Seasons of Heroes: A D&D-inspired Adventure!

2:9

"Guilliam, of parts unknown, will thou allow me to share thine form?" Ingeld asked, with a strange sort of old-fashioned informality. "No harm shall come to you, that does not come to me as well."

"I have a feeling I have no choice," Guilliam grumped.

"There is always a choice," Ingeld said, as the air began to glow. "If you do not believe it, you will die alone and cold one day."

"That's reassuring," Guilliam said, and then waved his hand. "Sure, whatever, but when this ends badly, I'll have a moment to say I told you so as I die burning hot and surrounded by the rest of yous." At the end, his sophisticated accent slipped a little, into something a little rougher and more familiar, more peasant-like in all honestly than the smooth and even words he'd shown before.

A blue-white glow moved over his body, and the world seemed to shake and shift. Lotte wasn't sure what was happening, and there were no obvious signs that it had ended. Well, not the ones like in the stories. Guilliam's eyes didn't glow, he didn't laugh whether with evil malice or the joyous happiness of a hero reborn. But he did straighten up, hold himself more firmly, with iron control in his spine. It transformed his already handsome features, just the act of standing upright and looking more confident.

Lotte flushed and looked away, cursing now of all times to feel attraction, but everything seemed out of joint, and she was still oddly--offended, yes, of course that's what it was--affected by having been mistaken for a man. Ingeld-Guilliam looked at her for a moment, his eyes piercing as if they saw straight through her, as he stepped forward.

"Well, I do not suddenly wish to devote my life to pious reflection," Guilliam-Ingeld said. He frowned. "But I do remember the sickening feeling of slaughtering a pillager with a wood axe."

He said it with all the harsh indifference he could manage, though it seemed to Lotte a front, the way an animal might make itself look bigger in order to avoid trouble.

"Sir," the head priest began, with utmost caution.

"I am still no sir," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "That much remains quite true, Baldwin. We have to consider the corruption of the priesthood, and the possibility that the Gods themselves might not be able to help." He winced, shuddering as if fighting himself. "The Gods have not answered thus far, and it is possible that they don't wish to answer, even in the face of injustice. They might well have different standards, or think that this can be addressed without their intervention."

"What about what they did with Lotte?" Oscar demanded.

"Does this have to do with us? We cannot say, but that if it is so, it is indirect," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "The Gods often expect us to sort out our own problems. The… validity of this can be argued. It is currently being argued. But it is not important." He grinned, and it was a strange grin on Guilliam's face, too vicious, his eyes flashing.

Lotte looked away, still flushed, and said, "Are we going to go to the shrine?"

"Yes," Guillaim-Ingeld answered, slowly and thoughtfully. He was clearly having internal disagreements that were just barely being seen, yet he sounded rather definite on that point. "We must act to correct the ill deeds that have been done in the past. Justice can be gained only by swift and sure action, and we cannot rely on being able to convince them to listen, and then to act according to our will. But… we must try, or else what will the Gods say, if we start a senseless slaughter?"

"Ingeld," Baldwin began, his voice strangled and choked.

"It was necessary then, but it is not necessary now, and I am not quite the same person, besides, for the duration of this crisis." Guilliam-Ingeld shrugged. "I can be nothing other than what I am from moment to moment. The memories I have, both sets of them, are… quite useful. Much has changed in the centuries that have passed, and we have knowledge which can help us in this matter."

"Ah, good," Clemencia said, looking him over with a thoughtful gaze. She seemed like she wanted to get closer, perhaps try to examine more. But instead she just stroked her beard and added, "So, do you have the talents of both men? If so, do you need a weapon?"

"An axe, a war axe, and a spear would both be appreciated," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "Though by the Gods, I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to act as a Troubadour as well. I have not the training of the Orime, to sing and battle as if the two are one in the same. But perhaps there are ways."

The look of naked calculation, at least, was not all that surprising.

Lotte shuddered, wondering just what she was getting into. The world no longer seemed so strange, they were in a clearing just like any other. But something had changed, just in a way that was familiar. She realized at once what it was. When the village got together for some project, when they all agreed on something, there was that same air of being directed towards one purpose.

Lotte knew that she was going to get swept up in it, and knew that it was necessary to do what she could in the name of the Gods and Ingeld the martyr. But it was hard to see this crowd and imagine that they would solve anything peacefully.

