Spring in Wermspittle (IV)

School of Hard Knocks

For the first few weeks of Spring, professors and other scholars and academics tend to stay off the streets unless accompanied by bodyguards. Lots of bodyguards. Preferably big, scary ones. Wherever they go, the scholars and instructors are mobbed by scores of arrogant, earnest, precious, desperate applicants seeking entry into the Academy, the Colleges, the Schools or Clinics. Every expert, adept and master has their pick of the surfeit of fresh young things vying for some sort of a chance to prove themselves, any kind of opportunity to better themselves. Apothecaries and academics, surgeons and sorcerers all post their requirements and conditions for acceptance as an apprentice only to face an onslaught of applicants. Many hire extra staff just to handle all the eager young would-be apprentices. The majority of the legitimate opportunities are filled and spoken for within the first two weeks. Then the scammers, frauds, and agents of the Corruption Trade descend upon the disappointed and desperate remnants and left-overs before they fully realize that the parties are all over.

There are scholarships, of course, but qualifying for those is even more difficult than fighting one's way through the bureaucratic gauntlet and the impromptu extracurricular arenas. Those who fail the admissions tests, get passed-over or drop-out in the midst of the mad rush of would-be new students entering academia still have a shot at becoming an apprentice, intern or unpaid assistant. Not all professions require a degree or a diploma. Many can only be entered, legitimately, via an apprenticeship or period of scholastic indenturement. In some cases this is a real fast-track to power or fame, in others it is as much a dead end as delivering questionable meat to the Goules of Latterkamp in Winter.

A Bitter After-Taste

Quite a number of young people wake up to a harsh reality come the last two weeks of April. Those who have been admitted to the colleges, institutes and learning clinics have left them behind. The dancers have gone back to their regular jobs, the liquor is no longer flowing quite so freely and the landlords want to be paid. All those wagon-loads of provisions sent along with young Johan or Elsbeth by their parents are empty, picked clean by revelers. The teamsters have already headed out of town carrying loads of salvage or handicrafts to the trading camps of the few merchant caravans worth rendezvousing with before the onset of Summer.

Piper's Wages

For many young people it is a harsh way to wake-up. Dunners and debt-collectors seem to come out of the wood-work. Doors get locked and windows barred. The Patrols start making the rounds again. Things that were tolerated, even gleefully encouraged during the Revels get punished, often summarily and harshly. Vices that were freely catered to before are hard to find and expensive when the once-friendly peddlers are finally found. All that was free now comes at a stiff price. Loud noises attract unwanted attention. Even a smile can start a fight among strangers. But few such scuffles last for very long before the Patrol descends upon them and sorts it all out. Those with money can walk, those who are destitute can either take their chances in the pits or ask for the Low Court to assign them some municipal service. Most just get auctioned off to debt-collectors and usurers who like to invest in the futures of trouble-makers who show promise as fighters, gladiators, or other types of servants. The Dusk Bells ring once more and the old contraband water clocks start to keep track of the hours again. Order is to be restored. Time matters again. There is much work to do and only a short time left in which to get it all done before the frost comes back and the hard times descend like a shroud over the city.

Spring in Wermspittle III: Revels

Reckless Revels
The Spring Revels of Wermspittle are notorious, infamous, and outrageous. The bizarre competes with the exceptional and the unusual in an intoxicating and frenzied festival of marvels, wonders and miracles. The Patrols turn a blind eye to the crowded streets and alleys within the areas designated 'safe enough for now,' by the Privy Council. The crowds grow wanton, wild and reckless. The parties explode into wandering riotous mobs and the night is filled with music, laughter and all manner of phantasm, both fair and foul. The Revels are a free-for-all, a no holds barred blow-out that brings a much-needed influx of fresh enthusiasm, malleable young minds, and new blood into the city.

Spring is in the air and for a brief shining moment Wermspittle is filled with hopes, dreams, ambitions and opportunities. Hundreds of children flood into the city. Youthful optimism temporarily drives out the lingering shadows of the dark times. Banners wave, liquor flows, inhibitions evaporate and everyone gets caught-up in the giddy carnival-like atmosphere. Money is no good in the rathskellars and beer halls. Everything is run on credit. Landlords, bar-tenders and merchants all keep track of things, as per tradition. Aside from the wagon-loads of provisions sent along with the children of the Low Lander farms (those who still vainly hope such bribery will help their children's chances), there isn't a lot of food available (mostly duck, geese and other migratory water-fowl), but there is plenty of liquor. Lots of liquor and strange new and exotic vices to stimulate the senses and intoxicate, then snare the gullible and vulnerable.

