Les Ombres d'Esteren - Forum officiel

So this is going to be some sort of diary for my Esteren- Sword Trilogy-Cross over game. For those of you who do not know Tad Williams fantasy book trilogy “Memory, Sorrow and Thorn”, I highly recommend it for a good month’s read. You can get a good overview on the Wikipedia page for the series: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Memory,_Sorrow,_and_Thorn

If this is the wrong board area, will a moderator please shift it to the right board?

My take on the material in Esteren is as follows:
- The Feonda in the Aegerwin were led by the masked humanoids, who themselves were led by someone who called himself the Stormking. Only in defeating him and his five generals – who called themselves the Red Hand because of all the bloodshed they brought to the Osag – the ancient people and their Demorthèn were finally able to smash the lines of the Feonda, drive the big ones into the earth and strip the smaller ones of their ability to organize themselves.

- The Stormking though was so full of hatred, that he and his Red Hand did not die completely but switched into some state of unlife.

- The masked people, who have their home in the Asgeamar mountains (that’s why no one survives a trip there), had to swear never to set foot on the peninsula again. And with their numbers heavily diminished and their leaders defeated, they hid themselves in the mountains and did not observe development on the peninsula. Even today, they still think, the mighty Osag and their Demorthèn are the only people there.

- Erald MacAnsweald is very old and close to dying. He has two sons, one is Elias MacAnsweald, Duke of Dorm and known for being rude and ruthless. Elias is the heir to the throne. The other son is Josa MacAnsweald, who is Duke of Tulg. A thoughtful and often melancholic character who takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, but is also a very good and resourceful leader, who managed to make his dukedom revive after the war of the temple. Both brothers have a long-going feud and hate each others because Elias’ wife died while under protection of his brother. Josa himself lost his left hand in the ambush of the robbers who killed Elias’ wife. That’s why he is also called Prince Josa Lackhand.

- All noble gather in Osta-Baille to witness the death of the king and the coronation of his successor. Elias arrives with a Demorthèn in his entourage, who is in reality a Morcail, who dabbles in dark knowledge and occultism. This Morcail managed to pull the Stormking out of his century-long sleep and pledged his everything to him in exchange for knowledge and power. He convinced his master, Prince Elias, to make a pact with the Stormking and believe, the Stormking is working for him, while in fact it’s the other way around.

- So after the King’s death, Elias becomes king and terrorizes the land. He raises taxes in order to be able to finance his tournaments and luxurious lifestyle (and that of the hundreds of followers who gathered at court). Meanwhile he wages war against his brother and gives the Stormking and his newly awakened minions – the masked Feonda – room to wreak havoc on all lands of Tri-Kazel.

- But there are three swords which are not made of earthly materials, and these bear the power of defeating the Stormking once and for all. So these are essentially, what this game is about. Finding them, somehow combining them or make use of their powers, and ultimately defeat King Elias and his (even if he does not want to accept it) Master, the Stormking.

- The Sithi, which are some sort of elves in the books, are replaced by the Osag. In order to deliver their purpose, just a very old people is needed, and the wisdom can easily be given by the surviving Osag people and the really old Demorthèn. Actually, in my version, the knowledge of the great battle against the Stormking (which the Demorthèn/Osag won and as such marked the beginning of the end of the Aegerwin) was lost – just as the old rituals – and preserved only by the eldest of the Osag.

- The Norns, which in the books are a sister people to the Sithi and effectively comparable to dark elves, I replace with the masked Feonda. They are intelligent, malevolent beings who serve the Stormking with fierce loyaly, frightening quickness and the power of creating shrouds of darkness even in bright daylight.

I will make up more replacements/whatevers to serve my story in the future. For the time being, this is enough conversion to start gaming.

So my "troupe" was actually reduced to only my wife, since everyone else cancelled. I was pretty much pissed, but after a while we started to appreciat the intensity of this kind of gaming.

However, the story started at Tulg-Naomh, where the Varigal Artis was called to the Duke's seat on top of the hill to receive a message he is to deliver to the Demorthèn of his father, the King of Taol-Kaer. There are two other Varigals, and Josa Lackhand, gives each of the m the same message and sends them vie three different routes to Taol-Kaer's capital in order to raise the probability of his message to arrive there. He warns Artis, that "strange powers" might be interested in intercepting the messenger and steal the depeche. But fearless Artis accepts the task and makes off to Osta-Baille.

