Itinerant: A Pilgrim Quest

If there is a map in there somewhere to help us choose in which direction we want to go, all the better.

Sadly, there will be no maps in this game, at least in the foreseeable future. Not only were they hella rare back in that time, but also impressively useless, and also I do not have the skill, tools and knowledge to provide you with one, which means that all maps will spontaneously vanish when you approach. For verisimilitude, honest!
 
Also, a PSA, since I am slowly settling on a schedule: for now, until at least the end of the month (when my classes start again), I will be making my best attempts to update the quest daily, between 3PM and 4PM CEST, with voting closing at 2:30PM. A good schedule is apparently good for one's character, I am told.
 
1.2 Night
So, with minimal voter turnout (slow Sunday?), the shelter option won.

1.2 Night

You turned from looking for a way out of the woods, and instead went on searching for a place that would allow you to weather the night. Blessing of the Saints must had been with you on that evening, for it was not long until you found a mighty tree, knocked over by wind and age. Its roots, once far-reaching now stood upright, tangled, tongues of moss hanging from them, and beyond them, in the pit that once held the tree's trunk, under the roof of rotting wood, you found a den of sorts, closed from the worst of the wind and weather, and large enough for you to fit in, if you were to curl. It was hardly a comfortable shelter, but it was shelter none-the-less, and with the chill growing ever more pronounced, it was all that you could ask for.

Briefly, you tried to set a small fire to warm you up, but there was little in line of kindling that you could find, and even less when it came to fuel; and both of your attempts produced little but smoke without and light and warmth. In the end, with the night almost upon you, you returned to your hiding-hole, prepared for a night of discomfort.
And perhaps to cheer yourself up in the face of cold and dark, you turned to the pages of the book of wisdom for consolation, and opened it to a random page, to catch but a few words of it before the last of the light was to fade. And by chance by alone, your finger landed on the description of the Lief people, among whom you were counted, and thought it took you a while to do so (for the text was written in cursive, and light was faint) you read it, learning the truth of your origin, which left an impression on you:

The Liefs are thought to have been named after a certain chieftain of theirs. Others reckon that they were named for the brutality of their behaviour, for their behaviour is wild, with a natural ferocity of spirit.

And with that, the last of the day faded away, and you could read no more, so you hid the book in your pack and wrapped yourself tight in the fur cloak, thus warding the cold. The moon and the stars did not emerge, for instead a thick cover of clouds covered the sky, and the wind rose to a howl. Between its voice, and the calling of the beasts of the wild, you could hardly sleep. The cold reached you despite the best of your efforts, and the chill spread, becoming numbing, so that you could barely feel your limbs.
Discomfort turned into misery and worry into fear, and you trembled. You tried to speak the words a prayer, but found little solace in them, and it seemed to you that you would be lost on the first day of your pilgrimage, that your bones would rot in the woods, being sustenance for carrion-feeders, and that your family would perish because of it, never learning of your fate. Such doubts ravaged your soul, but in the darkest moment of the night, you reminded yourself that you are the blood of Liefs, who are named after their ferocity, and as faint of a reassurance that was, it was enough to carry you through until the sky on the horizon turn grey and in the faint light of the breaking dawn, you saw that in the night, snow fell, and the forest around you was draped white. Slowly, you crawled from your hiding holes, and thankful that it seemed you had not yet succumbed to the weather, you emerged into the forest again.

And although you had endured the night, with snow covering yesterday's tracks, and the appearance of the land altered, you felt even more lost than before. For a time, you wandered in the weak light, watching the day break, and motion returned some warmth to your limbs, but provided little else beyond. You ate a bit of bread and a bit of cheese, and they were both running short, and drank some wine to reinforce yourself, but the dread and fear that troubled you did not go away.

You marched forward blind, quickly and carelessly, thinking that if you were to sit still and consider, the full weight of your despair would surely overcome you, and you would give in to it and to the grim fate that awaited. But no path offered itself to you, no sign of men's hand, as if the land had never suffered under the axe or plough, and even the birds that sung their songs above, indifferent to your struggle, appeared unafraid of your presence, as if they had not been taught to care for hunters and their bows and traps.
But it when the hope you clung to seemed to slip from your grasp and even the motions of your limbs grew slow and sullen, that you heard a voice coming from behind the trees, raising and failing to the cadence of a prayer; and for a moment your heart raced, for it could signal your salvation. But you also knew that so deep in the woods, vile spirits dwelled, that would take great pleasure at leading men astray and into traps.

