The Princess and the Pig

[Oram Mednix]

6 Saun 721

Eise did not come to Oram’s shed very often. That alone suggested something unusual, but it was the concerned look on her face that told Oram that something was amiss. Also, the even more distraught expression on the man behind her, who, before Elise could even speak, blurted out: ”Please, Mr. Mednix, my daughter is missing!”

Oram gaped at the stranger without comprehension for some moments before he recalled who he was: it was on his farm that Oram had constructed the pigpen used to trap a sounder of wild pigs. Once he recalled this, he recovered and asked: ”The little one? The one who wanted to adopt one of the pigs in the pen?”

”Priscilla,” responded the farmer, nodding. ”I know kids can form odd attachments, but I’ve never seen anything like this. All trial yesterday, and the day before after you left, all she talked about was: ‘Where is Wobbles? I want to see Wobbles. She must be hungry. I should give her acorns.’” He held out a crumpled piece of linen. It looked a bit like a piece of a screen or awning. ”And she left this.”

Frowning, Oram took the bit of fabric and looked at it quizzically.

”Open it and read it!” the farmer insisted, the hurt in his voice alarming.

Read it? Surprised, the hunter uncrumpled the cloth and saw that there were markings on it, seemingly made with charcoal. Letters. Sighing, Oram fished out his reading spectacles and put them on.

A crude outline of a building, probably a house, was drawn, next to a humanoid stick figure with long hairs drawn from its head and a question mark over it. On the other side of the cloth was a four-legged figure that Oram guessed was supposed to be a pig, also with a question mark over its head. Both stick figures had eyes with tears under them.

”WER IS WOBBELS?” read a crudely lettered caption over the figures. Filling the space in between, around and beneath, there were more words, jumbled, irregularly arranged:

”I MISS. WOBBELS IS HUNGRI. I HAVE ACORNS FOR HER BUT I MISS I CANT FIND HER. I MISS. WER IS SHE??? HATE DAD LOVE WOBBELS. I WANT TO BE PRINCES OF PIGS. WOBBELS WILL COME BACK IF IM PRINCESS AND NOT JUST FARMER GIRL. NOT REL DAD!! NOR MOM. IM PIG PRINCES NOT FARMER I MISS WOBBELS”

Oram slowly removed the spectacles, stunned. He could not imagine what it must be like for the parents, not just to find their child missing, but to find this, all that anger and hurt and resentment and disavowal. It was heartbreaking; the traveler could hardly bring himself to look up at the father, but he made himself do it, meeting the poor man’s tear-reddened eyes. The man needed somebody to see him.

”We looked everywhere on the farm” the farmer said, barely holding back another sob. ”We have neighbors looking for her, too. My wife’s in town, to see if Prisci went there; there’s a few people we know she might have gone to.”

Oram thought a bit. ”We should search the outskirts,” he said at last. ”Leave that to us. We’ll have Jim ask at the harbor. I’ll come with you to the house to help you look for her again.”

The father shook his head insistently. ”We already looked there! We looked everywhere!!”

Oram nodded, and spoke as softly and reassuringly as he could figure out how: ”I would like to look again. As I said, there will be Rangers looking everywhere. We’ll find her. But I may see something you missed earlier. It is what I do.” He looked at Eise: ”Ring the assembly bell,” he told her. ”Loudly.” Elise nodded and ran off to do just that.

[Oram Mednix]

Some assembly required

Puzzled and annoyed Rangers gathered with many a grumble in the yard in the middle of the compound. Even though he had not asked her to, Eise actually went from building to building to roust out stragglers, while Oram waited on the raised dais next to the bell she had rung previously. It took almost a quarter break to get everybody assembled whom they were reasonably sure were on hand. Oram counted around thirty, including himself. There were some quartered here who were out and about; the expected full complement of sixty billets was still some time in the future.

The hunter ignored the numerous questions and questioning looks the assembled Rangers directed at him until a frazzled Eise emerged from the kitchen behind a couple stragglers she had driven up from its buttery, and looked at him with a harried shrug. Oram nodded to her gratefully and tapped on the bell sharply to get everybody’s attention. He took as long as he dared to pull his thoughts together without letting the expectant silence go on too long. Best to keep things simple and clear.

”A small child has disappeared from one of the farms,” Oram announced, which was met by groans, mostly -though, he suspected, not entirely- of genuine dismay and concern. ”She is believed to have done so on purpose. She has not, as far as we can tell, been abducted nor wandered off accidentally. Nevertheless, we should assume that she may be in danger. She needs to be found and recovered as quickly as possible.”

