145. Hanuli’s Heel
If Jupi and Adri are with you as you travel, they will tell you a story about your next destination, Hanuli’s Heel:
Hanuli and Gurd were merchants in Deeproot, generations ago, building and selling wooden furniture. Across the street from their workshop was a stall selling nuts and spices, upwind so that Hanuli and Gurd worked all day to fine, savory smells.
As they got older, and younger hands were able to produce items cheaper and faster, especially with the help of machine parts, Gurd began to get restless. He convinced Hanuli they should see more of the world before it was too late — he wanted to see where such exotic smells came from. Hanuli did not have Gurd’s wanderlust, but she believed he would miss the comforts of Deeproot, and would not have to accompany him very far.
The couple set off along the Southtap, which had plenty of fish, fresh water, and shade. They had to avoid the occasional Snapmaw nest, but the level terrain of Plainsong made it easy to see them at distance. For two weeks they walked along the river, Gurd stopping to smell each new type of flower, or to taste the fruit of each new type of tree.
On the fifteenth day, after rounding yet another bend in the river that looked like every other, Hanuli threw her pack to the ground in front of Gurd. Hands on her hips, foot stamping the ground like a charging Strider, she told Gurd she refused to walk another minute. If Gurd wanted to spend the remainder of his days with her, they would do it right there, and no farther.
Later that night, they sat around the fire, talking through what they would need to build and where. Hanuli’s mood had softened, and she asked Gurd what they should name this new place. Gurd, staring into the distance across the mud of the Southtap’s banks, which still held the indentations from where Hanuli had put her foot down, said the first thing that came to his mind.
The couple built up a fine house, familiar as they were with carpentry, and filled it with their works. Travelers along the Southtap would be offered food and rest, and would note the exceptional handiwork of such a remote place. They would remark on such upon reaching Deeproot, to the point that travelers going west would make sure to stop there, just to see if the tales were true. The couple built guest houses, which they let out for very reasonable rates. The village sprouted from there, and is known to this day for both its comfort and hospitality.
Before we left Deeproot, we heard the people of Hanuli’s Heel had become paranoid, refusing to come out of their houses, or allowing anyone to enter. Their fields went untended, and it was feared they would starve.
Hanuli’s Heel is surrounded by goat pastures and farmland, mostly squash, herbs, and berries. The land is completely flat, all the way to every horizon. As you approach, everything seems normal. Farmers tend their crops, kids splash each other in the river, an older couple in rocking chairs knit cotton squares. People nod and wave as you approach, some directing you to the largest of the houses.
By the standards of Utaru houses you’ve seen so far, this house is huge. It’s the first two-level house you’ve seen, with large windows and shutters thrown wide, multicolored curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. The entire first level is ringed in grey, yellow, and black river stones and masonry, with the second level made of interlocking wood beams. A large ellipsoidal shape, the house looks to be 30-40m on its long side, with a wide double door opened to a deep porch with a number of rocking chairs facing the river.
Several smaller, single-level buildings of similar quality can be seen farther down the river. Neither they, nor the large house, look garish or ostentatious, just like homes built with love to last. Upriver, a few hundred paces away, stands a lone watchtower of robust construction, some 25m tall. A matching one can be seen downriver, another half kilometer away.
One of the old knitting couple points to the rocking chairs on the porch beside them. The smells coming out of the house are savory: sharp herbs, spices that feel thick on your tongue, and a strong base of cedar-smoke and pork.
Pehiri’s Tale
Just as you’re getting comfortable on the thick cushions of the rockers, a late-middle-aged Utaru woman comes out of the house, carrying a tray of earthenware mugs and a pair of pitchers — one with fresh, cold water and the other with what smells like mead or beer. Before introducing herself, she holds up a finger and disappears back into the house for several moments. She returns with a second tray, set down on the woven wicker table in front of you. This tray contains a number of smoked meats, including a steaming pile of pork ribs, as well as slices of fruit and bowls of nuts. She offers hand towels to each of you as she introduces herself: Pehiri, Executor of Hospitality for Hanuli’s Heel.
Through casual conversation, you learn that Pehiri and her late husband were born in Hanuli’s Heel, as were their parents. They lived in the village their entire lives, working the fields and tending goats, until Pehiri’s husband passed a few winters ago of a heart attack. When the previous Executor of Hospitality passed the next summer, Pehiri took on the role.