Her given route leads through the Sighing wood, via the Mistway and along the northern border of the Grey Bogs to Osta-Baille.

Somewhere in the Sighing woods, she encounter a Breithan of the Hilderin, who is just completing his Anró, his final test for becoming a full-blown Hilderin knight. Since the test does not specify how this challenge has to be made, they decide to accompany each other. A varigal can always use a good sword hand, and the young knight-to-be has real use of a guide, who is adept in the laws of nature and survival. And who knows his way around.

So Artis the Varigal and Haestan the Hilderin kinght-to-be, travel together south in order to reach the Mistway.

So far so good. As this point, my little son woke up and demanded his bottle. So next sunday we will continue (and decided to keep playing 1-on-1).

I see you modified many things compared to the original Shadows of Esteren canon! Not that I am blaming you; if it can make the game more interesting for you and your Player, then I'm all for it!

It's too bad that the other participants cancelled. The more, the merrier, after all! However, there is also promise in seeing how a 1 on 1 role-playing campaign may evolve. Never worked out great for me, but I'm eager to see what will become of fearless Artis!

You are welcome Ahab !
I love to sse how every game leader can twist Esteren and make his own world and game. Great !

And too bad for the cancellation, this is too bad, what happened ??

But 1 - 1 RPG is great too ! Hope you will enjoy

Hi! Very interesting adaptation of Tad Williams' saga!

It is also one of my favorite fantasy novel, and I'm really glad that somebody else seems to feel the same about those books.

I've also thought about another way of adaptation of the story (if others are interested by the concept...)



[SPOIL!!!!]



If I well remember, the "truth" was the following :

In the origins, the Sithis were the masters of Osten Ard (the Continent where the story happens) because they mastered magic. They had built cities, and lived in peace with the other races : like the human Hernistyri, the Quanuc or this race of magickal blacksmiths who know the secrets of creation of the three swords (I forgot the name).

Then came the Rimmersmen, who crossed the ocean from their (now) forgotten homeland. They came for conquest, and brought an ultimate weapon with them : Iron, which is deadly for a Sithi.

They defeated the alliance between the Hernistyri and the sithis, claimed Osten Ard, and built their kingdoms om the ruins of the sithis.

In this war, Ineluki was a sithi prince who felt hope for his people, when his parents the king and queen had it no more. This hope was brutally brocken when the main city of the sithis felt. Then the hope of Ineluki turned into hate, and he created a so powerful spell that it killed everyone in a large zone. He "died" in the operation, but his spirit survived thanks to his hate, and this "ghost" became the Stormking.

After that, the sithis decided to split in two "factions" : the sithis, who decided to live hidden from the eyes of the world in some magickal places, and the Norns, who decided to follow the path of vegeance, and Ineluki in some mountains.


[/SPOIL!!!]


So, for me a good adaptation of those book could also be :

- Aergewin = invasion of continentals, who fought against the Osag people, demorthèn and C'Maoghs (who were incarnate with physical body). The common tri-kazelians of today are a mix between those former continentals and some Osag people.

- Osag = Hernistyri

- C'Maoghs = Sithis

- Malevolent spirits, Dréin = Norns

- What was called feondas in the past : the enemy (continentals for the osag people, and C'maoghs for the continental invaders)

- What is actually called Feondas = creations of the Dréins (like the dogs of Stormpike or undeads in the books of Tad Williams)

Voilà, another perspective of adaptation of this wonderful story.

About your table, Ahab, I really hope that you'll be able to continue mastering such a wonderful adventure.

The Cycle of Memory, Sorrow and Thorn deserves it. And you and your players too...

PS : excuse my bad english...

Hi Arthus,

Thanks for the enlightenment. You have indeed some proposals here that might suit me better than my original replacements. But fortunately I have some time to think about it before it will become relevant for my game. Anyhow, like you said, it’s good to know that there are others out there who pay the MST trilogy the respect it deserves.

So, meanwhile, our little story went on, since we managed to get our little one into bed early and enjoy a four hours gaming session on Friday. This is what happened:

* * *

Together with the good-natured Haestan, Artis wandered through the Sighing Wood, with the slope leading to the Mistway as her next waypoint. Some three days after she met the Hilderin, she suddenly realized the wood became very quiet. Only the steps on the damp leaves on the ground and the rustling of the wind in the tops of the huge oak trees, but no bird singing, no woodpeckers, nothing. Of course Haestans ramblings, who didn’t notice anything odd at all and went on babbling. She hissed him quiet and drew her Francisca. He followed her example and produced his broadsword.

