Tales of Dark Folkwise

Eloi had traveled through most of the lands occupied by man, and every place he had been had their own local folkwise. Most of these ventured into dark territory, often literally.There was always that one hill that people didn’t go up after dark. There was always some place that was colder than the lands around it. There was always something that lived in the woods that there were customs on how to avoid. These were tales on the dangers that existed and how to avoid or at least mitigate them.

In Capacionne, there was no exception. Travellers hurried past crossroads at night and knew that if you were addressed by somebody familiar that called you to wait in the middle, it was not them. The traveller would apologise and continue forward and wait till what was considered a safe distance away to see if they were still being addressed. Above all, when experiencing something unknown or possibly supernatural, it was important to be polite and pretend nothing was out of the normal. Then, never to speak of it again to anybody except perhaps you priest. To talk about such things publically was ….unwise. Similarly, farmers, gardners, and even woodsmen would address the plants they were to cut or disturb, either to apologize or thank them. A lack of respect never gained any friends and a kind or flattering word might put an enemy off just long enough to escape.

Rogalia was a nation that still had respect for the night. The vampire lords were gone, but many of their servants still exist. Never go into the woods at night to investigate the strange lights. If you live away from a town or village, you don’t look out of the windows into the dark. Just don’t. Even if there are strange noises, you might think it is animals, but it’s not. If you have to investigate, go to the door and open it boldly with a lantern and weapon in hand. Whatever it is seems not too keen on being confronted. They flee, …usually. People know that there are packs of wolves that will hunt lone travelers which not only are able to speak but will know the traveller’s name. Do not run or they will sense weakness and tear you apart. Do not listen, because their words are more dangerous than their claws. Sometimes eyes will peer out of the woods. Not the eyes of an animal reflecting a lantern’s light, but those that glow like hot coals of a dying fire. It is best that you make it to a spot with light and other people, as if you keep watching for them, they will be moving closer to you when you are not looking at them.

Dunland is no different. As it gets late in the pubs, and the Rogalians are gone and it is nothing but locals, you can hear things only spoken in whispers. There’s a road through the woods that you do not take, even in the day. There is that cold feeling you get in that one place. There is a deep understanding that something exists out in the moors that is older than man, that doesn’t care about us particularly, but is more than willing to kick us in the slats as let us pass unmolested. Those that are more drunk will tell of things that stand like a man but run on all fours, at least till they figure they have spoken too much and will refuse to talk any more. Every pub has their own methods of avoiding trouble if one must venture into the moors at night. Most involve some form of tribute or distractions such as beer poured into a hole dug in the ground or an offering of small cakes left on a rock, but these are all closely guarded secrets. Many Rennets disappear in Dunland and not as many are due to the Dunns as the Rogalians think.

The Shariqyn have their own stable of tales of monsters that inhabit the desert and the night. Witches with tangled hair that will steal children that wander away from a caravan or perhaps cause a man to wander away from his camp and deeper into the desert. Ghosts that demand hospitality. Birds that will mimic the whistling of a nightguard, and even other sounds including speech. Caves filled with treasure that will curse anyone that takes some. So many there could be books filled with such tales. Most of these seem like the standard assortment of cautionary and morality tales told to children. Then you see the fear of a mother who can’t find their child at night, or how the old men will grow quiet and alert when they hear and owl far from any trees.

Gotha, the seat of the Throne, has their own tales and customs. The woods are dark and ancient and filled with things that are also dark and ancient. When traveling through deep woods, make sure to keep track of everybody in the group and know them all by face. It’s a game to them and they like to insert themselves into the group and just observe before they strike. It’s said that the dower demeanor of the Gothic is because there are Things that laughter summons best not met. Even in Holy Lethia, there are cellar doors that are always locked from sundown to sunrise, rooms that shouldn’t be entered, and alleys to be avoided. These are always done on the orders of a priest, or so people say.

The Hestrali have their own collection of wisdom that seems to deal mostly with lovers or eating and drinking. If you have been pursuing a person who has rebuffed your advances, yet you meet them alone at night by the sea wanting to swim, just don’t. It’s not them. When serving meals at a table, never have an empty seat. Invite somebody, put something in it, or just move the chair. An empty seat is an invitation. So is a full glass nobody has claimed.

The Njords know that no matter which god you worship, you do not bother the large stone in the middle of the field or that old tree. If you do, bad things will happen as the fea and elves still have their places of power. There is always some idiot that will decide to chop down THAT tree, and you will see the bravest warrior decide they should not be a part of what is going on. Older njords will just say “Those poor fuckers. They’re doomed.” In some of the farming villages built recently, an important person will have some rock that was cleared away dug back up from the rubbish pile and put back in place. The most impossible things have been happening to sabotage the village production, and only replacing the rock makes things return to normal.

Folkwise

Eloi had traveled through most of the lands occupied by man, and every place he had been had their own local folkwise. Most of these ventured into dark territory, often literally.There was always that one hill that people didn’t go up after dark. There was always some place that was colder than the lands around it. There was always something that lived in the woods that there were customs on how to avoid. These were tales on the dangers that existed and how to avoid or at least mitigate them.

