I worry at what danger can lurk in lands we believe to be safe. Take Marchwood: once home to the late Connall Evansson and now to Benedict Karlennon. We thought them masters of the land. How little we knew.
A simple sojourn in the Hunting Lodge there was
to turn into a desperate battle for out lives against unliving
abominations. Things did not start well: Puss (pictured right) and I
arrived a day late as she had been suffering badly with furballs the
night before. Our arrival was marked with a distinct 'splash'. The
heavens had opened over Marchwood and the ritual circle has rapidly
become a ritual pond.
Barely had we stepped from the circle when we set upon by bandits. I lent my sword arm to the assembled Harts and we soon dispatched them. However, a second party eluded us and took advantage of the ritual circle to escape. At our host Ranulf Farendon's suggestion, High Trivinar George grabbed myself and Dionysus and did an impromptu ritual to trace the bandits. Bacchus granted him a single word: Poznan. Hunter Sryker of the Hawkeshead explained that this was a town in Teutonia overrun by Vlad's forces. This did not bode well.
Young John escorted me to the hunting lodge, where I presented myself to the Queen. She took this news gravely and added that Royjen, the renegade druid with whom we have had so many problems in the past, has also been sighted there. This boded ill.
Others of the Bacchus then explained that upon their arrival the previous night they had been set upon by a strange sort of werewolves as well as other bandits and a vampire.
[Theophold's note: Several paragraphs have been removed from this section of the account for religious reasons. Any student who wishes to peruse the missing material should contact High Trivinar George for permission.]
As the day progressed, a door was discovered set into the ground, not far from the campsite. Two separate groups, including some Beastmen, Elidure, the Queen's bondsman, and Quindrael of the Blood Elves, went within and disappeared for a considerable length of time.
When they reappeared, it transpired that Elidure had lost the King's Dagger. The Bacchus were called upon to do a ritual to call it back. The ritual was a success but as the dagger appeared the ritual pond filled with a choking smoke that caused many of us to throw up. The Queen broke the circle seal and we staggered out, gasping for breath.
To our amazement, King Gunnar of the Wolves followed shortly after. His daughter Maeve had appeared at the lodge in our absence, having been rescued by Elias on the plane of the ancestors from some unspecified danger. From what little I heard of the discussion, it appeared some war was underway on the ancestral plane. Gunnar was warned by one of his ancestral spirits, Heindall I believe he was named, not to let Maeve travel by ritual circle. Gunnar resolved to fetch an escort to bring Maeve home and departed, leaving her and a guard behind.
Ranulf's tourney went ahead, with Iggy and I as judges. Tarn, to no one's great surprise, won the contest. He carried Xantalia's favour and so she was gifted a wondrous cup that turns any liquid within it into the most blessed wine.
As darkness fell we were repeatedly attacked by vampires and their unliving minions. One, Shadow by name, claimed to be leader of a group called the Solificati. Many of the company were been bitten, including Young John. The victims of the accursed bites seemed to come under a form of compulsion which drove them towards the ritual circle. We subdued them for their own good while a party set out for the circle.
I stayed with the group that kept the bitten subdued. With only eight of us and near two dozen of them, it was no mean task. Repeated assaults from the werewolf-like unliving did not help. Meanwhile the party at the ritual circle has had some success in driving away the unliving with a traditional song. Still, they failed to prevent the vampires sealing off the whole area with a ritual.
We were trapped, like cattle ripe for the slaughter.
It transpired that there were four groups of
vampires: the Thanatos, Solificati, Hermetica and Intellegus. We had
unknowingly broken ancient accords with them. Much to our disgust, it
was decided to negotiate with the unliving scum. A deal was struck
with the Hermetica offering us protection until the morn, at which
point we were to consider giving them a piece of Albion for their
own.
Of course, we had no real intention of doing this. The Privy Council has merely decided to play along until the dawn allowed us more freedom to hunt them down. One of the servants attempted to warn the vampires of our ulterior motives but was stopped by the prompt action of Logain, the Queen's bodyguard.
It seems that the people of Marchwood have been in the thrall of Vampires for generations. They refer to the head vampire as 'the old master'. Connall and Benedict were merely 'the young masters'. It was becoming clear that their allegiance lay with the old, not the new.
As we debated how to proceed, the choking mist filled the hall, causing us to throw up once more. George collapsed and Leah and I grabbed him. We dragged him to the door, coughing and retching the whole way. We were the last out.
At the Queen's orders we made a break for the ritual circle. Unliving were assaulting us from all sides. In the dark it was near impossible to see how many had fallen. The party was getting separated and some of our own were perilously close to death.
Then Ed Mund cried out that Iggy was down. Pelleas led the charge to recover him with incredible ferocity. Five unliving fell before him, as the small group of Bacchus rescued and healed Iggy.
At this point my memory of events becomes a little hazy. I was struck down at least once and paralysed shortly after, so much of what I recount is taken from other's recollections. One thing is clear: without the presence of Master Healer Hagar and his companion, many brave Harts would have fallen that night.
Some artifact was dealing out terrible wounds but it was eventually neutralised. Shadow was taunting us to attack him. As his minions fell to our swords one by one, he got his wish. Taliesin and Jac struck again and again at him and eventually he fell.
We returned quickly to the lodge, harried by only a few unliving. There we discovered our only loss: a Wolf who had returned to take shelter there had been torn apart.
The following morning was clear and sunny. With
high spirits and renewed vigour we set off as a party for the door to
destroy the vampires within.
On the way, we discovered the true depth of the servants' corruption. They were shepherding ghoul sheep through the woods, seeing nothing wrong in this. We cheerfully dispatched these monsters but not before they had savagely attacked several of a particular group within the faction (whom I cannot name for fear of retribution from t'Keen.)
Our best efforts to get through the door proved unsuccessful. Then the mist arose once more and we were forced to fall back towards the lodge. Hordes of unliving swarmed out of the mist and battled was joined. Twice were coffins carried through our midst. Each time we struck down the pall bearers and opened the coffin. Each time the unliving inside turned out to be a decoy.
Once the unliving had been dispatched, our forces were split into three. Some stayed by the door, others went to the ritual circle to keep it secure and a group led by the Queen returned to the lodge. This had been occupied by unliving in our absence. The Queen gathered the incantors to her and we repelled as many of them as we could. The warriors were meant to follow up with a charge but it was not until Young John encouraged them with his shield that they did so. The fight was short and we were victorious.
However, several vampires were able to gain entry to the ritual circle and fled the lands. I am proud to report that the Bacchus did their best to bring one of them down first. They promised him safe conduct and them attempted to slay him once he was away from the door. An oath made to an unliving clearly has no validity, yet Maeve accused the Bacchus of having no honour, an insult we will not take lightly. They were unliving and deserved no better.
[Theophold's Note: Ranulf Farendon sent a message to all those who attended the Last Hunt a few days after it concluded. You can read Ranulf's Statement at the Brighthelm Stane Library.]