure to raise her Standing to 2.
- Tanurendal spent time in the smithy, forging a new coat of mail for himself lighter than his old hauberk. [Took the Crafting undertaking, rolled well, added Cunning Make to his armor]
- Vanera spent time in the norinlakor of the town, in the company of the scholar Palfeinan, copying down old texts about the Serth Hatama, hoping the lore would be useful in the days to come. [Took the Copy a Text undertaking, gained the benefit of Serth Hatama-lore for the next Adventuring phase]
- Tengelbur spent time talking to the locals and reading in the norinlakor, straining the little he had learned before he abandoned the scriptorium at Sencankarr, trying to figure out what might have happened to Orusen. [Took the undertaking Search for Answers]
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