The Norvanfeld Expedition

13-19 Heatmoon, 2E 222
 

"What, dear apprentice, do you remember about Norvanfeld?" I ask as I close my pack. I travel light; I know what I need and how much. My apprentice Melina has little travel experience, and it shows in how much she packed.

"I remember that we don't go there anymore," Melina replies with a nervous glance.

"Indeed. But that wasn't entirely correct - a simplification, to make a clear statement," I affirm, waiting for Melina to finish her preparations. "Sometimes it is useful. Sometimes it is even necessary. There are things we can get there that we cannot get anywhere else - tragedies like Norvanfeld have an impact not just on humans, but on animals and plants as well. And for the good of everyone, someone must monitor the situation there to ensure the manifestation doesn't spread."

"I should bring poppets then," Melina says, turning toward the shelf behind her.

"You should not," I correct. She stops in her tracks. "Those would make our anima shadow larger - the echoes would detect us."

"But what do we do if they detect us anyway?" she asks, with some trepidation.

"Then you and Lucinda will escape and I will do what I can. It is a risk I have taken before. But I believe we will have enough warning to leave, if needs must." I offer a half-smile and reach for Melina's bag to check the weight. "Hmm. You'll get better with time. But this will do." Turning toward the bedrooms, I call, "Lucinda dear, are you quite ready?"

"I am now, yes," Lucinda replies, bag in hand. If anything, she seemed to have packed lighter than me. I'd expected worse of a noble, but she has been away from the aristocracy for some time.

"Then come. In the dead of summer... this is the safest time." The three of us walk out of the cottage and I whistle sharply. In moments, great grey wolves emerge from the undergrowth.

"I... I thought we were walking," Melina says.

"That far? I should think not," I laugh, shaking my head. "But if you want to, I'll not stop you."

"I've never traveled wargback..." Lucinda says, approaching the calmest of the pack. The warg recognizes her, and after sniffing at her hand allows her to climb on.

"It's easier than you'd think, at least with this pack," I explain. "I've worked with them for a while. And they're far less skittish than some of the other options..."

---

It takes us a few days to reach our destination, and along the way Melina learns why I pack light. A heavy pack is a burden to carry, even for the wargs, and we can supplement our food stores with foraging en route. This time of year, fireberry can be found in abundance. Fresh fireberry has a taste reminiscent of cinnamon candies, and Melina quickly develops a fondness for them. 

After some time traveling, the wind changes. "It's so cold suddenly," Melina says with a shiver.

I nod. "That's how you know we're close." I look over and see that she seems to not understand the connection. "One of the ways, anyway. The First Battle of Norvanfeld took place in the last weeks of Chillmoon, and the Second... 15 Blackmoon. The darkest night of the year, and often the coldest too."

"But... it's summer."

Another nod. "Indeed. A sufficient amount of traumatized dynamis, a collection of enough distorted echoes, can affect everything around. Plants, animals... climate. Hold." I raise a hand to signal them to stop, and then point at a tuft of discolored grass, golden brown with slick red veins running through it. "Ichorgrass."

"What is it?" Lucinda asks.

"How do I explain it..." I mutter, searching my thoughts for the words. "Think back to our lessons on anima. If a vampire consumes bestial blood, what happens?"

"We take on bestial traits," Lucinda recalls.

"Right. This is another application of that concept. The land was so disrupted by the manifestation, and by the events that led to it, that some of the plants took on a measure of human and beast anima. And sometimes even dynamis." I look further off the long-ruined road and see more discolored plant life further out. "Welcome to the outskirts of Norvanfeld."

The wargs soon become reluctant to go any further. I wave them off, knowing they will likely go to a creek we passed on the way here, the nearest untainted source of water. They do so love to swim.

"If the plants have human anima, could... could I use those?" Lucinda asks hesitantly. "Or would that cuase problems?"

"That is part of why we came, in fact, because I do not yet know. Cases like yours are not common, dear girl."

"Hey, someone's coming," Melina interrupts, pointing down the road. "Armed. Might be a hunter."

