The Yule Log RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Mara and other curious guests at the Green Man milled about the reindeer and sledge, discussing the condition of the halters, furs, tack, and sledge itself, trying to read any indications as to what might have happened to Wenda. Most of the animals scuttled, fluttered, and skulked just out of reach of the humans. The dogs and cats trotted in and out between the legs of the humans, trying to make what they could of the smells, look, and sounds of things.

It was well past mid-morning when there came a strange sound from the nearby woods. The two reindeer started and looked wide-eyed for where the noise came from, then began to make the same sound themselves, filled with panic. Another reindeer broke out from the last outreachers of trees and ran full tilt toward the sledge. The humans backed away so as not to be in its path. It was going to crash into the two reindeer and sledge, but suddenly came to a stop not a pace from them. Its eyes were wide with fear. It nosed about in the furs, as if looking for something, or perhaps as if it was trying to hide amongst them; for it burrowed unsuccessfully into them, tripping over the sledge as it struggled. Finally it collapsed.

Then a gasp went up from the crowd. Before their eyes the new reindeer lost its fur. Its snout and horns receded. Its forelegs thickened and grew fingers where hooves had been. Its rear legs changed from hock to hip, the distance from ankle to hoof shrinking until they were human feet.

"Wenda!" Mara cried. She ran forward and helped Wenda cover herself in her furs. "What happened? Are you all right? What turned you into a reindeer?"

"Help me!" Wenda muttered. "It's hunting me! It's coming! It's coming!" She looked about herself wildly.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Where were those two-leggeds? The ones they had seen last night who could speak the tongue of the old ones.... Maybe they would be able to help.

The Great Owl flew up to the top branch of the oak and settled in, sounding out a warning to let the other creatures know that they must remain within the fence and not venture outside where shadows could be lurking. The Owl had no idea of what the hideous thing must be that had made the shapeshifter shriek in terror. Such beings had great and mysterious powers, a gift that nature had given to them. If the hideous shadow had made even the shapeshifter cower, how much more could that thing do to the birds and beasts who lived within the forest realm and on the wide adjoining plain?

Owl swooped down to sit on the fencepost to try and hear what was going on among the two-leggeds. Before he could make out anything of meaning in the babble of voices, he was surprised to see a large furry cat approaching him, the one from the night before who had recited the tale with such impudence and called himself Tevildo. The smugness was gone from Tevildo's face and, in its place, was a look of worry.

[Envinyatar]

It was the wren that pried them from their chairs. Stamo was drowsing, his chair tipped back against the table, his stockinged feet resting on a stool. A precarious perch at best as it turned out, as the little bird fluttered down on the man’s hair and began pulling at it. And all the while screeching, ‘Get up! Get up! Danger is near.’

Stamo’s eyes flew open and his arms windmilled in an effort to keep himself from falling backward as the table scooted backward from his sudden movements. With a yell, and launching his torso forward, he managed to right his chair.

‘Now what’s all this about danger,’ he growled, staring at the bird who had lit on the mantelpiece and was screeching.

Mori was already on his feet, his staff in hand. He nudged Stamo’s boots toward him and called to the bird. ‘Hush now! We’re going out.’ He reached out his long fingers and grasped the wren, placing him firmly on his shoulder. He picked up the grey shawl that hung on the back on Goody’s chair and placed it gently round her shoulders. ‘You mind the fire, Mistress. And we’ll mind to this.’

The little wren could not sit still, but flew before them, calling to the other animals as he went. When the two men entered the courtyard, they saw Mara comforting Wenda, and the animals huddling close in, inside the Inn’s fence. Stamo stepped back to hold open the door.

‘Bring her in,’ he urged Mara. ‘By the fire.’ He followed after ordering something hot for her to drinks. Broth and spirits – one for the body, the other to steady her nerves. He put his own thick cloak about her for extra warmth.

‘What can you tell us, Wenda?’ he asked her gently as she sipped from a steaming mug.

--------

Mori stood in the courtyard with the animals. The reindeer were still trembling, but it looked as if several of the Green Man’s workers were taking them in hand. Tevildo, he noted, was sidling up toward where the white owl was perched. Not with the intent of attacking him, it seemed, for there was an expression of deep worry on the feline’s face.

‘What do you know of this, Tevildo,’ the man asked, tapping his staff lightly on the frozen ground. ‘What attacked her? What does it want?’

We cannot help if we do not know what it is that approaches . . . he murmured quietly to himself.

[Tevildo]

"I can not say for sure. But I have seen things, great and terrible things when I dwelled in the household of Melko, that reminded me of what I have heard tonight." The cat stopped a moment, then sidled up close to the Owl and whispered, "We are not so different, you and I. We are creatures that must kill to live. It is our nature to do so, and I will not deny that the game gives me great pleasure at times. Yet I have no wish or ambition to put a blanket over the entire world, a shroud of darkness and evil. A bit of mischief in one corner is quite enough for me....."

