Erastus 18 (Brinewall, Late Morning)

W

ithin half an hour, it was clear to all of us that the broadly accepted story of Brinewall was an exaggeration. I hesitate to call it a lie. Stories change in the telling, details are lost or embellished, and honest mistakes become accepted facts. Given enough time, the story everyone knows can bear little resemblance to the events that inspired it.

And that, I think, is how the mystery of Brinewall came to be.

As soon as we saw the buildings, though, it was obvious that the mystery of Brinewall was far less mysterious than the stories suggested. The battleaxe scars were unmistakable, and not all of the buildings were left whole. It was very clear that the residents here had not simply “vanished.” The town, and likely the keep as well, had been invaded and its population almost certainly slaughtered. Brinewall was a ghost town, yes, but it was born out of worldly violence, not supernatural forces. 

What little we know of the truth is already deeply unsettling.

Yet the legend has not been enough to keep looters away, as there is nothing of real value left here save for some tools and everyday supplies. The longboat docked in the lagoon, of a design common to the northerners in the Linnorm Kingdoms, suggests that such raids continue to this day. Though, in the grand tradition of Brinewall, there is no sign of the boat’s complement (perhaps the dead sea drake on the shore next to it has something to do with that).

One of the more curious discoveries was the cemetery. Unlike Brinewall around it, it was well-kept, with manicured grass and clean gravestones. Therein was also a lovely shrine to Desna: a statue of her holding a copper bowl that turned regular water into holy water. As we were discussing this modest miracle, the answer to the mystery presented itself in the form of a tiny, butterfly-winged celestial being named Spivey. She had found her way to Brinewall more or less by accident some years ago after her mistress was killed, an event that left her stranded on the material plane. A servant of Desna herself, she has tended to the cemetery and shrine ever since. 

Spivey knew nothing of the people of Brinewall or their fate because she came to this place long after the town had been decimated. She did, however, know something of the occupants of the castle nearby.

“They are bird-like men. I have never seen them fly.”

Beware the birds that wish to fly but cannot.

When asked about any patterns or habits they might have, she thought for a moment before answering, “They hunt at least once a week. It’s been a few days since I last saw them.”

Informed of our plans to clear out the castle, Spivey offered us sanctuary in the cemetery and healing if we needed it. She also suggested that we stay away from the water’s edge. Creatures living in the lagoon were feeding on the corpse of the sea drake and would defend their territory if we got too close. Our interest was the castle, not hostile marine life, so we thanked her and followed her advice.

Erastus 18 (Brinewall Castle, Midday)

L

ook. I don’t really know what I am doing. The only reason I suggested that we attempt to lure some of the bird-men out of the castle was that castles are designed to prevent the very thing we wanted to do. If it sounds ridiculously naive now, it felt even more so when we were hiding at the edge of the forest, staring up at walls that were two stories high. Waiting until a hunting party emerged on their own seemed more logical to me, but many of the others wanted to move quickly, especially Etayne, who felt that every delay was more time with Ameiko in peril and us doing nothing to address it. So instead, we adopted this silly and complicated plan involving illusions of pigs, animal calls to communicate with one another, and, of course, lying in wait.

I remember thinking there was no way something this ridiculous could possibly work. I was proven wrong in short order. To my astonishment, the gates opened and a group of bird-men emerged, intent on finding their next meal in their own front yard.

Our ambush was not perfect, but it was effective. I was too slow to prevent the guards at the gate from raising an alarm, but that did not matter in the end: there was almost no one left to hear it. Once we were through the gates and up onto the walls, we found the remaining guards manning an aging catapult on the opposite parapet. They weren’t expecting us to come at them from above.

Corbies. Specifically, dire corbies. These were our foes: a race of bird-men with arms instead of wings who were known to live mostly underground, not in abandoned castles. In retrospect, it all fits, but of course I wasn’t expecting to find them here, and so the thought hadn’t occurred to me. How did they come to this place?

In another odd twist, it appears that the castle may be haunted after all. In a small storeroom off the dining area on the upper level, we found a strange undead creature: an emaciated human child with the skull of a fox for its head. It was a terrifying being, and difficult to destroy. Afterward, we were able to get a better look at the room and found the skeletal remains of a young human child pinned beneath a pile of firewood.

It appeared that he had been placed in here for safekeeping, only to have the contents of the room collapse on him and crush his legs. He left crude drawings on the walls, childish images of bird-men, ogres, and men that resembled ninjas of Tian Xia. More evidence that the castle and village had been attacked and its occupants slaughtered.

The presence of ninjas is one of those coincidences that is probably not a coincidence at all. Rokuro’s letter hinted that their family’s enemies would lie in wait forever for their opportunity to strike.

It seems Brinewall was where they finally caught up to him.

Erastus 18 (Brinewall Castle, Midafternoon)

T

he chapel was once a shrine to Desna, but the corbies’ priest or priestess—I do not know how to sex a corby, nor am I particularly interested in learning—has completely defiled it. Simple cantrips can undo the foul paintings on the walls, but the statue of Desna has been damaged beyond repair. At this, Sparna remarked, “It might be better to just completely take it down.”

I am reluctantly forced to agree.

Their cleric, dressed in tattered and disgusting robes, was every bit as loathsome as the corbies themselves, and then some for good measure. It managed to hit us with a few spells before being boxed in and killed. Good riddance.

Most of the rooms appeared to be communal living quarters, but there was one that seemed to house only a single occupant. It, too, had black feathers in it, suggesting that there is a head of their flock that we have yet to meet.

In another room, this one likely the armory, there was a ghostly manifestation: walls that ran with blood, with shrieking faces emerging from them. It was enough to frighten even Sparna, who does not scare easily. I know little about such matters, but an obvious explanation would be that many of the castle’s defenders had died here.

The last room we explored on this floor appeared to be a study of sorts. Inside were stacks and stacks of paper filled with dense handwriting in Tien. I took the time to translate just a few pages on a whim and was shocked to discover that someone had been writing a play. A play about a family of crows that turn into humans. The stacks of papers were endless drafts and revisions of the would-be playwright’s epic masterpiece. That it was written in Tien was noteworthy, as it is something I would not expect of a corby. Curiouser and curiouser.

Crow play excerpt (PDF version)

And there is something profoundly amusing about the notion that one of the occupiers, and perhaps the conqueror, of Brinewall castle spends their free time—and based on the enormous stacks of paper there, quite a lot of it—writing a play.

I guess everyone has a hobby.