Private Tales Through the Wailing Wood

[Garrett]

Garrett came to a sudden halt on the trail he marched upon, the sound of distant voices echoing around him within the forest. When he closed his eyes he could smell cooked meat, burning fires, and... shit. He lifted his boot and looked at its underside, a now unpleasant brown smear across the entire sole.

"Great." Mumbled the Stalker of Liadain as he soldiered on. His trip to these woods had so far been about as troublesome as he expected, as the rumored town of Hallenrul was said to be surrounded by a wood of vampires, demons, undead, brigands, and other unspeakable horrors. Only a day into the low-grown, dark forest did he get attacked in the night and have his destrier surrounded and spooked.

So it was that he made this distance on foot; two days and one eve of travel.

He had to be close by now, no? For the smells he had noticed were that of society -- save for perhaps the stench of feces. Was it an animals? Or a humans?

The man continuing his journey down the lone path did not know, nor care. Feces was likely one of the more preferable things that would periodically end up on his person. When one spent a lifetime of wandering Liadain in search of magical artifacts, nercromancers, and other elements of the arcane, they often made off much worse than with a small shit stain.

That's why he had come all this way though, this Stalker of Liadain. He had only heard a vague mention of Hallenrul when he'd passed by a caravan traveling south from Elbion. Though, it had been no light rumor that bid Garrett to investigate, no, it had been that of a gryphon.

Mythical eagle-headed creatures with magnificent feathers and tremendous strength. To pass up on such a rumor would likely see Garrett personally removed from his order, and that meant death. Being a Stalker of Liadain was a commitment for life afterall.

As his thoughts continued to race, Garrett neglected to notice the thinning of the woods around him. Only when he passed a barbed fence did he come to yet another dumbfounded halt. This journey was really getting the better of his awareness.

He shook his head and continued, only stopping again at the sight of a townsman filling a bucket in the river. "What settlement have I arrived at?" Garrett called out to him, his voice stern and distinct against the song of running water.

It was clear this was a settlement of some kind; a village more than likely. Smoke plumes rose over a number of thatch and stone homes, and a respectful populace meandered through their morning routines. With the fear of brigands about, Garrett could easily instill a level of fear; though his use of dialogue and appearance in fine armor, a wolf pelt draped over one shoulder, would hopefully dispel the stigma.

​

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

The man at the river was of younger, strong stock. Early into his adulthood, judging by the faint whiskers marking the growth of his beard. The rush of water over stones at his feet had masked the sounds of the stranger's arrival, causing the man to startle at the sudden voice at his back. With a blink and a wipe of his forearm over his brow, he looked up to spy a person beset by full plate armor, the rays of light through the wooded canopy pinging off the metal.

Not another of Hoitentoff's cronies, he hoped with a frown. Couldn't be - they knew what village this was. Someone else, then.

"Hallenrul," replied the man, a gaze of brown glancing off down the dirt road upon which the stranger traveled, "ye done pass the sign about a mile back. Easy to miss, I suppose. Been meaning to clean the vines off it..."

With a grunt the basin of water was hefted to his front and walked up the riverbed until he reached the dry shore where he set it down to take a second gander at the armored man, "Are ye lost, Sir?"

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

The more fine details of the young adult's features were difficult to perceive through the slits of Garret's steel helm, but he regarded him all the same. "No," the stalker called out, "I am just where I need to be." With nothing more he wrapped his fingers around the hilt the heavy sword at his side and stepped forwards.

His right hand had also rested idly upon a weapon, more specifically the head of a fine war axe. Garrett was certainly an imposing, if not threatening, figure to see marching in one's direction. Though, his proceeding tone made him seem a small bit more approachable.

"I have come at the request of a mage in Elbion to seek out the gryphon that watches over this village." Garrett had explained, now standing in the bank of the river. He was not very far from the simple townsman. "And furthermore to investigate your woods and the dangers they harbor."

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

There was a certain sense of wariness to be said about the man's stance. Weren't often they saw men in full armor like this and when they did ... well, generally they were here to cause trouble. He frowned - seemed to be quite a stir of people from Elbion lately regarding the gryphon. Made him wonder if someone had put out a price on her head. Was this a bounty hunter?

He wasn't want to put the gryphon in any danger.

