Overview
The mission was a complete success, resolving the problem of Caolite with no losses.
Background
The ancestor MacLir is a patron of bards and the arts. He occupies the Bears’ pantheon as brother to the Dagda, but is worshipped in wider circles. Caolite is an ancient story half-told into existence by MacLir, but unfinished for some reason.
Since the cataclysm (which it is believed changed or awoke Caolite somehow), Caolite had been attacking MacLir and causing things to rise from MacLir’s hell (the dark afterlife for those that have done terrible things to bards or the arts) to threaten the living. Seeking to feed the hunger of unfinished story within him, Caolite had been kidnapping bards and stealing stories (using Ficti, which are fey as broken as he is), and trying to usurp MacLir’s place to become an Ancestor himself. With clever tactics Caolite had concentrated on preventing MacLir from calling for aid (his nature and servants being able to annihilate stories and knowledge likely helped in this), so the Guild had spent at least a year deciphering cryptic warnings and strange dreams in order to work out exactly what they meant and what was happening, giving Caolite time to become more powerful.
Report
We met at the Hearth and Home inn on the night of Samhain. This was a place of safety near to our goal, which was a haunted island containing a portal to MacLir’s hell. Samhain was celebrated in the traditions of the Bears' Clan McAylwyn, while we got to know each other and made sure all was ready for tomorrow. We were not merely concerned with people and mundane supplies, for we also had a number of magical items linked to MacLir which were necessary for the rites to link to our destination and resolve Caolite. These included MacLir’s cloak and the Harp he made for the Dagda.
Early the next morning we crossed a low tide causeway to the haunted island, reaching another inn. Its Clan McMead staff were present but highly traumatised by the hauntings (signs of the influence of the portal – or so we hoped). It also turned out much later that at least two were agents of Caolite, whether willingly or controlled somehow.
At the time however all seemed well. We organised ourselves, the rite to link this realm to MacLir’s Hell was planned and the items were attuned to various places. Life on the island continued, we even had a visit from a fortune teller – and then some goblins arrived to trade. They ‘happened to have’ the Spear of MacLir, which had been stolen from a guildhouse some months earlier, and they had heard we might want it.
Despite the fact that the spear had been stolen by goblin pirates, the Bards traded for the spear rather than executing the goblins and reclaiming it (It is possible that these armed goblins with a ship were different goblins who had acquired the spear from the original goblin pirates via violence or trade or gambling. Unlikely, but possible). Gold and a lesser item changed hands and the goblins left us with the spear. The McMeads and other civilians left gradually around the same time.
Shortly after this we suffered a number of attacks by zombies and a couple of ghouls. They were dispatched relatively easily, though they did inflict disease upon some of us. We had very few healers but a lot of incantors, so disease was a greater issue than normal injury. However as we repaired bodies and armour we discovered the Spear of MacLir was missing. No zombies had got past us into the inn where it had been left, much less got away. We could only assume one of the civilians had stolen it, but it seemed they had all left before the spear was last seen. Tracking gave no clues, an impromptu rite performed to seek the spear told us it was very nearby, so we searched the area but found nothing.
Eventually, after at least an hour, we discovered that one of the McMead civilians had beguiled a couple of our number and set us to sabotage the upcoming rites, and while one (that would be... me) had been waiting for the rite to start before making a move, the other had stolen the spear and hidden it nearby. With us both cured of our mental violations the spear was returned and we could begin the rite which would link this place with MacLir’s realm.
The traitorous landlord returned and confirmed he was an agent of Caolite, attacking us alongside zombies and other cultists. After we put them down we evacuated the inn, which would form a central anchor point for the realm linking and so may become unsafe during the rite. The rite began a short distance away at the place attuned with the items, while most of us took up a defensive position. More undead attacked supported by cultists (all seeming to be mages). Things got messy, I was downed several times, at one point the entire rite was disrupted and had to be started again. Still, we endured, nobody died and the rite was concluded.