They were on a wide, depressed clearing in the midst of several large trees, and back to back they drew circles, observing the edges of the clearing. Suddenly a strange noise resounded, something between a hyenas cackling and the vibrating hiss of the Predator (from the movies). It gave Artis and Haestan the creeps, but they stood their ground and waited for the attack to come. More, the sound seemed to come from different directions!

So at first they thought it were more than one creature, but when the two of them decided not to wait any longer, the found traces which indicated, that it was only one creature, which circled them to generate the impression, it was several creatures. Pretty intelligent for a wild thing.

They went back to their route and headed east again. When night came, they settled on a larger clearing with a slight hill in the middle. Since Artis mused, that the Feond toyed with them to wait until darkness and therefore could probably see in the dark (or at least near dark), they decided to set up a fire, so at least they could see what’s coming.

And then it began. On the fringes, a pair of eyes reflected the fire shine. Or wait … two pair of eyes, but on one creature! Artis and Haestan drew their weapons and made ready for combat, but the creature continued to just unnerve them. It circled the clearing and let out its disturbing hyena cackling. Artis fired a flaming arrow in that direction and did get a glimpse of the beast: a hyena-wolf-creature with a long crocodile-like snout and – again very unsettling – two hind legs on each side. And of course two pairs of eyes. Shaking from the sight, both again decided they would not let the Feond choose the time of battle. So they made torches from the fire and headed east again, always vigilant.

About two hours later, they came to a ravine which ended in a steep ascending slope. The ground was muddy and covered with wet leaves, so they had to put their weapons away and climb with one hand, torch in the other. They almost made it to the upper edge, when the well-known cackling resounded from above, and the four gleaming eyes appeared over the edge. Clever thing … combat grounds well chosen, since they had to put away their blades.

The thing leapt at Haestan and managed to knock him over, his sword flying into the darkness of the woods. Since the Feond jumped across Artis, she had the opportunity to strike at the unprotected belly of the beast, and she used it. Well, tried to. She threw her Francisca at the thing, but the axe went scattering into the dark. The six-legged wolf-creature landed and turned around to face Artis. The thing was huge, shoulders almost five feet high. More out of defiance than with high hopes, Artis readied her Carath for battle. The creature rushed her, but Artis managed to dodge it narrowly. Again the creature attacked, and this time it knocked Artis over. She tumbled and collapsed. Waiting to be crushed by the beast’s giant fangs.

But much to her surprise, the beast did not finish her off, but instead leapt off into the woods. She looked down on herself, in utter disbelieve she was still alive. She was just about to sigh in relief, when she suddenly realized that her messenger bag was gone.

She screamed in surprise and frustration. First, because she wouldn’t have ever imagined a Feond to be that intelligent and canny, and second, because she just managed to grab a real important job with good payments and contacts to the big players, and now she lost it. Haestan, who had found his sword again, immediately proposed to go after the beast to retrieve the message. The still shaken Artis was, for the second, glad to have Haestan make the decision, and picked up her Francisca from the slope. Then, torches and weapons in hand, they followed the tracks of the beast through the night. Again.

Artis and Haestan found to their unsettling, that the Feond had drawn several loops and crossed two streams to cover its tracks. What animal was able to do that? Finally the tracks led straight to another clearing with a huge barrow cairn in the middle. Two crooked ash trees grew upon it, and several dorn bushes. The tracks led directly into the overgrown entry hole. They orbited the cairn and discovered the entry up front being the only one. Both being quite exhausted, they decided to take a quick rest, before venturing into the dark hole.

Then they entered the grave. The damp roots of the ash trees dangling into their necks, they ventured into a tight corridor which, in its construction centuries ago, was supported by stone beams. These huge chunks of stone bore ancient runes which striked Artis as very old Osag letters, but too withered to be recognized anymore. So they continued and came to a crossing. To the left and right they could see small rooms in the dim torch light, which contained the ancient graves of five people each, all just longish stone heaps. So they passed the crossing and went straight ahead, where the tracks also led.

A few yards further they entered a small chamber which was empty except a huge gaping hole in the ground. A natural slope seemed to be descending into a cave or something like that. Very rusty remnants of bronze shovels indicate that whoever erected this cairn broke through into an underground cave here. Artis and Haestan grabbed their weapons tighter and descended into the cave.

