Story/Lore: A Visit in Winter

Many songs and legends are spread throughout Tiagion's Heartlands. Whether based in fact or simply folklore, those who travel the road were brought up by one such nursery rhyme about a stranger met on a crossroads, a simple fellow either a travelling merchant or a venturing bard. Sometimes it's not even at a crossroads. A stranger, just as simple, knocking on the door invoking the old traditions for shelter and food. If the hosts agree, they're offered a boon of choice that will help them further in life. The boon could be anything of three presented choices, often things that a family needs the most; food in a sack that never ends, a chest worth one year in gold, a flask in which any poured beverage will never be emptied unless another beverage is poured in, a blanket that keeps a perfect temperature depending on how cold one feels, and the list goes on. If turned away, the stranger will knock again and speak a curse after which he throws an empty wine bottle to the ground like a glass hammer of judgement. The curse is usually some form of poetic justice on his part and can last until the cursed was deceased, in which they become haunting ghosts or it is lifted by unwinding the convoluted threads that hold it in place. That said, if the aforementioned boon is handled without a care in mind or misused beyond its purpose, the blame is not the stranger but the hidden nature of even the most well-intended people. If only it was seen as such self-reflection instead of blaming 'wishes with a snake's tail'.

A case with a curse is said to have happened fairly recently in the estate of Lady Alanna of Velain, a lesser noble but known for her extravagance and cold treatment to others, so much so that all higher nobles halted her every manoeuvring in court as one of such apathetic nature should not even have a voice in ruling affairs. With brown oaken hair and leafish eyes and plain beauty below all the salves and creams, many even suspected she was a bastard of her father that was secretly legitimized by the Crown. A filthy stain on nobility that after decades still stung like a hot-forged knife. Her disdain for all the people that were not her was a local legend and many servants in her estate lasted longer than a week there. During an especially brutal winter, she held a loud feast and made sure all the folk in Velain knew about it but could not attend. Only she and the few nobles that tolerated her obnoxious presence attended, though they were there to maintain the trade routes through the town and keep relations with the diminishing elves of Elahn. Her horses and dogs froze to death in the severe blizzard outside. More than once she was heard to have said that hopefully, some peasants die in their sleep so there are fewer people to maintain, especially the children as they keep begging for more after being granted their bread for the day. It was often said she held this disdain for the young because Alanna was envious of their happier upbringing rather than the strict rule of her father, who was also loved by the people for his benevolence. A memory she sought to erase.

Then just after midnight, three loud knocks on the door.

Servants rushed not for fear of the blizzard's hail thrown like daggers in the wind but for the ire of Lady Alanna, already annoyed since the first knock. The servants struggled but even with four well-bodied men, they could not bring a slight movement from the door. Alanna ordered the servants to serve more wine and leave the begging flea to freeze to death but barely finishing those words, another three knocks. Slower this time.

The visiting nobles urged Alanna to open the door for they would not suffer a death at such a late hour. Alanna agreed, mumbling to just throw her guests out for the inconvenience. She found no effort to open the door and scoffed at the nearest servant to be of weak blood. Outside the blizzard was still coldly raging on and a stranger from outside of town asked for a roof and water until the storm passed. If he could say bread, he would've done it but ice formed inside his throat and speaking was nigh impossible. All Alanna could see was a disgusting wretch seeking to profit from a tradition celebrated by beggars and peasants. What gall this filthy wretch must have; to seek the things he could've earned himself in life. Now that the cold bothered her she told the man the scurry off. Putting a long strain on his words he explained he was a merchant of the road and promised to leave once the sun rises. Alanna wouldn't hear it. In a fit of anger, she poured his requested water over his balding head while on his feeble knees. Looking down at the humiliated man, Alanna took him by the chin and forced him to look into her eyes.

"I hope your head shatters like ice for the wolves to feast on our insides. Let their bellies be your last roof to squander in, little man.", she grinned as cold as winter itself. That delight started to fade, as another smile greeted her back. One that was warm as summer and melted her facade away. The stranger clapped his hands once and the storm fell with a hush. Stars shone through the dissipating clouds and the moon illuminated the hills of snow. As the merchant shrugged off the snow as a mild annoyance, Alanna noticed this was an ordinary man before her. Trimmed chin and cheeks, a rough head to stroke, a nose that was broken at least several times, clothing of dark blue and bright red; colours of an independent salesman. A brown leather hood around his neck for rainy or other heavy weather, knee-high boots for travelling far and wide and a large belt around his beer belly with many pouches of all sizes. His eyes were different, one blue and one green; a mark of the lowest birth for Velain’s Lady. At first, Alanna thought of him as a student of the Magehand Rock but even they could not control the weather like this stranger did. He reached for one of the pouches behind his back and pulled out an empty bottle of cheap wine. Alanna's guests gathered behind her to see what was happening, wondering where she was and drawn to her commotion; as it is in human nature. Holding the bottle aloft and his eyes now shimmering like rosy stars, the man spoke. “You’re an ugly one, inside and within! This I bestow upon you! All that you are will twist and turn. All you possess will be rotten and lost. No mirror can glance upon you and no thing unwilling will meet you. Knives and spoons will crumble in your hands, all foods except for your own stew will turn to ash and sand! Only the wooden fork is your friend. Dine with a willing guest and your spell will end!” Having spoken these words, the merchant then threw the bottle on the paved grounds and the wind howled a ghostly choir around the estate. Alanna looked up again but the merchant was gone.

Decades have passed and thus far, none of the few that visited Velain's estate has ever returned. Though it's quite a walk from the town itself, hugging the southwestern eves of the Greatwood Realm, that part of the land has been mostly shut off with wooden barricades on the road and fences in a wide area around the estate. Rumours of manic cryings in the night, wandering townsfolk spirited away and the disappearance of mirrors and wooden forks were told to the next generations. It was never revealed what the guests saw that night after the visit but all turned pale in skin and hair for what they witnessed of Lady Alanna. It said that once every decade or so, a merchant of all trades passes through Velain and after staying in town for a few nights, he heads off the road leading towards the old estate.

Presumably to check if his curse has yet been lifted or not.

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