Chapter 2: Flora and Fauna of the Bunderhilt Mountains

Scurra,

You will notice I have sent extra funds. Please spend the usual share on Sephonie and the girls. The rest is for you as I must ask a favor: does foxbane still grow in the parks and wilds around Hearthstone? If so, I will take as much dried flowers and seeds as you might get. If I remember correctly, it was loved as an ornamental and also among beekeepers.

Why do I request this flower, you might ask? Because it is a most potent cure for the distress! Unfortunately, I have run out of it and can’t find it in this land. Immediately, I go south to secure more from Bouge lands, where I first noticed it. Do not worry for me. I will stay far from Kezodel and his Degorouth henchmen. By the time this reaches you, I shall be halfway back to Melmorahn with a supply of my own.

Yet, I will need more than I can carry. I only go for a small batch to tide me over until you can see a delivery sent from Hearthstone. Although we have found a cure, we have yet to figure out what is causing this terrible disease. I fear it will be some time still before Melmorahn is fully recovered.

Your loving brother,

Krumpus

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 2.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Krumpus stepped along the abandoned road as one question repeated over and over in his mind: what happened to this land? Years ago, he traveled through the area and wondered at the great colonies of foxbane, as large swaths of the mountain were painted yellow with its delicate blossoms. Intrigued by the flower, he sat among them for half a day, and contemplated their nature. He watched and named the various insects that played upon their branches, leaves, and petals. He considered the wind and rains, as he observed the rocky landscape and the simplistic beauty of the setting.

After a week of watching the flowers grow and bloom in the bright spring weather, Krumpus wished to get back to his former work, so he picked several mature plants and draped them over his pack to dry. Desiccated and brittle, he eventually crushed the dried flowers into a soft leather bag and put them away.

In those days, Krumpus walked the lands and treated the people for various infirmities and diseases, in hopes of making a pretty penny while seeing new people and places. He carried a wide collection of tinctures, poultices, creams, and tonics—many of his own clever invention—and treated the people for their various illnesses, sicknesses, and diseases. From his home in Hearthstone, he traveled west into Bouge lands, even beyond Lake Kundilae.

For a while, Krumpus considered going all the way to Salyst and seeing if he might not help with their troubles. But news out of Salyst was quite grim those days. By the time he approached the border, it was said most her people were either murdered, captured and taken for slaves by the Ministrians, or escaped—either scattered among the other Trohl nations or disappeared into the wilds beyond the Red Desert.

Krumpus decided to turn north, toward Melmorahn. Just below the Gopi border, he stepped into an apothecary intent to resupply, before heading on. In the shop, he was greeted by some of the saddest wares ever pushed on the consuming public—not to mention the eternal scowl of the proprietor. After rounding the store and seeing nothing he wished to have, Krumpus silently slipped away—only to be accosted by several members of the watch a block from the store.

The apothecary accused Krumpus of thievery. Kezodel, the judge that presided over the area, and a good friend of the apothecary, took one look at the shabby shaman, the ramshackle state of his supplies and tongue, and locked the man away for vagrancy.

Thanks to his kind treatment and skill among the locals, Krumpus made many new friends in the area. These fair people immediately petitioned the court and called for his release. Kezodel and his Degorouth clansmen would have ignored these protests—as was their standard response to the people’s displeasure—but another trouble surfaced for the judge and his goons, and their opposition was soon bolstered by a righteous fury. A girl of thirteen, abducted from a strong family and missing for nearly a year, escaped from Kezodel’s own mansion with the help of a young slave. She told of atrocities and shame among the most powerful of the court.

The story of the girl’s kidnapping spread like wildfire and added to years of graft, corruption, and long knives in the night. The good people were beside themselves as their long simmering indignation boiled out of all control. Militias took to the streets and surrounded the buildings and neighborhoods controlled by the Degorouth.

Support for the opposition poured into town from miles around and the people demanded a trial (though many wished to skip the talking and get straight to the hanging). Kezodel realized a storm brewed and thought it likely to sweep him under. More opposition arrived daily, and he knew he’d get no support from the feckless courts of Ebertin. Convinced he might lose his head if he stayed, Kezodel and his Degorouth henchmen gathered their riches and prepared to flee.

Despite his haste, Kezodel took the time to threaten Krumpus personally—after all, the judge’s most recent difficulties started with the shaman’s arrest. “Test me again and I’ll have your head,” he glared at Krumpus. But the smana need not feel special about it. Kezodel proceeded to scold and castigate another dozen or so prisoners. In the middle of the night, Kezodel and a good number of his Degorouth lieutenants abandoned their offices with the community’s coin and property in tow.

