Interlude 3
The dogma of the Common Church of Greyhawk was, of course, perfect in every way, having been handed down by the gods themselves. There were, however, challenges within it, as the priests of the church understood. Neither winter nor spring, nor the changing of the seasons specifically, fell within the spheres of influence of the gods of the Common Pantheon. So, when the people of the Village of Stonebridge wished for their priest to do something about the cold and the snow in the first week of Readying, he had to get creative.
Joramy was the goddess of fire, both literal fire and fiery anger. There was a prayer to Joramy that thanked her for fire that also asked for more fire, and this could also be understandably be interpreted as a request for heat. And there were 13 famous warding prayers to Ralishaz, god of misfortune, asking for him to take his misfortune elsewhere. Misfortune, like an overly hard winter, so again it was an understandable interpretation.
“And in that wiggle room…miracles are born,” Jake muttered to himself as he completed his string of prayers. It was muttered quietly; it would do to have that overheard, and the ceremony was being observed. This was considered important enough for three leading officials of the village, including the bridge warden, Talthis Walterson, to be on hand to observe.
“Thank you, Brother Jake,” Talthis said. “The church elders were good to us in sending you here.”
“It is my pleasure,” Jake assured them.
The other two left the small chapel, but Talthis lingered behind. Jake noticed, but said nothing until the other two were gone.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” Jake prompted.
“Perhaps. Well…a favor,” Talthis said at last. “You recall Emeline?”
“The widow?”
“Yes. She helped fund much of the festivities during Needfest this year…but she has not been out of the house for the past two weeks, and has released her servants from service. Would you go visit her and talk to her? I wonder if she needs…”
“Consoling? Of course, this is common, even when much time has passed. I will see her this afternoon.”
Talthis said no more, but nodded understandingly.
Readying 5, 621 CYThe Village of Stonebridge
Jake bundled up and lit a lantern to bring with; for warmth more than light. The Widow Emeline’s farmstead was on the far side of the village, so rather than walk, Jake went to the neighbor’s barn to fetch his pony. It was not much of a pony, but it was fully his and not a loan from the church; he had purchased it after selling off much of his adventuring gear. He had thought that life was his calling once, but the church had told him he was wrong and recalled him. He thought of these things as his pony slowly sauntered through the crunching snow until they reached Emeline’s farm.
The farmhouse was a two-story building, wood on a raised stone foundation. There was a round tower one story taller at one corner
He knocked on the door. “Emeline? It’s Brother Jake. Are you there?”
There was a long silence. Jake shifted his legs, hoping the movement would warm them, and put his spare hand closer to the lantern he had brought. He knocked again.
“Emeline?” When she still did not answer he tried the door. Only then did he hear a noise inside. “Hello?” He pushed on the door and entered as it opened, stepping onto the straw mat inside the entrance.
The living room inside was warm, with a good-sized fire in the fireplace. The walls were decorated with colorful tapestries. Potted plants, long fern-like plants, hung from the ceiling. There were two wooden tables in the room covered in small bowls of herbs and incense, and two shelves on one wall were covered in decorative candles. It seemed quite cozy. Jake stood in the center of the room, listening for anything he might hear over the crackling fire.
Shortly, he heard footsteps approaching from a side doorway. Jake had a premonition of danger in that moment and wished he had brought his morningstar or a shield, but of course this was a house call and he had not expected to need either. He took a step back and assumed a defensive stance, while looking for something he could grab as a makeshift club.
The source of the footsteps was Emeline, a 40-year old woman in a black hood and dress such as a widow would be expected to wear. A reeve’s daughter, Emeline had none of the wear on her features that hard labor or too much sun would have given her. She looked on Jake with recognition, but her face was otherwise unyielding of clues as to her state of mind. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Jake tried polite conversation, making it clear this was just a social call, but Emeline remained tight-lipped as he spoke. Jake changed tactics and made his purpose more plain. “Talthis sent me to check on you. Make sure you were alright.”
“As you can see I’m fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be left in peace.”
“Do you have anyone here to take care of you?”
“I don’t need it. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”
Jake nodded, as that seemed to be accurate enough. He had the feeling she wanted to tell him more, but was holding back. Several other attempts to coax it out of her failed. This interview was growing more awkward by the minute as Jake ran out of concerns for her to shoot down. “I see,” he said at last. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time. May I bless your home before I go?”
Emeline thanked him, coldly, for this kindness. The blessing was a simple ritual and, two minutes later, he had no choice but to go.
As he stepped outside, he thought he heard a door open or close around the back of the house. How…? Emeline could not have run to the back of the house so quickly. Was someone else here after all?
