It was at the end of his Twentieth Form.  Buuluchk had a bit of small change left after his Paladin training.  It was not much, but it came to his mind that he might be entitled to some sort of gift, a present to himself.

The Auction House held nothing of real benefit for the pittance he had, so he wandered out toward the gates of the city of Ironforge with his few coppers in hand.  The coins jingled pleasingly, perhaps they are better in my hand than gone for all and good, thought Buuluchk.  Call it a down payment on my future, the wee bit I’ll need for some future purchase.  But Buuluchk did not put them away as he walked out the massive gateway and into the icy air.

“Hey there, paladin.  Might I have a word with you?”

The dirty ragbag was a dwarf, perhaps, but he smelled more like a murlock than a man to Buuluchk.  “Is it a bit of drink you’re needing?  You’d do better to work than beg,” began Buuluchk condescendingly. The dirty man reddened, building toward rage at the slander.

“That was unkind and untrue, I’m a stonemason, and I work hard every day.  Likely harder than the likes of you, an adventurer who knows nothing of what normal men do.” The man turned away and walked on toward the gates.

Buuluchk instantly regretted his harsh words, “See here sir, I’ve wronged you, no doubt.  I apologize.  You must admit you look the part of a beggar, but I had no right to condescend.  I’ve had great good fortune.”  The coins rang in his hand and now he knew what to do with them, “See here, I’m off to make more, I’m well acquainted with work.  I dig metal from the earth and take the pelts of the beasts that fall to me.  Still, I think you can use this far better than me.”  And with that Buuluchk pressed the coins into the mans hand, “There is an inn just inside the gate where you can get a beer and a bath and likely your clothes clean in the bargain.  Go with the gods, friend.”

The man stared down at the coins, but as Buuluchk began to turn, feeling good about the kindness he’d shown, he saw that the man was growing more angry, not less.  “Oh I see, you’ll make me the beggar you’ve accused me of being.”

Buuluchk blinked non-plused as he turned back, “See you friend, I mean you only good.”  One hand went out, opened in friendship, but Buuluchk’s other hand felt for his axe.

The man dug inside his filthy garment and brought out a wrapped package, “You keep calling me friend, but you’d make me a beggar.  Well, be a friend, and for your slander I put a geas on you, that you be a friend to me, to Garglan the Stonemason, and when you learn this thing’s provenance and it’s purpose, you bring word to me, for I work every day and have no time for adventures.  This thing I found at my work preparing a foundation for the bridge I am making.  My curiosity has been on me, I look at it in my tent, I look at it each time I stop my labors, I puzzle, and wonder ’til it drives me half mad.  Be it on you now, slanderous pompous paladin. You figure it out and when you do, if you do, you will tell me.  Garglan, son of  Harglan, the Stone Mason.” and then with a sneer, “friend.”

With no more word than that Garglan, son of  Harglan, the Stone Mason marched off down the hill from the gates of Ironforge.

With nothing to say nor anyone to say it to, and now with a mystery in hand, Buuluchk unwrapped the package to see what fate had delivered him.  Fate and Garglan, son of  Harglan, the Stone Mason, Buuluchk thought.

It was heavy and hard, metal for sure, but worked in a way that made it look organic, as if it had grown into the broken form he now held.  It was not whole, of that Buuluchk was certain, though little else. 

Two figures seemed swathed in the organic network of metal, both bodies without heads.  They seemed of the same stuff as the viney coverings, and yet, looking at it, one could easily judge them separate from parts that were clothing, and parts that were something other, and then the parts that seemed to be the flesh of two tall beings.  It was missing much of what looked to be a background that seemed to almost be a language of some kind.  The clothing seemed missing, especially around the heads and shoulders which were largely missing.

All was hinted at and yet baldly obvious when taken as a whole, but as Buuluchk looked closer he was startled to note that it all seemed one in texture and color and material.

“Hey dolt, get out of the gate. Will you stand there all day, you dunderhead.  You’re holding up progress!” shouted a dwarf driving a cart.  Buuluchk had no idea how long he’d stood in the gate, but as soon as he had stepped out of the way of the carter he went back to examining the artifact.  What a curiously marvelous thing, he thought.  What have you brought me Garglan, son of  Harglan.

