The Hunt for the Keys part II

by Sir Owain

Dear Mother,

I have sent the official report through father but I thought that I'd better give the less formal version [and all the bits that I shouldn't mention officially] of my mission to you. Sometimes I feel cursed - Sir Robin has so far been nowhere to be found. I traced him to Freiburg, where he had been reported associated with a Baron Franz von Tannen.

I found a curiously diverse group of people in residence under the roof of the von Tannen mansion - but no Sir Robin. For all that they made me welcome and invited me to stay while I searched for the elusive sais. As such I felt obliged to help when Baron Franz had the disconcerting experience of finding numerous money lenders (including some of our lowlander 'cousins' - most embarassingly) wanted payment for loans owed on the residence.

I will not go into all the details of the shenanigans that followed but it seems I have met a party of likely boyos - I enclose the copy of the letter written by the Castillian Don Carlos to give an example of the various adventures that befell us in Freiburg (and please don't ask - the Montaigne Eduarde seemed to be gleefully distributing what was surely private correspondence!). I have no idea why there was so much money owing on the mansion either - judging from the strangely jocular comments to me it leaks and certainly the cellar walls were none too permanent.

To follow on where the epistle left off (and delving into areas where it will be shortly obvious that Don Carlos did not want to go!) we had decided to head off to a caer named Heilgrund (or some such like) to get the other key. But before we went certain people went to curious amounts of trouble to obtain some mysterious items.

The Vestenmannavnjar Borsten tried to obtain 'knockout drops', the Vodacce Giancarlo found a shady trader of the same nationality willing to sell 'restraints for a large animal' (I will gloss over his purchase of the 'Montaigne postcards' from the same vendor) and we then had a visit from an Ussuran lady, oddly reticent about such matters as her name, responding to inquiries about a 'wolf curse'.

She offered and sold some quintessence of wolfsbane to the party at a hefty price, assuring that it would 'slow' the curse. [Since her advice on a full cure was to visit Mother Matushka - and hence a quick trip to Ussura - the 'slowing' seems like a very good idea!] Add that to Don Carlos' impressive set of facial scars and the sidelong glances at him from sundry others and it doesn't take a genius...

Next morning we set out in fine weather - the rain was pleasantly warm - but the slum quarters of Freiburg were distressing to say the least. Eisen is in horrible shape thanks to the wars of those Vaticine scum and the squallor and misery - diw. Add to that the fact that a huge tentacle from some monstrosity launched itself out of a sewer grating and attacked Borsten. He and the others present - Giancarlo, Don Carlos, Dandelion, myself and Franz - managed to get rid of it but it was a bizarre experience.

I also encountered the first Eisen afflicted with the disease of uncaringness known as Waisen. I was most horrified that one young girl, easily sat within reach of that murderous tentacle, uncaringly lifting and dropping a pebble. She looked as pitfully absent as a Sidhe changeling and I could not bear to leave her behind, although I know you will think this is foolish of me. In truth I have so far had little or no success in breaking her out of this horrid apathy, but with so many sufferers some effort surely should be made!

Our first nights camp was enlivened by her wandering away (partially my fault I fear - the wasteland that is Eisen requires a watchful eye for external threats, leaving less for heedless companions). When we realised we all gave chase except Dandelion, who seems to have a mysterious ability to turn up at a moments notice anyway. As it turned out we ended up encountering wolves before they got the young girl and a thoroughly amusing little argument took place in the near darkness under the trees. My companions were most impressive at swordplay and I took little part, being somewhat hampered by holding the girl away from harms reach.

Poor Borsten got rather badly chewed - something that he endured with an air of weary expectation that indicates he must be a very experienced warrior. I should mention, very privately that he is also a sorcerer - he used some impressive little dweomers in a thoughtful attempt to awaken the child in the evening. I begin to like him all the more.

Our journey continued to a burnt out castle and attendant pitiful village, where we finally pursuaded the reluctant peasants that we were NOT going to loot and pillage them. The information that the castle originally belongerd to the von Trapp family seemed to excite some interest, although I am not sure why.

We reached our destination the next day, with the weather staying fair and found what appeared to be our goal outside the castle in a damaged hovel. Inside we found a pair of shears and guessing that this marked Leopold's grave we began to dig. Before we'd got very far we were interrupted by a being called Fleishwulf whom the others had obviously met before.

This unemotional and quietly spoken being - who although not from Albion reminded me rather of one of the Seelie Sidhe (don't tell grandmother I said that please!) engaged in a riddling contest in which we had to think of a word based on the last letter of the previous word - which it finally lost on the letter 'y'.

It seemed to take this defeat in good grace and we were left in peace to dig, eventually finding the key plus a sword and some cufflinks (importance unknown). Departure was hampered by an attack by gargoyles - was Fleischwulf a slighly less gracious loser than I'd thought? - but again they were beaten off with only more damage to poor Borsten to worry about.

Our next worry was Don Carlos. For all the precautionary measures that people had invested in, the full moon proved too much for our Castillian companion and he turned into a wolf during the night. After attacking several of the horses, he ran away amidst the confusion and had to be later recovered once his other form had worn off. It cost us several dead horses.

The next night we were prepared and were able to keep him restrained after which the full of the moon passed and he seemed to be well again. This is a curse with which I am not familiar - does grandmother know anything about (faerie) folk forced to change shape due to the moon phase? Anyway, we've now got back to Freiburg and I can send this off, wondering what bizarreness wil strike this - er -'interesting' group while I am with them. I'm not sure I really want Sir Robin to turn up - this is too much fun!

lots of love

Owain