The Missing

Lhankpentos and his son take the group to Jostharl Three-Sticks’ household in the Red Cow Fort Eastside. When the PCs enter the compound, they can immediately see that a lot of people here seem to be sick. At first, no one comes to greet them, but when Lhankpentos calls out Jostharl shuffles out.

Jostharl is obviously sick; his skin is pallid and feverish.

“Lhankpentos, thank you for coming,” says Jostharl. He turns to the PCs, “I am afraid you will find our hospitality somewhat limited, my family are all unwell with this fever. But please come to my hall, I can at least offer you water to quench your thirst.”

Jostharl leads them into his hall. The household sick are here as is Ustarna Try-Much who is tending to them, mopping brows, providing damp cloths and water to cool the fever, and getting everyone to drink a herb-laced drink to ease the fever.

“It burns itself out after a few days,” she tells Lhankpentos and the group, “and no one has died yet. But it seems to strike again and again. This household was one of the first to become sick and they keep getting ill. I usually don’t expect people to fall ill with the same illness again in such quick succession.”

She looks up at Antip, “I do what I can, but the men are needed for planting season, and for patrols against Emerald Sword raids. And now the children…”

A handsome young man, Farnantyr, helps Jostharl to sit, and then brings water to wash and drink. Farnantyr then retires.

Jostharl says, “That young man has been a tower of strength, he hasn’t gotten sick once.”

Jostharl explains that with most of the adults sick the children were playing practically unsupervised when some went missing (“no, none of the children have fallen ill”). There were no cries of alarm; nothing to suggest anything was awry.

As Jostharl speaks a number of the fathers weep for their missing children, obviously overwhelmed by what has happened.

Ustarna approaches the group. “The gods have surely withdrawn their protection from the Red Cow, otherwise people would not be getting sick. We must find out why,” she says. “I suspect when we find the answer to this sickness, we will find where the children have gone. At Grave Hill, Many-Breath will speak to us. I will fetch Kullina the Fat and a cow to sacrifice. You must fetch Ashart Dusk-Eater. Go ask Leikorl the Shadow in the Great Hall, he will know where to find him. Meet me at Lightning Lodge sunset.”

Leikorl the Shadow is in Broddi’s Hall. Queen Ivartha left both Leikorl and Ostling Spotted-Fur here when they fell sick and has gone to Jonstown to get help from the Jonstown House of Peace. When the group find them it is obvious that both men are ill, and that both watch each other intently.

“He is watching and waiting, hoping that I will die,” Leikorl tells them. “Or get weak enough that I can’t hold my sword to defend myself,” he says, lifting the sword that rests across his knees. “I killed his mother. This is her skin.” He indicates the cloak he wears, wolf fur with a wolf’s head hood.

“Sartar’s treaty binds me as a hostage, Shadow,” Ostling snarls, “though I would be happy if Jogar Sog had taken all your scalp.” He nods towards the chunk gouged out of Leikorl’s scalp.

Leikorl agrees to help. He tells Ostling to come with them, “So I can keep an eye on you, and you can be close to your mother.” Ostling spits on the ground when Leikorl turns his back.

It is clear that both Leikorl and Ostling are sick. They ride horses because they are not capable of walking to Grave Hill, and neither looks fit to fight.

Ashart is hiding in Green Meadows; it is a short distance from Red Cow Fort and Leikorl takes the group there. The priest and his wife are hiding in the loft of a hay barn. Leikorl whistles three times, waits for a two-whistle response, and then whistles once more. Ashart pops his head out: “Ah Shadow, what a delight. Ostling, good to see you as well,” he says. He looks at Ostling and nods toward Leikorl, “Not killed him yet then.”

Ashart asks Antip to explain what has been happening in Red Cow Fort. Once he understands Ustarna’s plan he says, “Let’s hope the gods can help, though they may not know the 
answer themselves.”

Ashart is obviously sick. He takes one of the horses from Green Meadows for the trip. But he brushes aside any concerns for his health.

As the group gather to leave Farandar Orendalsson approaches them. He too appears sick. He speaks briefly with Ashart then addresses the group.

“Kill those Lunar bastards at Grave Hill. They stop us conducting worship of Orlanth on our own land. This affront to our honor has gone too long unavenged. I would welcome your blow against the Empire, and count you afterwards amongst those who have proven themselves to the rebellion.”

Ustarna meets the group at Lightning Lodge. The stead is a ruin, razed by the Empire years ago. Ashart looks mournfully at the buildings. “I was happy here once,” he tells them, “I remember such laughter with the old priest here, and the herds that once grazed these sacred hills.” He wipes a tear from his eye, “But the Empire took all that away.”

“Grave Hill will be guarded by the Empire, perhaps a half-dozen soldiers. Doblian Dogeaters,” Ashart spits as he mentions their name. “Worship of Many-Breath at the Hill is forbidden, for we use Orlanth’s rites. To get access to the temple we will need to kill them.” He looks over at Leikorl and Ostling, “This work will fall to you. We are too sick to fight.”

Ashart reaches into a bag and pulls out wooden masks. They are carved and painted with images of the Thunder Brothers.  “Wear these masks,” Ashart tells them, “So that the Lunars cannot recognize your faces, if any escape. Of course, it would be best if you did not let any escape…”

They may be in a real quandary, for what Ashart is suggesting means an act of rebellion against the Empire, which carries the sentence of death if discovered.

A patrol of a dozen Dogeaters guards Grave Hill. They are on detachment from Red Cow Fort, bivouacked near the foot of the hill itself. At any one time a pair of bored guards keeps watch on the causeway approaching the hill, the others sit around the camp tending to equipment, sleeping or gambling.

The Dogeaters do not expect an attack, discipline is lax, and the guards un-watchful and distracted.

The group sneak fairly close to Grave Hill without detection — this is an area of large barrow mounds, built by the Vingkotling ancestors — but the last 100 yards or so is open ground.

Ashart tells them, “You are the ones who must do the killing, you must choose how it is done. Once the word is given on what, the how is always the job of those with skin in the game.”