The announcement galvanized the group; this was obvious even to Oram minimal as his experiences with crowds was. Groans and grumbles gave way to animated buzzing. Oram held up his hand for silence, which he got, mostly. ”While we need to act urgently, we must also do so deliberately, and in cooperation with the Elements, and with the community, members of whom are already spun up in this effort.” He frowned. He had the Rangers’ interest and attention; they were ready for him to tell them what to do. But…what did he want them to do? He had never run such an effort before.

The traveler searched the group for familiar faces. He called out to them as he found them: ”I’m going to assign all of you to one of three groups: Jim, Hops, Bear, you will be in charge of those groups.” The three men nodded, waiting for him to continue. ”Jim, please go through and count people out by threes: one…two…three. Team One will report to Jim, Two to Hops, Three to Bear. For right now, all we’re doing is making sure everybody is in a team, that they know where their team leaders are, and their team leaders know where *they* are. The teams will be assigned duties later. I have some coordinating to do with the community and with the Elements. I will give specific tasks to the team after I come back.” He looked at Bear. ”In addition to Team Three, you’ll be in charge of the compound until I come back.” The large man saluted his understanding.

Having given his instructions, Oram dismissed the assembled Rangers, then went to look for Mule. He needed to find the Elements to coordinate efforts with them. No sense in having redundant search parties stepping on one another’s toes and possibly triggering squabbles about whose remit this was.

[Oram Mednix]

Poor babes in the woods

Oram would have preferred to walk to and around town to the meetings he had in mind, but time was pressing. Organizing the Rangers into teams was as much a stall as anything, to ensure that whatever manpower he needed was in one place once he *really* decided what to do next. He actually ran into an Element officer riding up to find him, so that coordination happened relatively quickly; the farmer’s wife had already plead with the troops for help. Together with the Element Troop, he went next to the Order. Priscilla would probably need their help once they found her, and Oram was determined that they *would* find her. On the way to the Order outpost, Oram suggested to the Troop that it was to there, and not straight back to the parents, that the girl should be brought first. They could notify the parents once they were sure she was safe.

The Healers’ expressions grew somber when they examined Priscilla’s note, but they nodded their understanding, and assured the hunter that they would both expect the girl and be ready to treat her once she was brought back. From there, it was back to the farmhouse.

Oram didn’t know what it was about the girl’s room that struck him as odd, but something did. It looked comfortable and clean, and there were a couple dolls and toys in it, and yet there just seemed to be so little…life in it. Oram hadn’t been in many small girl’s rooms, but the ones he had visited, even modest ones in his traveler’s camp, just felt more alive, more colorful, more expressive of a personality. Priscilla’s room just felt sad and suppressed somehow; if he knew more about children, he would probably have been able to better put a finger on what was amiss.

The farmer started when Choir materialized next to Oram, but the Ranger assured him the wolf was not only harmless, but even friendly, and that he was there to help. The farmer simply nodded mutely and backed away out the doorway into the main room. While the hunter did not enjoy seeing the farmer nervous or intimidated, he was glad at the space his retreat before Choir afforded. He brought the wolf one of the toys, a ragged doll that had lost its button eyes. Choir sniffed it for a while, then went over to the bed and snuffled through Priscilla’s bed linens. He turned and gave Oram a look that carried a mute announcement: Got her.

An agonizing half-break convinced Oram and Choir that the girl was not anywhere on the property. She had not fallen into a well, nor hidden in a shed or barn. He found instead a foot trail, leading southeast, away from the farms, away from Egilrun. Oram scowled as he peered in that direction. Nothing lay that way.

Nothing except the Sweetwine.

He did not tell the farmer what he had just found; it would only have made him that much more frantic. He needed the man to be calm when his wife came back from town. As soothingly as he could, the traveler told him that Hop would be by soon with some rangers, to meet with the neighboring farmers to search their lands. He would send them as soon as he arrived back at the Ranger Headquarters. Others, with Jim, would help the Elements and townsfolk search around the city. It was all the assurance Oram could offer before taking his leave.

When he got back to the Ranger Headquarters, he took Bear, Hop, and Jim aside. He went over Jim’s and Hop’s respective plans first, but told them they wouldn’t be needing all the Rangers they had counted out earlier, as they would be working with other people providing manpower. They should each leave one person behind, and give half the remaining people to Bear’s team. The big man wrinkled his brow. ”What am I doin’?” he asked nervously.

”I’m pretty sure the girl went into the Sweetwine,” Oram explained. ”I want our largest search party, all Rangers, to search for her down there. I’ll lead it.” He looked at Bear. ”I’ll need you to hold down the fort. You and a skeleton crew stay here to take reports from the other parties as they come in.”

Bear grunted. ”I’m good at holdin’ down the fort.”

Oram nodded. ”I know. I’m heading out in one break. Have everybody in the Sweetwine search party ready at the south wall by then.”

[Oram Mednix]

There’s a killer in the woods. We should split up.

