Sugar Plum Yuletide (Arrival in Womford)
21 Frostkolt 348 AC
Grotto looks around dumbfounded, mouth agape in shock. Questions race through his mind faster than the flurries of snow in front of him. "Raven!? What is this place? How do they know you? Why do they call you master of the lodge? Is this where the mushroom circle took you? Why are you beholden to these creatures? Do you serve them or they serve you? If they torment you so, we know how to deal with that." Grotto can barely focus. His eye wide with excited confusion!
Raven sighs, "Let's go inside. I'll explain." The two ascend the steps and enter the lodge. As Raven removes his coat and hangs it on a peg inside the door, "Marzipan works for me and this place is...related to where the mushroom circle took me. I became the unwilling, perhaps unwitting owner of the lodge and the title that comes with it after I failed to prevent the previous owner's murder. The Plumpa Troll outside protects the woods but from my understanding had a contentious relationship with my predecessor so we tend to err towards formality. If we are lucky, we'll be gone from this place before the neighbors come calling." Raven stops short, "That reminds me, accept no gifts, no food, and no drink from anyone without checking with me first," he turns and calls out, "Marzipan, I am extending the hospitality of the Sugar Plum Lodge to Master Grimmbeard. You will obey him in all matters while he is present."
The small gingerbread man appears, "Of course, My Lord. As you indicated earlier, you wish to be on your way as soon as possible. I can direct you to Womford as soon as you are ready."
Grotto is still confused. Raven's answers only lead to more questions in his mind. "This place reminds me of a candy land from back home. The temptation to fight against taking food or drinks will be great! The citizens of my candy land were renowned confectioners. I have seen many gingerbread homes in the Grimmlands but this lodge may be one of the finest!" Grotto says with a sense of wonder.
After his mind clears and belly stops rumbling, Grotto then interjects, "Murder?! Neighbors?! And also, you are the ruler of this land?" Grotto's mind is filled with confusion and amazement.
"More of a temporary caretaker than a ruler. Marzipan is to find a way for me to transfer the title. Unfortunately, the usual way involves the death of the current mantle holder."
"Well that is unfortunate. This place feels like the Grimmlands in many ways, almost feels like home. I would have volunteered to be the caretaker given more information!"
Grotto then looks at Marzipan then looks at Raven. He bows deeply and says, "My liege, Master of the Lodge, caretaker of this great candy land, you have my axe, lead the way, my lord!" Grotto stands upright and laughs heartily. "If you wanted me to do the pirate bit, there were much easier ways, cap'n!"
Raven turns, "Marzipan, let's get this done."
Before Grotto begins to follow Raven, he pauses. He prays to Hanseath, calling for the ability to detect magic. To his delight, the spell functions exactly as it should and for the first time in months, Grotto is able to feel his god's presence.
As the dwarf looks around, he sees that basically everything is at least mildly magical, from the ground beneath his feet to the Lodge itself to the tiny dust motes (floating sugar motes?) hanging in the air. When he catches up to Raven amd Marzipan, the Gingerbread manservant has opened a gate to reveal to wooded valley. Trees, vibrant with the reds and oranges of fall stand on the slopes overlooking a small hamlet. The town, even from this distance is abuzz with activity.
Before Raven steps through the gate, he looks at Marzi, leveling a finger at him, "I will judge your contest and then you are sending me back to my companions."
The Gingerbread Man bows slightly, "Of course, My Lord. When you have completed everything, just picture yourself in front of the Lodge and you will shift back to here. Then we'll return you to your little war."
Once through the portal, it closes behind Grotto and Raven. The air is cool and carries the aromas of freshly baked pies, even several miles from the town.
Grotto is very excited that his link to Hanseath has been restored in this realm. "How I have missed the comforting feeling of communion with Hanseath. It is a joy to feel his divine magic again flow through me!" Grotto thinks to himself as a wave of peaceful feelings wash over him.
Grotto looks to Raven, "You know, the Grimmlandians are renowned for their pie eating abilities. Tell me more of the contest. I maybe interested in partaking in the festivities!" With that said, Grotto looks for Raven's response, heeding his warning about accepting food, drink, and gifts.
