A Merry Longnight

It had been snowing for two months in the mountain town of Windbrucke.  The harvests were long in and stored, but the sages had already predicted a long winter, and there were pessimists who already spoke of running out of food during the cold, dark season ahead.  Such negativity cannot stop the celebration of 'Longest' night.  Music and song fill the streets. Food and drink flow freely and impromptu speeches are interrupted by jeers and applause in equal measure.

To the North, a stiff breeze has blown snowy drifts up against the high wall. The town is all but isolated from the rest of the country, at least for a month or two more. The howling wind is occasionally drowned out by the distant bray of winter wolves, but even such dark sounds cannot defeat the merriment, not tonight.

It is on this night that Brin, the innkeeper of the Three Hogs Inn; an old place that sits just outside the south gate of town, waits, warming herself by a well stoked fireplace. This is the night that she and her traveling companions of old agreed to meet for a well earned drink and to speak of the adventures that have taken place in the passing year.
The stomping of snow laden feet and the lifting of the heavy latch at the front door signals the arrival of the first of Brin's guests. Brin breathes a sigh of relief, never sure of how much company she will have on Longnight's Eve.
"I didn't say gabbin, I said goblins, I thought I heard goblins, is what I said," one of the new arrivals continues.
"Goblins live in these mountains too you know," the other responded.
"Just sayin, I thought I heard 'em."
"They didn't bother us, we shouldn't bother them, at least not tonight,  Brin, a merry Longnight to you. Crack open the Bayberry Wine."

Brin had served in the Senta Regulars with her brother during the second Beast War. They had both lasted long enough to muster out with honors and a reasonably hefty paycheck. Ellan had come out of the fighting more or less unscathed. Brin, however, had not  been so lucky. She had taken a gruesome blow to her left leg from a pissed off ogre. She hadn't been expected to live. The healers had done their best for her. They hadn't amputated, though on some cold nights she wished they had.  Her leg was a mangled knot of seized joints and cramped muscles. She walked with a cane and didn't like to walk far.
"it's behind the bar. Get it yourself you lazy oaf."
"Lazy! Oaf! I just walked up the side of a mountain to see you, through goblin infested woods apparently,"  the young dwarf grinned, walking across to the hinged portion of the polished oak bar. 
Rather than flipping the bar up, the dwarf ducked underneath and plodded to where Brin was pointing. He grabbed five crystal goblets from a shelf behind him and set them on the polished surface of the bar. He glanced under the bar and grabbed a two-pint bottle and set it beside the glasses. The bottle was made of a dark green glass, corked and dipped in tin. It was wrapped in a mesh of thick twine that was showing signs of age. An old parchment label was shoved between the glass and the mesh. All that was written on it in an elegant hand was, 'Cumbra, Leth, 98 AE, 21 of 47.' 
The dwarf unwrapped the metal seal and shoved a cork puller into the bottle top, "We're almost out. Three more bottles after this. We need to be looking for a new vintage."
"I'll look forward to the delivery. Not some cheap plonk though." Brin responded with a smile of her own.
"Are you kidding me? Kuohka the Dwarf spending coin on cheap wine, unheard of, sacrilege, he'd rather die," the dwarf's traveling companion screwed up his face, "he'd rather someone else die anyway."
The dwarf laughed, "true enough, may Ebrus bless my alcohol softened bones, I'll find us something good."
"Where are the others?" his companion asked as he pulled his damp hood and cloak off.
"Probably making sure no one saw your ugly northerner face coming in here."
"After last year, the villagers love me."
"Not sure they'd know you from any other elf. They'd probably figure it out after they strung you up."
The elf deflated a little and shrugged, "I don't like it in town anyway."
The cork popped as it came free from the bottle. A delicate aroma of fresh berries and cinnamon filled the room.
"My brother is always late. You'd best pour without him or we'll be waiting 'til after the last chime for our first drink."
"True enough, and after that trouble in Cumbra a few months back, maybe he's not coming."
Brin's smile sank a little. She and Ellan had bought the inn together, every penny from their retirement and then some. In fact, the 'then some' had come from these two Northlanders and Daram, who had also not arrived yet. No surprise there, if her brother had found trouble, Daram was probably at the heart of it, and if her brother wasn't coming nor was Daram.

Brin and Daram had bought the Three Hogs Inn from a halfling businessman named Gareth. Apparently, he had gotten caught up in some legal entanglements with a few of the more prominent townsfolk and had felt the need to make himself scarce. There had also, apparently been a woman involved, a half-Orc woman, whom he felt he must find before it was all too late. Brin had not felt any need to ask, sure that she would not understand or not like the answer.