The slope led into a small, longish stalactite cave, which seemed to consist of two chambers. The first one was empty, except several stalactites and stalagmites, of course. But Artis almost immediately heard a strange whispering. But she sensed it more in her head instead of really hearing it. She asked Haestan about it, but again he didn’t seem to be … accessible enough to notice such subtle things. The whispering gave Artis the creeps because it sounded so strange and … not very benevolent.

They made to the small passage which connected the two chambers and peeped cautiously into the other space. There the creature sat. Like a domestic dog, panting and whimpering before a cloud-like pitch-black thing in the air in front of it which – in a very abstract way – resembled a face. Artis and Haestan were awestruck, their blood curdled, as this black mist somehow lighted the cave and also seemed to whisper at the Feond. What was going on here?!

Artis, though, quickly reverted to more pragmatic matters, when she discovered her messenger bag on the floor between the Feond and the mist face. She signaled Haestan, and the both drew their bows and readied arrows. On the count of three both let loose their arrows on the neck of the Feond. The face turned to them and hissed in cold fury. Its eyes bore into Artis’ head and dug right into the bottom of her soul. But the arrows were already launched. This is the nature of a surprise attack.

The two arrows burrowed into the head and neck of the Feond, but did not render it helpless. The creature howled in pain and fury, its bladed tongue thrashing around wildly. It rusehd at the two and quickly covered the distance between them. With a powerful push-off, the creature lunged at Artis, bore its blade-like tongue into her shoulder and nailed her to the cave wall. Being already severely hurt by the two well-placed arrows, the Feond also was not very agile anymore. Haestan made use of that and quickly let slip his bow and drew his sword. With a hard blow he hacked right through the upper and lower jaw of the creature and thus separated the tongue from its root. The Feond collapsed, twitched a little, and then lay still. With another furious hiss, the black face dissolved and vanished.

With not only a little disgust, Haestan wrapped the Feond’s loosely hanging tongue around his arm, gave it a firm pull and thus freed Artis. She immediately rushed to her bag and checked whether the message was still there with the seal unbroken. She found it to be so and finally sighed in relief.

After an undisclosed amount of time used for coping with what they just witnessed, Artis got up and looked around. Several heaps of bones were amassed in this chamber, and Artis managed to find some Daols and a calcium-crusted Gladius. She smashed the blade against a rock und thus freed the shining steel. The Gladius was still in a very good condition.

Finally she discovered a sarcophagus in a corner of the cave. It seemed as if the builders of this cairn had found the cave and decided it to be much more worthy as burial ground for whoever lay there in his (or her) eternal sleep. Artis was tempted to peek into the sarcophagus – all the more since it was covered in withered Osag runes as well – but she let go of that thought. The dead deserved their rest, and this one especially seemed to deserve respect. Otherwise others wouldn’t have taken such an effort to properly bury him.

Artis and Haestan went back into one of the smaller burial chambers of the cairn and rested there. Haestan took care of Artis’ wounds, but did not mention poisoning. It was only on the next morning he told her, that she was lucky not to have been poisoned, since most Feonds carry poison. She was aghast, but had healed a little.

But Artis also kept something from Haestan: she dreamt of the face. She was on a vast snow plain, with a huge mountain range in her back. A giant wheel rumbled down the slope, crashing everything in its wake, woods and villages alike. And finally it crushed her. And out of the dark of death that followed, two red gleaming eyes appeared. And the entity whispered: “Who are you, little human worm? Disturbing us? Come to us, we have use for you. We want to show you. Come to us, little worm. The world as you know it is about to change, and better off you would be to convert to the lord early. Do it now or be doomed, little worm. Come to us. We await you. In the north. In the north…”

Hardly rested, both leave the cairn and take up their voyage to the east again. Wondering about the strange events in the tomb, and who lay buried there. And Artis, still very much shaken, about what even darker events the future might hold for her. Of one thing, though, she was sure: a storm was brewing. In the north…

* * *

Maybe a little word to the system side of this session:

The first Mental Resistence roll, wenn the flaming arrow allowed a short and horrifying glimpse on the Feond, both of them managed without problems.

Good results in Natural Environment rolls had Artis and Haestan follow the twisted tracks of the Feond to the barrow cairn.