The rider’s horse was fine and his posture was ramrod straight.  As he approached, Iamerge recognized Rhaury Ui Birlinn.  He looked as if he’d had plenty of sleep and eaten well too, but perhaps that was Iamerge’s bitterness whispering in his ear. 

“Where are your brothers?” called down Rhaury from on high. 

Iamerge felt the urge to cut the man down to size, but he restrained himself.  Here is the man that may give me my money, best not offend him no matter my mood or his unintended provocation.  Instead of a sharp word, Iamerge smiled, “All of them are at their prayers, so I and Conal are left to see to the men.  I’m sure Gospels and the rest will be available directly.”

Rhaury looked puzzled, “You are not a member of their order?  I guess I assumed since you dress like them and were with Gospels that you were of their brotherhood.  I hope I didn’t give offense.”

“None taken.  Indeed Gospels rescued me from the sea out on the Skellig or I’d not be standing here today, clothed or no.  I was bound for Bellton, but was wrecked in a storm.”

“Truly?  Well that was good fortune.  These Monks, odd though they may seem to me, are a marvelous resource.  I do believe that it was good fortune for my men that Gospels and you came out to assist us.  More would have died, no doubt.”  Rhaury seemed to ponder where to go with the conversation from there while climbing down from his horse, “I came to see the men anyhow.  Perhaps I don’t need to speak to Gospels to see to them.”

“No, not at all, I’m sure that the men would be happy for a visit.”  Iamerge glanced at the bandages before adding, ”Those that would notice your coming anyhow.”  Rhaury looked pensive so Iamerge added, “We’re all in here, come say hello.”

Iamerge pushed the door open and went in ahead of Rhaury.  ”Welcome to our abode, the only one with a door,” quipped Iamerge.

Rhaury ducked as he entered, eyes flicking right and left to take in the interior. “That at least might need to change,”  He said half to himself as he walked into the room, ”Ah, I see Conal at least is well.”

The man beamed at Rhaury from where he lay, propped on his one elbow, “Hello there sir.  Aye, I’m well enough thanks to the brothers. . .” Conal glanced over at Iamerge before adding, “. . . and Iamerge of course.”

“It is good to see you in such good spirits,” said Rhaury.  “I’ve spoken to Niam, told her of your situation. . .”

Iamerge watched as Conal’s face fell, there was worry where Iamerge always found cheer.  Conal looked anywhere but at Rhaury or Iamerge, “I can’t see how I can be anything to her.” 

Rhaury walked over to the man’s bed and sat in thought for a moment, “It is a puzzle, but Niam might have a say in this, don’t you think?”

“What is it Abbo… err, brother Gospels.” said the young brother.  Iamerge noticed it was Hebrews as he gave Iamerge a shy smile and nod.

“Iamerge believes there has been another trade caravan attacked.” said Gospels.  “It has been some time since the rescue party or perhaps relief has gone out.  There may be dead and likely injured from one party or the other.”

“Dire news.” Hebrews gasped, though it seemed to Iamerge that there was more of excitement than horror in it, “Shall I gather some brothers and. . .” Hebrews looked puzzled, “which way should we go?”

“Go first to the Abbott, I do not command any but myself.  Say only that Gospels recommends that the guest house be prepared to receive wounded.  Then if he thinks it wise and at his command come after we two who will go on down the South road to see what we may see of this disaster.”

“Could I not come with. . .”

“No Hebrews, the brothers must hear of this first, and the Abbott must make what provision he sees fit.  Just tell him that we go down the South Road after Ui Birlinn and several mounted men and that we know nothing more of what may have happened.  Your speed will be a greater blessing to bring the word and likely you will catch up to us even with carts and stretchers and all manner of healing herbs in tow.”

“Yes Abbo. . .  I mean brother.”

“Off with you,” said Gospels, but Hebrews was already running toward the monastery with his habit hiked up to free his legs for maximum speed. “The righteous will live by faith, and there are few more faithful than that boy.” Gospels glanced at Iamerge, “I hope that I didn’t speak out of turn when I said we would go ahead.”

“I will go with no complaints.  I should like to know what all the fuss is about.  Then too, getting it straight at the source will give me some news to bargain with the mayor of rat town.” quipped Iamerge as he readied himself for the walk.

“Indeed, Mr. Cooper will want to know all about it, I’ve no doubt.” And off Gospels walked at a goodly clip.  Iamerge followed.