Mobs, Parties and Other Encounters

1. (1d4) Green-mantled and masked Wardens are ejecting (2d4) would-be guests from an inn that is filled past capacity. The ejectees are extremely upset and quite drunk. At least one of them is suffering from the effects of Dim Ichor. The other one wants to set fire to the place out of revenge.
2. A novice goat-legged sorcerer stumbles out of an Abandoned Property with a Stranglemass choking him to death. So far no one has noticed anything out of the ordinary.
3. The street just shuddered. There's a Type IV Gobbling Grout having a fit, thrashing about, and shifting the entire over-packed tavern off of its foundations.
4. BOOM! Someone just found a pocket of explosive gas that had been building-up in one of the near-by cellar cess-pits. Foul debris rains down over a 300' radius, but the only damage is the smell and the mess.
5. (4d6) Unchaperoned children are playing games and having a great time enjoying the fireworks and Special Candies that the Candyman is handing out freely to any who'll try some. The candies come in a wide variety of shapes, but all are oily, white marzipan-like confections liberally coated with a White Powder.
6. A Soulless Scholar escorted by (2d4) burly Morlocks in full chain-mail wielding halberds and truncheons. He is late for an appointment and losing patience with the riff-raff in the street. Unfortunately, he is on notice for having authorized his guards to use unnecessary force upon the wrong bunch of students three days ago and he is being monitored by an invisible member of the Board of Review.
7. Some Prodigy has just cast a Processions of the Damned spell in the next alley and there's not enough room for the Procession to all fit properly, causing the spell to fluctuate and sputter as it tries to settle into place. The Prodigy will collapse in 2d4 minutes from exhaustion. If no one retrieves the kid, she'll be trampled to death in the street.
8. (2d4) Wagons driven by Teamsters are being escorted through the crowded street by (4d20) children from the Low Lands. Three Revelers have already been beaten severely for trying to loot the wagons. People are taking bets as to how far the kids will get with their wagons before all hell breaks loose.
9. A Jaladari is selling talismans, amulets, charms and tokens to anyone who'll come near. They warn of the dangers of Red Shadows, Gloomswallows and worse, but few are paying any attention.
10. A Medium screams pitifully as a group of bullies let a small Ordrang strip them of their ectoplasm. The bullies were paid to torment the bloody and bruised fellow by the agent of a group of Fantomists who want to send a message to the other mediums and their ilk. This is their town now. Or so they claim.
11. (1d6) Eloi and/or (1d4) Blue Angels are leading a drunken mob towards their mistresses' brothel. People either join the mob, or get out of the way. More than half the members of this mob are clueless children caught-up in the whore's sorcerous glamer. A Vigilante has already been left bleeding in the gutter after unsuccessfully attempting to break the spell they've placed upon the children.
12. A riot is breaking out. Some fool let one of the few surviving Puritans into a tavern and she got stabbed within the first two minutes of trying to bust-up some gambling. The thieves were dicing for who got to keep the Puritan's nice black cloak. So far she has only killed six customers and they've all been driven out into the street by a Pallid sorceress who is being paid to keep things under control by the landlord.
13. Screams! Chaos! The cobblestones shift. People are running away. (10d10) Revelers all begin to move in the same general direction; away from a collapsed section of street out of which hordes of skittering, panicking rats are pouring forth.
14. (2d6) Sorcerers are fighting a spell-duel in the street. One of them is an Almas in red robes, another is  clad in filthy manticore-hides and reeks of charnel-clay. The Almas seems to be winning, but the necro-eremite intends to cheat, if necessary.
15. (1d6) Lurm are haggling with a teamster about securing passage out of here. They want to reach a particular Low Lander hamlet before plowing begins. You overhear something about seeds and something else about the phase of the Moon. One of them is carrying a richly inlaid volley-gonne. The rest are scholars, sorcerers or surgeons. Before they can complete their transaction (6d6) children swarm through the place shouting, laughing and throwing rotten produce. For many of them this is their first time away from home and many of them are already feeling the effects of the long walk, the spectacle, the liquor; their antics have a 40% chance to ignite a violent street fight at any moment.
16. (1d6) Drunken Steppes-Nomad Revelers are orchestrating an impromptu moist bodice competition that seems to be going over very well with the increasingly drunk and rowdy crowd.
17. An old pit-fighter with more than half his visible skin replaced with patches of wermhide is handing out flyers and passes to an underground fight if you're interested in that sort of thing.
18. A very large Cyclopes has passed out in the middle of the street. The Wardens are trying to find out who summoned it in order to get them to remove the damned thing since it's blocking traffic.
19. A group of (2d4) Refugees from Yudrabak are pushing their way through the mobs looking for one of their people who seems to have gotten separated from the rest. She has been abducted by (2d4) Hunchbacked Grim-Clowns who are running off with her across the rooftops.
20. (2d6) Members of the Patrol are pointedly ignoring the festivities while keeping a watch on the most notorious cellars, Abandoned Properties, known nests, marked lairs and so on. They will not interfere with the Revels, nor will they participate; they know that far too many unpleasant things are getting stirred up, riled up or driven out from their dens to relax their vigil.