In Capacionne, there was no exception. Travellers hurried past crossroads at night and knew that if you were addressed by somebody familiar that called you to wait in the middle, it was not them. The traveller would apologise and continue forward and wait till what was considered a safe distance away to see if they were still being addressed. Above all, when experiencing something unknown or possibly supernatural, it was important to be polite and pretend nothing was out of the normal. Then, never to speak of it again to anybody except perhaps you priest. To talk about such things publically was ….unwise. Similarly, farmers, gardners, and even woodsmen would address the plants they were to cut or disturb, either to apologize or thank them. A lack of respect never gained any friends and a kind or flattering word might put an enemy off just long enough to escape.

Rogalia was a nation that still had respect for the night. The vampire lords were gone, but many of their servants still exist. Never go into the woods at night to investigate the strange lights. If you live away from a town or village, you don’t look out of the windows into the dark. Just don’t. Even if there are strange noises, you might think it is animals, but it’s not. If you have to investigate, go to the door and open it boldly with a lantern and weapon in hand. Whatever it is seems not too keen on being confronted. They flee, …usually. People know that there are packs of wolves that will hunt lone travelers which not only are able to speak but will know the traveller’s name. Do not run or they will sense weakness and tear you apart. Do not listen, because their words are more dangerous than their claws. Sometimes eyes will peer out of the woods. Not the eyes of an animal reflecting a lantern’s light, but those that glow like hot coals of a dying fire. It is best that you make it to a spot with light and other people, as if you keep watching for them, they will be moving closer to you when you are not looking at them.

Dunland is no different. As it gets late in the pubs, and the Rogalians are gone and it is nothing but locals, you can hear things only spoken in whispers. There’s a road through the woods that you do not take, even in the day. There is that cold feeling you get in that one place. There is a deep understanding that something exists out in the moors that is older than man, that doesn’t care about us particularly, but is more than willing to kick us in the slats as let us pass unmolested. Those that are more drunk will tell of things that stand like a man but run on all fours, at least till they figure they have spoken too much and will refuse to talk any more. Every pub has their own methods of avoiding trouble if one must venture into the moors at night. Most involve some form of tribute or distractions such as beer poured into a hole dug in the ground or an offering of small cakes left on a rock, but these are all closely guarded secrets. Many Rennets disappear in Dunland and not as many are due to the Dunns as the Rogalians think.

The Shariqyn have their own stable of tales of monsters that inhabit the desert and the night. Witches with tangled hair that will steal children that wander away from a caravan or perhaps cause a man to wander away from his camp and deeper into the desert. Ghosts that demand hospitality. Birds that will mimic the whistling of a nightguard, and even other sounds including speech. Caves filled with treasure that will curse anyone that takes some. So many there could be books filled with such tales. Most of these seem like the standard assortment of cautionary and morality tales told to children. Then you see the fear of a mother who can’t find their child at night, or how the old men will grow quiet and alert when they hear and owl far from any trees.

Gotha, the seat of the Throne, has their own tales and customs. The woods are dark and ancient and filled with things that are also dark and ancient. When traveling through deep woods, make sure to keep track of everybody in the group and know them all by face. It’s a game to them and they like to insert themselves into the group and just observe before they strike. It’s said that the dower demeanor of the Gothic is because there are Things that laughter summons best not met. Even in Holy Lethia, there are cellar doors that are always locked from sundown to sunrise, rooms that shouldn’t be entered, and alleys to be avoided. These are always done on the orders of a priest, or so people say.

The Hestrali have their own collection of wisdom that seems to deal mostly with lovers or eating and drinking. If you have been pursuing a person who has rebuffed your advances, yet you meet them alone at night by the sea wanting to swim, just don’t. It’s not them. When serving meals at a table, never have an empty seat. Invite somebody, put something in it, or just move the chair. An empty seat is an invitation. So is a full glass nobody has claimed.

The Njords know that no matter which god you worship, you do not bother the large stone in the middle of the field or that old tree. If you do, bad things will happen as the fea and elves still have their places of power. There is always some idiot that will decide to chop down THAT tree, and you will see the bravest warrior decide they should not be a part of what is going on. Older njords will just say “Those poor fuckers. They’re doomed.” In some of the farming villages built recently, an important person will have some rock that was cleared away dug back up from the rubbish pile and put back in place. The most impossible things have been happening to sabotage the village production, and only replacing the rock makes things return to normal.

