Filur - A Wild Night

[Copper Dragon]

Filur is conveniently placed; it's along the Royal Road positioned between the larger, trafficked settlements of Sarshel, Dilpur and Hlammach. Odd, then, how little news travels from this village elsewhere, and how little news-worthy news there actually are. Not today!

Word has it that Filur's being visited by a small group of entrepeneurs who are interested in sponsoring contests. Certainly in the bleak early summer such a distraction comes in handy; travellers of all kinds may be lured in to place bets on possible winners and Garrick's business fares well with the extra attention.

Travellers say the last contest is to take place soon. The entry fee: 25 sardils. The prize: 1 balan (or 1,000 sardils). All that the would-be-winner must do is - supposedly - make it through the night awake and conscious in the wilderness somewhere, chosen by the sponsors and brought there blindfolded. The locals are as Impilturans tend to be, skeptical and reserved, but admittedly they are also intrigued... and last but not least a little disappointed. The wilds are best suited for those outcasts and such, after all, the sort of people that earn more pelts than coin. Still, those kinds of people could use coin, too, couldn't they?

A few locals proclaim already that they would like to join. One of them offers to split the reward if he gets assistance during the challenge. Another one quietly approaches any adventurer willing to hear her out that she is ready to pay the entry fee, if only the adventurer (or huntsman or wilds expert) would be on the lookout for her son out there, as he hasn't returned for days. Other locals are in it for themselves.

Who will join them?

OOC: Due to the nature of the event, I am looking for 4-5 players maximum who would join. I'm aiming this quest for Sunday 8:30pm Central European Time (Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin) summertime. Among other places, you can see this timezone if you click on my Skype. If the hour doesn't work for the majority of you, please let me know so we can shuffle this around!
The prize is obviously tantalizing to many characters. I was hesitant to limit the player amount for this quest, but between not hosting it at all and hosting it for a contained amount of attendants, I chose for the latter. I will take note of the players who could not attend here, so that I may focus on them for future events.

[Danuvis]

Garvin, the eccentric woodsman, had stayed in Filur for the past few days to recover from a foray, and as soon as word of the competition reached him in the tavern, the grubby and gaunt man sought out the woman in need and offered his aid to her, uncaring of the reward or the entry fee for that matter, prepared to pay it on his own.

// I, for one, am able to attend this, but should someone else want to take my place, I'll be glad to give it anyone who is yet to attend any of CD's events, considering that I've already seen a few myself.

[Silver Snow]

//Likewise, sounds like a lot of fun! I'll look into being there but I claim no place in the line if others show!

[Baldgeek]

// that's early afternoon EST and Trish should be able to attend ...

Intrigued by a large gathering of people from all walks of life attending a town wide contest of wits and survival she would lend a hand, if need be, for healing for those that may need it ... but even more concerning for the novice nature healer of Sheela Peryroyl would be the whisper's of the missing son whom she would certainly want to help look for ...

[Ataraxia]

((If there's still space I'll hop on, though I'm still debating on which character to bring.

[Vogelens]

(( I should be able to make that, and sounds interesting for one of my characters, at least! ))

[Copper Dragon]

OOC: For reference, I plan to start the event in a little less than 5 hours from this post. Hope to see you there.

[Copper Dragon]

Five partook in the contest: of the more local faces, Fingur of the Oldstone farm and Worni the Vaasan huntress; of elsewhere, Red-Eyed Jun, the gruff Garvin Culdrake and the civilized Impilturan Simhan. It wasn't so much a contest of standing one's ground in the woods, the witnessing villagers say, as much as it was about the contestants making their way back to civilization from an off-the-path location. Where they were taken and what all they saw in the wilderness is hard to tell...

...But Filur's inhabitants tell of how only three of the five returned when dawn came. Carried by the ranger Culdrake was a young local boy, a teenager who hadn't even participated in this final contest but who had been claimed by his mother to be missing the past few days. He was pale as the full moon above, the lad, and people whisper of the curious, ugly things that had happened to his body - for indeed, as some jaded folk and adventurers might expect, the boy wouldn't have had to be carried if he weren't passed-away.

Odd, too, is that the troupe who had organised the contest dispersed and isn't seen in the coming days. Nor in the coming tendays, one wagers.

The gold coin prize was, however, supposedly handed out. And the boy's family was comforted by villager and a Sunite warrioress alike.

OOC: Thank you to those who showed interest in this quest, whether you could attend or not in the end! If your PCs have any reactions or developments to share, internal or inter-personal, I would love for you to share them.

[Danuvis]

Garvin felt something cold and damp in his hand. Nanuq nuzzled his grubby and bloodied fingers, the bear's black, beady eyes staring up at him from a face of earthly brown fur. His other hand remained firmly upon a limp, torn man slung over his shoulder to keep the body in place with no small amount of strength that defied the arduous, sloping terrain that he and another followed downwards along the mountain's back. Another corpse, a woman's, was in the grasp of the Sunite, Rannie, who plodded alongside the woodsman, aiding him in recovery of the two others who had failed to survive the night.

He looked away, into the searing morning glare and the dark clouds hovering in the horizon, paying little heed to his bear of a companion's attempt at catching his attention. He was weary, his back and limbs aching with the toil and hardship of many hours, and his exhaustion would only continue to mount with the burial of the corpses.

When they found a shaded copse away from the mountains, the pair set about digging holes for the deceased local and the Vaasan, accompanied by a downpour of rainfall that battered them relentlessly hour after hour, though not to the chagrin of the woodsman; with each cascading raindrop, dried blood was swept away from his attire and skin alike, offering fleeting solace.

Garvin remained wholly silent for the duration of the task, mulling over what had taken place, and how it reminded him of Damara and the war that once ravaged his birthplace, of the curse that gripped many of his kinsmen. Werebeasts were known to roam most corners of the continent, as was the spreading nature of the curse, but their presence in his new home unnerved him; he would not see Impiltur suffer a similar fate akin to that of Damara. His mind became a chaotic mix of emotions, but above all, the night's events mystified him. How could anyone so readily embrace the curse of lycanthropy, and then offer it to others? After all he had bore witness to, it was beyond him.

As he trudged away from the graves and the Sunite, he felt the packed dirt give way to grass beneath his feet; a familiar ache travelling up his legs and leaving his steps clusmy and leaden. Yesterday, it had made him think solemnly of hunts to come, but now, it brought a tired smile to his lips.

Reaching a cave all too familiar to himself and Nanuq, he dropped his pack and all thought of lycanthropes, home, dead innocents, and sacred duties. He had earned his rest now.

[Silver Snow]

When a great hunt happens, or a hunter falls, the plains tend to come alive with the story of it. The whole night was tense, the moon particularly pallid and bright. The gentler creatures that made their homes among the tall grass had the sort of wisdom men never could muster; it was they who ran and scurried away, they whose path Elhokar crossed. But he was no field mouse, no starling, no antelope to scurry away. He was a Lion, and Lions do not run.
By the time he loped through the tall grasses, crossing the wide expanses, it was too late. The Beastlord had played his hand, done his damage. The blood was in the air, soaked into the ground, the little beasts and hunted things cowering. The Malarites were thwarted, true, and he'd seek out by whom..but the Black Pard was more active in his new domain than he would've thought. It meant that Lord Firemane would have to be as well. Once dawn came, a large golden eagle would be making wide circles over the plains, Elhokar stalking among the grass below, searching for the stragglers, if any remained.