On The Road to Wermspittle I (Encounter Table/Wermspittle)

It is tradition, born of centuries of struggling to survive and to carry on through the worst that Winter brings and to make the most of the kinder seasons, even when it is the Spring that takes away the young and innocent. The days grow longer, warmer, more gentle. The all-pervading horrors of the darkness recede and withdraw back into their haunts and hunting grounds, the old graveyards and the vast wilderness out past the boundary-markers, the Cold Roads, and the cleared fields.

The bandits have mostly pulled back to the highland passes, to prey upon the coming caravans, the few who are left behind either look for work helping the farmers to drive off those things that seek to linger on after Winter's passing, or they head to Wermspittle to seek what fortunes they might find there as bodyguards, deputies, or claims adjusters. If ever there was a time to travel to Wermspittle, it is now. In the Spring. Before planting begins. While the beasts are only just beginning to wake up and there are hundreds of others on the road and no one need travel to Wermspittle alone.

On The Road To Wermspittle (I)

1. (2d6) Children carrying an assortment of walking sticks, hatchets and short bows. The oldest among them, a girl of maybe fourteen winters named Jeelri intends to catch something to roast at the campfire tonight. One of the younger kids thinks that he's spotted tracks from a wild goat. The rest are clamoring to go hunt ducks with their slings, but that would mean leaving the muddy road and maybe wading into the marshes. What if there are leeches?
2. (3d4) Forest-folk in leather or studded leather, all carrying crossbows, short bows, and a selection of mis-matched/random cutlery including at least one cutlass and three ornately inscribed cavalry sabres dangling the green cords of gentlemen sorcerers of Ostvallia. They are sullen and furtive, distrustful of everyone they meet. Their comrades abandoned them a couple of weeks ago and they've been making their way down from the highlands, hunting as they go, heading to Wermspittle with the plan to seek employment as wagon guards for the teamsters. They hope to find a couple of wagons en route to Wermspittle that they can travel beside, to help demonstrate their suitability and integrity. At least long enough to slit the teamster's throat and steal a wagon for themselves.
3. (4d6) Children carrying spears and shell-picks. Each of them wears a suit of armor hand-made from plough-leather. They have already caught, killed and skinned (3d8) moles, voles and assorted other rodents. The (1d4) ratter-kin within their midst are hoping that this will mask their odor.
4. (3d10) Refugees from Karwald in blocky overcoats carrying hunting spears and tine-swords. They have (1d4) Unfortunates among them, and are hoping to find a doktor or surgeon in Wermspittle to help their comrades. They will be stand-offish and try to prevent outsiders from discovering that at least one of their number is also a Plaguecarrier. One of the Unfortunates is carrying an arquebus, but is out of ammunition.
5. (3d20) Children (all first-level, any Class), who've banded together to over-power and hog-tie a pair of scheming teamsters whom they've chained to the rear axle of the lead wagon. One of these children is Odd, another is a Prodigy, and a third is a half-Eloi with a knack for knowing when people are being deceitful. They cannot bring the wagons into Wermspittle without running afoul of the teamsters, so the kids are all arguing noisily about what to do or not do. Several want to kill the teamsters, but most want to work out some sort of a deal. The teamsters are furious, embarrassed and more than a little fearful. One of them definitely intends to exact a terrible revenge. The other one just wants this whole thing over with so he can go back home. Anyone approaching this group could easily get the impression that the children have robbed the teamsters and may in fact be intending to do harm to what could be considered innocent adults.
6. (1d4) Very young Cuckoos are leading a parade of (4d20) otherwise normal children who will do anything to protect or to please their mind-controlling masters. The Cuckoos are not strong enough to affect a full-grown human, yet, which is why they were turned out from their enclave at so early an age. They only need to assert their control a little at a time to maintain their influence over the group that has accumulated around them, so far. But there are too many to really dominate effectively any more and the cuckoos are struggling to maintain order and their control is slipping.
