The Yule Log RPG

[Arry]

‘Fetch the rest of our arrows from upstairs, Madoc,’ Andwise called to his brother. He’d lowered the bow he’d held just moments ago, when he and the others had expected an attack from the animals that now stood quietly in the room as if listening to what was being decided. He still had his eye on the bear, but the big hulking animal was busy now scooping some of the smaller animals toward the center of the room. Herding them, he thought, like a shepherd does those under his care . . . to safety.

‘And you, Willem, take the lad there and see if you can fetch some thin toweling and lamp oil.’ He motioned for Birger to draw near and gave him a few hurried directions.

‘We won’t be much use to you if we fight the wolves straight on. Too small for that,’ he said nodding his head at his assessment. ‘But I noticed when we first came that the Inn has a high gabled roof. If you, Carr, can get a ladder to set up against the eaves, then we’ll go up and defend from above.’

He looked toward the great owl and then at the two tall men. ‘And I had another thought, too . . . that is if the bigger birds would agree to it.’ He rocked a little on his feet, feeling awkward that he should be thinking of using a bird for defense and even more odd that he should be, in a manner, speaking to them about it.

Andwise ran his hand through his curls, pushing away the uncomfortable feelings. ‘Anyways . . . I was thinking that the kitchen probably has some small skin bladders they use for storing liquids in.’ He looked up at the two men, reassured that their attention was on him; that he had not been discounted. ‘If we fill them with cooking oil I thought the larger birds could drop them on the wolves as they charged near the Inn. The oil would soak into their fur. And the touch from a burning arrow would set the beast aflame . . . if we’re very lucky, the flames will spread as the burning wolves bump against the others.’

‘Of course, we can’t burn all of them, but it would surely decrease the number of attackers and distract a number of them, making the remaining beasts more manageable for us . . .’

Andwise’s voice trailed off as he looked about the room from man to bird to beast . . . waiting to see what they thought of this . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hot on the trail.....

The wolves could sense the shadow creature urging their band to hurry forward and join him in the North. A heavy mist had swallowed the surrounding countryside, draping the world in a thick curtain of terror that struck the hearts of all those who came under its dark spell. It was as if each of the two-leggeds in the Inn was called upon to face the secret fear that he or she most wished to avoid. The feelings emenating from the two-leggeds in the Green Man were so strong that the band of wolves had no trouble picking up on that scent.

Spurred on by the call of the shadow as well as the insistent clamoring of their own stomachs, the wolves ploughed greedily forward with noses pointed towards the ground. They had been commanded to join the shadow creature, but the place of the meeting lay far to the North. First, they must stop and feed. The scent of fear and the possibility of fresh meat relentlessly swept them forward.

The tail of the lead wolf swept rhythmically back and forth in anticipation of the bloody feast that he hoped was soon to follow. The trail of the two-leggeds was maddeningly fresh even amid the bracken and fallen leaves. Every step brought the wolves closer to the spot where the Inn nestled against the hillside, seemingly open and defenseless to any attack. Almost as one, the members of the pack veered northward towards the source of the fear, trotting swiftly along the rocky ridges of the hills until they came to the place where a grove of tall oaks stood.

Under the direction of the pack leader Nilak, the band approached this outer grove on silent padding feet; the trees stood less than a quarter mile from the front door of the Inn. Nilak gave the signal to the others to spread out in a semi-circle and crouch low in the grass so that the two-leggeds would not spy them as they approached the Inn. As a low growl escaped from his mouth, Nilak peered out above the line of grass to see who was there and assess the layout of the land.

The moon had slipped behind a cloud: the earth quivered in an eerie stillness. Nilak's shaggy coat, and that of the other wolves, blended in perfectly with the shadows. The only thing that could be seen, even from some paces distant, were matching pairs of greedy yellow eyes blazing through the night. Still, Nilak stood perfectly still, holding back from his attack. He could see tiny lights in the windows of the Inn just ahead, but did not know how many of the two-leggeds the place housed and whether they would be outside in the courtyard. He would wait just a little, until it was perfectly dark, and then surge forward, hoping to find some victims outside the building, perhaps tending to the animals in the stables. After taking care of these, surely more would join them, enough to provide a comfortable meal for all eight members of his band. For now then, he would wait and watch.....

[Huan]

Birger showed Willem to the kitchen and got the cook to help the Halfling with the oil and the toweling. As he left the room he could see Willem showing Cook how to tear the toweling to wrap about the shafts of the arrows, just above the sharp tips.

Carr was on his way outside to fetch the ladder. And Birger followed after him to give a hand. They soon had it in place, leaning securely against the eaves of the house. Birger clmbered quickly up it with a broom and swept a pathway on sloping roof for the Halflings and he to climb up.

