The road south to Burydead can take anywhere between a day or three to travel, and the term ‘road’ is a slightly grand title for a route that, in places, resembles more a dirt track, as it winds along the length of the Arkanthor peninsula. It is not the best of leisurely strolls either, for should the wind be blowing in the wrong direction it can mean that one is walking constantly into mists and driving rain, gusting in from the sea. And so it is today. Although the early morning sunshine seemed to suggest otherwise, the day quickly clouds over, gulls hunker down in their cliff side nests, and Hood pulls his hood more firmly down to shield his face. It is not long before he is drenched through and miserable. What started as a spritely whistling walk has turned into a grim trodden, miserable muddy trudge. Hood is not happy.

[a picture of Hood on the trail, blown by wind and rain]

Late in the afternoon, as he trudges on in the grey swirling mist, the path before him, dark wet, slippery and twisting, he hears the faint sound of musical notes carried by the wind. And as he continues, the notes become louder and more distinct. Rounding a corner on the trail - the ‘road’ having narrowed considerably at this point, winding between two opposing rock faces - it opens out somewhat to reveal a grassy area with a single tree, beneath which a shadowed figure sits, their back against the trunk, a musical instrument in hand, strumming and plucking the occasional note, whilst fiddling with the tuning.

[a picture of Hy-Jinx sitting against the tree, playing her mandolin]

Hood stops momentarily, warily. Life is not necessarily safe, and wisdom does not come to the dead. Having assessed the situation Hood proceeds and as he does so, the figure beneath the tree strikes up a song - a strong mellifluous female alto:

I saw a miserable fellow walk

His feet all bound in clumps

The mud and sludge it stuck to him

And then fell off in lumps

She sings with a mocking tone and the words seem directed at him.

Said I to him “What ails you sir?”

But he did not reply

Too busy with his misery

It looked like he would cry. Hey!

Hood stops mid step, a crust of mud falling from his boot, and turns to eye the figure who continues with her mocking lyrics:

Oh come now sir do not succumb

To the weather of Arkanthor

The rain may chap and wet your back

and maybe leave your bum sore.

But think of this, in this weather that’s pish

At the end of the road lies The Boar.

With plenty of broth and a fire that’s hot

And a welcome mat at the door. Hey.

Hood says nothing but stands like a question mark, eyeing up this stranger and her motley garb.

“Madeleine said you were a talkative one. Asked me to give you a message. Said something has come up - Guild business - so sends her apologies, says you’ll have to wait for her instead.”

Hood nods slightly and turns to go, considering the time frame in which things have occurred. Hood likes magic, likes logic, and puts two and two together. Whoever this stranger is must be part of the Guild, must have delivered a message to Madeleine who in turn has asked her to pass on her message to Hood. As he considers this, the figure stands with a jingle and wipes the moisture from her garments as best she can, slinging the instrument across her back.

“Wait on there,” she calls from beneath the tree, making to join Hood: “I’m sure you could use the company. I’m Hy-Jinx by the way.” She extends a hand which is left extended. Hood just stares at her. She just smiles back.

It appears that Hood has gained a companion of sorts.