Guilliam-Ingeld closed his eyes and shook his head. "We will need some time to get our head in order, as well as practice what we shall say. In the meantime, you should rest and prepare yourselves."

******

Lotte wanted to talk to Guilliam-Ingeld, but they were surrounded almost immediately by allies, friends, and for that matter those skeptical in general.

She was left alone, with only the men doing the work of packing hauling the goods around and preparing for the work ahead.


So, wanting to be useful, she went up to one of the strong looking men who was directing the others. They weren't going to be going merely by themselves, but were going to bring as much as they could. If this whole plan worked, they might no longer be outlaws, as bizarre as that would seem. After all, even after their murder of guards, they were on the side of the martyr.

Lotte didn't want to think that that would open many doors in one sense, but it clearly would. She wasn't smart, but she wasn't that stupid. But while she was feeling better in some ways than she had before, she also knew that she was, by now, as unnecessary as a fifth leg on a pig, as unwanted as an unlucky thirteenth child.

"Hey."

"Adventurer," the man said. "What do you need?"

"What do you need? Is there any way I can help out?"

"Ah, right. The Sepult's busy, the Knight's organizing the fight, and of course the troubadour has what he does. Guess you could try to help the archers we have."

Lotte didn't trust herself to have anything new to tell them, especially since she was a hunter, and not a bow… woman in some mercenary band. They'd pick their shots and do their best and she couldn't help that.

"I'm not sure…"

"Well, we do need someone to go back and get the rest and load those carts," the man said, rubbing at his faint, wispy beard. "It'll be a lot of hauling and loading and walking, if you're up for it."

She was. She didn't want to get over-exhausted, if they had to fight, but a little good, hard work never hurt anyone. Well, it'd never hurt her, which was what really mattered.

*******

There were entire sacks of grain that they insisted on bringing along, yes, but most of all there were arms and armor, coats and cloaks and linen by the bundle for bandages. Then there were the herbs, the strange plants, the mixtures, tinctures, and charms.

Hauling all of it to two large wagon-carts was difficult work, and not anything she could have done by herself. But what she did do was satisfying, thoughtless work. Nobody expected her to have all the answers, or be able to read and write as if she were a born noble, and nobody asked her to put on a dress, or clean up the house. She knew domestic skills, but lacked entirely the mindset not to be bored. It was hard work, yes, and worthy work, but it was work that seemed drudgery to her.

(She knew this was silly, that hauling boxes was hardly stimulating, and that that too was work that never ended. She didn't know how to describe it, except that she didn't like it.)

By the time they arrived in the grove, the small force was ready to depart. There were two dozen of the 'bandits', a dozen of the priests and followers of Nachtmater, and then the adventuring group, including Ingeld-Guilliam.

It was a strange band indeed, and slower than they intended, though with the horses provided to everyone who would have them, they at least had outriders.

Lotte, of course, walked, besides Clemencia, who seemed to have made some sort of decision to trust her with her words.

It was a good one, in that Lotte was sure that half of them weren't words, and the Sepult slipped into her native tongue whenever she couldn't find a convenient word in a tongue Lotte could understand. It was soothing, though, in a way, and she did try to remember bits and phrases, the way another woman might try to save scraps of fraying clothing in order to combine them into a blanket, or some patchwork shirt.

Even the most prosperous of farms could not afford all that much waste. Even shit was transformed into fertilizer, and every inch of cloth that could be remade, reused, or sold was treated so. There was little enough for scavengers or beggers to get in this respect, outside of the village's charity.

At last, as the sun began to slowly set, they reached the outskirts of Shrine land, moving around the village itself to come up in greater secrecy on the Shrine.

Lotte knew, of course, that there was no real secret, with as many horses and carts as there were. If anyone cared to look, they would see plenty. But by the time they were close enough that there might have been scouts to look, Guilliam-Ingeld had already blown a hunting horn once, twice, and three times.

Birds scattered in shock and indignation.

Then Ingeld-Guilliam strode forward, heedless, stunningly bold, into sight. Then he began to sing.

Out from the front doors tumbled a half-dozen adventurers. You could tell because they included an Orime, and all were armed with spears, bows, swords, and in one case a beaker of some sort. Then more piled after, more adventurers, priests, sub-priests, workers, an entire force coming out.

