Gm's Log: Samhain at Easthome
General Summary
The session began with the party riding into Easthome in the entourage of Waldemar Horseriver, the clan lord, on the last day of the Samhain festival. It was a gloriously clear and crisp fall morning, and after settling into the lord’s Townhouse, the party decided to visit the festival proper.
The city teemed with festival goers from every province in the country and beyond. Performers, pilgrims, drunken celebrants, and eager tradesmen created a living current of people heading to the fairgrounds. The edge of the fairground proper was marked with a row of carved poles wrapped in long streamers in orange and brown. Everyone from buskers to merchants to mercenary troupe recruiters had put up a stall or blanked on the fairgrounds and was vying for attention.
The party wandered around for an hour or so, taking in the sights and interacting with the other festival goers. Iseult and Oenghus participated in an archery competition, doing decently, but not quite well enough to win a prize.
The Fish Pregnancy
While wandering around, the party ran into a group led by a very large, very pregnant fierce woman with strawberry blond braids. She stopped like she’s seen a ghost and then pointed to Lorkan.
“It’s him! It’s him! It’s the fish guy! It’s all his fault I’m pregnant!” she says, and then she burst into tears. The big older guy standing next to the pregnant woman put his hand against his forehead and briefly looked around like he wishes he could be magically transported to somewhere, anywhere else. The rest of her group stared at him in amazement. The PCs stared at both of them in confusion.
“What? It wasn’t me! Why would you possibly think I got you pregnant?” replied an appalled Lorkan.
Waldemar, patiently trying some diplomacy interjected “Sorsha kin Greentongue. Owein, my friend. may I make known to you my guests and companions. Lorkan of clan Bearwood, whom you’ve apparently met. Khepri Arafa, a traveler from Cedonia. Oenghus Lightfoot of clan Ravenpass. Iseult of clan Otterbine. And White Brennus, of clan Horseriver.
The burly man kept trying to calm down the woman while introducing “Well, I’m Owein the Nose kin Greentonue. I suppose you know my wife Sorsha.” And here he paused awkwardly, “My daughter Lowrie. My sons Cai and Rhys. And their friend Seamas. The boys wanted to ride the Wild Hunt, and we thought to make a bit of an adventure of it. You know how it goes.”
“I promise you, I never did anything to get your wife pregnant,” vowed Lorkan, “I don’t even know her,”
“Well, see, that’s not exactly entirely true.” Owen explained, “We were at Holy Tree some months ago and you were the one who fed everyone all those fish. Every woman who ate a fish got pregnant. Even my aunt Macha. Man, she’s not in a good mood.”
“But, that’s not how pregnancy works,” interjected Oenghus, “It’s not the fish. You see, when a man and a woman…”
“It’s his fault I tell you!” Sorsha interrupts, getting more wound up, “ I been farting for three months straight, and I can’t get away from the horrible smell, and I can’t sleep, and when I do, I have stupid dreams about singing anchovies, and if I have to suffer, then he should too! Lorkan Fishman clan Bearwood, I challenge you to an honor duel!”
Owein, looking at the end of his tether, tried to reason with her saying, “Honey, your very pregnant. You shouldn’t be fighting right now. It can’t be good for the baby.”
“Oh sweet Goddess, you’re right.” reacted Sorsha, “I’m a terrible mother! I’ll never forgive myself!”
So one of twins interjected “We can fight him for you, mum. Would that make you feel better. There are five of us and five of them, so it would be fair.”
“Cai, you idiot,” said Lowrie with exasperation, “There are six of them. Seven if you count the great honkin’ bear. He’s got a point though. How about a friendly scuffle to clear the air? Would that make you feel better?”
Sorsha nodded, hiccuping her the last of her sobs. So the two groups agreed to a relatively friendly fight.
Loire was annoyed to be the first to go down, but happy enough that her twin brothers soon joined her. After the PC party finished politely wiping the floor with the Greentongues, Owein bought everyone a round of beer. Sorsha seemed much happier after the fight, settling in to tell the party about what she planned to name the baby, and that she really was happy to be having another child a dozen years after she thought she was done with diapers. Really.