Notes from Monster Hunter Meeting

Monster Hunter Meeting
Winter 405
Father Ansel presiding

Discussions

Reasons for Meeting
-gathering knowledge on monsters
-storing knowledge
-teaching knowledge
-using knowledge
-not everybody will do all of these

Karsa
-Family was monster hunters in the past and is supposed to have a hidden library full of knowledge and weapons that could be found
-Would require a distant trip by those willing to try and retereive them

Rogalian Family
-There is a Rogalian family that is dedicated to using mechanisms for fighting monsters

Sha’Ra
-Those with contacts in the Shariqyn Empire or with the Carvansarai should check to see if they can bring in books with lore on monsters to Stragosa

Aid with gathering lore
-seeking people willing to draw monsters
-seeking people to aid in direction and study of corpses

Monster Types

Werewolves
-Cursed by Vecatran
-can only be kept down with silver
-using a silver coin inserted into a wound on a downed werewolf will keep it from raising
-curse can be cured

Vampires
-there are true vampires and vampire spawn
-true vampires cannot be killed

Ghouls

Specific Monsters

Banshee
-tall as a house
-screams, rarely talks
-left over from the time of the witch kings
-Shariqyn origin, or at least referenced in Shariqyn legends
*Malific of a witch called R_____ N_____ (name should not be spoken lightly)
*Stragosa is her death place
*killed the Lazarine that was controlling her in Stragosa

Butcher
-Night Malific
-has horns like a ram
-Woman that was caught in the Church district who ran butcher shop but in time of starvation fed her children human flesh, but was thrown on a fire by her neighbors who also survived and killed when district was freed
-wants food, but do not give it to her
-named Selena
-will threaten but if not threatened back or run from, she will not attack
-if you threaten or run, she will see you as a threat or prey to attack
-if downed in combat, she will disappear and reappear later
-talk to her as if she was human

Bear Spirit
-Vacatran
-has sword
*Can be lulled to pacivity with lullabies
*once passive, food can be thrown down and it will deal with food while you can flee
*it has been pacified and is no longer a threat

Twins
-girls giving flowers in the day
-will come at night and want to play, but games will be dangerous, possibly include stabbing you
-if downed, they will turn to ash and reform later

Meri Lyw
-not heritical to deal with
-Tall ghostly figure with horse skull for a head
-appears in winter
-will laugh and sing
-sing or rhyme to it
-if you win, it will bless you
-if you offend it, it will enter your abode and drink all your liquor and eat all your food

This City Reaps More Than It Sows

The Reaper Festival is over. It certainly feels like things have been reaped. This city of Stragosa reaps more than it sows. More have died this forum. Some tales of those hunting herbs in the forest to a bear spirit wielding a sword, and the personal troubles of the air mage Balthazar which claimed his wife and later himself. Some of the deceased were brought back on the Miracle, perhaps the most important of the reasons this city draws people into its maw, but not all. It never brings back all of the people that venture here and die. This city reaps more than it sows.

Even getting here had reaped the group I started out as part of in Capacione. Having just come from my adventures in Sha’ra, it seemed natural to return to my home country and investigate the court. The trade goods I brought back from the Shariqyn Empire were sold for the money for the proper clothes and proper introductions and my contacts and the spices they provided made me useful in hosting feasts. I gravitated into the entourage of Lady Gale of Rogalia. Lady gale’s entourage was was abit more intellectual than the others, or at least she was, and I was drawn into it. Then, she was called back to Rogalia by her father. She lost many of her entourage then. Locals who had no interest of investiture in following her to Rogalia. It made sense enough for me to venture along as I was as well acquainted with Rogalia as with my home, Capacionne. There, when it became evident that her next destination would be Stragosa, even the Rogalians left. Our party consisted of Just her, her governess, Ramsey, myself, and a few servants. Now, Ramsey and our servants have hopefully left us without saying goodbye. The other option is that they have disappeared like so many others in Stragosa, never to be seen again. This city reaps more than it sows.

Upon arrival to Stragosa, I was reunited with my old childhood friend, Jean-Duquesne. He and I had grown up together and followed similar paths even to the point of arriving here in this city. We had always been interested in the same things and even took up the same vocations. His family was poor enough that we met due to him stealing sausages so he could eat while mine was a merchant family well off enough to send their youngest son to the Rogalian university. Now I find him in Stragosa and he was the Master of our profession, a Master of a guild, and in possibly even better fortunes than myself. It was good to see him as such. It has been almost a year since I had said goodbye to him when an ill storm moved into the Stragosa valley. The valley filled with the snow and ice that I traveled through a week later to his house. I found the dogs near starved but still alive in the kennels. In his abode, I found his possessions still there, a table set with the food he spoke of cooking after we parted that was never eaten, a fireplace with nothing but cold ash, yet no Jean-Duquesne and no tracks through the snow coming or going or even signs the doors or windows had been opened. It has been a year, and there has been no sighting of him still. This city reaps more than it sows.

So far, both Alexandra’s fortunes and my own seem to have prospered. She is a District Magistrate and I am a Master of my trade and member of the city government. Things seem to be looking up for both of us. However, if Alexandra were to disappear from Stragosa one day, what would I do? Would I flee this wretched city, finally free of it anything that would hold me here. Would I search the Throne to find her and make sure she is still safe and not the victim of some Rogalian plot? Or would I stay till I or it disappears, trying to convince myself that she deserted me here without a word and that this city does not reap more than it sows?