"Grimmlandians? I would have thought the term to be "Grimmlanders". As for the contest, by my understanding, I am to act as a judge to determine which pie is best. Marzipan told me the basics but I am not even close to being up to speed on the political arrangement of the Faerie Courts but there are two.main factions - the Seelie and the Unseelie. The Seelie, or Summer faction supports or is at least aligned with what we generally consider to be good - growth, summer, warmth, and so on. The Unseelie, or Winter faction is more related to cold, decay, hunting, and the natural instinct to defend territory. There are levels of... nuance between the two that I will not pretend to understand. My "position" requires me to bridge the gap between the two - a Seelie liason to the Unseelie. In this case, a Summer judge attending an autumn celebration."
"Ahhh, so no pie shall be eaten? Tis but a bake off? How can you judge a pie if we are not to taste it? What is the reason behind rejecting food, drink, and gifts? I know the fey to be somewhat of tricksters but, you did give them our real names. My Granny Grimmbeard said to never allow the Grimmland fey to know your real name. This strange land and your position in it is still perplexing to me!" Grotto continues, "The demonyms you mentioned for us Grimmland natives is used interchangeably. Many lively exchanges in the taverns after a few ales and mead have been fruitlessly argued over which is the proper term"
"These pies are made by mortals, not fey, so unless they are bad, there is no risk. Accepting a gift, even just food and drink, incurs obligations. Ones that may be called in at inopportune times. As far as our names, you need not worry. Marzipan learned mine when I inherited the position and because I extended you protection under the laws of hospitality as a guest of the Sugar Plum Lodge, Marzipan cannot betray you."
"So the two factions are mortals? Or mortals bake the pie for the factions?"
"What? No." Raven shakes his head. "The cooks are just people chasing bragging rights. I don't even know if the Courts know about the contest or if they have a stake in the outcome. I just know that I have to go be a judge for this damn thing."
"I didn't not realize that this fey realm was also populated with mortals! What a strange place to care to live! That is, if the are here of their own accord! But that is something else all together!"
"So, let us be on our way then! My belly is empty and there is pie to be eaten! To the Great Fey Bake Off!"
Grotto smiles and is very chipper. He very much enjoys this realm. The similarities to the Grimmlands fill the weary war priest's heart with joy.
"I think this might be a mortal realm - just one we are not familiar with. In my haste to be done with this nonsense, I didn't think to ask Marzipan where we were going." Raven shakes his head, chiding himself for not getting what may prove to be important tactical information.
"Best to ask then," the dwarf replies.
As the pair enters the town, they see a line of villagers walking away from a partially burned farmhouse at the south end of the settlement. An older human, heavy set with graying hair, a scraggly beard, and a pot-belly barely contained by a stained linen shirt is standing in the dirt road in front of the house. He is arguing with a tall and muscular bearded man in platemail.
"He's gone too far this time! He tried to kill me and burn down my house because he's afraid of honest competition! I demand you arrest him!"
The armored man sighs, "Jasckal, there is no proof that Mortimer set the fire. I promise you that my men and I will get to the bottom of this."
Raven looks to his companion, "Definitely the mortal plane."
"Humans, what do you expect?" chuckles Grotto.
Raven pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "If there is some sort of trouble, we should find out what is going on before this contest is delayed and we're stuck here longer."
"Lead the way, detective. You you want to be the good cop or bad cop?"
"I was planning to be the strong and silent type judging from the background," Raven replies dryly. "I'll also poke around where the fire was, see if I can find anything useful."
"So I will be the mean, belligerent one!! Sounds fun! Let's go."
Grotto walks to the ruckus, clears his throat loudly, then speaks in an authorative tone.
"I am Grotto Grimmbeard, Deputy to the most worshipful Master of the Sugar Plum Lodge, the one who keeps the balance between the Seelie and Unseelie. Tell me what happened here so that we can restore the balance here as well!"
Grotto looks over his shoulder to Raven, and throws him a wink, grin, and a big thumbs up!
Raven rolls his eyes and slips away quietly, circling around to the back of the house where it looks like the fire occurred.
Meanwhile, Raven has made it around to the back and kneels down, his fingers gently brushing the damp grass and tracing lightly across melted chimney stones. He also finds two sets of footprints. Judging by their size and depth, he estimates that they were made by a pair of children. The tracks lead off to northeast.
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