Finding Wencel
Afterwards, a young runner approaches Lord Waldemar, whispering a message in his ear. His face turned grim, and for a few moments he looked lost in thought. Then Waldemar turns to the party and explained “Apparently, a member of my entourage, Lord Wencel, is missing. Wencel is supposed to be among those who ride in the wild hunt at the end of the festivities. The clan skyseer, Anoura, has prophesied that he needs to ride in this hunt for the good of the clan. I’m going to go back to the manor and see if I can figure out where he went. I apologize for cutting short this outing. I would account it a personal favor if you would search the fairgrounds just in case he’s wandering here. And if you find him, please make sure he’s ready to ride for this evening.”
The party pressed Waldemar for some details, and he admitted that Wencel was not known for his bravery, so he may have been chickening out. Or possibly an enemy of his clan may have heard of the prophecy and took the opportunity to sabotage the clan’s fortunes. He couldn’t think of anyone in particular that would stand out as an enemy, although as one of the most powerful clans, Horseriver definitely competed with Swanthicket and maybe Stagthorne clans at times. Or possibly someone outside of the Weald who wanted to weaken one of the great powers within the Weald.
Once Waldemar departed for the keep, the party scouted the fairgrounds and then the city at large, paying particular attention to places where a less-than-brave young man might get drunk, or a nefarious enemy might stash a man covertly. After a couple hours of canvassing the taverns in the city, they found him quite drunk in the backroom of a tavern. Apparently he’d been having dreams that he’d fail in the hunt. While naked. And then die. Unfortunately not before being seen riding naked. And he wasn’t sure any longer if he could go through with it.
The party took turns trying to persuade Wencel to take part in the hunt and then sober up enough to do so well. Eventually they succeeded.
The Wild Hunt
The party accompanied the Wencel to the Shrine of the Wild Hunt where the shamans were consecrating all the potential hunters to the Hunt.
The shrine was in the heart of the fairgrounds, in the a grove of blood maple trees, carefully tended, with an open-air stone altar at their center by a small spring. Although the fairgrounds were crowded, the shrine itself was untroubled by stalls and commerce. The only disturbances were the sounds and smells wafting in on the breeze.
The party waited in the line of people that steadily snaked through the shrine under the watchful eyes of the shrine’s guardians. It is said that if you break a promise to said at the shrine and sealed in blood, the wild hunt will come for you at Samhain. One or two of the party whispered to the shrine, but didn’t share with the party.
Afterwards, Lorkan and Wencel join the Wild Hunt, and everyone else headed back to the Horseriver townhouse before sunset. They spent the evening in the kiva - a large, safe, round room in the center of the house. The room is partially underground and lacks windows, but the cheery crowd makes for a festive, if slightly anxious atmosphere. Beyond the walls they could hear a fierce storm raging. The thunder knocked like a stranger coming to call and demanding admittance, and the rain and hail sounded like hoofbeats. Waldemar was the consummate clan lord, making the rounds and touching base with everyone within the walls. At midnight, the storm suddenly stopped. Moments later, great temple bells peal out, signaling the end of that year’s Wild Hunt and that the great covenant of the Weald has been renewed for another season.
A few of the very young, infirm, or indifferent headed off to sleep, but the rest exit the kiva and line the streets, joined by neighbors carrying lanterns and candles and waiting for the return of their young men.
An hour later, a slightly sloshed and very exhausted Wencel returned, kept on more or less the right path by a much more sober Lorkan. He and the others of clan Horseriver who participated in the hunt were cheered and cosseted, baptized in beer by a couple pranksters who caught them unawares and left everyone dripping and sticky and giddy with adrenaline.
Lorkan joined the hunt in his beast form rather than a hunter, so he was able to recall that the Herne came from the north, but he didn’t give any details about what happened on the hunt. Wencell made it through with aplomb and even seemed to have made a friend among the young hunters.
Samhain
The day after hunt was the Samhain celebration. It started with the Cavalcade of the Clans - a parade, but with more mounted riders and weirder music and everybody wearing orange tokens. To Waldemar’s long-suffering non-surprise, many of the Horserivers arrive arrived some combination of late, hungover, and still drunk. The ever-competent Eileen got everyone sorted quickly, and since the other clans are in similar situations, no one missed the cavalcade.
It both started and ended in the fairgrounds, after which each clan had set up an area to celebrate, very like a tailgate party. The Horseriver clan area is huge and generous, and everyone congratulated a very drained Wencel on his successful hunt, as well as the other hunters from less prestigious families. Eventually everyone wandered home again.