The Three Hogs Inn was a robust thatch, stone and wood affair, two stories high for the most part. Its external whitewashed walls were accented by large darkly stained wooden structural beams and a number of small windows on each floor, currently shuttered for the night and for the season. A six foot stone outer wall connected the north and the west walls of the main building surrounding a large courtyard and a handful of small outbuildings including a stable, a well house and one of the three pig smokers for which the inn was named.

Brin ran the place and they did a brisk business, mostly legal, when the weather suited travel and commerce. Tonight there were twelve empty rooms of various sizes and levels of luxury on the second floor. The only inhabitants of the inn were the three friends sat around the fireplace drinking Bayberry wine. 
"... and so he asked us to hide the bodies while he made some inquiries and paid some bribes to some fellow he knew in the North Gate precinct of the city guard," Kuokha explained.
"He said he'd meet us here and not to worry," piped the elf.
"But someone had tried to kill him," asked Brin.
"Case of mistaken identity he said."
"Mistaken, is right!" proclaimed a bright voice from the front door, "mistaken for an easy mark."
"Get out of the doorway ya brute, it's bloody cold out here and you're letting all the nice warm air out."
The entrance to the inn was filled with a large man in a long brown leather coat and gloves. His youthful eyes were offset by a sharp black beard with a smattering of silver grey flecks that suggested a face that had weathered a few tough years. Behind him, a smaller man engulfed in thick furs, was trying to elbow his way into the warm room. 

Ellan and Daram were welcomed in with warm hand shakes and friendly hugs.  As they all settled down to warm themselves by the fire, drinking from freshly refilled goblets of wine, they heard the distant chimes of the bell at the Temple of Ianuar in Windbrucke. Before the last resounding ring went quiet, a distant cheer from the inhabitants of the town could be heard even within the walls of the Inn. The friends clinked their glasses in friendship.
"Just in time brother. Again!"

They talked into the night. Tales garnished with just a flavoring of falsehood to make them more entertaining were shared by all. Brin listened with interest. Her tale might be the most intriguing of all, but it would have to wait until the morning light and a measure of sobriety because it would offer a dangerous opportunity for adventure. After finishing all but one of the remaining bottles of wine the welmet comrades bade their goodnights and went upstairs in search of a place to sleep.

However, something moved out in the deep snow, several creatures moved toward the Inn with intent. They had it on good authority that the innkeeper would be all alone tonight, as she had been for several nights before and they had business with her.

