Well Hollowman went to Levoca
He was lookin’ for a head to steal
He was in a bind, and out of his mind
Dealing a harsh sentence with no repeal

Levoca had already been hurt
Mad wolves had attacked the town
Then Hollowman came for Kostya
Wreaking havoc without a sound

The village was in a panic
Furry bodies nailed to the trees
Only Mother Molvar still standing
Taking news as calmly as you please

There were some adventuring men
From out of town who thought they were hot
Mother Molvar jumped on a hickory stump
“You’re not much but you’re all we got.”

They probably didn’t know it
Madness stalked the woods they knew
But they did care, they took the dare;
Though they knew not what to do.

The Hollowman’s not but an empty shell
Wrapped around a harsh and relentless will.
They soon learned it had to be burned.
Without fire, it’s damned hard to kill.

The boys sought kindling and cooking oil
But there was not much on the ground;
On Levoca soil, despite endless toil,
There were hardly flames to be found.

A woman spoke up. “My name’s Mikka.
I’m the protector of these wooded lands.”
She’d do what she could to heal the wood,
Blasting Hollowman with flaming hands.

Now chase the Hollowman and chase him hard
Madness broke loose in Levoca and a monster deals the cards
And if you win you get Levoca safe and whole
But if you lose Hollowman gets your soul

[fiddle interlude]

The chocolate gnome laid an entangle,
Desperately slowing the Hollowman.
Caramir fired his bow, Morti gave a loud crow,
Alchemist fire thrown better than planned.

Fire in the woods now, run boys, run
Hollowman’s hurt, low moaning begun
Can we get him to turn, we don’t know…
Levoca’s in danger, now don’t be slow!

We’ve bellowed our challenges
Refusing to let Hollowman by;
We’ve found our voice, we’ve got no choice
It’s stop him now or leave Levoca to die.

Morti said, “Hollowman, come on back
You know you want to try us again;
I told you once you stupid dunce
We’ll fight you ’til we win!”

Fire in the woods now, run boys, run
Hollowman’s hurt, low moaning begun
Can we get him to turn, we don’t know…
Levoca’s in danger, now don’t be slow!

He understood now that perhaps he had been walking alone for too long – ever since leaving his homeland, spending years on the road on his own had made him a suspicious one. He questioned everyone’s motives, and slowly began ceasing to believe in those that do ‘Good’ just for its own sake.

Strangely enough, he usually ended up doing exactly that – his long years had shown him a lot, and even though Caramir felt he had not yet found a path to thread, he veered towards ‘helping others’ most often than not – his natural elven aloofness sometimes made it hard to approach them, but he always found himself trying, usually harder than he expected.

Levoca had crawled under his skin, perhaps due to the simple nature of the place, or maybe something was rubbing off from the others he walked with – most of them he still could not really read – they were an improbable bunch, thrown together without really knowing much about each other, as if they simply walked together ‘because’, or was it the ‘doing good’ thing all over again? Regardless of how he felt about Morti’s honest concern, or Karl’s apparent detachment, he could not deny that walking in the company of others after so many years had an impact on him – sometimes he enjoyed simply standing there in silence, listening to the young souls exchanging their points of view on others and on the world.

But Levoca… It was a simple place, not unlike many others across the world, made of simple people (as simple as humans can ever be – he had learned things are never straightforward) with honest, headlong concerns. Why was it then that it mattered so much to him? Caramir had travelled many times through such places, often seeing them as no more than a temporary stop spot where he could find supplies, or work. Perhaps that had been his mistake all along – looking for a greater picture away from the common daily life, when something so small like this village, could need so much. He smiled – having always been proud of paying attention to details, it seemed he might have overseen those in front of his face. Would it give his life more meaning, if he would make a difference for Levoca, Mother Molvor, Olav, Kostya’s widow?

He decided to give it a try – if there was one thing elves had oodles of, was time – spending whatever time with the small settlement to make sure they would be ‘well on their way’ would mean nothing but a speck of time in his life. Six months, one year, until he felt they did not need him anymore – perhaps it was selfishness that moved the elf instead of the care for the inhabitants? At least he would find out.