If asked what her plan or charge is, she explains that the Executor of Hospitality has had the same duties for longer than living memory: to make Hanuli’s Heel the most memorable part of every traveler’s journey along the Southtap. In practical terms, that meant she maintained the house and grounds, and coordinated with travelers to address any needs they might have, and compensation which might be appropriate as necessary. She also acted as a sort of local guide, making the right introductions between travelers and the tradespeople they would often need. Though, she admitted, age was slowing down her ability to act as tour guide these days.
If asked whether the story about Hanuli and Gurd is true, Pehiri gives a big smile and asks you to tell her the version you’ve heard. She will listen intently, not interrupting, and when you finish she will say it’s close enough. You get the impression her answer would be the same, no matter how wild your version sounded.
Eventually, Adri will lean back in her rocker, casually brushing her staff leaning against the stone wall behind her. This gets Pehiri’s attention, who wraps up what she was saying and puts down her mug. Adri explains that she and Jupi were tasked with investigating the strange tales from the Southtap. Pehiri frowns, seeing where the Scythe was headed, but does not interrupt as Adri tells what she’d heard: that the entire village had locked themselves in their houses, and refused to come out.
Nodding, Pehiri relates that another pair of Scythes came through several months ago. She told them the same thing: the villagers couldn’t explain it, and none even had clear memories of the event — most of what they knew was pieced together from what others told them later.
Four months ago, maybe five now, the village went through a dark time. People who had known and loved each other for decades began to fight, for reasons they couldn’t explain later. It started as a general agitation, but over a week or so, several fistfights broke out. Everyone showed the same irrational anger, from the youngest child to the oldest matron. No one did anything too rash — the worst injuries were a few bruises and a few scared children.
It got so bad, and the villagers so fearful of hurting each other, that they each agreed to lock themselves alone in their houses, splitting families into guest houses as necessary, until the angry impulses subsided. They divided up the food stores, though this caused several more altercations, and secluded themselves.
As near as everyone could tell, it was fifteen days from when they locked the doors to the when people felt calm enough to open them. Travelers came and went, banging on those doors, not understanding why the entire village refused to answer. Two weeks later, as the town began to reintegrate, they found they had difficulty remembering the specifics of the incidents that led to the isolation. They remembered the fear of harming each other, and why they had agreed to stay apart, but struggled with what drove those emotions.
If asked what was happening at that time — any particular blooms, harvests, or machine activity, or anything else unusual — Pehiri doesn’t remember anything that stands out.
Local Sights
If asked about local machine activity, Pehiri will shake her head. The Southtap is too shallow here to attract Snapmaws, which she’s heard of but never seen. Grazers, Striders, and Watchers, can occasionally be seen on the outskirts of the farms, but they have never been particularly aggressive. Glinthawks are a rare sight, never much closer than a sparkle on the horizon. The watchtowers were built after the Derangement, but more to make travelers feel safe. Half the time, the teens who stand watch in them abandon their posts for the day to go swim in the river.
If asked about local Cauldrons, Pehiri will again shake her head. She’s heard of such things from travelers, but has always doubted whether they were real.
If asked about local ruins of the Old Ones, Pehiri will be happy to answer in the affirmative — they call the place “the Lonely One”. Across the Southtap, a few hours walk from here, is a statue of an Old One. It is ancient and worn, barely resembling a person any more. It is in what clearly used to be a village, as many bizarre artifacts have been found, along with dozens of rusted shells of ancient machines.
Travelers, and the occasional bored Heeler with a free afternoon, have cleared the statue of the vines that had overgrown it. There are occasional talks of collecting some artifacts from the area and making a small display. Not all like the idea of disturbing a resting place, while others worry it might attract the attention of the machines which have to this point left the village alone.
Next Steps
After Pehiri has left, Adri and Jupi point to the beer and whisper that the villagers likely just got some bad grain, or bad mushrooms, or both. They will consider this village tale resolved, unless you have strong opinions otherwise, and will advocate you all continue on to the final village before returning to Deeproot: Sparkling Shores.
You could also spare an afternoon to visit the ruins — from Pehiri’s description, it’s only a few hours off the route along the Southtap, anyway.
To visit the Lonely One ruins, go to entry 146. To scout the area for a Cauldron, go to entry 147. Otherwise, follow the Southtap east toward Sparking Shores with entry 150.