Before we could approach the inn, three servants of MacLir arrived, welcoming us to his realm and saying we must pass tests to prove ourselves. (This caused a number of us to wonder if MacLir’s plight was as desperate as we had thought, if he was free to send agents to us, and also willing to put additional obstacles in our path). Despite fears this might be a trick of Caolite’s, things went well. We split into three groups of roughly equal size by our choice, each following one servant to perform one test of Hand, Heart or Head. I went with those performing the Head Test, and while I was unable to help with the questions and riddles about bardic lore, we were also asked for a particularly theme tale, poem and song. My tale of Pwll went down well as a story about a mortal from the underworld, and so I felt I had been of some use. Passing our test we reunited with the others who told us both other tests had also been passed (the test of the Hand being a fight of skill against a far superior opponent who had a specific vulnerable area, and the test of Heart being to reunite two former lovers who were unable to communicate directly to resolve their differences), and we had each received a gemmed token called a ‘Word of Maclir’ as prize. We now entered the inn which had been transformed almost beyond recognition, with disturbing images, cobwebs and stranger things. Ethereal music sounded apparently at random, as well as occasional disembodied voices. The inn now contained a lot of papers and riddles, and our translators began to work on these, as well as figuring out what to do with the ‘Words of Maclir’, as well as a couple of strange items within the inn.
Ficti then appeared, Ficti marked with the sign of Caolite, and bringing with them tortured pattern spirits they held as slaves. Despite this being three very good reasons to kill them, we were forbidden to do so by the guildmasters. Instead we stayed in very awkward peace with the Ficti, knowing the dangers of speaking to them yet alone telling them any tale or song, yet at the same time forbidden from killing them or driving them away as they wandered where they pleased. Steps were taken to free the enslaved pattern spirits (I think they were dismissed), though such may have not so much freed them as merely moved them and their misery to somewhere it wasn’t right in front of us.
The wisdom of the guildmasters’ decision became apparent over time. Firstly the Words of MacLir were successfully activated and we were told that we had power over his creatures in this realm via our words and stories. Armed with this knowledge and some decoded writings from the inn, some very brave people risked their tales and their very futures in performing for the Ficti. A few tales and songs were lost, but it became clear that these ficti were broken as Caolite was broken, and that they could be completed and made into true fey if fed with the right inspiration and that if this was done those tales and songs would not be lost. The coded papers gave clues as to what was required, as did the Ficti themselves if asked the right questions. And so one by one the Ficti were restored (not by me, I hasten to add. As a follower of Mil I took the view that risking my stories and my life to turn one type of fey into another type of fey was not something I should be a part of. I did assist in some decoding, and stood guard a lot).
After night fell we had more visitors of the disturbing but non-violent variety. Patterns of those newly sent to this hellish afterlife arrived. Some of their fates seemed deserved but it was still possible to free them by persuading them to accept the wrongness of their actions and seek forgiveness. The shade of the father of one of our number was sent by Caolite to torment him, while other visitors who we at first mistook for Ficti turned out to be pieces of Caolite the broken story now split into three parts, only one of which sought our destruction. With information from those parts and the curing of all the Ficti we were finally able to perform a rite to finish Caolite’s story. It would be a difficult thing however, for the rite to work we would need to draw Caolite into range, but he would then seek to stop the rite (we didn’t actually plan to end his story by killing him, but seeing his enemies performing a rite to change his story he would naturally assume this and try to stop us). Therefore two rites were held, the genuine rite to be defended at all costs, and a very loud obnoxious rite to drawn Caolite’s attention and act as decoy once he arrived.
We formed our defensive line, and began the rites. Zombies soon attacked, but were easily annihilated. Then Caolite arrived in person. His power was considerable but his minions were few and ineffective at first, making him easy to hold at bay. Then more powerful creatures arrived to support him, and things became more painful. Luckily their numbers remained few compared to ours. Caolite took the Guildblade Whisper from us (by destroying the arm of its wielder) but as his minions were whittled down it became clear that the gap between their loss and their return was becoming longer and longer. No longer content to hold we advanced, forcing him back and finally damaging him severely, at which point the words ‘the end’ sounded and he vanished. We knew we could not defeat him merely physically but assumed the rite had succeeded so regained Whisper and headed back to the inn. However Caolite then reformed and returned to the attack with his minions as our rite continued. We still held him back however, and as the rite reached its conclusion we destroyed his body again, before taking down his remaining minions (with surprising difficulty).
With the rite concluded, Caolite’s story had been finished. He was now Whalesong, son of MacLir, properly rebound into the pantheon and family of his creator. Or such was the intent, and we knew it had succeeded when MacLir himself arrived. The Ancestor thanked us for our help and had the now-obedient creatures of his regained realm bring a great feast to us in thanks and celebration. More importantly, by morning all the effects of the realms bleeding together had faded, so we were back in the real world once more.
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Alan Griffith)