On Holden Pond

Themuseleh pulled some chairs and a couple stools out of his blue hut and motioned to the party. "Sit! You must be tired. I'm having a fire built and some food brought round. Chicken, fish, or vegetables?" Lamont plopped down in the lowest, widest chair on offer, pulled his cap down over his eyes and almost immediately started to snore.

"I'll have the fish," smiled Elizabeth, as she eagerly watched the villagers bring tables, food and drink. She noted that while some were Chinan and some were, like her, British, most of the younger people looked... mixed. She wondered how long this sort of thing has been going on.

"I'll have the chicken," said Pierre. A cute redhead handed him a plate and a tankard of ale. She smiled not-so-demurely. He was made to think that he'd spent the entire summer chasing beaver through the lower reaches of Norgallia, and now just might have a chance at catching one.

"I'll have the mushrooms," said Old Crow. A Chinan woman handed him a plate, and he dug into them with gusto. They must have one heck of a garden, he noted as he nibbled on the fungi array. He had just swallowed one of the more tasty specimens of Cantharellus cibarius he'd ever had when something caught his eye. Tho kids were chasing a puppy down the wide dirt path that led to Themuseleh's hut. They were giggling and scampering after the mutt, and as it ducked between two huts, the kids squealed and followed. That's when Old Crow saw him.

At first he thought it was a man wearing a broad-brimmed hat, but after a second he saw that it was a Mushroom Man.

The Mushroom Man stood partly camouflaged against the weathered wood of the hut, and a pair of doleful eyes stared out from under his cap, and right at Old Crow. He stopped chewing reflexively, at first wondering if he was committing some sort of crime. He looked down at his plate, instinctively looking to see if any of the species matched the man. Spotting none, he looked back up to see the man was now standing in the middle of the path, a mere ten feet away. His eyes were yellowed and rheumy, and Old Crow suddenly heard a voice in his head, a voice damp and whispering, like a musty old log...

"I am the seven and the nine. I am the ace in the hole. Look for me tomorrow night."

Old Crow blinked, and the Mushroom Man was gone. He looked down at his plate, and setting it down on a wood stump, took a seat and tried to wash away the memory of him with a sip of ale. It didn't work.

Themuseleh made his way over to where he, Pierre and Lamont were sitting. He had a concerned look on his face. He crouched down and whispered to them in a low voice.

"I've just gotten word that three soldiers have entered town," he said, obviously worried. "They're from the local garrison in Elsinore and are asking questions." He gestured them all to get up and draw back between the two huts. "They're looking for their missing captain and are doing a hut-to-hut search."

"Is this in and of itself a bad thing?" asked Old Crow.

"Potentially," he replied. "We have a couple ventures going on in and around Holden. We're currently breeding horses by magical means. We've discovered a way to get a mare to foal twice in one year. We now have almost 4,000 head tucked away here and there across the valley." Old Crow raised an eyebrow. "We also have an armory hidden within the village. We're a local hub for the Maineland resistance. We can't let them find out what we have going on here."

"SO WE STRING THEM UP THEN?" Lamont being Lamont.

"If three soldiers disappear, thirty will turn up looking for them," Themuseleh scolded. He looked past Lamont's ear to see Elizabeth, who appeared to be having difficulty with her fish. Her hands were clutching at her throat. Her face was a peculiar shade of mauve. As she started to slump to the ground, Old Crow caught her and not-so-gently slapped her on the back. A piece of fish dislodged itself from her throat and she coughed and hacked herself back to life.

"The log," she mumbled wetly. "I jumped the log. Mostly."

Old Crow helped her back up to her chair, and as he did, he looked up. Three soldiers on horseback were making their way down the path, door by door.

"Where is the armory?" asked Pierre.

"Its in one of the middle huts. I'm having Foxtail take them the long way round, until we can come up with a plan."

"I have one." Elizabeth was standing up now, backing up between the two huts. She was chanting in a low whisper, and while everybody watched, her features blurred for a second, then morphed into those of a mostly naked man. Pierre was the first to recognize him. It was the captain from the sacrificial table on Spooky Mountain.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIIIIIIVE!" he screamed as he leapt forth to where the soldiers could see him. One of them froze mid-knock at the door of a hut. "Captain!" With glee he started towards the transformed Elizabeth, but she chose that moment to dart madly down the path that led towards the lake. "Wait! Captain! We're here for you!" The three soldiers immediately leapt upon their horses and followed the path as it headed towards the lake and out of town. Themuseleh looked after the soldiers in awe.

"I hope she's thought of what she's going to do next."

"I'll go see if I can find out." Pierre headed down the path after them. He had just disappeared around the bend when there was a scream.

Everything was as if in a dream. Old Crow looked around the cabin. There were signs of a struggle. A lantern tipped over. Books on the floor. A black cat cowering in the corner. Tarot cards lay everywhere around a small, overturned table. They were all face down - all except one. One card lay face up in the pale, lifeless hand of a woman - presumably the resident of this particular hut. Old Crow knew she wouldn't be making any more readings in here, however. From what he could tell, she'd been ripped open from hips to neck. Her heart had been removed. Old Crow kneeled down to look at the card. As he reached out and touched it, everything shimmered and he was suddenly somewhere else, far, far away. An old man wearing a golden circlet was leaning over a bed, struggling with something or someone. A foot kicked out and hit the old man's arm, and a cry rang out from his victim. The old man pounced back down onto the bed, choking out the cry. Old Crow tried to move, tried to cry out himself in order to help. He barely managed a croak, but it was enough to make the man turn and face him. A wrinkled, papery face plastered with rage stared right at him. His hands were around the throat of a young, blonde girl. Spittle escaped her bluing lips. 

And then he was back. Standing there amidst the chaos in the hut, people were chattering wildly, some people were crying. Old Crow heard Lamont swear under his breath, heard the word "Jack." He noticed something in his hand. He looked down and saw he'd somehow managed to stand up with the card from the poor woman's hand. He flipped it over, and when he saw the painstakingly hand-painted artwork on the face, he couldn't help but shudder at not only what was lost, but at what was still yet to come.

With Mars as its ruling planet, the Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. This is a card about anything we believe to be true, but later learn is false. This realization usually comes as a shock, hence, the violent image.