Stories from the Land, Part 5

By now the people were so used to moving from place to place that no verbal instructions were even needed. It had been just under a week travelling through Pendarvin and it was time to move along again. The plan was to move up into the Auralonde Mountains, through passes touched by snow and then down into the green hillsides and forests of Kaladonia.

The pass was a hard one to travel, and with winter set in doubly so. The Warlord, Dame Emiline, had a plan. With the aid of Fyodor Tschenko, who had helped maintain these passes for the last two years, they found a way to distract the husks from following the slow-moving throng and keep them from attacking the rear. The Pendarvin cavalry - small, but bolstered by some of Travance’s heroes - led a charge to draw off any trailing husks. They made heavy use of Fyodor’s knowledge, and herded the husks into side passes that could be collapsed, brush that could be set aflame, and other terrain that they could work to their advantage. They were able to buy the refugees enough time to make it through the main pass.


The first place Travance headed for was the town of Niedrilion. It was fairly close to the pass, and it was hoped that the husks hadn’t made their way in large numbers to this sparsely-populated, heavily-wooded area. That seemed to be true, for the most part. The stillness didn’t sit right with Dimetri Yahtzi, however, and he soon realized why. What looked at first to be a person tangled in some undergrowth turned out to be a husk locked in battle with a tentacled, cancerous mass. The Plaguedrinker was in full force here. In a flurry of blades Dimetri was able to dispatch both husk and blight and send word down the line to be on the lookout for more.

There were others who could feel how sick the land was. Rane Nightflute stood with them and they formed a small squad of rangers, druids, and others of nature to seek out any concentration of blights. They fought the warped creatures wherever they could in the hopes of preventing the spread of disease and corruption to the weakened members of Travance.

Areas of the forest were also tainted with collections of corrupted plants. Fortunately, even corrupted plants burn, and the mages Carlotta and Terzak set about destroying them with magic and flame in controlled bursts. Others on the front lines followed their lead; torches were passed around and even those without magic or special skill were able to make openings for the more hardened warriors to take on the blight.

The downside to using fire, of course, is that it became a beacon to the few husks that were around. Dominic Strong, used to tracking silent undead prey, darted through the woods seeking out husks. On the occasions that he encountered more than he could handle on his own, he led them back towards Robert Tzareeth. The Baronial guard stood waiting with his weapon to meet the oncoming threat and between the two of them they made quick work of anything that came too close to the refugees.


The Tanwyns had managed to stay together throughout the march. On this day they found themselves separated from the main group as a husk approached, moving strangely slow. The six didn’t worry at first. As they approached the husk to destroy it, they noticed it was covered with lesions, boils, pus and blood. Foam dribbled from its mouth. More of the same stumbled out of the woods. Garlan and Cade’s swords drew their attention, while Calven and Coran circled around to hit them from behind. Cael always seemed to be in the right place at the right time and moved around the battlefield to assist as needed. Cainin’s alchemy, while not incredibly effective against the husks themselves, was invaluable after the battle. All of the Tanwyns managed to escape the encounter without being affected by whatever had taken root in the husks.

The question remained, though: Were they truly husks? Or had the Plaguedrinker found a new way to menace Kaladonia?


At the gates of Elvalion stood Maralas Silverstream and Myrdiz Dar'Hana, a Selendrian and an Ilythiiri, working closely together. They healed the critically wounded who entered the city and directed the less wounded to medical stations set up further inside. Not a soul questioned their aid or their directions; there was no time for such nonsense.

Between Meander Correlis and Dunn Ironwill there was not a scrap of useable alchemical components left sitting still in Elvalion. It was all neatly, and loudly, organized, catalogued and bundled up on to many carts. After all, you don’t put all of your ALCHEMY into one basket.

Sidhe Sullivan and Darwec, both from Coast Haven, stumbled upon the prison at the courthouse and realized that several people had locked themselves inside in an effort to hide from the horrors outside. However, they were unable to free themselves. Soon after they were found, somehow the prison door was opened.


Kaladonia contains many scouting posts and a few new arboreal towers. Though not quite as extensive a network as Pendarvin’s signal towers, they do provide a means to scout ahead on the way to Auralion. In one of these towers sea and sky meet in the unlikely duo of Jack Thorn and Corvus Sea-Wolf. Both fleet of foot and sharp of eye, they move using the towers and the terrain, looking for signs of anyone hiding in the woods. Speed was of the essence here, and the wind was at their backs; people were tracked through subtle signs only men like these could spot. The refugees were returned to the fold before these two set out again to find others.

Other scouts on the ground, like Tsoli Silverbow, while quick, were also able to get into places many could not. With his magic he could turn invisible, slinking past husk and blight, silently treading dangerous paths or finding opening for small groups to get through and obtain supplies.

When Keavy had scouted out into the woods to look for survivors, a piercing yell caught her attention. She made her way to search for the cry but found herself surrounded by husks all wearing similar tartan. Suddenly from the forest came a spear of vine and spikes, piercing cleanly through a husk skull. Cormac the Huntsman stepped out with thorned, blighted, vines protruding from his arms that writhed as they lashed out and struck at the husks. Working together, Cormac and Keavy, dispatched the husks in short order. From behind Cormac emerged a younger girl in a tartan that matched those on the now destroyed husks. She looked up at Cormac and then ran to the Sylvan. The two hunters were silent as they sized each other up and her silent question was answered with his gesture towards the fallen husks and a faint 'This is too much...' before Cormac traversed back into the forest, the shadows of the wood taking him once again.

The story of the blighted druid did not help the mood of the refugees. Many began to whisper that if the husks were not going to get them then the blight surely would. Fortunately, there were men like Vyth’Nar, Alisandria’s newest squire, ready to encourage even the most timid and afraid to keep going. While his demeanor may have been abrasive to some, it was effective.

Auralion was in sight now. Tyran Radley had taken up a position towards the rear, and made occasional forays to find stragglers who lagged behind the group. He almost always found the stragglers, but a few returned as husks and some were blighted. Those that were missing too long had almost no hope of being found alive. Still, up to that point, Tyran continued to bring back any survivors he could.

Healers found their work easier within the boundaries of Auralion, as if there was some source of healing energy flowing through the land. Yet, this only served to assuage physical wounds. The people were hungry and weak and their eyes were haunted with a weariness that would not be cured by sleep. So many had been separated from their loved ones and they did not know if they would ever meet again. In the middle of the huddled refugees sat a young boy. From time to time other scruffy children would run up to him and pieces of paper were exchanged. Chop Chop and other orphans ferried messages among the people. Some of the messages that returned brought no succor, but every once in awhile a faint glimmer of hope would appear on someone’s face. In that, at least, Chop Chop proved that even the smallest actions could have an effect on the turning of the world.


How many people were dead, or missing? It was decided that an accounting of the living would be the fastest way to figure that out. Eight thousand people were known to have lived in Travance Proper before this calamity arose. A full four thousand people was the best estimate for Port Valandra. Alisandria as a whole boasted five thousand people. Mordavia, a city now completely empty, had a population of roughly two thousand before its walls were breached. Seneschal Lois Maxwell organized the scholars to spread amongst the people each issued with an inkpot. Every living person was instructed to dip their right-most finger into the ink and a corresponding tally mark was made. This process took two days and after the numbers were added up approximately twenty thousand persons were counted among the dead or missing. Roughly 4 out of every 10 citizens of the Barony, dead or missing.