With that in mind, you…

[ ] Called out in the direction of the voice.

[ ] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.

[ ] Avoided it and continued your blind march.


Note: Since you did not have much time to properly search the book, it only gave you some heart-lifting bit of trivia! Do not be discouraged to use it, but rather try to find more favourable conditions to read it.
 
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[X] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.

We don't want to scare them off by calling them out.
 
[X] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.

Though I also wonder who the heck would choose to ignore it lol. Oh yes, we're lost and hungry and desperate and we've just heard someone! What do!

Let's just fucking turn right around, the forest got its own charms, you know?
 
[X] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.
 
[X] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.

Normally I'd call out, but who knows - we might scare it away. Best not to risk it while we can still locate it.
 
So, for the sake of showing something which I find lost somewhere between hilarious and terrifying:

(for the text was written in cursive, and light was faint)

Just to show that this is not exaggeration, behold: Merovignian cursive.

The art of reading this script is widely considered magic and it is my personal opinion that the relative unpopularity of the pre-Carolingian epoch when it comes to historiography is in no small part caused by the fact that it is difficult to tell their script from ornamental arabesques. Also the bane of all those who managed to make their palaeography tutors irate enough to handle them that during an exam. Let us all weep for them.

(Oh and this particular example is not even that bad, compared to some shown to me in the form of an implied threat.)
 
1.3 Hermitage
Sneaking up was the order of the day! Also, I apologize if the quality of today's (and yesterday's) offerings is lower than normal, but I am currently suffering through a nasty cold, which is totally to blame for everything wrong with the post below, and never you think otherwise.

1.3 Hermitage

Guided by the sound of the prayer and careful not to make a sound, you approached through the woods and dry brushes, until between two trees, you a clearing and a man standing on it. His hands were spread wide and turned up towards the sky, and he sung the praise of the Saints that they willed it so that he would see another day rise. He seemed elder to you, and his vestments were plain and ragged, and a long beard descended from his chin almost to his belt, as grey as the cloth he worse. With that, you concluded that he must be a hermit of sorts, one of those pious men who abandon the world of the living and seek refuge from it in the wilds, all the better to venerate and worship the Saints, and seek perhaps a way to learn the name of the God in the solitude that surrounds them, so that they too can be counted in the holy host when the time finally comes for them to abandon the temporal. You found it a clear sign; Saint Odo to whom your pilgrimage was devoted did to spend long years in the shelter of the woods, away from things of the world. Therefore, that you managed in all the vastness of the forest to find such a man must had been a work of the Saint watching over you.
Thus, believing you have nothing to fear, you stepped from between the trees and into the light, so that the eremite could see you. And he noticed you, but did not address you, instead continuing his prayer until he finally spoke the final sacred name, and lowered his hand and whispered "so may it be" in the language of White Wall, and only then did he turn to you and said:

"Wanderer, it is cold out here and my bones are old, so please let me offer you the hospitality of my humblest of abodes, where whatever you brought to me can be discussed freely."

His voice was a quaint one, and he spoke the words as if his tongue was no longer used to them. But his offer was a kind one and you could not deny it to him. And so you agreed, and he led you through a trail that was a very faint one to a small hut, similar in shape to the shacks raised by shepherds, and of likewise modest size. He removed the plank from the door and let you in, soon setting putting on fire in the fire-pit. You crouched by it and put your hands near the flames, and enjoyed the warmth slowly returning to your limbs, while the hermit busied himself, paying little attention to you.

Eventually, he sat across you, and after speaking a short prayer over them, offered you a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water, and still in silence, you ate and drank, and by the fire warmly crackling, the tribulations of the night felt distant to you and your resolve was renewed.

And it was only after you both sated yourselves and quenched your thirst, that the hermit spoke, and he said:

"I will say in the name of the Saints that I thought you at first a visage sent by the malefactors to tempt me and lead to the sin of lustful thoughts. But you listened to the prayer and it did not scare you, and you ate bread and drank water that were both sanctified by prayer, and from that I must conclude you are not a vile spirit come to test me, but rather a woman of piety that by some miracle managed to find me in the vastness of the woods."