Once it was discovered the Degorouth had fled their posts, the local militias cut the locks and freed most of the prisoners, to the delighted cheers of the gathered crowd. A few of the inmates were too terrible to be released.

All in all, Krumpus spent nearly a month in jail before the winds of change finally freed him. By the time he returned to his journey, the weather had shifted and winter threatened. As Krumpus hastened his way through Gopi lands, early storms swept through the mountains and blocked the passes until the spring thaw. His plans to winter in Melmorahn, ancient home of Rigel, were ruined. Krumpus decided to go home. He turned east.

In Hearthstone once more, the foxbane was further forgotten when Krumpus met Sephonie. He might have stayed in Hearthstone forever and never realized foxbane’s potency, except the grumblings of a sickness in Melmorahn grew loud, pricked the shaman’s ears, and stirred his wanderlust once more. With the excuse of wanting to help those most unfortunate people, Krumpus packed his bag and tried to convince Sephonie to go with him. Despite his pressures, Sephonie refused. In the end, Krumpus could not blame her. A city that suffered an unknown plague was no place to raise their children. Krumpus promised to send money—and Sephonie swore to burn his letters.

Krumpus reached Melmorahn to find the plague in full swing. The number of sick had increased and the death toll crept into the thousands. The people of Melmorahn moved about the city with scarves and rags over their pallor faces. The healers of the city struggled against the distress with no real success. In such a climate, Krumpus found himself swimming in patients. He set to work solving the problem. Though many recovered, the distress might wear on a man for weeks, even months, before it finally left him. Victims were lethargic, suffered irregular stool, developed sores about their eyes, mouth, and nose. Too many were overcome and eventually died.

Krumpus did his best to keep his patients hydrated, fed, and comfortable. He poured over his various medicines, potions, powders, and recipes to find a cure. He scoured the local markets and tested anything that looked promising—but recovery was always slow and sometimes didn’t happen at all. As the months marched on, survivors often caught the distress over and over again. Krumpus caught it twice himself, though he managed to recover.

A year passed and the plague only got worse. At wit’s end, Krumpus decided to go for a ride in the country, that he might commune with the spirits and beg their help. He planned to gather samples of plants, and trap a few native animals, on the chance that something—anything—might reveal some secret of the distress. Could he hope for a cure? The gods willing.

As he began to pack, Krumpus found the soft leather pouch of crushed foxbane at the bottom of his bag. He opened the pouch and was astounded by what he found. Years later, the crushed flowers still smelled of summer’s light and clean mountain air. Krumpus had a sneaking suspicion that foxbane was the perfect thing to treat the distress. He immediately canceled his trip.

But Krumpus would not rush the herb’s administration. He had to be sure it was safe. For a week, Krumpus ate nothing and drank a growing amount of foxbane tea, that he might understand its affects on a human body. Each day he liked it more than the last. The final day, he ate the thin bits of flower he’d steeped and wondered at his vibrancy. The foxbane lent him a subtle energy despite his lack of other sustenance.

Convinced it was safe, Krumpus gave the flower to his most dire patients. He gave them a cup of tea with each of their meals. The effects were quick and startling. The aches and pains of the sickness subsided within a few hours. At ease, the patients enjoyed deep and restful sleep. By the third day, they pooped properly and refused to stay in bed. By the end of the week, the lesions about their eyes, mouths, and noses cleared up. The foxbane was an unmitigated success!

Krumpus immediately gave the tea to as many as he could. In the coming weeks, he lost only three of his most dire cases! He was very pleased with the flower. It took a disease that killed one in four, and brought that down to one in fifteen among the very worst! Not only did his patients recover, they recovered quickly! The only problem was that he’d exhausted his supply of foxbane—and he could not find it growing anywhere around the city.

Still, he knew where to get it. This time, he’d be across Gopi lands in two weeks and back before the proper start of summer—or so he thought. Now that Krumpus was in the Southern Bunderhilt, he could find no foxbane, and there were no people to tell him where it might be hiding. He wondered if it wasn’t the invasion of Salyst all over again only among the greater population of the Bouge. Perhaps if he was not so obsessed with the distress, Krumpus might have heard word of what happened here—but then he’d barely stopped at all to hear the talk of the Gopi as he passed through their lands.

Indeed, he did not even hear talk of bugbear, and there was plenty of traps and scat about from those vermin! For a time, Krumpus wondered if perhaps the bugbear chased out the men, but it soon became evident that the men disappeared and the bugbear simply inherited empty lands. He’d have to be careful around such beasts. They were all too happy to kill and eat humans.

