Play@YSDC

Book the Second, Chapter the Sixth: A Welcome View of Sun; Or, The Emergence From the Underworld

The party find themselves, after having wandered some distance beneath the surface of the Earth, in a dense forest of white birches. A quick glance at the stone door through which they passed reveals a strange transformation. After a moment too brief to be measured, even by the finest marine chronometers of Mister John Harrison, the entry way blurs into a mist, then vanishes. To all sides there are only the stately trees, and such flora and fauna as make homes among these tall, slender examples of Nature's art. It is not immediately obvious exactly where the adventurers are currently located, relying strictly on the most obvious visual clues, the sun nearly directly overhead, and thus producing little in the way of shadows.

Lepus blinks in the sunlight as he takes in his surroundings.

"'tis a comfort that, in this modern age, things such as those below still exist, yesno? Pity yon giant was not fain to accompany us though."

Sniffing noisily and hocking up a gobbet of phlegm, he rummages around his noisome attire for the talisman of 'know direction' he had created after swimming through the pool and into the caves.

"Mayhap old Lepus shall discover what is what and where is where..."

"Yes, but I understand why he would not wish to come with us to the surface world," says Henry. "Those who live above would by and large not be accepting of someone of his stature. It is a lonely existence for him, 'tis true, but an existence nonetheless." He looks around at the trees. "Moss grows on the north side of trees, so that should help us get our bearings. If these trees have no moss, I can still make a compass with some help from the lodestone I bear."

Sorcery and science, working together in an unexpected manner, soon make it clear in which direction lies North. Fine and good; but the view to North -- id est, the birchy forest extending as far as eye can see -- is in no manner distinguishable from that of East, South, or West, so this information, although the acquiring of it is admirable, yields no clue as to what lies beyond said woodland in any particular direction.

Working on the assumption that they are still within the grounds of the Highdark estate, Lepus tries to narrow down which of the two white birch forests they might be standing in.

“Harken all, canst thou or canst thou not hear the sound of running water?”

If they cannot find the Worried Stream, then mayhap they are ensconced within the Deer Park?

"What just occurred?" asks William. "I appeared here alone, and for a moment thought that the Serpent had lived up to its kind by releasing me whilst continuing to imprison you. But I see you escaped its grasp also."

"The Feathered Serpent presented us with a riddle as to which of the three doors led to freedom, which we solved," explains Henry. "You had happened to run through the correct door before he told us the riddle."

"Aye, 'tis as the good doctor described. Now, 'tis my fancy that we be either in the Deer Park or near the Worried Stream - from Old Lepus' memory, both woods boast such fine white trees. It follows that if we hear water, then we knowest where we are, yesno? O' course if someone wants to climb a tree, mayhap we can see our whereabouts that way."

"An excellent suggestion," says Henry. "I'll leave that to someone more agile than myself."

By remaining as silent as the proverbial church mice, the adventurers are able to determine that moving water lies in a southerly direction from where they now stand. It remains to be seen if there is one here who cares to climb one of the many tall birches hereabouts.

Loath to climb such smooth trunks, Lepus suggests walking towards the water and, if it is indeed a brook, following it roughly west towards, hopefully, the great house.

"It does seem a more sensible approach," agrees William. "But we must make haste, both to warn Highdark Hall and retrieve His Lordship's man from the first cave."

"Indeed, Ivan is waiting for us outside the cave, and we must collect him," says Henry, his mind already thinking about the possibility of a device for long distance communication so that messages could be sent without having to appear in person. "Let us follow the stream to the west, then."

The party is able to make its way, squeezing between trees and tearing through those smaller productions of Flora oft entangled at the feet of said giants, until they reach a swiftly flowing stream, chuckling to itself as it runs over its pebbly bed. Following this stream westward is a slow business, given the fact that there is no trail along its banks. After some time spent in this manner,the adventurers are startled by a sudden crashing movement disturbing the nearby bushes, accompanied by a series of loud sounds combining sharp hisses and threatening growls in a most alarming manner.
Perhaps because his ever-curious mind is focused on identified the many varieties of plant life that grow by the water, Doctor North is particularly taken aback by this unexpected encounter, remaining frozen for a moment.
Not quite so startled, the others prepare to meet the wrath of a pair of angry badgers. Possibly they have been interrupted in the process of mating; for whatever reason, they are in a particularly aggressive humor, and dash at the intruders with tooth and claw.
One of the raging beasts runs at the soldier, the other at the magician. Whilst Doctor North recovers his wits, his companions have a moment to respond to this onslaught.