Having said that, he grew silent again, and retrieved a log of wood that he threw into the fire, and you did not speak more for some time after that, instead sharing the warmth. And the hermit looked lost in his thoughts and you did not disturb him, quietly grateful for the hospitality that he so graciously gave to you.
It was around the time of noon that he chose to address you again.

"And who are you that found me, and what brought you to the heart of the forest, where I thought no man nor woman should ever be able to track me, and where I thought that only the wild wolf and savage boar would keep me company?"

Recognizing that there would be no wisdom in too quick of an answer, you spent some time considering how to respond. Finally, you replied:

"I was lost in the woods, and to Saint Odo's grace I owe finding you."

And you explained to him your task and purpose, of how you were intent on making way through the entire world to where the holy city of Step was, so that you could too receive a miracle and deliver your clan. And he listened to you carefully, and seemed greatly impressed by your courage and the zeal of your labours. Then he voiced his concern for malign influences that might had been besetting you, for in the fact that you had lost your way, he clearly saw the hand of the malefactors who, angered by devotion, thought to move you to despair, so that you would renounce, in the dark night of your soul, the name of the Saints and curse your task. And he explained to you that it was no idle concern, for it was a fact of life that in his time, he had heard of many bishops who forbade women from making pilgrimages, for being of naturally softer character and weaker soul, they would often succumb to temptations that await each pilgrim on his way and end up as whores or worse, the names of the Saints alien to them. Against that, he cautioned you thrice, by the name of Saint Marga, Saint Ortys and Saint Ivar. Finally, he told you that although he did not know how to find the paved road to the city of Grace, he could lead you to a village that was nearby, where you could ask for a way and be returned to the rightful track. However, he warned you as well against entering the city walls, for cities, he claimed, are festering pits of villainy and injustice, and even though the city of Grace was a bishopric, it would certainly pose many dangers to a pilgrim such as you. Instead, he suggested that you should perhaps head in another direction altogether – that he could lead you to a path that would take you to a monastery of Saint Odo, where the pious monks would host you (as it was their duty to tend to pilgrims and wanderers) and certainly would explain to you a way to the holy city of Step that would allow you to avoid the mortal threats to the soul that awaited in cities of men.

You considered his offer, and asked him…

[ ] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

[ ] To lead you to the road to the monastery, so that you could avoid the city of Grace.
 
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[X] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

Not sure what your problem is with this scene, I really liked it and things it fits really well with the tone you have been setting so far. In regards to the choice, the monastery is certainly an intriguing choice but it will take more than the warnings of a half mad hermit to stop me from visiting a proper city and experience true civilisation^^.
 
[X] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

Our original route was through the City of Grace. I'm unsure how much time the monastery detour would take us, so I'm going for the path we planned on.
 
"Wanderer, it is cold out here and my bones are old, so please let me offer you the hospitality of my humblest of abodes, where whatever you brought you to me can be discussed freely."
[X] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

We will brave the wretched hive of scum and villainy and emerge unscathed. God wills it!
 
So, for the sake of showing something which I find lost somewhere between hilarious and terrifying:



Just to show that this is not exaggeration, behold: Merovignian cursive.

The art of reading this script is widely considered magic and it is my personal opinion that the relative unpopularity of the pre-Carolingian epoch when it comes to historiography is in no small part caused by the fact that it is difficult to tell their script from ornamental arabesques. Also the bane of all those who managed to make their palaeography tutors irate enough to handle them that during an exam. Let us all weep for them.

(Oh and this particular example is not even that bad, compared to some shown to me in the form of an implied threat.)
You mean that's not the Black Speech of Mordor? :???: :p

To actually contribute,
[X] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

I would be tempted by going to the monastery for the "getting lost was all part of the plan" fairy tale narrative + potentially upgrading/supplementing the Book of Roots with the monks' knowledge.
But as a city Grace is going to be interconnected with other cities, giving us the routes with the most traffic, and thus the highest chance for other pilgrims or agreeable rest stops and the lowest chance of garden variety robbers and wild animals.
 