Gospels lead straight down the hill and onto the road.  When they settled on a comfortable pace Iamerge asked, “This is not the first attack I gathered.  Do you know who is doing it or why?”

Gospels frowned, “Sadly no, if it were bandits there would be less of value left behind.  Sometimes bandits take hostages and make demands.  But this is just slaughter.”

“And they take nothing of value?”

“I didn’t say that, much is left, but not weapons nor things that can easily be made into weapons.  Sometimes they leave their own weapons behind, heavy stone axes, brutal spears, clubs, that sort of thing.  They take food and sometimes they kill horses, but they don’t seem to take them.”

“Who are they?” ask Iamerge.

“That no one knows.”

They walked on in silence for awhile.  Matching each other, they strode down the road.  After awhile, Iamerge noticed that Gospels was glancing over at him from time to time.  He wondered if perhaps the pace was growing too much so he eased off.  Gospels continued to glance over as they walked a little slower.

“Iamerge,” Gospels said finally.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I hope I didn’t press you into something you wouldn’t otherwise have done.”  Gospels laughed, “It is like me to charge off on this sort of venture, but I’m getting older if not wiser at the same pace.”

Iamerge smiled, “No no, I’m glad to go.  I should have thought to bring word to all of you.  Just, in town it seemed of no consequence to any but Ui Birlinn and his party so I guess I thought it must have been a thing very far away.”

“True, it might be.” Gospels began, “But Rhuary is cautious where his father was, well, impetuous like me,” he laughed again. “If he rode hard out of the town then I think it likely that it was no farther than horses might run safely.  Horses are not easy to come by here abouts.” Gospels looked sidelong at Iamerge.

“Did I mention that Ui Birlinn was the one with whom I had business?

“I’m not positive, but I inferred it.”

“So it seems my business lies this way also.”

“Indeed, I should confess that I believe you are a survivor.  I would charge ahead when wisdom, and survival, might bid me wait.  So, I hoped to bring you for some degree of protection, if not from villains then certainly from myself.”

It was Iamerge’s turn to chuckle, “Well then, if I get that feeling, I’ll bid us both stop and if need be reverse and run us back to Hebrews.”

“That is wisdom,” said Gospels, “I expect that young man soon enough.”

“Ah, then I’m warned,” Iamerge laughed, “I’ll keep an eye on our tail lest young Hebrews runs us down in his haste to get to the adventure.”

“I would scold you for wronging my dear brother, but I suspect you may be right.”  Smiling they both walked toward the crest of the hill

Gospels grew serious, cleared his throat he said. “I pray God this isn’t what I fear, but I pray without much hope.  These attacks have become more frequent and this, well, this is too near for my peace of mind.”

They crested the hill and began to descend into another valley.  Almost immediately they saw below them a chaos of broken carts and broken men.  There was little enough movement, but there were clearly men moving through the wreckage.  Then off to their right, on a turning they saw a caravan making its way up toward them.

Hunter heard the old skald telling his stories to the children of the tec.  He had noticed that the man liked to test out new material on the young, sharpening it with a few trial tellings to those young ears before he presented it to the tec at large.

Hunter had decided that this was a wise practice and something good he would carry away from an otherwise frosty relationship with Barnen.  Hunter was happy about being back in the warmth of Winter-hold.  He’d gone a bit mad alone in the wild.  Things were good, for the most part, Hunter had one enemy however, and that was Barnen the Skald.

The old man was focused on his audience and didn’t notice Hunter, “OH, the man was fae, no doubt of that, and most likely mad, but he could sing like a bird, play harp even better, and I can confirm what you’ve heard, he talked to the elves.  The children’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“How did yo meet him?” a bold little boy in front asked.

“Oh that?” Why I was telling the Rig a tale in the great hall, it was the black of night and the wind was howling.  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! there was a fierce pounding on the door.

“More and more interesting,” thought Hunter, “he’s turning the children against me having failed with the adults.  Hunter Wilde slipped back into shadow.

Barnen was warming to his tale.  Each time he said boom the children jumped, “Boom, Boom, Boom went the door like a war drum, Old Lars fell off his chair getting to it before it got knocked in.  Lars throws open the portal, Who knocks at portal of Murchadh, says he? The door swings wide and there stands a man, it seemed, twice the size of Bran the champion and white as snow!”

“Hunter Wilde ain’t even as big as Bran” said the boldest child.