He narrowed his eyes as he stood at the top, squinting into the distance. He thought he saw a small dark cloud swiftly moving over the frozen ground and making for The Green Man.

He found the Halflings ready with their bows and arrows as he re-entered the inn. Birger grabbed a small bucket of flaming coals and tinder and followed them out the door as they left. They would dip their arrows, Andwise told him, into the heat and set them aflame.

The Halflings handed him their quivers to put on once they reached the roof. He would stand ready to plunge three at a time into the bucket and set them alight when the time came.

Quick as they could, Birger and the three Halflings took their positions on the spine of The Green Man and stood ready. Birger felt the pocket in his breeches with his free hand, making sure his sling and his rocks were well at hand should he need them . . .

[Tevildo]

Tevildo had slithered out of Mori's satchel, listening with renewed interest as Andwise explained his ideas for fighting back against the wolves. The cat was not unhappy to be here in the Inn plotting an attack on a wolf pack rather than curled up in Mori's bag hiding from the shadow creature. Not that Tevildo couldn't have taken out that grim faced monster on his own if the wizards had cleared out and given him a bit of elbow room. But the long-robed fellows had proven singularly uncooperative, not appreciating or acknowledging how he might have helped them.

As much as Tevildo disliked Melko's former henchman, he could not help but be pleased by the fact that he would now be up against a band of dishevelled and ugly hounds, predictable brutes who slathered at the mouth and, just like their cousins, the cowardly dogs, attacked their prey in gangs. As far as Tevildo was concerned, there was very little difference between the two types of canines, except that the wolves had the good sense normally to avoid the two-leggeds.

Huan and the rest of his ilk hanging about the Inn would probably deny that any relationship existed. But that was because dogs were untrustworthy, nasty creatures who told enormous lies just to get the approval of their masters. Still, Tevildo would be quite happy to work hard for the downfall of the wolves. If the wolves could be escorted out first, perhaps the dogs would be the next to go!

Owl was so caught up organizing the ground attack of the larger animals that he had paid no attention whatsoever to the birds, some of whom had flown inside the Inn and were now getting in everyone's way. So like birds to make themselves a bother and a nuisance! But the pea-brained creatures did have one advantage even Tevildo could not deny: they had the ability to fly. And it did seem as if this might be an advantage in helping to defeat the pack of wolves. Tevildo had generously offered to Owl to take command of the brigade of smaller birds to teach them what they must do. "You take the kestrels and the merlins," Tevildo purred. "I wouldn't presume to instruct the great birds of prey. Just give me the songbirds and such, and I'll try to put some sense into their heads. What do you say to that?"

[piosenniel]

Wren perched on the crossbeam of the ceiling and cast a beady black eye down on the proceedings below. Many of his feathered confederates were also

A number of the smaller birds had flown up the cross beams of the room, wanting to be out of the way of the larger animals. Wren, too, was perched there, ruffling his feathers in a rather indignant manner as he cast a beady black eye at the proceedings below.

‘Kestrels and the merlins!’ he spluttered to himself, catching the conversation between the cat and Owl. ‘Of course you don’t want to try bossing them about,’ he muttered to himself. ‘You lily-livered bird-killer! They’d peck your sneaky little eyes out and leave you for the wolves to make mincemeat of.’ The little brown bird hopped up and down on the beam indignantly at the very thought of a cat trying to put some sense into his head.

Still, he wanted to help . . . and Owl looked to be too involved in his business with the bigger birds to take any note of the smaller. Wren gave a loud trill, calling all the songbirds up the crossbeams. ‘Quiet!’ he ordered, in a quite officious manner as the last of the little twitterers flew up in a rush of feathers to the high perch. With their heads cocked toward him, the little birds gave him their attention.

The sudden silence surprised him . . . as much for the fact that they had actually listened to him as for the fact that a place unfilled with their chattering seemed so cheerless. ‘Listen up, my friends,’ Wren went on. ‘I think the . . . C-A-T down there might have an idea of how we can help against the wolves that are on the way.’ One of the chickadees fluttered her wings, looking as if she might fly down to where Tevildo sat.

‘Sit tight, missy!’ he called to her. ‘No reason to get within tooth and claw reach of him. We all should stay here out of his reach while he tells us his plan.’

Wren leaned over the side of the beam and whistled at Tevildo to attract his attention. ‘Hey you! White cat! We hear you have a plan in mind.’ A score or so of little glittering eyes looked down at the cat from above. ‘And speak up, please! We’re not coming any closer . . .’