Not sure what your problem is with this scene
Not bothering to proofread it, mostly, and then making an unrelated cold responsible for this failure of moral conduct. Or sth. Possibly dynamite fishing for praise.

Mention not God, who is but for Saints to behold.

You mean that's not the Black Speech of Mordor? :???: :p
Eh, I don't know. It's kind of too pretty for that, no?
 
[X] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.
 
1.4 Reik
With the support for the village option being absolutely overwhelming, and me being in good spirits thanks to overwhelming amounts of ibuprofen and aspirin, an unscheduled update is upon us!

1.4 Reik

The hermit, possibly distraught by your choice not to heed his advice and instead still go for the mighty city of Grace, stayed true to his word, and after you prayed with him for the success of your pilgrimage and a soon end to injustice, so that the name of God may be revealed to all, he took you to a trail by a forest creek. Taking that path, you both marched for some time, until the hermit was confident that you would not lose yourself again on it, and biding you farewell and citing the need to avoid meeting with the peasantry (for it had happened to some holy hermits who lived in forests and mountains that the simple people, upon learning of their presence, hounded them incessantly in search of blessings and patronage, thus forcing them to flee even deeper into the wilds to find the solitude that was so desirous to them), he left your side, and once again you were alone in the woods. This time, however, the path ahead seemed clear, and in fact shortly before night, you arrived at the outskirts of small village.

As the huts of the villagers were close to each another, and surrounded by a rampart of wood and soil, you recognize that it was likely the dwelling-place of people who carried no weapons and were not called to ost, instead relying on their lord and master to protect themselves. Once, such people were uncommon, and mostly came from the lines of the people who lived in these lands before the coming of Liefs, but recently, you had heard that their number was growing, as more and more once-free men surrounded themselves to the yoke of service in exchange for promise of safety from the mighty of the land.

There, you were hosted by a peasant, his wife and two sons, who, upon learning of your pilgrimage, opened their home to you, and you broke bread and drank wine along with them, and then were offered the best place by the fire-pit, so that the embers would keep you warm all night. In the morning, you were informed that although the peasants there scarcely knew the way to the city of Grace, there was however another village nearby that allegedly lay nearer to the paved road, and that you should wander there. Having restored your supplies, with still-warm bread in your pack and a new measure of wine in your wineskin, you departed in the direction given to you, to arrive in the early hours of the afternoon.

There, in a village that was not altogether that different from the one before, you once again asked for directions and received them from peasants who sometimes hosted merchants travelling to and from that mighty city. Subsequently you also learned that one of such merchants was at that time present in the village and preparing to leave for the city of Grace next morning. His name was Reik, and he was a salt-trader who last autumn was attacked and savaged by a bear while near the village, and was found and bloodied and not far from death by a farmer whose name was Ivulf and who, being a man of kind heart and good mores, decided to take him into his home and treat his wound or, if such was to be the will of the Saints, ensure that he would not die on a road, cold and alone. And although Reik's recovery was slow and painful, he managed to return to good health and was eager to return home, having left a wife and a number of children behind. He was quick in refuting any suggestions that in his absence, she could had taken a different husband, thinking him dead. Meanwhile to Ivulf, out of gratitude for saving him from such an ignoble demise, he left most of his possessions: three rings of gold, one of them set with and amethyst and a shirt of eastern silk, and a heavy medallion of silver, with a chrysoprase in it and numerous other goods of considerable value, who Ivulf, being, as said, a man of commendable morals, refused to hoard and instead brought them to a shrine and offered them to the coffers of the Saints, to ensure good fortune for him and his children.

And that Reik, you were told, left scarred by previous lonesome travel, was hurting for a company on his way to the city of Grace and would rather avoid travelling alone again. You were brought to him, and beheld a spiritful young man, who although disfigured on the face appeared to you a kind and honest soul, and promptly suggested to you that you should take his company to the city of Grace and, perhaps, farther still, for it was not his intention to stay there longer than it was for him necessary.

Presented with that offer, you…

[ ] Accepted, and departed along with him next morning.

[ ] Refused, and continued your pilgrimage alone.
 
[X] Accepted, and departed along with him next morning.

could always use a companion
 
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