"What you seekin' out the gryphon for?" a question of suspicion that didn't mask itself well.

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

"I seek an audience." Garrett answered. He could feel the uneasiness about the simple fellow before him; the alteration of his tone. It was too forceful.

He rolled his shoulders, the soft wrap of his plating against itself filling the area nearby. Perhaps Garrett should try a different approach. "I am a Stalker of Liadain," he explained, "I was sent here by a mage in Elbion to aid you. Not only that, but to seek out the gryphon. You can understand the reasons why, no?"

How long would he have to bare questioning before he would be led into the village limits?

"I am not a brigand." Garrett assured. "I will aid your village. But I also have my own agenda."

 

[Velaeri]

"Don't know nothing 'bout no Stalkers," said the man plainly, brows lifted at the sound of metal clattering against metal, "you might ask after the town elder, Rawn Claygen. He'll be up 'ere likely at the farmstead just up the road on'a left," he gestured the general direction. Wouldn't be hard to find, there was only one road to follow.

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

The stalker peered long ahead down the path through town. He spotted where he believed the man was gesturing towards and made a mental note.

"Right." Garrett said, the dark slits of his helmet turning to rest on the man once more. "If you see something within the wood, call for the stalker." He nodded and pivoted on a heel toward town.

As of now a cloud had drawn up over the sun, and for a moment Garrett's armor no longer held a glistening reflection of it's rays. He was grateful for that, as who truly wanted to be spotted from a mile away? Garrett certainly did not want an entire town's worth of eyes scrutinizing every dent in his plate.

It had only been a short distance traveled, a few steps over a small stone bridge, and under a large archway, before he reached the true life of Hallenrul. Life here had seemed calm, and the local populace was nothing overly active. They carried out their daily ritual with an apparent meander.

Perhaps the state of things had shrouded the village with a sense of despair, much like the cloud that had drawn over the sun only moments ago.

"Rawn Claygen!" Called the stalker as he stood only a few meters from the farmstead.

Hopefully the man was home.

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

"Well isn't that a fancy looking spear..."

On the farmstead off the edge of the road on, just south of the outer limits of Hallenrul, the great golden gryphon sat in the shade of a large stone barn. Somewhere off in a paddock a massive woven basket large enough to stall two large horses lingered in the waning sunlight. That was where Rawn stood, pulling spears out of the basket. There were holes needing mended and several of the ropes braided around the edges had been cut loose. All in all, it looked worse for wear.

Rawn examined the spearhead, noting the strange sheen to the metal, "Looks like it's been poisoned. Yeh sure nothing nicked yeh?"

The gryphon gently shook its head, ruffled white feathers catching in a faint breeze. She looked unscathed, for the most part.

"Southern swamplands ... never been quite so far as Belagost-"

"Rawn Claygen!" an unfamiliar voice boomed from the far side of the barn, blocking the owner from sight.

Rawn tipped a brow up, giving his great beastly companion a side-eye, "Don' get bothered, Milady. Yeh been through enough for one fortnight." Leaning the spear against the paddock fence, he exited through a gate and stepped around the barn to look after the person who called.

"That's a good bellow you got on yeh there, stranger," the man said when he found Garrett standing just off the road, "what can I do yeh for?"

 

[Garrett]

As the man he was searching for came into sight, Garrett marched his way towards him and only halted a foot's distance away. He sized the man from toe to top; the elder that was Rawn Claygen. For a man holding such a position, Rawn certainly looked the part. Just as well-suited to him was his rather kind approach in dialogue.

"It pays to project one's voice," Garrett answered dryly, as though he did not want to entertain the subject for long. "I have been sent here to seek out the gryphon that prides this territory as it's protector, and to rid your wood of the evils that lurk."

The large brutish man, standing a head or more taller above Rawn, turned and panned his scrutinizing gaze over the nearest buildings. "Well?" He asked as his helmet slits returned to Rawn. "What do you know of the gryphon?"

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

Rawn chuckled, another gryphon hunter?

"She's a popular gal, seems," said the man, pulling a pipe out of his vest pocket and tipping it out, "lots of folks coming 'round here lately looking for her." He moved to sit on a flat rock nearby, pulling out a tin of smoking tobac and carefully packing it into his pipe, "This village has been under the protection of the gryphon for as long as I can remember."