Fourteen Rangers gathered at the south wall as Oram had directed; his own arrival made fifteen. With satisfaction, he noted that they had all brought satchels with them, even though he had not specified such. He had his own pack with him, of course.

The traveler split the group into five groups of three men, including two with himself. Four of the groups would search, calling Priscilla’s name as they went. Oram and the other three would park on a centrally located hill and await reports. The two rangers with him would serve as runners to and from the compound, and also as escorts and backups should any of the searching rangers get injured or otherwise need to withdraw from the party. Then the searching groups fanned out.

One bit of good fortune was that it was Saun; the Rangers would have all the daylight they could ask for. Nonetheless, Oram did not want the party out for longer than a normal trial. Tired men tended not to search well. For about two breaks Oram and the two reserve rangers waited atop the small hillock he had picked out, listening to occasional calls of “Priscilla!” coming from the surrounding woods. Stealth would not be at a premium here; they would want the rescuee to see and hear them coming and hopefully respond, if she could.

When enough time had passed, and the sounds of the calls had progressed so far into the forest that he could barely hear them, Oram blew his whistle to signal that they were to re-assemble. He had no need for the whistle’s magical properties now, but the item also worked just fine as an ordinary signaling device, which was how he used it now. He waited until all the Rangers had trickled their way back to the hill, then picked another landmark somewhat deeper in the woods for their next assembly point, and repeated the process.

The Rangers did this once or twice more, and a number of breaks had passed; he swapped out a couple of the searchers with members of his reserve group. People were tired, grumbling, and getting discouraged, and the hunter would need to make a decision soon: keep searching, in spite of fatigue and depleted supplies, or call it a trial and hope for better results tomorrow? He did not like either option.

Fortunately, he did not have to decide. A Ranger who was short of breath and bedraggled as if he had run through underbrush to get to him burst onto Oram’s clearing and panted: ”We found something, Oram! I think we need to get everybody together.” Rather than blow the whistle right away, Oram went with the man to see what he was talking about.

They had indeed found something, and that something was both informative and alarming. A pair of small humanoid footprints appeared on a wood trail; Choir sniffed and huffed to confirmed it was the girl. It looked as if she had not been following the trail long, that she had instead stumbled on it only shortly before. Poor thing must have been wandering through trackless woods until then. From the spot where she had apparently entered the trail, the bedraggled ranger grimly brought Oram to where the other two members of his search team waited.

They flanked a small clearing, with some disturbed underbrush around it, as if something large, or rather several large somethings, had burst from it. The girl’s footsteps broke their stride here, instead weaving to and fro, and they interesected other tracks. These were hoof tracks, like some ungulate. ”We reckon they're pig tracks,” one of the rangers waiting at the sight offered. The other two in his party nodded somberly. Oram examined the tracks himself and agreed with their assessment. Something was odd, though. He frowned.

”It looks like only single pairs of prints,” he noted. He had seen enough four-legged animal prints to know that this was atypical.

”Like they were walking on two legs,” one of the other rangers offered.

Oram nodded unhappily. There was more. A ranger held up a small piece of flint. ”We found this near the disturbed underbrush,” she declared. Already dreading that he knew what it was, the hunter took and examined it. A spearhead, crudely but effectively knapped. Probably with stone tools.

He didn’t have to say it out loud and didn’t, but everybody present had the same thought: Thwarthides.

”We think they took the girl, one of the male rangers said, anger edging his voice. Oram’s shoulders slumped unhappily. This would make rescuing the girl that much more complicated, assuming they still had her alive. And their problems wouldn’t be over after that. What were thwarthides doing this close to a human settlement?

There was some encouraging news, however thin. ”The struggle was short,” Oram noted, ”and there’s no blood. Looks like they captured her quickly, without injuring her too badly.”

”She could still be hurt,” said the female ranger. ”We need to hunt these thwarthides down before they do anything…”

Oram held up a hand, still gazing at the ground thoughtfully. The other rangers fell silent. ”Get back to our rally point,” he told them. ”I’ll call everybody together. Then we’ll decide what to do next.”

[Oram Mednix]

I’ll pay the rent!

Oram pondered his options as he walked back to the rally point, blew the whistle, and then waited for the search parties to return. Those options did not look good, and he was no happier about them by the time the rangers were all back. Looking around at them grimly, he announced: ”We found the girl’s tracks on a wood trail not far from here. It seems she was taken by thwarthides.”