They came because of the singing. It echoed across the entire world, it seemed to reach into Lotte's head, heard perfectly, it resonated. The world was like a tree before a storm, about to break before the blow and bluster. Yet there was… a sort of tune to it. She could hear the wind howling through the trees as if in accompaniment, and somehow they strummed a lute all while singing, in a voice that seemed even richer than before. Each verse shook the world to its fundaments, less from composition (for even to her untrained ear it sounded ad hoc, thrown together) then from the magic that leaked from each word.

"I make bold plaint of wicked acts
Gods, who tear down mountains to find the truth
Hear the tale of deeds that destroy my life,
Take heed of the tale of my martyrhood.
For I am Ingeld who fought, died for you.
And I am Guilliam, through which I sing.

It is of murder, foul and cruel, I sing
For in the battle were done many acts
Please ask me who I, oh priests, am to you
I am justice that will reveal the truth
For, to hear all the tales of my martyrhood
It was the pillagers who stole my life

Know, it was an assassin who took life,
Hear the name of him, let his darkened deeds sing
Gerhard of Nowhere, soon Knight, this is truth!
While I fought raiders, his blade soon did sing
The song of dark, forgotten Gods, whose acts
Caused and drove, knife through flesh, my martyrdom.

Imagine the death, know I come to you
Seeking justice against those that took my life
Gerhard's brood, high in status, hide the truth
But in their blood, evil stirs, daggers sing
They worship their Patron, and their vile acts
They care only for power, not my martyrhood

A scion visited, to 'weep' over my martryhood,
I was 'waked from unnatural sleep, while you
Knew not the evil, were blind to the acts
But a pious man dreamed of me, of my life
Fled at my orders, came back as I sing
The deeds of Baldwin were mine, in truth

I am the attacker, the seeker of the truth
I will boldly avenge my martyrhood
I have been reborn, in this man I sing
Here I have come, martyr, to ask of you
To remember and honor my bles'd life
Priests, seek sharp justice for these wicked acts!"

Lambert, the Head Priest, stepped forward, along with a few others, and quite a few of the adventurers. The two groups seemed to draw closer, until at last they stood facing each other.

"Is it true? What happened? You were sent to deal with these bandits, not… whatever this is." Lambert looked around at the group.

"We heard all that we heard, about this honored ancestor and his plight," Clemencia said.

"And this is true? Why were you killed?"

"Nobles, fearful of Ingeld's acts, my acts," Ingeld-Guilliam said, "thought to stop me, for poison had been whispered into their ears by a God whose name is rightfully Forgotten."

Lambert gasped, which Lotte took to mean that there was something about this that meant something to him.

"Then, perhaps we should all go inside to talk of this, there is--"

"Nonsense," a woman said, short and dark-haired, dressed in the robes of an equally high-ranking priest as Lambert. "Since I've gotten here, all I've seen is incompetence. I have found multiple violations of what such a shrine should be, and now you are going to talk to one of the agents of the Deceiver? Someone who clearly wants the nobles to fight among each other for supposed past wrongs?"

"Head-Priest Edda, surely we can--"

"Attack them. I have the higher authority, because Lambert has proven himself corrupt. He has been embezzling some of the money meant to go to spiritual development for 'spiritual' development, especially western wines."

"I shall repent for what I have done," Lambert said, "But ask the martyr. He was not opposed to drink."

"But to spend money meant to help others," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "It's rather grave. I'm sure that all can be corrected."

"I said, attack!"

And then, quite gamely, an arrow loosed from the bow of one of the adventurers.

That's when everything fell apart?

What does Lotte do?

[] Stand back, and use the arrows to discourage anyone from getting too close to Guilliam-Ingeld, who seems to be trying to do something with magic.
[] The tough looking Orime woman(?) is cutting quite a swath through everyone. She needs to be stopped, until it turns into a chaotic rout.
[] Get to Lambert. He and the others are trying to stop the fighting, but they aren't succeeding. Perhaps they could use some help.
[] Get to Head-Priest Edda, and by force or words, find a way to stop this chaos and bloodshed.

******

A/N: The song/poem took a while to write.

2:10

Lotte backed down. She saw the moment when she might take a risk and hurry forward, try to stop the well-armed Orime, or the head priest herself. But if she lost Guilliam-Ingeld, then what was everything else worth? She was a member of an adventuring party, however temporarily, and Ingeld-Guilliam had already begun humming, as if he were preparing to sing something.