When they had tracked the Feond to its lair in the cave, another Mental Resistance roll was due because of the face in the black mist. Haestan managed the role, while Artis screwed up major and received her first permanent Trauma Point. I had her roll on the Scarring table, which brought up nightmares (which suited me perfectly, but more on that later).

Since they both successfully sneaked up to the Feond and it was distracted by the face, both could land one surprise attack (I decided to ignore Haestans metal armor here). And then the magic happened: both scored a critical hit. If you know a little of probability calculation, you know that the numerators of probabilities are multiplied when determining the probability of several dice bringing forth the same result. So the probability of a critical hit for one character is 1/10 x 1/10, which equals 1/100. If you now assume that both players are to hit critically, it’s 1/100 x 1/100, so it’s a probability of 1 in 1000 to reach that result, and I saw it happen.
Also, we use a hit zone die to better narrate the outcome of a hit. And we both (as he is an NPC, I roll for Haestan) scores head hits.

So two times the additional 5 hitpoints, and the Feond was nearly screwed. After that he managed to stamp his tongue through Artis’ shoulder, and Haestan scored another critical hit! We roll openly, so there’s no way of cheating on the dice. In all my 20 years of gaming, I never saw that happen. Not 3 crits in a row. So in the end it took 3 hits(!) to frag the darned huge dog.

So back to the nightmare: In the MST trilogy, dreams play an important role. They are the landscape where the ancient ones meet and communicate. So whenever Artis dreams (as she of course is nailed by fate to play an important role in these events … blablablayouknowthedrill), she receives some radio beacon from either the Osag (who, in my Esteren, are also able to walk the dream road) and the masked Feonda. So this roll result fits perfectly. From now on, Artis will suffer heavy dreams, which will of course strain her, but also be means of providing important bits of information.

Wow, good for them that they were so lucky! Otherwise, there could very easily have been a Hilderin knight and a Varigal on the menu for that Feond!

By the way, what would you have done should they have had the lower hand against the Feond? Would you have killed them? Made the Feond weaker to make it killable and allow the campaign to go on? Made Haestan make a last stand to allow Artis to escape?

I would definitely have had Haestan take his stand against the Feond, so that Artis could grab her bag and make a run. First, Haestan is an NPC who was introduced to ease Artis' start into adventure. Second, he is, well, a knight. Third, he is a Hilderin who exist to vanquish the threat from the Feonda. And fourth - what a magnificent showcase this would have made for my wife as a player: don't fuck with the wrong creature! Esteren is a harsh world, and if you get too brave, you will be smashed in no time.

Out of principle, I'm generally against NPCs being just there to support the PC's actions. Still, I cannot but agree that sometimes, you have to do what it takes to keep the PCs alive and the campaign running! Having Haestan fend off the Feond is probably what I would have done as well.

So, session 3 just took place. Here's what happened:

* * *

After a couple of days of wandering in the pouring rain, the leafed forest changes more and more into coniferous woods, as Artis and Haestan reach the foothills of the Mòr Roimh. The earth becomes more ragged and rock formations protrude from the ground.

Suddenly, they step out of the undergrowth and onto an old street, which leads from the north to the south east in direction of the Mistway. Although Artis is still shaken from the encounter with the Feond and the hovering black face with the gleaming red eyes, they decide to walk on the street to get along faster.

After a bend, a crooked house appears in front of them: two stories with a rackety shingle roof, ground floor masoned from cobblestone, top floor framework. They warily approach the building and discover it being abandoned. They search the building, which seems to once have been a wayside inn. The ground floor has a taproom, a kitchen, storage room and the living room of the innkeepers. A stony stairway leads up to the first floor where the guestrooms are. From there, a wooden ladder leads up to the attic, where heaps of old, moth-eaten stuff were stored. In the kitchen there’s a hatch which leads into the wine and coal cellar.

Artis and Haestan decide to make camp in the attic and block the hatch, so even if someone (or –thing) comes into the building at night, they’re relatively safe up there.

Sometime in the middle of the night, at Artis’ watch shift, something knocks at the hatch from below. She didn’t hear them coming whatever they are! She wakes Haestan, and together they peek through a hole in the outside wall. Under a crooked roof nearby they see three horses. From below the hatch they suddenly hear a muffled voice shouting “Ahh fuck the attic! What can be up there anyway…”

A couple of minutes later, the two creep down the ladder and sneak to the staircase. There they hear more voices. Some seem to be prisoners because they hear chains rattling and vicious ranting of some sort.