Noon, Thor’s Day, 4th Moon

This journal and a piece of graphite is all that the raiders left me, thinking that the entries were worth nothing and that the book was not dangerous. I am rather sad that they are right. When I got it back, I briefly considered the notion to burst my bonds and attack the raiders with it, but I dismissed it. That tactic would do me nothing but injure me again. I do not fathom why the raiders would keep an already proven dangerous foe alive. I would’ve thought that they were trying the ransom me off to the nearby village, but they should have known by my clothes that I was from nowhere near this region, due to their design to keep the cold of my homelands at bay.

I have nothing to do but think for a while in this pit, and this journal will help me record my thoughts. Thoughts are a valuable commodity, so rare in this world. It would do me good to remember them.

* * *

Later

When my companions came to, I tried creating an escape plan with them. We would’ve gone through with it too, unless I had learned that we could escape in a much less bloodless way. The raider fraujaz, Killian, has learned of an important clan totem that resides in a dangerous dungeon., called the Die of Fate. _He has offered us our lives in exchange for the Die_, and we all agreed. For letting us go, I am honorbound to retrieve the Die for him, although I fear that my companions feel that out best bet is to find the other way in-and out-of the dungeon, and escape with all of the treasure. Although I am honorbound to serve the raider fraujaz, I plan to advise my companions about Fraujaz Killian’s men and his mastery of the land. If we were to try to escape with the treasure, we would be hunted down ruthlessly. I hope that this will give my companions reason to not abandon their duty to Fraujaz Killian.

The following writings are grease-stained.

Fraujaz Killian has provided us with mutton and mead for dinner. It is good quality stuff, though I think I shall stay away from the mead. It fogs the mind, deadens the reflexes, and turns you into either a hot-headed fool or a blubbering idiot. I also don’t want to have a nasty hangover on the morning of our departure.

We leave at dawn of Freya’s Day.

Entry 9 – In the night a band of skulking gnolls attack. They manage to get close and set off burning brands of incense, probably to attract the stirges. Four of them are killed, one blinded, we do not get hurt so the luck was with us. The rest ran away. I kept the two extra brands for later in the woods. Might make a good decoy or trap. But somehow the stirges do not attack, the rest of the night is uneventful and in the morning we get the chance to discuss the fight. Ha! Later on in the woods Vhillish and Leoven find lots of the yellow thimbleweed and I start making a tisane for everyone.

Entry 8 – After the party gets kitted out with tents and mule, everyone leaves Fairhill at mid-morning. Travelling quickens as the soldiers teach us to hustle, march and walk, march and walk. We head for the next waystation, and Lannet explains about Eralion’s Keep and where it is. It is rumoured to be haunted by a vampire with secret chambers hidden below. Janna knows how to enter there but is not ready to explain this before the little thief.

Later on we find the burnt remains of three orckind, charred by magical fire and a sign of the passing of a mage of talent. Strangely they had been looted. Lannet never did it last time and he mentioned that the dwarf was a “holy roller” above such robbing. Why do we hunt them? We reach an empty waystation and camp for the night. Next morning we are ambushed. Five bandits shoot Damien then get slotted by the party. I shall not mention tripping over the stockade tops but it was a bad risk when the bandits surrounded me on the ground. But Vhillish did jerry-build a platform for us in double quick time. Back on the trailway and we spend the day getting to the next Waystation.

OOC Recap –
However Leoven shared more information on the wizard Eralion from his religious studies. Eralion was a prominent citizen of Fairhill some 90 years ago, a wizard with connections in Reme . Why he moved out to the woods is unknown. He was very devoted to Thyr, so much that his Keep included a small personal chapel dedicated to Thyr. Supposedly demons helped him construct the Keep, but that must be false when a Chapel to Thyr was built. Need to check the veracity of this chapel. Probably elementals helped him build his Keep. Eralion has been believed dead for at least 20 years. His resident cleric was dismissed from the chapel 6-8 years before then when he wanted more privacy. Bandits came and went since but the proximity to the Tradeway meant they were quickly cleaned out. The chapel of Thyr is simply abandoned. Previous notes state that a flag of Thyr was still flying from the chapel steeple when the Waymarch soldiers routed the bandits 12 years ago.