Lepus swiftly draws his dagger and, deciding that the soldier is better suited to defend himself, leaps to the aid of the French wizard. He halloos loudly, brandshing his weapon.

William draws his sword and slashes at the badger.

The hedge wizard's dagger plunges deep into the animal's heart, killing it instantly. Meanwhile, the soldier's sword slashes at its mate, wounding it but failing to end its life. Rather, the badger, in the manner of its kind, fights furiously, with that same frenzied bloodlust of those fabled warriors known in olden times as Berserkers.
The enraged animal, with no concern for its own safety, lunges at William with tooth and claw, drawing blood from the brave soldier's leg.

Having learnt that even the dumb creatures of England are all too dangerous, the French magician takes this opportunity, with much gratitude to his companions, to retreat to safer ground. At some time in the future, those left behind will be pleased to learn that he returned to his native land safely, there to continue his studies into arcane matters.

While the surviving badger attacks William, Lepus tries to get behind the beast to stab it in the back.

DEX 15,[dice]0[/dice]

"Filthy thing! snarls William slashing once more at the beast.

Henry finally recovers from his shock and swings at the remaining badger with his cane, though his hands are still shaky and he narrowly misses.

OOC,Dexterity roll (10) attacking the remaining badger: [dice]0[/dice]

jp1885 wrote:
While the surviving badger attacks William, Lepus tries to get behind the beast to stab it in the back.

DEX 15,[dice]230140:0[/dice]

Once again, without a thought for his own safety, Lepus strikes at the ferocious creature and ends its life.

SunlessNick wrote:"Filthy thing! snarls William slashing once more at the beast.

VictoriaSilverwolf wrote:

SunlessNick wrote:"Filthy thing! snarls William slashing once more at the beast.

Spoiler:

once again dex 11, although it's already dead . . .[dice]230351:0[/dice]

The animal being simultaneously attacked from three sides at once, it is perhaps no very great surprise that the creature is difficult to strike accurately, in what is a most chaotic battle. Fortunately, the creature possessed, unlike the proverbial cat, only one life, which it has now sacrificed to its own frenzy. Having fallen victim to this dumb enemy, no doubt William's pleasure at seeing it fall makes up, to some extent, for the temporary pain of his injury.

Mr. Handy wrote:
Henry finally recovers from his shock and swings at the remaining badger with his cane, though his hands are still shaky and he narrowly misses.

OOC,Dexterity roll (10) attacking the remaining badger: [dice]230153:0[/dice]

Although unable to secure an accurate blow against the creature, now lying dead upon the ground, Doctor North may call to mind a curious volume of gastronomical philosophy, now nearly a century old, which suggests a possible use for the carcass. To wit, The Country Housewife and Lady's Director of Prof. R. Bradley, wherein may be found the following receipt:

A Gammon of a Badger roasted.
From Mr. R. T. of Leicestershire.
The Badger is one of the cleanest Creatures, in its Food, of any in the World, and one may suppose that the Flesh of this Creature is not unwholesome. It eats like the finest Pork, and is much sweeter than Pork. Then, just when a Badger is killed, cut off the Gammons, and strip them; then lay them in a Brine of Salt and Water, that will bear an Egg, for a Week or ten Days; then boil it for four or five Hours, and then roast it, strewing it with Flour and rasped Bread sifted. Then put it upon a Spit, as you did before with the Westphalia Ham. Serve it hot with a Garnish of Bacon fry'd in Cutlets, and some Lemon in slices.

Whether the party choose to partake of such uncommon fare is a question best left to individual taste.

After this alarming encounter, the adventurers are no doubt pleased to discover that, by continuing to walk in a westerly direction, they eventually emerge from the birch forest and catch sight of the brew house. By this time, it is late in the afternoon, and such a place offers refreshment to body and soul. From here, one may return to the Grotto Pool, where the loyal Russian waits for word of his master, by crossing the Worried Stream via the quaintly named Moaning Bridge, and thence southward upon a familiar path. From the selfsame bridge crossing it is a very short walk northward to the Manor Home; although, if truth be told, rumor has it that servants laboring in the dairy paddock, kitchen garden, and other such rustic locales to the east of Highdark Hall often prefer to take a slightly longer pathway when delivering comestibles to their master and mistress, proceeding north from the crossroads near the brew house, then turning westward to cross the Worried Stream via the White Bridge instead. Such is the superstitious nature of the lower classes.

Accustomed to eating whatever meagre fare a life on the road has to offer, Lepus will happily partake in a meal of roast badger (stuffing some in his pockets for future consumption). A modest draught of ale would also not go amiss following the recent exertions (mayhap he will give a toast to his fellow practitioner in the mystic arts on the event of his departure).