“You’re right there, not half as big, but that snow giant in the doorway stepped once, and again, and fell flat on his face! By that time, Lars was back with the axe he’d forgot in his hurry to open the door. But by then there was nothing but a big pile of snow on floor so Lars shrugs and shuts the door.”

There was a buzz among the children, Barnen drew there attention back with a flourish. “It was warm in the Tec, a fire roaring to keep out the chill, so it wasn’t long until the snow melted away and there on the floor. . .”

“Hunter Wilde?” the children chorused.

“Who knew?  There was just a heap of rags.  It was strange, a rag bag walking about, but strange things do happen.  So a couple of slaves were going to pick through it when one thinks he sees a wee animal amongst the sodden rags.  He reaches in and pulls on a tail, but instead of a fox, out comes Hunter Wilde!”

“Was that his beard?” the children laughed.

“No no,” said Barnen, “Hunter Wilde is most likely part elf himself and he can’t grow a proper beard at all, that’s why he wears a fox tail for a moustache.”

“And why he talks to elves?” a big eyed little girl asked.

“Oh no, that’s not why.  Hunter is a strange one sure enough, but he serves a purpose.  He’s too small for a warrior, he’s not so very smart either, but one thing he does do is he takes bad girls and boys with him and he gives them to the elves to teach them manners.  So you better get off to bed or you’ll be liven in the trees and eating flowers and moss.”

“Come on Barnen, tell us more. . .”

Hunter stepped out of the shadows behind the Skald letting his last two footfalls thump hard on the floor, “Who’s hungry for flowers and moss!” he shouted.  The children shrieked and ran for their beds.”

Barnen, the old skald laughed, glancing back at Hunter he said, ”I never liked you Hunter Wilde, I’m glad you’re going, but I expect we’ll be old friends when you’re gone.”

The screams of the sea birds were the only things that Smoke could point to as disquieting, a break to the peace of the day.  Smoke and Gospels sat high on the island above the place, Gospels had explained, where the boat from the abbey would put in. 

Smoke was excited to be off the little pinnacle of rock, a hungry prison in all but company.  He sat with his new friend Gospels and hid his excitement in deference to his friend’s discomfort at facing his brethren.  It would be awkward in a way that he knew something about, other people’s expectations.

And yet, as much as he would like to be appropriately somber for his friend, he was delighted with the day, freshening wind, wind whipped cloud torn to reveal bright sunshine, a day to sail, a day to delight a man like he had always been.  Smoke inhaled the salt freshness of it, “Oh Gospels, this is a day to be on the water.”

Gospels sighed, “God is good.”

Smoke chuckled at his friend’s inscrutability.  Was the sigh impatience, discouragement, awe, sarcasm, praise?  Smoke didn’t know, but he was happy and couldn’t keep it to himself. “You know the worst part of my youth was existing in a stinking port city knowing all the while that I was born for the sea.”

“hmm, I too was raised in a city by the sea.  I rather liked the scent of it though.”

“Oh yes, a Northern port city no doubt.  I did not mean to insult.  And too, it may have been the parts of the city I frequented that stank, not the city itself.”

Gospels laughed, “I’m sorry.  I was just. . .    . . .my mind was elsewhere.”

Smoke let things lay.  His new friend was used to solitude, not just as a hermit, but in his life before he took to his coracle.  Smoke was brimming with questions and conversation, yet he knew that he would get no pearls from the oyster.  Well, that might not be a good analogy. 

It was exciting to think that these monks were literate.  His pattern had often been to seek knowledge when he gave up on a life, cut ties to business and family, and lost himself.  Perhaps this time, more than others, he felt the need to know.  He had been so near to knowing nothing ever again.  Nothing like a good death to bring back the zest for life.  So he would build a new life, and for this one as for all his others, he would seek knowledge, he would plan, and then he would live.

He inhaled the salt freshness,  “I’ve been to your city, I didn’t know there was an abbey.  I might have visited your library if I’d known.”

“The abbey had been half a century before the Navigators even came.  Six monks in a coracle ran aground in the bay and that full two hundreds of years agone.”

“I thought you said you were a Navigator.”

“I was of that people.  But I’m not quite that old.” Gospels laughed again.  He seemed a bit more merry, as if his mind had come to some resolve or comfort as they sat there in the sun. “The abbey came before the Navigators, but I, a Navigator, came to the abbey in a boat.”