7. (1d4) Steppes folk on riding goats quietly mind their own business as they make their way along the road. Each one carries the traditional curved sword, short sword, daggers, and distinctive scrimshawed long gonne (archaic pinch-locks), for which their people are known. Only one of the riders is a child headed for Wermspittle, the others are accompanying her to the city in order to barter for some more Gunpowder Grubs. A blight has killed-off more than half the tribe's grubs, and they need to acquire a fresh supply before their enemies and rivals learn about their situation.
8. (2d6) Farm-kids have just caught a pair of wild piglets. The things are squealing loudly. The mother-sow (4HD, wild boar) will come running after them in 1d4 minutes. These children are not ready for a boar-hunt. Especially not when it's the boar that is intending to be hunting them.
9. Kunisha walks along the side of the road dragging a tattered rag doll behind her. She is crying softly to herself, her tears making streaks through the ash and dirt caked on her face. She didn't mean to do it. The fire wasn't her fault.
10. (3d6) Hill folk bearing great satchels and bales of trade-goods are walking along, minding their own business. The women all wear copious amounts of purple amber. One of them is an Oneirist, hoping to sneak into Wermspittle and steal a grimoire from a famous scholar. He hopes that this will suitably impress his beloved's mother enough that she'll consent to their marriage. What he doesn't know is that one of his traveling companions is under strict orders to see to it that he dies in the attempt.
11. (4d4) Children are laughing and playing as they follow the road to the city. One of them is taller, longer-limbed than the rest. They are a Larval Ungezeifer, their more insect-like features are not immediately apparent, but the molting has begun. They are trying to guide the others along a route that will take them onto the Cold Roads and through a Weak Point. It plans on killing and eating them on the other side.
12. Ludolf walks along the road like he owns it. He is big for his age, heavy-boned and stout, massively strong and he has every intention of fighting in the arenas. He carries a blacksmith's three best hammers and a set of tongs, the gift of his proud papa. Fearless and well-prepared, Ludolf has given no thought whatsoever to what he'll do after he gets into the fights.
13. (2d20) Children rooting around in the mud just off the road. They've found Spring Caps and other edible fungi and are using some sticks to collect it all. No one has noticed the Horla that is stalking them at a safe distance. Yet.
14. (3d4) Quiet, violet-eyed siblings, each one wearing rough, home-made padded armor composed of old rags beneath sections of old worn-out leather scraps. They all look identical, though half of them carry hand-axes and the others are armed with hunting bows. They also have 1d4 Koponu in rickety baskets to help light their way at night. They might be pseudohumans. They each might also have 1d4 psychic abilities.
15. (1d4) Wagons full of provisions being driven by teamsters. Only one of them has hired-on a guard, a shifty-eyed half-almas with a nasty-looking goatsfoot (crossbow-like stone-thrower). They will light torches and ride through the night. They don't care if they kill the nags pulling their wagons getting into town before the others--they aim to have first pick of the Glimp Shells that'll be waking up soon.
16. Raldi is going to Wermspittle to try and join the crew of an Airship, just like in the stories his grandfather has told him all his life.
17. (3d4) Woods-Children are chasing after (1d4) Zurian children.
18. Sidra didn't just inherit her mother's long, black hair...she also craves blood...more and more...maybe she can find some answers, learn what is happening to her in Wermspittle.
19. (3d6) Low Lander children, all of them wielding hunting bows, long knives and stout cudgels are beating the bushes near the side of the road. They believe that there is an Unseen Beast in the brambly-bush. They intend to take the thing with them into town.
20. Busho has a way of controlling Flidders. It's not much of a talent, really, but it might be something that could maybe help him get a shot at a scholarship or maybe an apprenticeship, if he's lucky.