I squint, and my suspicions are confirmed. A blonde in a long brown coat, sleeveless with visible armor. "Silverblade. And worse, her." Lucinda seems anxious at the revelation, and I reach over to calm her. "I won't let her hurt you, don't worry," I whisper as my former friend approaches.

"Morgan," she says with feigned geniality. She looks over Lucinda and opens her mouth to speak, but my glare cuts her off.

"Maryse. Do not," I reply tersely. I struggle to parse the look in her face, and decide to simply press on while she's off-balance. "Why are you here?"

Maryse's confidence briefly falters, and her eyes sink for a moment. "Morgan, please, not right now." She fights her way to a more conversational volume, continuing, "I'm... I'm glad you're here, Gloria was asking after you." Her sister. Lovely woman. Sometimes giggles at unexpected times. Knows how to handle a spear, but isn't a hateful thug like some hunters. "She wants us to be friends again. Or at least to be able to work together." My response dies on my tongue, and my gaze drifts off to the side. "We think the manifestation might be expanding. If we're going to contain it, we need all the help we can get. I know we-" She swallows hard, struggling to say the words, "I know we've had our... our disagreements-"

"I still clearly remember what it was you said to them," I interrupt, bitter contempt clear in my voice. "They didn't deserve to be treated like that. Not by you, not by anyone."

She sighs, slumping briefly, unable to muster a defense. "Please, Morgan," she whispers. "Please, just work with me, about Norvanfeld. Lives depend on it."

Silverblades are prone to exaggerating a threat, but in this she's correct; Norvanfeld is a danger to all and needs monitoring. "Fine." I nod my head to the side, and we look over the scrubland beyond. Along the road, there is mostly green-yellow vegetation as would be expected, but further from the path, it grows increasingly... wrong. Fields of ichorgrass dotted with disquietingly slick brush, its red-brown coloration calling to mind freshly dried blood and its unleafed branches reminiscent of arteries. There are a few green plants attempting to push through, but they are clearly on death's door. In what seems to have been a dead marshbed, crimson grains stand tall from the earth, feeding on the decayed greenery and the bodies of the dead, human and otherwise. At least one stalk seems entwined with a still-living animal, though one beyond recognition at this point.

"A fascinating ecology, is it not?" I ask.

"You cannot be serious," Maryse replies incredulously.

"Life, Maryse, is change. It is flow. It is growth, mutation, adaptation."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is? No, of course not, you brought an apprentice and a vampire-"

"My apprentice is better-trained than you seem to think, and Lucinda's senses are the main reason I brought her along," I retort, refusing to let the Silverblade get under my skin again. "And to investigate ways to sate her needs without hurting anyone - she does so struggle with that."

"And if anything here works- it's only because of the death that already happened!" Maryse exclaims, turning toward me.

"Indeed," I nod, unperturbed. "The death that already happened, as you say. We cannot bring back the fallen. I understand wanting to respect the dead. Vampires are intelligent and conscious. If these plants can help-"

"Then what will stop them from creating another Norvanfeld?! Your bloodless solution could lead to even more blood."

"A... hm. A well-intentioned concern," I half-concede, watching a skinless and only partially-muscled flaydeer stumbling through the tangled growth. "But these manifestations are not without selectiveness. Were such a thing intentionally cultivated, the echoes and wraiths would stop at nothing to destroy the one who wronged them, would they not?" Maryse is silent. Seizing the advantage, I continue, "And you know it is not only the vampires that could use this. We use these plants in our own craft, when they're available."

"Lady Suncrest!" Lucinda calls from behind the two.

"'Lady Suncrest?'" Maryse repeats, an eyebrow raised. "You used to hate the title."

I shrug. "I've told her she can call me Morgan, but... nobles, you understand. Lucinda, dear, what is it?"

"Shapes. But not shapes. Like... like formless swirling at the corner of my eye. And when I turn to look, nothing."

"We've overstayed our welcome," I acknowledge, whistling for the wargs. "Did you walk out here, Maryse?"

"Unfortunately," Maryse nods.

"I'll not leave someone to die, even you. Climb on," I say with lingering bitterness, moving forward on my warg's back. "He can handle two long enough to get away from here." A frustrated sigh follows, "I had hoped to have time for gathering..."