Observing the estate workers avoiding the Moaning Bridge piques the wanderer’s interest and, always eager to explore (perchance to converse with whoever dwells thereabouts), he opts to reach the grotto by this shortest route.

Badger would not normally be William's choice of repast, but this particular specimen merits the fate of beasts at the hands of man. He will concur with taking the shorter route, especially since the company is still on a matter of unknown urgency.

Henry has an adventurous palate and is quite willing to try the recipe. The idea was his own, after all. He wishes to find Ivan first, who must be getting quite concerned by now that they haven't returned, but he is certain that his loyal servant is still waiting where he was left.

Having found the flavor of badger not unpleasing to their palates, particularly when washed down with ale of good quality, the adventurers, ready to rejoin the company of the loyal Ivan, proceed to the Moaning Bridge. It is evident how this simple stone structure, obviously of great age, obtained its evocative designation. The water of the Worried Stream flowing swiftly beneath it produces an low, hollow, echoing sound, as of a bereaved soul keening sorrowfully. The phenomenon is particularly noticeable in the exact center of the bridge where the stream, shielded from the sun by the low-lying structure, appears to the eye as no more than empty blackness. The effect upon one of sensitive nature may be a modest example of that combination of fear and fascination known to poets as the Sublime.

As Lepus crosses the middle of the bridge, he pauses to look over it into the stream. Typically eccentric, he raises his hat and mutters sympathetic greetings in his polyglot blend of human and fae tongues to whatever may lurk under the structure (having already conversed with dolls, trees, spirits and at least one god, this notion is not as strange as outsiders might think).

Henry is fascinated by the phenomenon, observing it in silence so as not to disturb the solemnity and speculating as to its cause.

Whilst thus engaged in meditating upon the unusual sight and sound, the adventurers observe a large fish, golden in color, emerge from the blackness of the water. It swims languidly, just below the surface, its enormous eyes seeming to gaze upon the visitors. Although Lepus has made attempt to communicate with whatsoever might dwell under the bridge, it does not appear to be capable of reply, being in all visible respects simply a fish, albeit of a kind more expected to be seen in far Cathay than in England.

"That fish is far removed from its natural habitat," muses Henry. "Shall we try our hand at angling? There are stories of magical fish that will grant wishes to their captors in exchange for being released. It wouldn't surprise me if this were one of that sort."

"Aye, perchance." Lepus studies the fish while he exctracts a piece of badger steak from his pocket. "Though old Lepus has slain enough creatures today, so let us treat this one kindly, even while 'tis being caught."

Among the many odds and ends carried by the eccentric hedge wizard are sufficient bits of string and metal to construct, with the aid of a twig of proper length and elasticity, a simple device for angling, although it might not win the full approval of Izaak Walton. Attaching a bit of the cooked flesh of the badger to an improvised hook, Lepus casts his line into the water.
It is not very long before the golden fish, apparently fond of such victuals, takes the bait and is drawn up onto the ground, where it rests without the gasping one would expect from a member of the finny tribe.

Lepus picks up the fish, apologising as he gently removes the hook from its mouth. He looks the creature in the eye, saying: “In return for putting thee back, we request thou givest us transgressors the name of the fae lady that threatens this place and the family Altumber who dewlleth therein.”

Whether he elicits a response or not, he will quickly return the fish to its watery home, so as to lessen its suffering.

"Fascinating," says Henry. "It appears to be amphibious. It could breathe in air as easily as in water."

jp1885 wrote:
Lepus picks up the fish, apologising as he gently removes the hook from its mouth. He looks the creature in the eye, saying: “In return for putting thee back, we request thou givest us transgressors the name of the fae lady that threatens this place and the family Altumber who dewlleth therein.”

Whether he elicits a response or not, he will quickly return the fish to its watery home, so as to lessen its suffering.

Possibly to the surprise of those watching, the fish makes response by opening its mouth wide, and spewing out two objects. One is a tiny silver ring, too small to fit even the finger of an infant. The other is an ordinary acorn. With that curious gesture, the creature wriggles away, almost as if Nature had blessed it with feet, and jumps back into the water with a splash.

As if such things are an everyday occurrence, Lepus thanks the fish as it swims away before studying the objects coughed up by the creature.

“Acorn Silver-ring mayhap? Silverlink Oakseed? Does not sound very threatening... Hmm...”

As he crosses the bridge, the wanderer pokes around some of the dusty cupboards in his mind for any fae names that fit the clues given.