Guilliam was a Troubadour, and Ingeld was powerful in the way martyrs were. So Lotte backed up, grabbing an arrow, pulling back, and loosing it as one of the adventurers began marching towards them. He had a helmet on, and a rough, scarred face, and was wielding a spear like he knew how to use it.

She shot him in the knee, which was padded but not quite as padded as the rest, and he stumbled, roughly shoved aside by a woman in a dark cloak, whose hands were glowing with some magic or another.

Lotte decided that she didn't want that person anywhere near Guilliam-Ingeld, and so she shot at the woman, who ducked at the last moment and was distracted by one of the 'bandits' swinging an axe at her. She blocked it with her hand, the axe seeming to rust a little at the point of contact.

Ah.

Lotte, though, already had a third target, as everyone began to fight around her. She knew she was supposed to have a grasp of the larger fight, but it just felt like complete chaos, complete with a man wielding a whip in one hand and a crossbow in the other, quite unfortunately on the other side, since he seemed effective with both--

Adventurers were what they were, and the fights were all fascinating, even to see in glimpses. Lotte was almost overheating in the sun and the swirl of bodies, but she could see blocks, dodges, and spells all flowing together. All she could manage was to keep an eye on anyone getting closer to the martyr-troubadour.

"You went my love, oh my love
You went all off to war
Arraigned in armor strong and sure
Oh you went my love to war.

The Gods did think it just and true
Oh you went my love to war.
But now it has been ten long years.
And all I hear is whispers

They say you battled in the forest
They say you fought all brave and strong
The followers of the two divisions
The God's dispute, one was wrong

The Gods of north and gods of south
Did contend, in peace and war,
And I, your wife, watched you leave
I told myself you'd left before

Oh, have you gone to the battlefield
Armored and well armed?
And shall dreadful events
Force you to drop your weapons?"

Lotte was pious, but perhaps not the best versed in mythology, because it took until the first chorus of the song to realize, as Guilliam-Ingeld played, that they were singing the song of the Waldherz's veto. The Gods had divided, long ago, just after they had formed the world from pain, had heroically brought it up, on matters both large and petty. Two armies of men, servants of each faction of Gods, had gone into a forest to war.

It was a remarkably foolish decision, for the Waldherz ambushed both with an army of tree-soldiers, whose skin, the bark of trees unlike those on earth, caught all blows, tearing the weapons away from them and battering the two armies into surrender.

Then, practically enough, the Waldherz, who had before that been entirely unknown, had enforced peace on the Gods, a peace that had lasted ever since.

It was a famous story, one that she'd heard all the time, often as a… whatever they called it where a story was actually talking about how if the nobles didn't stop arguing with each other, the people they overlooked would see to it that they did their job.

Of course, despite the disarming saving lives, the tree-soldiers had still killed some of the warriors, and this was a song less about the glories of the Waldherz than in the helpless feeling of warriors at once robbed of a holy cause.

Was Guilliam-Ingeld going to summon an army of soldiers? Surely he couldn't--

Lotte almost missed the next two men to come up, one of them preparing to throw an axe. Lotte decided to deal with him first, and her arrow missed his upper leg and buried itself just below his knee. Her second arrow, drawn and loosed as fast as the first, caught the other man, wielding a sword, in the stomach. But the man had shifted slightly, so that the blow as more glancing, and though it left behind a bleeding wound, the armor was enough to keep the man alive.

Lotte felt grateful, even though it'd just make more work for her.

People were dying, and she was using her archery to help kill them. But as long as she wasn't the one doing it, delivering the finishing blow, she could ignore the way that Clemencia had stuck close too, and fell upon anyone Lotte had injured. She was fierce and uncompromising, and soon soaked with blood.

Lotte, on the other hand, stood back, listened to the beginning of the next round.

"The veterans tell me of trees alive
Of all their hopes like so much firewood
They'd fought five years in the Gods name.
Yet all their efforts did them no good

It began with a darkness upon the sky
As trees blotted out all above
Twisted to close in, hid from the Gods
Then on came the soldiers, with a punch, with a shove

A punch that broke granite
A shove that stoved heads
A thousand they put down
And hundreds were dead

I, your wife, heard no word
I, your wife, did fear what came
I, your wife, was thus unmade
From young wife and mother to dame

Oh, have you gone to the battlefield
Armored and well armed?
And shall dreadful events
Force you to drop your weapons?"