Judging by the white of his hair, it must have been quite a long time.

"Flies through here every fortnight or so and stays over to rest, find a meal, and then she's off on her way. Sometimes she brings trade goods, sometimes she fends off the spooks and brigands on the road and in the wood. Who are we to tell a gryphon like her what to do, hm?"

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

"Townsfolk." Garrett answered flatly. His visor followed the man to his new seat with utter blankness. That was the nature of all helmets, no? A face of steel lacking all that made a face well... a face.

His arm-plating emitted that low clatter once again as Garrett rolled his arms out before him. The action had bid his muscles to tense and flex, therefore causing the sudden noise. "I find it interesting this gryphon selected this remote settlement to protect. Were you but a boy on the day of her arrival?"

It was clear the stalker was interested in the nature of the gryphon's repeated visits. Furthermore, the question was: Why here?

"And of the spooks in the wood, what can you tell me about them?"

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

"I was a young man just wed, expecting his first child the day she arrived. Blew in on a beastly storm, soaked to the claw and exhausted. Don't reckon she quite knew where she was - just as well, most folk that end up here don't know where they are."

Hallenrul wasn't marked on major maps for various reasons, Rawn liked to think it was due to the fact that no one really knew about the place. Not that there was any reason to ... or at least there hadn't been until the gryphon started showing up.

"As for the spooks, we've always had them. Used to be we had a mage here, many years ago. The original elder of Hallenrul, my grandfather. He'd set up all manner of magical defenses to protect us, but those have long since faded since his passing. Now we rely on Baron Hoitentoff's men from Illbridge, but that's a good few hours ride from here and we're not rich folk that can pay for sellswords. The good Baron doesn't often care to send his men when the call for help goes out."

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

Garrett chewed on his tongue in thought. There was already beginning to be more to his secluded village than he'd originally imagined. With the mentions of an old mage elder, his interests found new peaks. "This Baron... Hoitentoff, I've yet to encounter the man or his men. What of his barony? What can you tell me of him?"

While his words took to the the ever-shrinking space between the two men, the stalker stepped off to the side to peer long at the barn from which Rawn had emerged. What was in there...?

"And this gryphon..." Garrett began again, helmet slits locking to Rawn as they had before. "Should I clear your wood, would I earn an audience?"

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

"Mm," Rawn wasn't the type to speak ill of others when the ocassion didn't call for it, but that made it difficult to speak of Hoitentoff in general.

"He's like most Barons I suspect - eager to spread his domain and collect what he can from the simple folk. Not so eager to share. Got it out for the gryphon, we stopped paying him our taxes when he never held up his end of the bargain. The gryphon protects us now."

The man's gaze traveled the wooded road stretching behind the stranger, watching as a procession of hunters lead by his eldest son walked their way in from the south, carrying what looked to be a young buck. Well that was good news.

"I can't speak for the Lady," said the man to the stranger's last question, "she does as she pleases, and right well she should. She's not a tame gryphon."

Garrett

 

[Garrett]

"Then she can decide for herself if I am worthy of audience. I will seek out that which troubles you most, and see to it is handled." Garret finally decided. He was sent here with a task; find the gryphon. Perhaps acting upon what good may lie within his heart to aid these people would snuff out the gryphon's interest.

"Whether it be a Baron's hounding army, or a forest of unspoken evils. You name the task, name the problem, and I will solve it on your behalf."

Unlike the mysterious and illusive gryphon, the stalker most surely spoke for himself in this regard. He seemed to tense up, posture locking tight, fists clenching. Though, this was his intent coming to pass.

He would not leave without first meeting this gryphon.

"Fair?"

Velaeri

 

[Velaeri]

"Far be it from me to stop ye," Rawn held up his hands, relenting any sort of control of the situation he may have displayed.

"Hoitentoff's men came through here just a week ago. I don't suspect they'll be back for some time with the tax fee I sent them home with. Had a run-in with the shades of the wood on their way for good measure I heard, but those come and go with the moon. If you really wish to help the town out, we've had something picking off our herds on the norther valley slope. We know it's not the gryphon - she takes only what we give her, that was the deal. It's something else ... something big 'nuff to take one of our steers on its own."

Rawn rubbed at his beard and gave a nod, "Aye, yes, I think that would be the most helpful."

Garrett