Haestan sneaks down the stairs to have a peek, but fucks up major. One of the prisoners – a especially pretentious guy who calls himself ‘Doctor Floyd’ – says to his captors: “Honorable knights, we seem to have company.” From the next room, knights burst into the tap room, and much to his relieve, Haestan discovers they are Hilderin knights. He immediately reveals his identity as a Breithan and calls Artis to come down.

As she sees the four prisoners, she does not feel better, even if there are now four knights. After they checked each other out and decided there’s no threat here, the knight introduce themselves: Aethelbarn, Hothgar and Brinn. They are bringing prisoners to an inguard close to the Mistway. These four are Two-Blade-Clovis – a mercenary, rapist and murderer (damdidam, no hidden intention here, promise) –, Doctor Floyd – an occultist who murdered several people for his dark rituals –, Sir Bregan from the Swamp – a robber knight from the Grey Bogs –, and an inconspicuous youth called Leto, who looks craziest of them all. Aethelbarn tells Artis, little Leto killed seventeen young women. All four are lucky that Taol-Kaer does not have enough men to work in the far away mines overlooked by the inguards. Usually they would have been executed on spot for their crimes, but it was decided that they have to work until death in the copper mines in the Mòr Roimh.

So they talk a little in the evening, and Artis learns from the knights, that old king Erald MacAnsweald is in his deathbed. Nobles and petitioners are rallying to Osta-Baille to witness the old king die and the new one being coronated. They want to pay their attendance to the new king and gain some favors. This, and the fact that Prince Josa’s message is directed to the old king’s Demorthèn, shed a whole new light on the urgency and shadiness of Artis’ mission. Since even Feonda tried to snatch the message from her, she starts thinking about the other two Varigals who were sent out by Josa. She plans on giving him some proper speech when she sees him next. One he will not forget.

In the night, Artis wakes up because she’s heard something. It’s all dark and quiet. A strange smell of copper is in the air. Blood, for sure. Artis takes her dagger and goes an all four. She inches her way through the kitchen, where there should be a Hilderin knight staying watch. But there is none. She crawls to where Haestan’s bedroll was. There she suddenly touches something wet and sticky, still warm. Haestan has been slaughtered! She surpresses a scream and desperately tries to keep calm. Shaking, she inches further into the room and discovers, that the other knights were also slaughtered and dismembered.

Sobbing and shaking, she enters the taproom, where the prisoners were chained to a supporting column. They also lie around in body parts. But only three corpses lie there, and as soon as Artis notices who must be the killer, the front door of the taproom bursts open, and little Leto stands in the door. In one hand he clutches a blood-dripping knife, pointing at her with the other hand, a wicked grin on his face.

“Did you think, you could escape HIM? HE will come and rearrange the world as we know it. Only if you join his cause, you will find your place in the new world order.” He closes in on the petrified Artis, waving his bloody blade like a magic wand. “And you have to reveal yourself as his follower by having your visage prepared. This is what I am here for. I only let myself be captured so I can prepare your visage for the Stormking.”

Now he has reached Artis, raises his left hand, and clutches her face tight while the point of the blade paints a thin red snake on her cheekbone. She is still unable to move.

“So let’s begin then”, Leto says and slashes the knife through Artis’ face.

Artis wakes up. She immediately raises panting and, much to her relief, sees Haestan and the other Hilderin knights lying around in the kitchen. A small fire still burns in the kitchen’s fireplace.
She stands up and wakes Haestan, because she does not want to lose any time and get the hell away from this place. A little bewildered, Haestan approves, and they pack their stuff together. The Hilderin knights wonder as well, but do not pressure Artis to explain herself.

As they step out of the kitchen and into the taproom, Leto’s lunatic eyes are on Artis. He smiles wickedly and asks her: “Had pleasant dreams, little flower? HE will come and he wants you to be his!”

While Aethelbarn kicks Leto in the leg and snubs him to shup the fuck up, Artis keeps her eyes down and hurries out of the inn. There they say a quick goodbye to the Hilderin knights and leave into the woods again.

With fresh supplies and chased by nightly ghosts, they venture farther into the Mòr Roimh, and ever closer to the Mistway.

* * *

My plan to shock my wife with the dream went perfectly well. Although it's quite a common means, she did not notice or expect it to be a dream at all.