A man fell. A woman died screaming out invectives. Yet the spell seemed to do nothing, even as Guilliam-Ingeld began gesturing backwards toward the woods, and then forwards towards the shrine, shifting around, almost dancing as he played and sung.

Finally, Lotte got unlucky. One of her arrows buried itself in the unprotected throat of a woman in the cloth of a holy warrior.

The woman collapsed, toppled, quickly, like a desperate peasant's house before the cruel winds of a snowstorm.

She gurgled, for a moment gripping the arrow, before realizing it was a mistake, and moving her hands away.

The woman need not have bothered. She was dying, on this dusty battlefield, and there was nothing Lotte could do to stop it.

The woman had brown hair, a face tanned enough that she must have been outside all the time, bright blue eyes that stared off in panic, and then stared off, in a few moments, at the sky above, which was almost as blue as her eyes.

What was her--

Lotte drew up, aware that there was another coming.

She hadn't expected it to be either that quick, or that gruesome. Late into many long nights, she'd remember the way the woman reached up, as if she could do something, only to realize she couldn't.

It was like watching an animal die, in the worst way possible. There was always that moment where they seemed to deflate, where all of their desperate struggling became an exhausted sort of acceptance. You could try all you wanted to always hit an animal to kill it as quickly as possible, but you didn't always succeed.

Lotte tried as hard as she could, and still sometimes she had to watch those last seconds of a life.

It felt like that, but stronger, layered with the fact that it was a person.

It? She.

She was a person, and Lotte had killed her.

The man was huge, though not as big as the Orime, and armored heavily enough that she couldn't even see his face. Her arrow glanced off of his chestplate, though it left a scratch, and she retreated, desperately, aware that Guilliam-Ingeld was now in danger!

Ingeld-Guilliam drew a spear, and stabbed one-handed at the man, retreating backwards, still singing, on the fifth verse, or was it the fourth? Lotte had lost track.

Oh when I heard you were gone
I cried until the rivers were dry
I laid down in the fetid dirt
And imagined how we'd die

Oh what swamp, wood is
That swords did swing
And catch upon the tree-soldiers
And none could do anything

I lost you there…

He coughed, glaring at the soldier fighting him, and then kept on singing as Lotte's second arrow met the joint in the man's leg, stabbing deep. Lotte's fingers ached, and she couldn't tell whether they were winning the fight or losing it.

There was no sense anymore, nothing except the next few moments of survival, as Clemencia moved to begin hacking away at the wounded enemy's knees.

Lotte took a moment to look around, and saw that neither side was winning. In fact, both were--

Which is when Guilliam-Ingeld reached, at last, the final bit of the chorus.

"Oh, have you gone to the battlefield
Armored and well armed?
And shall dreadful events
Force you to drop your weapons?"

As he sung, an axe flew through the air, but not aimed at anyone. Instead, it buried itself in a nearby tree. Then came a sword, and another, a spear, weapons flying from their owner's hands, somehow attracted to this tree. Helmets tugged their owners towards this bizarre tree, and Lotte gripped her bow tight, except… it wasn't being pulled at all. Weapons made of wood seemed untouched, but these were few and far between, and any sort of metal that was fashioned into armor and a weapon was drawn towards the tree.

Lotte let go of her knife, hoping she'd be able to recover it. It flew through the air, and nested in the high trees as if it were some very dangerous bird.

Birds indeed had fled the moment the weapons, contrary to all logic, began to fly through the air.

Coins weren't being flung its way, so somehow it was only about weapons and tools of war.

Or of whittling, apparently.

Everyone stopped fighting, even the archers, because the sight was so baffling. It was one thing to afterwards recount it: all the weapons and armor flew away into a tree, and when a man ran to try to free a weapon, he found that it couldn't be retrieved.

But it took almost a minute to happen, and the weapons behaved so oddly, swinging and flinging themselves through the air as if they were alive, that people began to pray for mercy, and the priests all fell to the ground, desperately begging the Gods not to allow… this bizarre event to happen.

The priests, at least, who weren't allied with Guilliam-Ingeld.