INT 15 +3 occult lore?,[dice]0[/dice]

"Perhaps when we return to the house later, we can peruse the library to find more information on her," suggests Henry.

Both the experience of the hedge wizard and the researches of the natural philosopher will yield the same information; to wit, that a denizen of Faerie, whilst in the mortal realm, cannot bear to hear its own name spoken aloud, and will flee back to its ethereal kingdom. Furthermore, all such names always take the form of a descriptive adjective combined with a natural object; par exemple, Brightflower or Yellowmoon. As to the precise name of the fae creature in question, that is not obtainable from either memory or text.
The objects left by the peculiar fish must be intended as a clue to aid the adventurers in their quest for this information.

Meanwhile, after rejoining the loyal Russian, who is much relieved to find that no permanent harm has come to his master and his companions, the party rejoins the Altumber family in the manor home, where all seems at peace for the nonce. There are, of course, many inquiries as to where the guests have been, and what they have been doing, given the length of time they have not be seen by anyone in the household.

While Lepus describes their recent adventures to the family (with as much miming, capering and gibbering as to render the tale incomprehensible), he considers the clues hawked up by the magical fish. When he and his friends are alone, he relays his ideas.

“Old Lepus has a notion, so he has, that the acorn may relate to the oak that sits on the isle amid the Misty Tarn. We knowest that evil spirits lurk therein, but do we not have a sigil to banish such things, hm? Dost anyone have a mind to go boating?”

William is willing to follow where the experts in such matters lead.

"Yes, that sounds like the thing to do," says Henry. "Perhaps her name is Silveroak."

There being general agreement as to the wisdom of returning to the Misty Tarn and the small islet therein, where may be found a giant oak tree of great age, the party makes it way thence. As may be recalled, the only boat available at the dock is able to bear the weight of two grown men only, with, perhaps, a young woman as well, at the most.

As ever, wisps of fog drift about the waters of the Misty Tarn, and do not follow the whims of the wind, but rather go their own way, and are not dissipated. All is otherwise still.

After ensuring that he has the rune inscribed on a scrap of cloth, Lepus peers through the fog, tugging at his beard as he ponders.

“Pssht! ‘tis an unnatural mist, yesno? Mayhap there be a long rope that we can fix to yon boat, so that the Russian can haul us back should we become lost. Old Lepus shall help to row - who shall accompany me, hmm?”

"I shall," says William, unwilling to stay back while two other men venture into possible danger.

"Indeed, a long rope would be just the thing," says Henry. "In fact, we can tie the end off to a tree on this side to ensure it remains anchored whatever happens. If you need to be pulled back in an emergency, give the rope a good, hard tug. Once you've reached the far shore and gotten out, you could tug twice in succession to signal that you've made it. Then Ivan can pull back the boat and I can join you, though one of you will need to ride back with it. I lack the strength to row it on my own, and Ivan must remain here to pull the boat back if needed."

“Old Lepus shall remain on the island.”

This complex series of maneuvers having been agreed upon -- and perhaps, calling to mind the time-worn conundrum of crossing a river with a fox, a goose, and a sack of grain -- the adventurers all reach the small isle, the loyal Russian remaining upon the shore, ready to pull the boat back if alerted to an emergency.

All seems quiet for the moment, the isle being, if anything, more silent than one might expect, possibly due to a dearth of avian life in the vicinity. From here, it can be seen that the Great Oak is well-named indeed, for it towers above the heads of the observers to a much greater extent than the typical specimen of its type. At a distance above the ground, appreciably higher than a tall man would be able to reach with his hand, many holes are visible, of the kind wherein arboreal creatures are known to dwell; a fact which intensifies the mystery of there being no birds about.

Lepus casts his eye over the islet, puzzled that the lack of spirits, who no longer dance around as they did with the twins (or so he was told). Have they been driven off by his rune or have they joined the army Poppy spoke of?

He approaches the great oak, doffing his tricorne and bowing deferentially. Repeating the way he communicated with the blasted tree, he opens his mind and utters polite greetings in a mix of languages. Then he begs permission to approach, so that he might inspect the oak more closely; starting with the roots.

William casts his eyes about the company, remaining alert for more worldly threats.

Henry keeps an eye on their surroundings, curious about the lack of birds.

Lepus is able to observe that the thick, tangled, and numerous roots of the ancient tree, much like the fabled serpents sent by Poseidon to punish the unfortunate Laocoön and his sons, create so complex and interwoven a series of nooks and crannies as to baffle the eye with dark recesses, some so small as to bar admission even to a vole, others large enough to permit a person of no great size to enter. Otherwise, there appears to be no response to his entreaties.