The Gnorras Isles - Pathfinder Setting

All my knowledge of the histories of our land comes from my father.  That would certainly surprise many who knew him. He was not a talkative man.  He was thoughtful, strong and kind but never talkative.
It was four days after my eleventh birthday; I had been playing on the streets of the citadel as was my wont.  This day turned out differently though. I ran with older kids in those days and on that morning, one of our cadre had been missing.  He had died in the night.  I say that out of hand now, after so many years of seeing and dealing in death, but on that morning horror and fear were my dark companions.
None of my friends truly knew what happened to Stefan, but the tales of children started in the morning and by the time I returned to my home that night I was shaking and crying, terrified of what I had learned that day.  To be honest, I do not remember much of the story I had been told. Such was the quiet power of my father that all I remember now is the wisdom he passed onto me that evening.
I did not enter through the store front of my family’s blacksmith. I took the entrance through the side alley that was a quicker route to my room.  However, as soon as I stepped across the threshold of my home, I knew I wasn’t going to make it.  A deep sob came unbidden from my throat as I took the first step up the stone stairwell towards the second floor and privacy.
“Endimnor, is that you?”  My will collapsed in on itself.  Before I knew it, I was standing before my father blabbing the dealings of the whole day between long drawn sobs.
“… and dark wizards come unhindered into your home and curse you to death or worse…”
“Sit, son!”  I sat.  The quiet in the room was displaced only by the crackle of the fireplace.  I knew this place; it was solid, stone, warm against the ice of the night, and where my mother and father spent most of their evenings.  My mother worked late but I knew she would return soon. The ordinariness of it all began to calm me.  I settled back into one of the cushioned chairs that my father habitually brought in here after his working day was done.  I looked into his eyes and he nodded.  I remember that nod; I spent my life trying to mimic it. Then he began to speak. He spoke in such a way that would brook no interruptions.
“I do not know much about the ins and outs of this world, but I will tell you what my father told me when I was about your age. Your grandfather was a soldier and he visited all of the isles at one time or another.  I don’t know how much of what he learned was truth. Ahh, anyway, truth, like beauty, resides in the eye of the beholder.”
“Let’s see.  The people of Cull, Senta and Mesh all came from a land hundreds of miles to the south across the Broken Ocean. They had to leave because the land was being swallowed up by a terrible magic that left nothing alive.  That magic, which I have heard named “banefire” was created by wizards, magicians or sorcerers whatever you want to call them, to end all wars.  That fire burns still they say.  Sailors, you know, who travel too far south will tell you that a light with a deep purple hue can be seen on the horizon.  I don’t know much about that having never been on a ship.”
“So, then there was the Exodus.  The remaining wizards gathered the surviving people, our ancestors and put them on boats and sent them North.  The wizards did not come with us. Their dangerous secrets would not taint our chances of survival. They made a pact to hold back the destroying magic to protect our retreat.  Legend has it that the ten most powerful spellcasters gave up their mortality to become great statues that stand in the shallows along the coast of the Southlands.  Those statues, the Sentinels, would hold back the banefire for eternity.  The lesser wizards chose the fiery death of the banefire over immortality.”
“Magic, like the wind, is just a force of nature.  However hard we might try it cannot be fully contained. The old wizards knew that. They knew that people would be born with the talent.  New wizards, arcanists as they are usually called these days, would appear and might become a danger if left unchecked. They planned for that. They told the people of the Exodus what to do.”
My father took a sip from his drink then, and set his cup back on the table by his right side.
“The first guilds were formed.  The Guild of the Arcane Light was to be a school for those with magical talents.  They were to seek out those with gifts, train them and direct them in the right ways to use their power.  The Arcane Guild would also regulate magic use across the isles and stop those who would use magic without the support and tutelage of the guild. This guild continues even today.  They are based in the city of Altus.”
“A second guild was formed.  This guild’s purpose was cloaked in secrecy until the hundred and first year after our Exodus. The guild is known as the Path of Shadow, or to most just the Shadow Guild.  Yes, I can see by your face that you have heard talk of them and fear them, as you should.  In 101AE, after the Cull Freedom Wars, the High Wizard Kazran of the Arcane Guild declared himself Overlord of the Isles.  Even as the message was sent to the three kingdoms, arcanists swiftly used their powers to assassinate the king of Mesh, take command of the armies of Cull and Senta, and imprison the Trade Council of Altus.  The kingdoms reeled from the attack and with little choice gave up the hard earned rule of their lands to the Wizards.”
“This state of affairs lasted for one week.  The story goes that after a week each of the arcanists directly involved in the attack received a note. Many have speculated as to the content of the note, even your grandfather.  Most rumors tell that the note said something like, ‘The Goddess gave you your life and gifts, she can take them away.’ Those who received a note each died a day later without explanation. Then, the Guild hall in Altus was attacked.  The survivors claimed that the shadows became men and women, and they became violence incarnate.  They killed every arcanist over the age of twenty.  Those they did not kill, they gathered in the courtyard.  One of the Shadows stepped forward and addressed the group, her hand gripping the bloody staff of command that denotes leadership in the Arcane Guild. “The Goddess spares you this night,” she said.
“Who among you will take up the leadership of this Guild now?”
A bold voice responded to her call, but before he could finish he was struck down by four of the Shadows’ arrows.
“Now, who?” she asked.  It is said, for long moments there was silence like that of a graveyard.
A small calm voice finally responded, “I will answer your call, Miss.” The others whispered and muttered because the youngest of them had spoken.
“… and why are you worthy child?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” says he, “but my Da says that you should stand up to bullies but you should mind yourself or you’ll end up turning into a bully. So… you are not welcome here and you should leave,” his voice beginning to tremble.
“Come then, take this if you can,” she gestured to the staff.