Lotte realized all at once, before she'd even lost her knife, that the battle was over.

When the last knife gracefully flew into the top of the tree, Guilliam-Ingeld's musical voice rang throughout the clearing. "Enough! Enough violence, enough madness. I am the martyr who acted, I am the man who died, and I can demonstrate a thousand times the power if you wish me to."

Lotte suspected that this was a bluff. But how could anyone look at the tree filled with weapons and not fear that it wasn't. Perhaps Guilliam-Ingeld could kill them all, and if so, it was best to listen.

"What… what is your goal?" Edda asked, the front of her robes bloody. It wasn't her blood, that much was clear.

"Justice on a single profane and foul family. I will have to release the union between the two of us. We are not meant to be together, not for long. But now that Ingeld is awake, he can send you prophecies, vision, and guidance, so that the ways to the afterlife are opened. They do not hide it well, you will find the marks of the Forgotten God all over them."

"What about the violations?" she demanded.

"Lambert is sorry, and if not he will be," Guilliam-Ingeld said, with a dismissive smirk. "He will reform himself or we will know it, and will act accordingly. We have to be practical in the face of the threats we face. A reformation of the Shrine and its life is necessary, in order to help the poor, the humble, and the pious. But as Ingeld, as part of me, did all those centuries ago, we must use what tools we have, in a trying time."

"Trying?" Lambert asked, looking rumpled but not battle-worn, having spent the whole time fruitlessly trying to stop the conflict, without many who would stand with him.

"Trying to destroy itself, perhaps. Much is veiled to me, but even what little I see should disturb the sleep of any devout person."

Lotte shuddered at that, trying to imagine what could be coming that the dead could see but the living could not quite make out.

"So, what do you truly propose? You surely can't want to excuse religious failings?!" Head-Priest Edda asked.

"A reforming spirit, in which people admit their faults and rededicate themselves to doing the right thing. That is what I shall create, and through it this shrine, and the world as a whole, will improve. To do so, we must stamp out this family, killing or capturing all members of it, and presenting the evidence of their crimes," Guilliam-Ingeld explained, rather calmly.

"Then, I concede the point, and we should talk of our next move. But what do we do about the adventurers?"

"What about them?" Ingeld-Guilliam asked.

"Blood has been shed. Do we turn away the other adventurers, or… and the weapons," Lambert said. "Will they stay like that?"

"For seven days, until noon on the seventh day, they will fall from the trees," Guilliam-Ingeld explained. "As for those still there, they will--"

They paused, and his eyes crossed, actually crossed as he grit his teeth, and swayed a little bit. Then he continued, his voice sounding more like Guilliam's, "That's emphatically a no, you demagogic--" his voice changed again, having that tone that was bold and very Ingeld like, "Don't you understand this is larger than the pursuit of gold--" "We almost died!"

Lotte watched, as confused as everyone else.

"W-what is the plan you… or Ingeld, or… what is being proposed?" Baldwin asked.

"Very well," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "To divide the total coin between all the adventurers still alive, so that all will have little cause to complain, and so that some can be convinced to stay and join in the quest."

"All of them?" Lambert asked, startled.

"Yes," Guilliam-Ingeld said. No, Guilliam alone, almost, pushing Ingeld back. "I protest, I protest most strongly to the idea. Oscar, Clemencia, Lotte and I risked far more, and to--"

"And they may know that they have my favor, and that this is worth far more than mere gold," Ingeld said, through Guilliam.

"I am willing to split my share among all the others. It is in fact our pious duty to do so," Oscar argued.

"Spoken like a noble that has never starved," Guilliam said, though it felt as if there was perhaps a touch of Ingeld to it.

"If you need food as you leave, you can take some, since we shall have to divest ourselves of our too-generous larder," Lambert said.

Even Lotte could tell that that wasn't the true character of Guilliam's complaint.

"Clemencia?" Guilliam asked.

"Honored ancestor, I shall accept your bargain, if you would talk for some time to me on the theological and magical implications of your nature," Clemencia said.

Guilliam slumped a little, looking exhausted, and who could blame him. Lotte thought about it: Ingeld had seen into his heart, was in fact combined with him, and yet he'd somehow come up with a plan that would hurt Guilliam for… what? For a few extra adventurers not leaving angry? For an advantage in the fight to come.