Meanwhile, the ever-vigilant William detects, at no great distance from the mighty oak, a pile of pebbles, arranged in such manner as to suggest intelligent agency rather that the whims of Nature. It is notable that they possess, even in bright sunlight, that peculiar quality oft observed in opals and pearls, of having a sort of inner, pale glow.

Whilst this occurs, Henry's expertise in natural philosophy enables him to notice that, although no members of the avian tribe are to be found hereabouts, there are evident signs of the remnants of nests, and even of shattered eggshells, scattered about the oak, broken in such a way as to suggest a fall from a great height.

With the acorn tightly gripped in one hand, Lepus gingerly inspects the various gaps and holes around the tree. Taking care lest something untoward happens, he tries to ascertain whether any such nooks are occupied. He will also look for scuffs and scrapes on the bark, to see if the tree has been climbed recently.

William will point out the pebbles to Lord Dunwich, in case his greater education can make something of their arrangement. Do the eggs appear to have been broken recently or some time ago?

Henry lets William know what he's discovered about the broken nests before going over to examine the pebbles, trying to discern if there is any pattern to their placement, such as if they spell out words.

jp1885 wrote:
With the acorn tightly gripped in one hand, Lepus gingerly inspects the various gaps and holes around the tree. Taking care lest something untoward happens, he tries to ascertain whether any such nooks are occupied. He will also look for scuffs and scrapes on the bark, to see if the tree has been climbed recently.

Soft chittering sounds, and an occasional glimpse of an eye reflecting a ray of sunlight, reveal that some small creatures reside within the living labyrinth of the tree. There is no evidence that the oak's bark has been disturbed in any manner.

SunlessNick wrote:William will point out the pebbles to Lord Dunwich, in case his greater education can make something of their arrangement. Do the eggs appear to have been broken recently or some time ago?

It is evident that certain of the damaged eggs, judging by their completely empty shells, have fallen some time ago, and have had their contents consumed by such creatures as are fond of such subsistence. Others still bear traces of their liquid interiors, suggesting that they have been broken a brief time ago.

Mr. Handy wrote:
Henry lets William know what he's discovered about the broken nests before going over to examine the pebbles, trying to discern if there is any pattern to their placement, such as if they spell out words.

The patterns thus formed as more in the nature of simple geometric formations, rather than anything as complex as attempts to communicate messages. A common pattern is that of a square-based pyramid, such as the renowned ancient monuments of Egypt. They are, of course, much smaller, being nowhere more than a span in height.

"Yon tree is home to many creatures...

Lepus steps back from the oak; not wishing to fall foul of any more wildlife, at least until he is joined by the others.

He appears beside them, making note of the pebbles and the broken eggshells.

"'tis an odd assemblage, yesno? Mayhap we might appease whatever made this with a whole egg? If a rotten one can be found, old Lepus can make it fresh. Meantimes, let this old fool see these stones up close."

He leans forward to inspect the shimmering pile so as to ascertain it's purpose, gingerly prodding them if need be.

"Like the stones we found below perchance? Or a cairn or somesuch?"

Henry stands by Lepus's side, recalling how an egg was the answer to the riddle earlier that gave them access to the caves. He doubts that the answer will be the same this time.

Whilst examining one of the piles of stones, Lepus happens to near one whose topmost pebble was, it appears, precariously balanced. This topples to the ground, where, much against that principle of Nature whose secrets were made pellucid by Newton, it bounces back and flies upward with the swiftness of a raptor after prey. Some brief time after it is lost to sight among distant clouds, a muffled sound, such as the report of a cannon heard from a great distance, is heard from far above. Not long after, the body of a swift, presumably flying at too great a height to be previously observed, crashes to the ground, its feathers singed as if by flames.

Lepus scampers back, somewhat alarmed. He turns to the others with a bemused expression on his grubby face.

"Pshht! Does not a bombardier pile his cannon balls in such a fashion, or the grenadier stack his grenadoes? Mayhap these be bombs of a kind?"

Wrapping a hand with a strip of blackened cloth, he carefully picks up a pebble and lobs it away from the trio so that it lands some distance onto the ground of the island and at such an angle as to fly off towards the Lonely Copse if it ricochets as violently as it's fellow.

DEX (15) roll if needed,[dice]0[/dice]

"Yes, they very well might," says Henry. "This defies the laws of physics, but it explains the mystery of the birds and their nests."

"Indeed he does," William answers Lepus, regarding the bombardier. "So does this mean this Fey entity considers herself an enemy of birds?"