As Krumpus searched for the flower, he wondered if he shouldn’t go back to Melmorahn and simply await the shipment of foxbane from his sister. Then he wondered if the flower was still in fashion as an ornamental and among beekeepers. It’d been nearly two years since he’d seen Jindleyak lands. Perhaps it was gone even from his native home!

Irrational fears began to spin wildly though the shaman’s mind as he wandered, day after day. He wondered if foxbane was gone from the earth altogether. What if Jindleyak groundskeepers pulled the flower from all the lands near Hearthstone? What if some pest devoured them where they grew among the Untu tribes? What if all the foxbane perished for whatever wet-dry, hot-cold reason that made conditions impossible for the flower? But then, Krumpus was only imagining the worst. There was always the possibility of finding foxbane around the very next corner…

Krumpus reigned in his thoughts. He wondered if perhaps that one year oh-so-long-ago was simply a banner year for the plant, with conditions just right to see such a proliferation. Perhaps the colonies retracted and were simply smaller, tucked among the underbrush, not so out in the open. Perhaps the flowers were late to bloom this year, and he had passed them unaware of what he saw. Perhaps he simply needed to wait a little longer or look a little closer… He continued south.

Krumpus arrived at the main road between Ebertin and Wibbeley. For a time he sat at the side of the road and considered which way he might go as he nibbled an early lunch. To the east was Ebertin, the largest city of the Bouge, said to be the largest city of the nine Trohl nations. To the west were the ruins of Salyst if he should turn north at the ford; or the Saot city of Wibbeley if he should cross the river and go south. But he didn’t want to go any of those directions, he simply wanted to find a flower!

Krumpus turned toward Ebertin. He’d heard rumor that Kezodel had established himself in the great city—but then, it was such a large city. Even if Krumpus ended up going all the way to Ebertin, what were the chances Kezodel or any of his men would recognize the shaman, especially after all these years?

Caught in his thoughts, Krumpus rode his horse around a blind corner and took several steps before he realized what was right in front of him. His eyes went wide and his heart jumped as he pulled his mount to a stop. Before him, a great serpent curled on a flat smooth boulder in a bright patch of sunlight, just off the side of the road. Its camouflage may have tricked other casual observers, but the shaman saw it immediately. The creature was a tawny color with mottled red patterning and emerald green highlights. Coiled like was, the serpent sunned itself with its long head resting between the shoulders of its wings and looked a good deal like one of the native shrubs—but Krumpus knew it was a wyrm as soon as he saw it!

Krumpus was downwind from the creature. He realized it would not detect him if he decided to sneak away. Yet, the wyrm might know where to find foxbane. It might also know what became of the people. The elder races were all said to be as bright as men—though it was also said they were just as capricious. The wyrm might help him—and it might attack. Wyrms were said to possess a deadly venom, and their hides were said to be as hard as stone. They were also said to be charismatic, so much so, they might glamour the unassuming. Indeed, one writer spoke of their ability to control minds—but Krumpus thought that was unlikely. He frowned. Now that he rehashed the things he’d heard of wyrms over the years, he wondered if any of it was true. Indeed, he often wondered if the beasts themselves were real! Everyone had their ideas about the elder races—but few people ever caught more than an occasional glance.

Eventually, Krumpus decided that as long as he was kind to the creature, it was likely to reciprocate. Even at the worst, he should be safe—if only he kept his distance. He smiled as he tied his horse to a tree and gave the mount several calming strokes. There was a wyrm before him, and he meant to wake it!

Krumpus thought a song was the proper thing for the job, and so he began to hum. He started with an ancient song of the spring, sweet and whimsical. He clapped and danced with his staff as a prop, just in case he needed to defend himself, and kept a respectful distance.

The eyes of wyrm opened and the creature stared back. As Krumpus danced and hummed, the wyrm began to uncoil and stretch itself. It fanned its great wings which were as wide as a man’s arms. It yawned and showed wicked fangs, several inches long, as it shook away its sleepiness. Krumpus stomped the dirt of the road and swung his staff about in a great show as he continued to dance and hum his song. The wyrm closed it mouth and the dagger-like teeth disappeared. It locked eyes with the shaman and slowly began to wave back and forth in time to his song. There was a keen intelligence behind the creature’s eyes. He continued to dance as the wyrm approached him ever so slowly with a curious and a submissive air as it swayed to the rhythm of his song.