But where would they all be, if it wasn't for the whole team, the party that had brokered the Parley, provided the body to combine with, and fought bravely in his name?

"Lotte?"

"It isn't right," Lotte said, quietly. "I almost died. Guilliam almost died. We risked everything for you."

"I--" Guilliam-Ingeld began. "I have to do what I can to win, to stop the evil from getting out of hand. My gratitude, and my favor, is worth and will be worth quite a lot. I know because I saw your coin-purse, that night when we first met, that you have enough for now. I know that you can endure, because you're a hunter, a man of the woods like I was. You will not get nothing, and I shall repay all debts, in the fullness of time."

Lotte didn't know what to say. She thought Ingeld-Guilliam meant it, but that didn't mean all that much. She'd been told "I love you" before by people who meant it and then later blamed her for things she could not control.

She tried to think as a hunters. They played the long game, unless they were starving, entirely willing to stalk prey across miles of forest.

"I shall hold you to it," Lotte said. "And I will only agree if Guilliam does. He does not deserve it either, no matter what he believes. He has opened his heart, and let someone else see it, hasn't he? You know his past, his present, everything, because you are him?"

Lotte thought that's how it worked, but she wasn't that smart, she knew, so maybe she was wrong.

"Yes. We shall discuss this," Guilliam-Ingeld said. "Inside. The wounded need to be treated, the hungry need to eat, and all needs to be set to rights."

*******

"Will you stay?" Oscar asked, hours later. "Some of us are staying. There will be pay, of course, and more importantly we have a cause, a mission, an evil Lord to fight."

Lotte thought of the dead woman, whose name she couldn't bring herself to ask. She thought about how many more would die, and she couldn't do it, not now.

It made her sick to her stomach, and she wanted to spend some time growing, and getting ready for such adventures in the future.

"No. I'll leave when I can, but I am glad I got to meet you, Clemencia, and Guilliam."

"I am glad I met you too. You are a good woman," Oscar said, with a nod. "Stay safe out there, and may our paths cross again."

*****

"Manling, you've got a good heart," Clemencia said, right at the door to the shrine, moments before Lotte left. "Remember your ancestors. Hopefully if we meet again it's not as awkward as all this was."

"We can hope," Lotte said.

"Sometimes that's all we can do," Clemencia said, rather more philosophically than Lotte meant it.

******

The sky seemed as blue as ever when the wandering hunter left the shrine. She'd killed and she'd almost died, she'd met Gods and holy martyrs, and now she walked down a road as if the world had not shifted on its head.

Perhaps she'd learned something.

She probably needed to do something easy, next.

Get her name out as someone who did more than charity adventures and got involved in things other than… the kind of thing that that was.

The sky reminded her of the dead woman, but the road reminded her that as an adventurer she could always keep on walking, and see where her feet took her.

XP Gains:

Facing, and overcoming, a peer foe or solid challenge (Wolves): 1 XP
Facing, and overcoming, a peer foe or solid challenge (The Fight At The End): 1 XP
Successfully completing an Adventure: 2 XP
Completing an Adventure with Style, or doing better than was expected: 1XP
As a Hunter, did you bring the wild's bounty back to your people? Did you protect someone or do the right thing? 2XP

XP Total: 13/10, Level up!



Choose 1 Racial or General Trait, and 1 Class Trait

General Traits

Penny Wise (General, Level 1): You know how to save your coin. You aren't necessarily some merchant-genius, but you don't waste your money and you can tell when you're being very clearly overcharged or ripped off.

Light Sleeper (General, Level 1): Perhaps you always were a light sleeper, or perhaps it is new development in the face of dangers and adventures, but you can wake up very easily at threatening sounds, and when roused you don't spend an hour groaning, insensible, and useless.

Hum It A Little (General, Level 1): You have a newfound appreciation for music, and you listen more closely to songs, and can even hold a tune… or at least hum a tune. It has no magical significance, but music is a universal language, and it relaxes you.

The Price Of Everything (General, Level 2, Pre-Req: Penny Wise): You know what your services are worth, and even if you're not necessarily a great negotiator of your adventurer's reward, you have the knowledge to deal sharply in your own interests.