Although he hurls the mysterious object with less than skillful grace, Lepus is able to direct it in a direction away from himself and his fellows. Perhaps because its flight began in a horizontal direction, rather than the accidental falling to the Earth of the other, it does not leap into the heavens. Rather, it proceeds over the waters of the Misty Tarn where, as if it has found what it sought, it plunges into the fog-shrouded pool. A muffled explosion, accompanied by a jet of water bursting into the air, follows momentarily. By examining the area of the isle closest to the site of this incident, the adventurers discover the remains of a large frog, much shattered and torn, upon the shore. Whatsoever may be the nature of these strange pebbles, it is evident that their victims are not limited to members of the feathered tribe.

Sighing, Lepus surveys the remains of the frog.

“Be it that these things are drawn to the nearest living thing? Mayhap each one be tailored for air, water or earth? Whichever it may be, if they be in the Fae Lady’s arsenal then dispose of them we must. Though keeping one or two may prove advantageous, yesno?”

The wanderer carefully picks up another stone and inspects it for any signs of allegiance before placing it in his sack.

“There still be the matter of her true name also. Yon mighty oak may tell us more.”

William has little head for the abstruse concepts Lord Dunwich and the Gypsy man deal in, but weapons are things he understands. "We should take them from here," he says, making to load them into the boat, "and leave them in a place she will be loath to enter. The church perhaps."

"Either that, or we could expend them all," says Henry, "though that might prove dangerous. As for her true name, Silveroak is my best guess, or perhaps Silveracorn."

Whilst contemplating this problem, it becomes obvious that transporting, or otherwise disposing of, these peculiar objects presents a certain difficulty. To wit, although they are individually light, they are very numerous. It also seems evident that they must be handled with some care. Held gently in one's hand, they are safe enough; but, as experience teaches, dropped or tossed, even casually, they prove destructive petards indeed.
A rough estimate of their number yields a figure of five hundred or so, perhaps slightly less. In any case, it seems impossible to place more than a fifty or so at a time in the small boat, even if only manned by one individual, without causing it to ride too low in the water for safety.

Lepus’ face falls when the number of stones becomes apparent.

INT 15 +4 esoteric knowledge & occult lore?,[dice]0[/dice]

”Too many to dispose of then... Old Lepus has a notion though: mayhap we could ring the island with iron? Fae folk harbour a dislike for the metal, so perchance we can keep the Fae Lady and her minions away from their arsenal, yesno?”

Then, as if his train of thought suddenly switches track, the wanderer scampers back to the oak.

“What then to do with thee oh tree? He holds out the acorn on an upturned palm near one of the many holes. Furnish us with the Fae Lady’s name oh denizens and this morsel shalt be thine.”

"Yes, iron, a capital idea!" says Henry. "I wonder why it is that the fae are so repulsed by iron. Could it perhaps be due to its magnetic properties? Or is it that it is a key component of blood?"

Whilst Lepus is thus engaged in conversation with the mighty oak, the acorn draws the attention of a common squirrel, this treasure overcoming its inherent fear of humanity. The chattering creature, perhaps one of the bravest of its tribe, makes so bold as to attempt to seize the acorn.
In the mad scramble that follows, neither man nor beast succeeds in gaining the object of dispute. Rather it falls to the ground and rolls for some distance, where, as Fate would have it, it comes to a halt amongst others of its kind. (Such a pile of acorns is, of course, to be expected beneath an oak of great age.) It would be a matter of some difficulty to determine exactly which of these many is the one in question. (As to why the squirrel choose to make a hazardous venture to obtain such, when many others, in no way distinguishable from it, lay about in easy access, that is a question best left to the mysteries of Fauna.)

Meanwhile, Lepus having made such meditation as he could upon the preternatural aspects hereabouts, is able to determine that the oak itself, although impressive enough for its sheer bulk and extraordinary age, is purely of Nature. It is true that beings of unearthly nature have, at times, made use of it as hearth and home, there being traces of the uncanny detectable by the Gypsy's hidden senses for such. As to their current residency or absence, that would require further exploration to determine.

The notion of surrounding the isle with a barrier of iron raises several matters to be meditated upon; viz. where to obtain sufficient supply of ironwork, and in what manner to construct the defenses from such.

"We may not need enough iron to encircle the entire island," says Henry. "It may suffice merely to enclose the oak tree and these projectiles."

Lepus sees little profit in searching for the errant acorn, assuming that it has served it's purpose in taking them to the tree. Instead, while his companions debate around the piles of stones, he continues his investigation of the mighty oak.