"Still, that thing, whatever it is...." the cat stopped, shook his head and shuddered, and only then went on. "That cold, hollow ring in the shapeshifter's voice....it sends chills down my spine. Whatever that thing is out there, it is one of the creatures sent by the Lords of Darkness. Pehaps a spirit that has unwittingly escaped from the void or some leftover from the days of old: a houseless spirit, or some creature that has been trapped in the form of a vampire. I tell you that was no mere Man or even an Orc who frightened the woman, not on a night like this when the Yule Log glows bright. But perhaps if the woman regains her wits, she will be able to tell us more. Or perhaps you yourself know something of this." Tevildo glanced sideways at Mori. " For, despite your look of innocence and simplicity, I know you to have great knowledge of ancient lore. You may be able to sense more of these matters than even I can."

But before Mori could answer, Wenda showed signs of awakening.

[Nerindel]

"Help me!" Wenda muttered. "It's hunting me! It's coming! It's coming!"

At these words a dark cloud stole over Mara like a shroud and the ill winds of fate and prophecy that only she could feel swept coldly within her soul, but before she could ask Wenda more, ask her what it was that she thought was coming , a voice cut into her thoughts.

‘Bring her in, By the fire.’’ the voice was urging looking up she saw a tall man holding forth the door expectantly, regaining again her composure she nodded , gently scooping up the young hunter insuring to protect her modesty she carried her into the inn, stopping only briefly to look back at the shadows of the trees beyond the green mans gate.

As Stamo called for broth and spirits Mara gentle set Wenda down on the chair closest the fire, as she did the young woman grasped her hand weakly. Then for a moment as Wenda’s fear were mirrored in her own, both women knew and understood each other.

“you saw it , didn’t you?” Wenda whispered hoarsely that only she could hear. Mara hesitated, “I see it in your eyes!” she pressed wearily. Mara nodded, but before she could say any more a warm mug was placed in the trembling hunters hands and Stamo was asking what she could tell them.

Mara stayed beside her both to reassure and to hear what her response would be, for although premonition had allowed her to see that the inn and the village was in danger it had not given that danger shape or form, for that she knew she would need the shape-shifters recount .

[littlemanpoet]

"What can you tell us?" the man called Stamo asked.

Wenda's hands shook; the fire warmed her and the cup of broth took the chill out of her hands, but they could not take the cold terror out of her heart. She did not wish to think of It, for the very recalling gave It place in her mind, and sucked at the marrow of her soul. She shivered.

"I .... went .... to the village .... to the north ..." She spoke in halts and gasps, her teeth chattering. "It was daylight .... but .... quiet as death." Wenda took a sip of the hot broth. "Bodies .... lay .... in the snow .... I turned one over." Wenda stopped and gazed into the fire, transfixed except for the shivering. "His eyes .... his face .... caught .... in a frozen look .... of naked terror!" Wenda sipped from the cup of broth and swallowed convulsively. "They were all the same!"

"Peace, Wenda!" said Mara, her hand warm on her shoulder. "Peace! Speak no more of it."

Wenda shook her head violently, and her shivering stilled from the warmth of the fire; but also she willed herself to be calm enough to tell her tale aright.

"Quiet as death it had seemed, but the silence became menacing of a sudden. I looked from the face of a dead child caught in its fear. There was a man; he had come out of the hut closest to the village's inn; the chief's hut. His face was dead, his eyes black and empty; he walked toward me but his footfall made no sound. I felt I was in a nightmare. My deers saw him and fled south, taking the sledge with them. Wiser were they than I.

"'Who are you?' I cried, I know not how I found voice to speak to It. It did not answer but reached a hand out to me. At that moment, somehow I saw as an Elf sees, I guess, and before me the world changed, and the man was but a shell; the wraith in the man was cold and deadly, and sought me. I fell into a panic, for I knew if It caught me my soul would not be my own. In my panic my shifting came upon me and I fled with the fleetness of a reindeer. Had I not the gift, I would be dead this moment, and a shell for this wraith.

"It comes this way."

[Undómë]

‘There is a darkness in the flames . . .’ Goody’s voice followed close on to Wenda’s last words. ‘See how it creeps toward the heart of the embers.’ She looked up from her chair by the fire, turning her gaze on Wenda, and by inclusion, the tall man and the other woman who sat near her.

‘The new year is turning,’ she continued in a challenging tone. ‘How will you see the light prevail and the shadows driven back?’ Her gnarled hand reached down for a handful of holly and she threw into the glowing core of the little blaze. Flames danced and licked along the pointy leaves, consuming the reddened berries that clung to them. Rowan followed and then yew, each of them calling up the flames. Still the darkness remained.

‘What will you do?’