Loading and Unloading Only (General, Level 2): You've spent several weeks guarding merchant's caravans, and this experience means you've sometimes been asked to help out. It's helped develop your strength, and also your knowledge of how to fit things onto carts and how to get them off. Hey, if the whole adventurer thing doesn't work out…

Killer Instinct (General, Level 2): You don't like killing people, but having thought through it, and having considered everything, you're able to do it again without quite as much pain. Perhaps you've lost something, but at the same time, the life of an adventurer is violence, isn't it? And apparently you're good at it, or at least capable of it.




Racial Traits--Human, Central Lands

Physical

Well-Built (Level 1, Human, Physical): You were already pretty fit, but your experiences have given you plenty of practice. You are built to take hits and give them, built to work all the live-long day and still be standing at the end of it. You're not an Orime, but who is? Besides Orime.

Clambering (Level 1, Human, Physical): While not quite as flexible as an elf, small as a Sepult, or as strong as an Orime, a human is pretty strong, rather flexible, and far smaller than the Orime. You can climb quite well, whether up trees or rocks, you can squeeze through gaps, bound over fences, or otherwise keep going through quite a lot.

Going The Distance (Level 2, Human, Physical): You have the stamina to walk a lot. You've walked more in the past few weeks than some do in months, thanks to your lack of mounts, and you've learned how to walk through blisters, sore feed, wet feet, and other problems, and still make good time anyways.

The Half-and-a-Half Nelson (Level 2, Human--Central Lands, Physical): The village youth of the central lands often engaged in horseplay. Being fair, so do the youth of many villages in many lands, but in the Central Lands they have rings, and teach locks and holds and blows that in truth translate to using swords as well, for the Central Lands fights with swords in a rather physical way. You've learned some such holds, and have had time to practice with other powerful guards and laborers on your journey.

Cultural

That Old Time Religion (Level 1, Human--Central Lands, Cultural): After your experiences, you aren't necessarily content to just remember what you do about the religion, and you've been speaking earnestly with a number of priests, and having read--or even reading--more passages, on the various Gods and their nature.

Have A Drink? (Level 1, Human--Central Lands, Cultural): You have of course drank a little beer before, but those on the road have introduced you to the fine art and craft of getting rather drunk. You don't overindulge, but it can be nice, and you can hold your beer decently enough to join in on drunken songs and games, and otherwise fit in in a hard-drinking culture.

The Glance Of The Nachtmater (Level 2, Human-Central Lands, Cultural): Occasionally you feel as if someone has watched you in a dream, idly and thoughtfully, and sometimes when you wake up after first sleep and stare out into the darkness, it feels different than usual. It's very occasional, but you suspect that the Nachtmater might at times look upon you. Whether with favor of disfavor, who is to know?


Class Traits

Way With Animals (Level 1): A skilled hunter knows the beasts, the birds, the creatures of the forests that they love. They know how not to make an enemy of a bear, and how to avoid hungry wolves. They know what it means when birds aren't singing, and they know how to, if not tame, then at least feed and gentle such animals.

Faithful Companion (Level 1): Lotte has come across a stray dog, and decided to rescue her and train her up a little. A dog's a person's best friend, and when trained up they can be a loyal hunting dog, willing to defend them from all sorts of dangers, and serve as a lookout.

Trapmaking Basics (Level 1): Traps are quite useful for a different sort of hunting. One can put together or take apart the kinds of bear traps, pit traps, and tripwires that were quite common in the forests of the central region, when one has cause to use them.

Steady Arm (Level 2): You know how to consistently hit your targets, if not always in the same place, even when they're moving. You have practice, experience, and a general aptitude at archery that has been honed by the actual practice of shooting at living, breathing human targets that know you're there.

One On The Wing (Level 2): You've practiced shooting down birds. This doesn't necessarily pay off in some ways, but you are now a lot better at hitting fast-moving targets above your head, which might well be practice that can be used for other areas.

Tracker's Ways (Level 2): Your recent experiences have taught you how much you have to learn about tracking people or animals in the woods, and so you've redoubled your efforts, learning quite a bit about how you might track more difficult targets in the future.

Leave Few Traces (Level 2): The experience on being on one side of the hunt makes you wonder how you'd hide your tracks if you were being hunted, or tracked by hostile enemies, as sometimes does happen in adventures. You've begun to practice how not to be followed in the woods, and perhaps elsewhere.


*******

A/N: So ends the second adventure!