Spring in Wermspittle II: Just Arrived

The Children Come Marching In

No sooner are the roads passable, and in some cases even before, than a vast mob of children comes pouring into Wermspittle from the surrounding countryside. Their arrival signals the end of the long, hard Winter and the beginning of the (hopefully) kinder times. They come from as far away as Wollcroft, Jarkuz, and Indigar. Some are accompanied by wagons mounded with dried grain, smoked meat, pickles, cheeses and other provisions stockpiled over the previous half-year by families hoping to give their children some sort of an edge or advantage over the others. The Low Land farmers have usually negotiated steep fees with the teamsters in order to get these precious things hauled into Wermspittle. Even so, few children ride on those wagons. Fewer still can tell which one carries their families' supplies, thus it is rare that one in ten ever collects their due from the teamsters who are quick to switch their mantles, trade-off between wagons and otherwise play a hide-and-seek game with the children who come looking for them. For many, the arrangements worked out with the teamsters by their parents leave them bewildered, lost and out of luck. The teamsters claim it is all in good fun, a jest of sorts, a game. A tradition. An initiation. It's great good humor for the teamsters until some of those farmer's sons and daughters decide that they don't particularly like being cheated and they start to beat those teamsters whom they recognize or think they can identify. Smart teamsters know better than to try to cheat a Low Land farmer, even a young one. The not so smart ones can sometimes find themselves without a wagon. A few wind up missing altogether. It tends to balance out. One way or another.

A Seething Cauldron of Chaos and Competition

Century after century the Low Lander farmers and High Ridge hunting clans, the proud nomads who ride across the Steppes and forest-lurking bandits, the peculiar hybrid hillfolk and the strange people who come down from the Thousand Plateaus have been sending their children to Wermspittle every Spring in the hopes of their securing an apprenticeship, internship or other coveted position at the Medical College, the Academy of Occult Arts & Sciences, or one of the many Archives, Repositories and Private Libraries.

The streets grow crowded, the accommodations fill-up quickly, and everything goes crazy from mid-March through most of the month of April as every incoming child tries to earn a spot on the year's roster, to enroll in a school, to join a trade or to begin an apprenticeship. Hundreds of child-applicants fill the taverns, inns, hostels and places of lodging until the rest must find places to stay out in the Burned Over District and the Abandoned Properties. Dozens, scores, hundreds of newcomers compete for any and every opening. Would-be students face off against one another in brutal academic challenges, tests of skill and Trials by Knowledge to determine their placement for taking the Entrance Exams for each of the colleges and clinics within the Greater Academy. Steep fees (and steeper bribes) weed-out those deemed academically or financially unfit by the diligently discriminating Admissions Officers. Sorcerers hold contests for those who show exceptional raw talent or unique skills. Teratologists and Mostrosophists work their way through the crowds searching out Unfortunates and others who suit their needs or whom they would study or destroy. Prodigies and the Odd openly flaunt their differences, showing off their strange and wondrous abilities in the hopes of attracting the attention of a suitable mentor or sponsor. 