So I am sat on a rock waiting for the others. There is still morning mist and dew on the grass but that is where the best of mother Freya lies. Not in that shrine and nor within our band. My mistake was in trying to help Shandril. Her shrine, her rules and on my oath I shall never step in there again. I cost a mother a baby so that is small punishment for my error. The Crucible was part of a nine day fertility ritual. Then Samduc and Lannet appeared so now Lauriel has the prismatic gem thief in gaol while she builds a case against him. He went like a meek lamb. Now people are fetching our leader, Janna, and tents (to protect from the inhabitants of Stirge Woods). Also Shandril spoke of a flower to make a tisane so that the aroma comes out in our sweat to ward us from stirges, yellow thimbleweed.

Entry 6 – We buried the family this morning with prayers from our paladin. Healed and rested after fighting Vortigern yesterday, we head on towards Fairhill. It should be about 6 miles since the farm is 4 from the Tradeway. Somewhere out there is a mage and his imp desperate to get us.
In the farmhouse I find my pet, Medus the viper, Vhillish gets a riding dog, Topper, and Damien has a cat. Janna and Samduc had duped the wizard giving him a useless amulet and scroll. So Janna shows us a letter that Eralion sent a friend detailing his pan to transform into a lich, unguents and a phylactery are mentioned. Sourced in Bards Gate. Where?
Astor gets a bow and fine shortsword, and I salvage some other gear. They are dead so it’s fair game.

• Near Fairhill we met a young huntress, Estler, with a hare. She tells us that Stoneheart Forest is called the Stirge Woods locally.
• Fairhill is in farming country with about 400 people living well. Honest sort of place with a magistrate, Arlen, and a shrine to Freya, priestess Shandril. When we get there it’s all open and not easy to hide. There were an elf, Lauriel, and her guard, Baran. He was missing one hand, a left, and a bastard sword. The drow paladin and our employer do the talking and soon we are accepted and led to Shandril and her shrine.
  There she is performing a ritual over a silver bowl and her hand enters a hot brazier with no pain. The altar has a carving of a stag and it transpires that the valuable bowl is called Freya’s Crucible and it can make the village womenfolk more fertile. And no lock. No door!! These people are touched. Now Kevezyat shows her mettle and faith burying her own hand in the brazier too, without any harm.
  So that display brings on an argument on faith and Damien is no supporter. Vhillish and the drow try to change his mind. What a pointless chat. Faith ha! Either you have it or not. No discussion.
  Shandril remembers Eralion (the necromancer) as a good wizard but that was 20 years ago. She also met a wizard who disappeared into the Woods with a female warrior, shifty man in leathers or chain and a dwarf follower of Dwerfater. Shandril had a vision that they would die killed by spiders but chose not to tell them their fate.
• After we headed for the Drunken Cockatrice Inn. Glarian the half-elf’s famous shrine to meals and rest and it did live up to its reputation. Meals 2 sp, Rooms 2 gp There we met Lannet, a Halfling who was possibly last to see the wizard’s party and he sold them a refracting gem. Lannet had stolen that crystal from a passing merchant. This all is discussed while I clean and freshen up, and I do get the pleasure of seeing Astor’s Stare cowering the little tyke. He has a way with beggars and thieves! So Lannet becomes our guide and we agree to cover him against the newly arrived gang sent to recover the crystal and punish the Lightfingered Lannet. They are 2 halforcs, an armoured dwarf and a man in light armour.
  After a good meal, Damien and I head for Voril’s Armoury. We discuss the gnolls sickle, it’s magical and able to fit my hand. Voril talks about it being duergar crafted and from the Under Realms. I like that. Afterwards the blacksmith offers us a suit of mail to find his daughter, Arialle. She left recently with another youth, Nathiel, a woodsman.