Jake came around the back of the house where the kitchen door exited out into a garden. There was no one there, though there were some bushes in the garden that someone could be concealed behind. Jake moved casually into the garden and looked around, finding no one behind the first bush and then--
The crashing blow on the back of his head told him that he had checked the wrong bush first. Someone had come up behind him unnaturally silent and hit him with something hard, probably a club of some type. The pain was almost overwhelming, sending Jake falling forward to his hands and knees. Everything had gone dark for a moment, but then the light came back.
“You just had to be snoopy, brother…” a stranger’s voice behind him said.
Jake tried to get to his feet, but when he moved the world seemed to pitch hard to the right, nearly making him tumble over. To keep his balance he stayed put. “Who are you?”
“Someone who just needed a place to stay. The widow is a good woman; she was easily persuaded to send her servants away and give me the run of the house when I threatened her servants’ lives.”
“Why?”
“Why not just find an inn like a normal person? You see, I’m on the run. A wanted man. As anyone who fought beside me is now. This house is more than just for me, you see. It’s a nice, private abode that we can all use when we regroup.”
“Regroup?”
“You are a very poor conversationalist, though I suppose the knot on the back of your head is to blame for that. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. Hydra will regroup here, as soon as we are able. I can’t let you live to tell anyone about that, of course. This sap is no match for your thick skull, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you bleed out after I stick a dagger between your ribs…”
Jake’s would-be killer had confidently stepped around to Jake’s right flank and drew his dagger before crouching down. It bought Jake an extra second -- a second to lunge at the man’s legs. He had not expected Jake to recover so quickly and was tackled into a rose bush. Thorns stung Jake’s arms, though the man trying to kill him was protected in leather armor and seemed unharmed. Unarmed, Jake knew his only chance was to get that dagger away from his attacker, so he climbed up the man’s body, reaching for his arms. He finally found the dagger when it was staring him in the face, but now Jake had a good grip on the man’s arm and was holding it back.
Jake only had two advantages, first surprise, and now being on top. Throwing his weight into the struggle for the dagger, Jake was able to nearly pin his assailant’s right arm before his left hand came up and cuffed him upside the head. The distraction allowed the assailant to get his knee up between them and used it to shove Jake back.
Both men were on their feet at the same time, but Jake had a weapon of his own now -- a wooden bucket of water that had been sitting next to him when he stumbled back. As his assailant rushed forward, he got a bucketful of water splashed in his face, blinding him for a moment. That was all the time Jake needed to bash the bucket over the man’s head hard enough to break the bucket. The leather skullcap on the man’s head protected him from serious harm, but he was still clearly rattled. And Jake was now weaponless -- the bucket was not supposed to break so fast! The rest of the bucket fell away and Jake was only clutching two pieces of wood he managed to grab before they fell.
Now Jake was using wooden sticks to block the dagger being swung at him, but luckily without any aim being put into it. The wild swings were meant to force Jake to back off, but when Jake caught the dagger, lodged in one of his wooden sticks, he was able to get in even closer and rush his shoulder into his opponent. The rose bush was still positioned behind him and was the perfect impediment to trip him. For the second time Jake’s assailant went down, only this time Jake started wailing on his exposed face with punches.
When Emeline peeked cautiously out the kitchen door, Jake had already subdued his opponent and was stripping the man’s hose off to use to bind him.
“O thank you, thank you!” Emeline exclaimed, as tears welled in her eyes. “It’s finally over!”
“It is…until more of them come.”
Interlude 4
Wealsun 11, 621 CYCity of Greyhawk
The Black Dragon Inn
On the table before them was a hand-drawn map on parchment of the layout of Castle Greyhawk. Draxus, as dramatic as ever, stabbed the map with a knife on the spot where the long building along the south end of the curtain wall stood.
“There. If they aren’t in the dungeon, they must be holed up there.”
Tiffy, the hobbit who drew the map, sighed. She had put a lot of work into that. “That was my conclusion, based on my reconnaissance. I couldn’t get inside, but it seems to be them.”
The six founding members of the Band of the Black Dragon stood or sat together in the back room of the inn. Private planning sessions had become their thing before each expedition.
“Do we have any idea what their numbers are like now?” Crato asked.
“Not at all,” Hobar, their magic-user, said. “We should assume they’ve had plenty of time to recruit from the bottomless well of the castle dungeons. Who knows what manner of creatures may have allied with them by now?”
“I agree, we’ve waited too long as it is,” Draxus said.
“I don’t think that was his point,” Logos countered. “We need to spend a week hiring more men-at-arms. We are primarily a party of clerics, but what we need are men experienced in siegecraft.”
“What if we combined forces with the Company of the White Oak?” Tiffy asked. “They probably know the castle better than we do.”
Draxus shook his head. “I think they finished off the ogres only to clear a path to the dungeons. They don’t seem that much interested in clearing the upper works, which leaves more for us.”
“Then it’s up to us,” Crato said. “If the gods favor our efforts, we will finally put an end to the Hydra Company.”
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