Just Arrived in Wermspittle for the Revels

1. (2d6) Children in muddy gray leather armor are dragging a makeshift travois through the crowded streets in search of a healer to tend to their fallen leader, a Cuckoo who has been manipulating them all ever since they first met-up on the road to Wermspittle. The Cuckoo is bleeding from their nose and is only intermittently conscious, but since they won't relinquish their control, the children are drifting from place to place almost randomly.
2. Hans is a large, sturdy farmer, much like his father. He wields a heavy flail and a pair of spike-hammers that his uncle has taught him to use to dismantle an opponent's armor in the course of a fight. He's a quiet guy, but driven. He has a battered and much-folded Haemotype showing the face of the Candyman who ruined his sister three Springs ago. He intends to end the Corruption Trade. Single-handedly.
3. (3d20) Children straggle into the city looking for a place to stay, something to eat and most are just on the very verge of realizing just what is really happening. Some are crying, a few are looking a bit shell-shocked, but for the most part they are sorting themselves out into small groups and either joining the Revels or heading off to locate someone in authority they can petition for an apprenticeship, scholarship or some other form of employment, depending upon their personal skills, abilities and how they were raised. Quite a few scholars and sorcerers take an intense interest in the newcomers and monitor how these children go about finding their way through the obstacles, challenges and hazards of the city, as though it were a large maze. A few go out among the children, invisibly or in disguise, and attempt to discover the more promising ones before their rivals locate them. Sometimes this results in nasty spell-fights that many mistake for more fireworks.
4. Jespo can feel the song-like presence of the werms in the Deeps, even through the cobblestones. He hopes he can pass muster and join the Sewer Militia like his grandfather, whose faded old jacket and antique Low Gear he wears with pride. He also has a pair of wicked wavy-bladed knives and a salt-box pistol packed with silver-salt shot that his grandmother insisted he carry.
5. (3d4) bandits Woods-folk in rough-patched studded-leather jackets, each one wielding or carrying enough weapons for any three professional soldiers, have arrived. Finally. They're looking for the Black Tambourine. That's the place that their friend (actually a deserter from another camp) claimed to have served as a Warden during the Revels three springs ago.
6. (1d6) Pod-born wielding maces, hammers or scythes are moving very deliberately through the alleys, looking for a suitable place to disgorge a few spore-masses so that they can begin the next phase of the plan. They look just like ordinary revelers, except for being emotionless. People tend to think they're victims of a Gloomswallow, or possibly some drop outs or frivolous art students from the Academy.
7. Barefoot and caked with mud, a nine year old Prodigy with cold azure eyes walks past the myriad distractions of the streets to the main entrance to the Academy. With a little patience, some luck and impeccable timing, he slips inside past the guards and watchdogs and disappears.
8. (1d6) Gargoyle-hunters who've only recently dug their way out of a Gargoyle-eyrie that collapsed three weeks ago walk back across the river. They all have wounds, scars and missing digits thanks to their desperate travails. They also have twenty-seven decent horns, and a dozen excellent quality horns they plan on selling for a good price. Now that they've made it back to town, they're beginning to argue over everything, including whether or not to stop and drink themselves silly, or to keep going until they reach the shop where they sold their last set of horns. (The shop was burned down last year in a riot.)
9. Trudi has walked all the way here from Malscovri and she's looking for a job so she never has to go back to that stinking, boring place. Anything that lets her hit people sounds agreeable. For a start.
10. (1d4) Gynaiads wielding double-bladed spears are looking for someplace to sleep. So far they haven't had any luck, beyond the hoots and cat-calls of lecherous revelers. So far they've held back from killing anyone. So far. But they're getting tired of the runaround.
11. Jeedee laughed and skipped and played tag with the other children right up to the big, big gates on the other end of the scary bridge. She'd never seen a river as big, nor as deep down below her feet as the one she just walked over. It scared her. At first. But now that's past and she's finally in the city. Like a good girl, Jeedee pulls out the little locket her mother gave to her only three days ago. It opens effortlessly at her merest touch. Inside she reads the address of her great grandmother's house one more time. A very nice Warden gives her directions when she asks him for help in her little girl voice. She stifles her laughter for as long as she can, at least until after turning a corner. He simply had no idea how old she really was. But even after several centuries, it was still nice to have someone treat her as if she were an innocent young girl...
12. (2d6) Children from Donniger's Outpost are looking for the Academic Entrance Exams. They already have their spell-books and know 1d4 spells, including Donniger's infamous Thirty Foot Slash spell, which they all know by heart.
13. Mu'Talg has ridden his goat far across the Thousand Plateaus to reach this place his parents have warned him away from for most of his life. But they are not sorcerers.
14. A pair of one-winter veteran Foragers are trying to transport a barrel of Spectral Brine to a suitable dumping spot. They've been using an abandoned cess-pit that they don't realize has recently become infested with a vicious, toxic mold colony. Unfortunately a group of (4d6) Low Lander Children have set-up their camp on the second floor of this place. Two of these kids are sisters (both Level 2 Fighters), raised by a General who once served in the Kulaoshian Grand Army. The sisters are running things as though they were on campaign. There are caltrops blocking the basement windows, including the one the two Foragers are expecting to dump their barrel in. Yeah. Caltrops. Big ones.
15. Ferdrima hopes to become an Apprentice to an Apothecary. Unfortunately she has been discovered by an unscrupulous Distillery-manager working in the Corruption Trade.
16. (1d4) Dirty, filthy kids who had the bad judgement to try to jump one of their neighbors who they've spent years taunting because of their half-morlock heritage. Now their nemesis has the upper-hand and fully intends to sell them to the first Butcher he finds...unfortunately, the Butchers don't traffic in questionable meat after the Equinox, especially now that the flocks of migratory birds have been returning. Pigeon, duck, goose--there's an abundance of fowl to be hunting, collecting, processing. The half-morlock will be disappointed, but the Butcher will suggest he consider selling his enemies as slaves or into the arenas. The helpful Butcher can arrange things, for a cut...
17. (1d4) Drilg trying to be inconspicuous as they go about the business of locating a few choice Glimp Shells that are stirring and beginning to awaken. The Drilg intend to rustle as many of the things as they can round-up before the Teamsters even know they've been here and gone. They plan to sell them to farmers down in the Low Lands.
18. (2d4) Hillfolk children are wandering the streets, gape-mouthed and wide-eyed, each one wielding a concealed dirk, cleaver or spring-dart. They're looking for a decent-looking attic-space to set-up shop as roofcrawling burglars. There is a lot of silk line, spikes and other climbing gear hidden within the bulky satchels they are carrying.
19. (1d4+2) Cabbochean nymphs have captured and mostly domesticated a huge old six-hooved boar they met along the road. It is big enough for all them to ride on its back at once. They're considering whether they ought to sell the beast, or find a stable for it.
20. Pojja saunters through the crowds as though they were of no real consequence. His horns are only just beginning to poke through the skin and he does not want to waste any time dilly-dallying around with the mobs, not when he has business to carry out before it is too late and the cloistered armigers forever block him from carrying out his mothers dying wish. He checks the readiness of his gonnes by touch, beneath his traveling cloak so no one might notice. He's as ready as is humanly possible. Which makes him sneer wickedly. He won't be human for much longer. Not in the eyes of the Ecclesiastical Courts. Not in his father's, the Bishop-in-Exile's, eyes.

