Zeitgeist - The Gears of Revolution

Constable's Notebook: Nilasa Hume Investigation - Entry II

Status: In Progress

[The entry is written in a flowing elven script] Today has run the gamut of frustration to sadness. Even the attempts by some of my comrades to lighten the mood with quips and puns have done little to sway my feelings thus far. After the infuriating ass, Renard, lead us to our redezvous with Nevard, he left our presence, which lightened the storm that raged around my heart.

However, the mood darkened when we were introduced to Nevard, as his nephew was correct, the elderly man does not have much time left in this world. Our conversation was lead by Hunter, who let peek a hint of calm brillance and compassion during the interaction. He reminds me a bit of a wild animal we happened upon once on the Yerasol during my years in training on the island there. I believe it was called a ‘honeyed badger’ by the locals. The name was decieving as the animal was viscious and destructive when cornered or its anger aroused. In moments of solitude and solace, the animal was calm and well mannered – as if it were two seperate creatures inhabiting the same body. Much can be said about Hunter as well. Perhaps his simple nature is just a shield against socialization in close quarters. Only time will tell…

I digress…

Nevard agreed to set up a meeting with Gale, provided we honor a request of his own, one that he needed secured immediately, as the ’seer realized his own time was almost out. He asked our unit to take him to the summit of Cauldron Hill and protect him while he conducts a ritual meant to pierce the veil hiding information from the ’seers and their kin. He stated that this would enable a common ground between Traditionalists and Progressives – which is sorely needed at this point. We agreed to his proposal, though in order to visit the summit, we would need to garner the blessing of Mayor MacBannin, who presides over the district.

We were able to make a quick jaunt over to the Nettles, and to the Mayors manor house, where the butler was able to arrange a quick, informal meeting between our unit and the mayor. While we were waiting to be introduced, we had a run in with one of the local couriers, though he seemed to be discernably… different from most couriers. He would not give his name – he would only wax poetic about the chaos and strife in Flint. It was an oddity indeed. Someone in the group made a grousing remark about the man being in league with our phantom officer, but it was not expanded upon, and our meeting had come to fruition.

Mayor MacBannin was surprisingly warm and cordial to our request to mount an expedition to the summit of Cauldron Hill. He provided some explicit instructions as well as some necessary equipment for making the trek unscathed. I have detailed the process below. I cant help but think that there is some nebulous connection with the fey assault that we dealt with before involving the Duchess and this business with the Danorian consulate. The air is thick with tension, as we saw during our visit to the factories and if it continues to build, I doubt there is much that can keep Flint itself from cracking under the pressure. King Aodhan’s grip on Risur seems tenuous, and with his assumed marriage to the Danorian diplomat I cant imagine that this will ease tensions.

Enough mindless meanderings for now, I have to finish my formal report and catch a bit of sleep so we can hike tomorrow… how joyful.

  • Make a visit to Mayor MacBannin to gain entry.
  • Must wear rusted iron amulets to prevent possession
  • Must use goats blood (provided by MacBannin) to paint a circle around campsite to prevent spirits from possessing
  • Must light fire to ward off supernatural chill, but surround fire with stone ring to prevent spirits being drawn to the light
  • Out of sight is better than sitting still, and spirits like movement better than blood.
  • Must meet with MacBannin on the way out to rid self of residual dark energies.

[Written in the margin in a quite broader common script] Four pints, five pints, six pints a plenty…. A saw a fine lass, was as bright as a penny… [There is pressure from where the next line would start, but there is no more writing]

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