The boy came to her and took the staff from her hands, and some say that for just a moment you could see the tall powerful man that the boy would become.
“We are watching child,” the woman said.
“You should go and wash that blood off your hands,” he said finally, unperturbed.  The woman smiled and nodded, gathered her Shadow warriors about her and turned to leave.
“We will be back boy,” the woman called.
The other young arcanists heard the boy respond, “Not in my lifetime Miss,” quietly, almost to himself.”
My father paused again in his tale.
“Is that true, father?”
“Do you believe it?”
I frowned.
“That boy became High Wizard Robahn the Ruthless and he rules the Arcane Guild today.  You could ask him.”  My father smiled.  “That is what I know of Wizards. They are dangerous but they are not to be feared for their differences. Just as your mother should not be feared because she has the looks of the North.”
“The Shadow Guild is rarely heard from, though there are those that say that they serve those who will pay, kings, queens, merchants, dealing in death.”
I nodded having heard some of the darker stories of the Shadows.
“Why do people fear my mother then?” I asked hopeful that my father would be willing to spin another yarn before sending me off to bed.  I think he saw the hope in my eyes, and he nodded once again.
“Alright Endy, one more tale before your mother gets home.”  He took a long sip of his drink and winced slightly at its strength.  Scorn, I have since learned is a spirit made from rotten potatoes and is much stronger than ale or cider.  My father was a habitual drinker.
“When our ancestors left the Southlands they knew where they were going. The Gnorras Isles were known to scholars. Our people had been coming here to try to settle for many years before the Exodus.  In fact, most of the cities of the Kingdoms are built on the remains of old settlements. There are many ruins scattered across these Isles from failed attempts to bring civilization here. You know why we always failed?”
“The monsters, in the forests and the mountains.”
“Right,” a grim look fleeted across his face.
“The monsters had always pushed us back before the Exodus.  They have tried to do it since, but there is strength in desperation.”
“When we first arrived here, a hundred and thirty three years ago, we were one kingdom.  We were ruled by the First Council that later became the Trade Council of Altus.  We did not stay that way for very long.  After thirty years and much expansion across the North of the Isles, Anteaus Mesh, our king’s great, great grandfather or something like that, broke from the council and formed his own kingdom.  The council was not at all happy with this and there was a war, the first of many.  Mesh managed to stay free and the council finally gave up.  Soon after that, another council member, Exran Cull, did the same thing and the Island kingdom of Cull was formed.  More wars and towards the end of that war, the First Council warlord, Dumane Senta, staged a coup and took all of the lands that were left except for the capital city of Altus. Altus became a city state, a little kingdom in its own right, run by the First Council.  They renamed themselves the Trade Council of Altus.”
“Over the next few years, there were many skirmishes between the four realms.  All they were really doing was steadily weakening each other.”
“It was then that the Ghath Alliance or Northlanders chose to attack.  We had not known that we were sharing the island with other people.  The Ghathans had been here before we arrived.  They considered us invaders.  We considered them non-human savages; there are some who still do.”
“In our weakened state, our armies and navies were beaten back.  All was almost lost to the humanoid raiders.  Luckily, the Traders of Altus called a meeting and made the kings of Senta, Cull and Mesh sign a peace agreement called the First Accord.  This document said they would help each other against the invaders.  The Ghathans were turned back and for ten years we heard nothing more from them.”
“Then, in 58AE, the Ghath races returned in force.  The kingdoms went out to meet them and in a moment of betrayal, the Ghath overran our defenses.  The King of Cull, Bael, had turned traitor on us and all seemed lost.  Again, the Council of Altus stepped, though no one is entirely certain how.  Bael was assassinated and his son took up the throne.  Matters were reversed as the navy of Ghath was suddenly surrounded by enemies; again the Northlanders were turned back.”
“The Council of Altus opened trade negotiations with the Ghath Alliance. For many years, trade and piracy went hand in hand around the seas of Gnorras.  An uneasy peace lasted for almost twenty five years.  In that time, Ghath races moved to the South and people from our lands moved and lived in the North.
“Then came Peblen’s folly and the First Beast wars.  Peblen was our king and he decided that Mesh should expand further to the North through the forests.  He did not know that he would stir up a nest of beasts that would rain down on Mesh and almost destroy the kingdom. Peblen died in the Beast Wars.  The Mesh people are hardy folk though and they held onto their lands each with every last breath.  At its weakest, Peblen’s son agreed to marry the daughter of the King of Senta, a beauty it is said, to cement the relationship between the two kingdoms.  Senta came to our aid.”
“Towards the end of the Beast Wars, a faction of the Ghath Alliance struck Cull and overran the island.  Senta and Mesh were too involved in their own affairs to notice. Culls people took to the hills and went into hiding.  Senta and Mesh spent the next few years just trying to figure out how the kingdoms would interact with each other, forming treaties and laws, mostly through underhanded politics and court intrigue.  Some might say that the relationship between the kingdoms is still unclear today.”
“The Guerilla Wars lasted for four years on the island of Cull.  The rebel Cull struck ever harder at the conquering Ghath. In 94AE, Dane Cull gathered his people and struck back at the Ghath and, breaking their supply lines, drove them from the island.”
“Soon after that the Second Accord was signed.  This trade treaty has kept the peace, more or less, up to the present day. The Ghathans are still looked upon with fear and distrust, but they become a more common sight every day, like your mother. We have come to terms with the fact that the Ghathan Alliance has its own internal struggles and intrigue, and we are only seeing one tiny piece of a larger puzzle.”
“The activities of the beasts on the interior of the island are increasing again.  Our king is calling for support from the other nations to stave off a second beast war before it starts. Here, in the city, we are safe from danger but for muggers and street thieves.”
“Time for bed now son and do not fear the wizards, no one passes into our home without me knowing and I’ll keep you safe this night.”
His eyes said it all, no more stories, not that night…
I would remember that night for many other reasons as the years went on.  I remember believing that my father was indestructible and had all t he answers.  I remember believing he could keep me safe from everything. I was wrong.