Spring in Wermspittle I

Ides & Tides

Mid to late March brings the early thaws and first floods. The snow goes out, the trees begin to green-up, and the Plow-Grubs begin to stir from their dormancy. Barricades are torn down. Windows are thrown open. The worst bits of Winter Debris are burned in great bonfires. Mirrors are covered with lace and the thresholds are washed and repainted. The first riders set out to examine the roads and trails. Fields are inspected, drainage trenches cut into the mud, and the first few children strike out from the only homes they've ever known, to make their way to Wermspittle.

Childsplay
Some are no bigger than the hounds who follow them, many are wide-eyed and carrying all that they own in this world strapped to their backs, not one of them has reached puberty, for to do so in the Low Lands would be to court sterility, madness and death. Those who come of age within these lands rarely survive the experience. Something in the soil, the water, the air or perhaps themselves strikes them down, twisting the very cells of their bodies in horrific ways. The least outcome is infertility, but few get by that simply or easily. No parent, not even the sponsor of a Cuckoo, adopter of a Chrysalli or the cultivator of a Cabochean, mandrake or gynaiad will hold their children, offspring or spawn back from the Spring Procession. To do so is too terrible to contemplate for most. It is a sad thing, to watch these children leave their homes, but the alternative is far more horrific. So each family does what it can to give the children what means they have saved-up, scraped together, or salvaged from the Winter. A weapon, a pair of plow-leather boots, some homespun clothes, a stuffed doll made from rags, a favorite toy carved from hand-carved wood, the first meager shoots from the trellises or a handful of speckled-fungi freshly dug-up from the cold black mud of the early field; each one brings what they can, what little they have. The families give each child what they can spare, they bless them, hug them and cry tears over them and then they send them on their way. It is spring and the children deemed old enough, or strong enough or for whom it is no longer safe to remain behind must begin their journeys, even as their families need to busy themselves tapping trees for sap, clearing the fields, hunting the copses and groves for various still-dormant grubs. There is a lot of work to do and few children ever return. In some ways they are a crop. Some more so than others.

One by One...
One child meets another, and they join-up with two more. In time they are part of a group and their group merges with other groups until dozens become hundreds and more. A tide of children make their way to Wermspittle. Each one shares its meager rations with their fellows. They sing songs, tell stories, and talk of lofty ambitions, their hopes, dreams and cherished notions. How many of these children are the Solstice-delivered gift-kids of the Midwives; Cuckoos or some other not-quite-fully human thing no one knows, no one asks, no one cares. It is enough that they exist--that the terrible barrenness afflicting the Low Lands is slowly, but steadily pushed back and the infectious sterility of those who linger overlong past the first onset of adolescence does not claim another generation. Life must go on.


So the Low Land families (and others) send their children to Wermspittle every Spring, hoping for the best and dreading the worst.