[Rose]

White Paw glanced toward the cat and then up to the little brown bird. Saucy thing! But wise in his own way to realize the threat of a common danger might not overcome ages of natural instinct.

The hound had finished convincing his father he meant it when he said the old fellow would not be going out to stand against the wolves. He’d even bared his teeth and growled at his father to emphasize his point. ‘You’ll only distract me from the fight if you insist on going out. I cannot fight effectively if I have to worry about what is happening to you. More lives will be lost if my attention is divided.’ His father’s eyes had blazed briefly at his son’s commanding demeanor and words. Then he’d dipped his head slightly and turned away from White Paw, seeking a spot to lie down near the fire.

Two of his brothers went with White Paw to the outer perimeter of the grounds on which The Green Man stood. On silent, quick feet they made their way to a little thicket of scrubby oak that grew on a small rise at the western edge. The three burrowed into a tangle of bare brushwood dusted with snow that sheltered at the edge of the trees.

On the eastern side, they saw the dark form of a great bear disappear into the shadows of a rocky outcropping. The two groups of outposted sentries would harry the wolf pack from behind, pushing them toward the arrows of the Halflings and the devices of the bigger birds.

In his mind’s eye, White Paw kept the images of the two tall men. Should the other defenses fail, they had promised to stand against the coming Dark....

[Undómë]

‘Come, greybeard,’ Goody crooned to the old hound who’d lain down near her. He drew nearer her outstretched hand, inching along the smooth wood of the floor on his belly. His lips were curled back slightly from his yellowed teeth, as if to smile at her invitation. And his tail thump-thumped in a glad and grateful way.

The old woman offered him the bowl of thick soup someone had placed near her earlier in the evening. ‘Won’t be needing this,’ she whispered to him, putting the cooled offering down in front of him. ‘This fire and the turning year has clean pulled the hunger from me, Master Hound,’ she went on as the old dog stood up stiffly and began to lap up the mishmash of meat and vegetable. ‘I feel as light and empty as the bleached bone of a sparrow’s wing. Made a meal of by some hungry cat, picked clean and left to dry in the turning seasons. Hollow . . . yes, that’s the word. And where I was once strong and unbending . . . now does time leach away the hardness bit by bit.’

She laughed as the hound paused and cocked his head, turning his muzzle up to her as if to seek the meaning of her words. ‘One strong gust of wind, you know, and what little as holds me together will fly apart. And oh then will I be scattered on the breezes and the airs.’ Goody poked the log with her charred stick and fed a few twigs of rowan and red-berried holly to the flames. ‘But not ‘til I’ve seen this one task through.’

Above her, she could just make out the muffled steps of the Halflings and Birger as they took their positions on the Inn’s roof. The younger hounds and the Bear had gone out of doors only a little while ago. In their dark eyes she thought she had seen the same timeless glimmerings of those hounds that had once run at the feet of The Huntsman’s horse. The quarry would be run to ground; brought down with a sure and savage vengeance; rent by tooth and claw. The fur would fly and in the ensuing melee only the howls and strangled yips of the vanquished wolves would be left. Scattered on the winds, too, she thought.

‘Now isn’t that just something,’ the old woman mused. She shifted her bony hips on the chair, easing herself into a more comfortable position. ‘Well, well, well . . .,’ she mused, chewing over the little epiphany like some piece of gristle with a few shreds of sweet meat still clinging to it. ‘Good and bad . . . and it all comes down to this . . . the ashes of old dried bones flung all willy-nilly to the farthest corners by the breath of winds . . . and who would know them then for ill or fair, I wonder?’

The old hound sat down on his haunches and snorted as she asked her question. He sneezed, an added emphasis, sending the dust and a small bit of ash from the fire wheeling up into the room.

Goody narrowed her eyes, looking askance at her companion’s comment and shook her head. ‘Nay, not even you, Master Hound, with your keen nose could say.’ He rose to his feet again and growled low as if to disagree with her.

‘Still, we know at this very moment the difference, don’t we? The choices are already made. The lines clearly drawn. The scent and shape of the foe sharp to eye and nose.’

From the corner of her eye, she could see the other in the room preparing for their part in this engagement. Soon the foe would be met. Goody shivered at the thought, a mixture of ancient dread and growing anticipation.

‘Well, then, what can we do, we old ones . . . too slow in thought and limb . . . more hindrance than help.’ She gathered the hound near to her; he leaned against her leg. ‘We’ll keep the Green Man’s fire burning, shall we? Keep watch against the rising dark.’

In the midst of the hubbub, at the heart of the inn, the two grey-haired companions sat wrapped in a deep silence. Their eyes glinted in the dance of the Yule log’s flames, flickering, flickering . . .