This announcement drew exactly the cacophony of reactions Oram had been dreading. Outbursts of anger, bafflement, and outrage, declarations of intent to tear those pigs apart, drastic and rash suggestions of all sorts. The hunter waited a few trills for it to die down, gazing expectantly at the rangers to stop. Eventually, they did. He continued: ”We found footprints of perhaps three of them. We cannot know how many more we would find in their camp, wherever that is-”

”Doesn’t matter!” cried one of the rangers wildly, pulling out a hatchet and brandishing it. ”We’ll kill every-”

”We will do no such thing!” Oram shouted, this time not waiting for the other to finish; the ranger talking and several of the others were startled by the abrupt interruption, and the traveler’s sudden change in volume. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention and would not need to shout over people, he continued more calmly: ”First, we don’t know enough about the situation to just go in and attack; second, we aren’t equipped for it.” He gestured around at the group. ”Most of you aren’t armed except for knives, and we’ve only one mount besides Mule here. Third, we don’t know how many other thwarthides are in the area, nor why. I’ve never heard of them being so close to Egilrun. We don’t want to start a war if we can avoid it.”

Hatchet Guy growled: ”If they so much as harm a hair on that girl-”

”-then we’ll deal with it then. Right now we need to make sure *we* don’t harm a hair on that girl by a needless provocation.”

Hatchet Guy threw up his hands and made a frustrated noise: ”So what are we to do, then, Oram? Nothing? Let her die? What are *you* going to do?”

Oram looked at him steadily. ”I’m going to scout ahead, see if I can find out where the thwarthide camp is, what their numbers are, and…what they’ve done to the girl. It looks like they took her alive for some reason. I’ll decide what to do then, and come back.” Absent-mindedly, he scratched his chest, thinking of the Ezere mark outlined there. ”I’ve not given up on the idea that this can end peacefully.”

That brought some scoffs, and not just from Hatchet Guy. Oram ignored them.

”I’ll need someone to come with me. One person.” He held up his index finger for emphasis. ”A scouting party, after all, not a raiding party.” He looked at Hatchet Guy. ”Would you like to volunteer?”

The ranger huffed and blustered indignantly. He looked like he was about to say something insubordinate when a deep, strong voice said: ”I’ll come with you, Oram.” The group parted, and even Hatchet Guy stood aside as a tall, broad-shouldered man strode forward. Oram gaped a second, then nodded appreciatively. ”Thank you, Sh’ron,” he said, as the mumbles of consternation gave way briefly to murmurs of approval and admiration. Oram had a good idea those weren’t for him. He could only complain so much, however; Sh’ron Ng’yi would very much have been his first choice to accompany him from among the group there. He was one of the more capable fighters, an excellent woodsman, and perhaps most importantly, level-headed. He would be able to handle any fight that came their way, but would also have the sense to avoid needless ones.

Oram looked at the falchion the man carried, then asked: ”Do you have any other weapons? Your bow?” Sh’ron nodded and pointed to where it stood, leaning against a tree next to his satchel.

By then, the spell cast by the handsome young ranger’s coming forward had dissipated, and the mood of concern and skepticism returned. ”What should the rest of us do?” one of the ranger asked.

”Go back to the compound,” Oram responded. ”Talk to Hop. Have him debrief you, especially you three.” He pointed to the search party who had found the thwarthide ambush site. ”After that, you do exactly what they tell you. I left Bear in charge until I get back, and I ain’t back yet, so he’s still in charge. Make sure to tell him that Sh’ron and I plan to be gone as long as two trials, and that I asked that nobody do anything before then.”

He glared warningly at Hatchet Guy: ”And I mean anything. Clear?”

to be continued here...

[Pig Boy]

Player Name: Oram Mednix

Points awarded: 10
Magic xp: none

Knowledge:

[Investigation] Always look for yourself in case a previous investigator missed something.
[Leadership] Task organizing a group.
[Leadership] Tell Poe that there is a plan, that there’s hope.
[Logistics] Designating rallying points.
[Politics] Identifying and reducing potential for armed conflict.
[Psychology] Recognizing signs that someone is highly disturbed and upset.

Renown: 10 for heading up a search effort.
Loot: none
Injuries/Overstepping: none
Wealth Points: n/a

Skill Review: All Skills used appropriately to PC's level

Notes: I'm glad I got to read this one myself, when I saw it I just had to take it. Hopefully you don't mind my review is a bit late.

The story opens up as it often does with yours, with Oram minding his own darned business. The contents of the note I expected to show her as a little bit screw-loose, and you certainly delivered on that. It seemed very sad and drove home how disturbed the child must be, to just take off for the woods to join the pigs. A kid running away to join the circus, this isn't. I appreciate that you maintained the seriousness of the situation throughout the thread.

Oram had a good method about planning for the search, and being the eyes in the sky above it all. Sendingi out small groups of three was a smart move to comb the area, while taking care of the business of organizing what would be needed in the aftermath, such as the healers of the Order and the Elements if they needed to call in the cavalry.

All in all, you did a great jojb buliding up suspense here, and I'm really anxious for the little girl. Hopefully she turns out unharmed!

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns regarding this review, feel free to PM. Enjoy your rewards!