Convinced of the unusual nature of it's occupants, he renews his investigations by poking around the holes at ground level before clambering up the tree (making good use of the many handholds) if necessary. All the while he mutters greetings and apologies in equal measure.

Mr. Handy wrote: "We may not need enough iron to encircle the entire island," says Henry. "It may suffice merely to enclose the oak tree and these projectiles."

Although such limitation of need may indeed prove true, and serve as a wise example of parsimony of resource, nonetheless, to encircle both tree and the multiple arrays of arcane armament will require a considerable supply of ironware. (There are, of course, workshops supplying such for the inhabitants of Highdark Hall and their servants, there being both blacksmith for more involved work, and ironmonger for miscellaneous small needs not requiring the use of anvil and forge.) The practiced eye of Doctor North, whose skill in the royal art of geometry allows him to make accurate estimations as to the perimeters of both oak and the piles of stones, deduces that such a program would require approximately half a dozen rods of iron wire; a considerable, but not impossible amount.

jp1885 wrote:
Lepus sees little profit in searching for the errant acorn, assuming that it has served it's purpose in taking them to the tree. Instead, while his companions debate around the piles of stones, he continues his investigation of the mighty oak.

Convinced of the unusual nature of it's occupants, he renews his investigations by poking around the holes at ground level before clambering up the tree (making good use of the many handholds) if necessary. All the while he mutters greetings and apologies in equal measure.

Scrambling up the mighty oak with some small degree of difficulty, but with success, Lepus comes upon a large hole in the tree, such as an owl of great size might call home. Gazing within, he sees only darkness. From within, however, comes a voice, seemingly that of an elderly man, not in the best of moods.

"Stars and comets! Cannot a body enjoy a good, long nap without every Tom, Dick, and Harry disturbing his peace? Begone, you bungling burglar!"

"Nay kind sir, old Lepus be no burglar but merely a visitor, here to pay his respects to the fabled dweller in the mighty oak. Pray allow this humble intruder tarry a while to converse with thee? 'tis said that thou knowest a great many things - mayhap the true name of the fae lady whose minions doubtless disturb thy rest with their exploding spheres and wotnot?"

Mr. Handy wrote:"We may not need enough iron to encircle the entire island," says Henry. "It may suffice merely to enclose the oak tree and these projectiles."

"Perhaps we could also bring the villaige priest here and have him consecreate the ground," suggests William in a revision of his previous notion.

"It wouldn't hurt," says Henry. "We can make the arrangements when we go to get the iron. The blacksmith and ironmonger should have sufficient quantities for what I have in mind. Of course, if the fae lady can fly, 'tis all for naught."

jp1885 wrote:

"Nay kind sir, old Lepus be no burglar but merely a visitor, here to pay his respects to the fabled dweller in the mighty oak. Pray allow this humble intruder tarry a while to converse with thee? 'tis said that thou knowest a great many things - mayhap the true name of the fae lady whose minions doubtless disturb thy rest with their exploding spheres and wotnot?"

Somewhat mollified by this polite greeting, the yet unseen personage mumbles a bit and emerges from the darkness within the great oak. It proves to be a very small but perfectly formed old man, one as such may have amused monarchs in days of yore. His beard reaches down to his feet, although on a person of normal size, it would not be unusually long.

"You seem harmless enough, I suppose. Help me climb down, will you? I've a mind to see how the good green world is holding up these days." He extends his minuscule arms, in the manner of a young child expecting to be carried.

Meanwhile, as the other two adventurers continue their conversation, they bring to mind the fact that the Reverend Mister Frye is apt to be about the premises come Sabbath, and might be persuaded to assist, given sufficient explanation as to the reason.

Lepus helps the strange fellow, idly wondering what type of sprite he is as he does so.

“How might I address thee?” he asks.

"It seems this tree is home to someone else," says Henry when he sees the figure emerge, "not the lady as we thought."

jp1885 wrote:
Lepus helps the strange fellow, idly wondering what type of sprite he is as he does so.

“How might I address thee?” he asks.

Scampering to the ground with the little man firmly in his grasp, Lepus safely brings him to Earth.

"Finney McGonigle McGee, if you must know, my inquisitive friend. Thanks a-plenty for the ride. Takes the wind out of my lungs to get up and down these days. And who might you me, you great giant of a man? You and those other man-mountains standing there with you?"

Setting the little fellow down, Lepus bows.

"Well met; hailest thee from the Emerals Isle?. This poor fool be Lepus, the gallant soldier over there be Captain William Pallister and the learned gentleman be Dr. Henry North."

"We be here to protect the fine family who dwelleth in yon big house from the Fae Lady and her minions, who seek to destroy them."

The wanderer relays how the magical fish gave them an acorn as a clue to Poppy's real name, which led them to the great oak.

"We found these stones piled around your island. Evil things they be!"

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGee," says Henry with a bow. "If you think we are tall, there is a man named Gogmagog who lives nearby that is as much taller than us as we are taller than you, if not moreso."

"Indeed, an honour to make your acquaintance," says William. "It is as your friend Lepus says. We are contesting with a lady of the Fey who means harm to the family who dwell on these lands."

After listening intently to all that has been related, McGee relates some of his own personal history. Being of a loquacious nature, with a lengthy anecdote as to how he acquired the gift of rhetoric by placing his lips upon the fabled Blarney Stone, this requires no little time. In brief, he did indeed first draw breath in Ireland, and lived there for many and many a year, making a living as a cobbler. Having accumulated some wealth through thrift, he retired from that noble trade and made his way to England. (Here follow a number of accounts relating the many adventures of that journey, as brief a voyage as it may seem to the adventurers.)

Astonished at the size of the local inhabitants, with a wordy aside relating them to the imagined Brobdingnagians of Dean Swift, whom the little fellow claims to have known intimately as a fellow countryman, and even to have inspired some of his writings, McGee decided that discretion was the better part of valor -- here his tale is interrupted by a long lecture, attempting to demonstrate that the Bard of Avon was, in fact, an Irishman -- and took to living a simple but comfortable life hiding in such places as the Great Oak.

"You've done me a good turn," he finally concludes. "'Tis true I've no love for the wicked and mischievous among the Fae Folks. How might I be of service to you?"

As the old man speaks of his Irish ancestry, William grows noticeably colder in demeanour, leaving further conversation with him to Lepus and Lord Dunwich.

"Tell us truly, dost thou know the true name of the Fae Lady?" Lepus inquires as he fishes out the tiny silver ring from a grubby pocket.

"This be a clue methinks, or mayhap payment for a small fellow in exchange for such knowledge?"

"The other clue to her name is an acorn," says Henry. "We'd also like to find out her current whereabouts."

The little fellow shakes his head sadly.

"Nothing I know about the Fair Folk hereabouts. If one of their queens bears you ill will, good luck be with you, say I. Faith, I'd not wish to face such a one with good Saint Pat at me side."

Studying the silver ring, he adds, "Pretty little thing, but not to me taste. You'd not have a wee bit of gold about you, would you?"

Noticing the disdain in William's frowning features, he whispers to the others, "What ails yon soldier lad? I'd not turn me back on him, and that's true."

“Psht, the officers of England have scant love of the sons of Eire, though they be content to fill their ranks with them,” Lepus says offhandedly.

“Such soldiers would be of use now: if we cannot learn the Fae Lady’s name then a great battle shall commence.” He points a bony finger at the stone piles. “See the size of her arsenal.”

“Thou live on this island of mysteries - be there anything thou can do to help us? Mayhap one of my fine companions has a gold coin to spare...”

"My best guess for her name, given the clues, is Silveroak," says Henry, "but it would be nice to confirm it before we try to use it." He fishes around in his coin purse and pulls out a golden coin, offering it to the diminutive man. "Will this do?"

"Aye, mayhap that be it..." mutters Lepus, not entirely convinced.

Grabbing the gold coin and securing in a pocket of his waistcoat with the speed and skill of a mountebank, the diminutive fellow grins widely and does a little dance.

"Sure, there's nothing like a bit o' gold to brighten a body's day. Now then, my fine fellows, shall we make plans for battle?"

It seems that the sight of the yellow metal has raised the little man's spirits to a considerable degree, transforming an overly cautious nature into one more bold.

“Seems there be little choice but to fight, so aye!”

Lepus details there plans so far, to wit: circling the island, or at least the stone piles, with iron.

He will also suggest that all inhabitants of the house and estate carry an iron horseshoe and pin a copy of the rune that banishes restless spirits to their clothing, lest the Fae Lady has recruited the ghosts of the drowned cultists.

“Let us also melt down iron and silver for bullets and knives - there be no telling what creatures we will face. Oh, and keep some of these grenadoe-stones for ourselves, to fight foes of flesh and blood.”

“What else, fellows?

"That sounds a good plan to me," says Henry. "We may also wish to consult the library while the iron is being prepared. There could be references to the lady in some of the books if she is connected to this area."

"Iron nails across the windows and doors of the house," adds William. "We must also be prepared for resitance from Lord Highdark - thus far he has been predisposed to resist any mention of preternatural matters until the moment of crisis."