Departure from the Departed
With another party member short and a full eight hours of rest later, Aran, Qarzdaq, and Qhortho meet in the dining area of the inn in the early afternoon. As they discuss the happenings last night, and where they are going next, Jonah walks in.
JONAH: A bit of a late start, no? Where are the other two?
They tell Jonah of their failed assault on one of the Ironborn ships from a rowboat and how they lost Tholannan in the process. Jonah nods solemnly.
JONAH: So that explains the cleric’s whereabouts. Where’s your other guy, Ornogrim?
The three men look at each other, and only then realize it is odd that he hasn’t yet arrived.
QARZ: Good question. Perhaps we should go check his room.
ARAN: He’s probably spending a little too much time with Hooterz.
QARZ: I’m going to check on him.
QHOR: Ok, we’ll wait outside for you.
Qarzdaq walks upstairs to Ornogrim’s room and knocks on the door. He hears no response. He knocks again, harder. A loud groan is heard through the door. The thuds of heavy footsteps approach from inside the room and the door opens to reveal a particularly unsavory flavor of Ornogrim.
QARZ: I’d ask how it’s going, but I suspect the answer is, ‘not favorably.’
ORNO: I think one of the arrows that struck me in the shoulder last night has left a festering wound.
Ornogrim reveals a gaping wound fresh with corruption.
ORNO: I need to visit the local apothecary.
Qarzdaq agrees and enters the room to help Ornogrim gather his belongings. At that point, Ornogrim remembers that he purchased two vials of antiseptic yesterday, and asks Qarzdaq to help apply it. He finds the antiseptic in Ornogrim’s backpack and spreads it in and around the hole in his flesh. Ornogrim winces at the first contact.
QARZ: I can apply a firebolt to that if you’d like? It would seal it up more quickly. Seemed to work for Qhortho.
ORNO: I appreciate that, but I’ll hold off for now.
The two of them leave Ornogrim’s room to meet up with the others who are just outside the inn, loitering next to a ‘No Loitering’ sign. It doesn’t take long for them to agree that it is time to visit Red Lake. It takes even less time for them to agree it would be worthwhile to invest in some healing potions before leaving town.
Just as they are about to start towards the potion merchant, Aran realizes that he only has four days remaining before his deadline to return home. Even if he were to set out towards Crakehall this very moment, he would never make it back in time. He decides a raven is in order and tells the others that he will catch up to them by the merchant’s tent.
ARAN: Pick me up a few potions. I’m good for it, just be sure to negotiate!
Aran makes way for the Lord’s manor, arriving not more than five minutes later. He approaches Lord Lynard and explains the situation. The Lord is fully cooperative and supplies Aran with quill and parchment.
Aran thanks Lynard for his time and hospitality and leaves the manor. He hurriedly walks to the potion merchant tent to meet up with the rest of his party. He shows up just as they are securing a large purchase of healing potions of varied potency.
QARZ: Hey Aran. Not bad. Ten percent off.
Aran nods while bouncing his head side to side, as if to say, “Not too bad. Not great. You did fine. You did… just fine.”
MERCHANT: It is quite rare to have travelers with so much wealth at the Lannisport Faire!
QARZ: You probably haven’t seen many with our level of skill either!
He goes on to tell of their feats in the archery contest the day prior. The merchant looks impressed, but it spurs no further conversation. They gather their new vials of sparkly red liquid and go to the stable to collect their mounts.
ORNO: Hey guys, before we head out, I’d like to have Hooterz scout the area. We may be able to follow one of those merchant trails to get a more direct route than travelling the Ocean Road.
Ornogrim sends Hooterz on his mission while they prepare their horses for the long ride. Once ready, they mount up and ride along the outskirts of the Faire to see if there are any clearly distinguishable paths. Ornogrim finds one that leads towards the southeast just as Hooterz makes his return from that very direction. Seeing Hooterz sweep down from the sky, the group stops in their tracks.
Hooterz lands on Ornogrim’s shoulder and scrapes lightly with his talon, indicating he has information. Ornogrim speaks with him for a minute or so in clicks and hoots.
ORNO: Looks like there is a clearly-defined path leading through the waist-high grasslands. It doesn’t sound like it’s a road per se, and there is no current traffic, but it does look recently well-travelled.
ARAN: Sounds like there are lots of places for an ambush, so we’ll need to really use Hooterz to his full potential.
ORNO: Agreed.
Qhortho takes the lead and the others follow him two-by-two. After a few hours travelling, Qhortho is struck by how similar the terrain looks to his home. The wild grasslands, the great hills in the distance along their left. His mind wanders momentarily until he snaps his head back in the moment. He looks around briefly, as if in effort to regain any information he may have missed in those moments of reminiscence.
Hours later, as the sun gets low in the sky behind them, they make camp. The night goes by without incident.
Jonah’s Travel Companion
The next morning, everyone performs their daily rituals. Aran, seeing everyone busy, decides he is going to start engraving the barding on his horse. This is the closest he’s going to get to working steel for at least another couple of weeks so he might as well make the best of it.
Qarzdaq finishes his meditation and grounds his consciousness. That’s when he realizes something is a little off with Jonah. His normally impeccable practice is a little wobbly. And his reactions to recover from close spills seem a bit slow. Qarzdaq offers up his Elixir of Health, but Jonah declines.
QARZ: Jonah, I insist. We’ll need you in top shape when we get to Red Lake.
JONAH: I’m sure it’s just my humours out of balance.
Although Jonah is sluggish, the entire day goes by without incident. However, during training the next morning, he drops one of his swords.
QHOR: Hey Jonah, want to spar?
Qhortho laughs to himself.
JONAH: Perhaps another day, Dothraki.
QHOR: You don’t look to be getting any better. What do you think it could be?
JONAH: I’m not sure, unless one of you poisoned me?
Jonah laughs to himself, but his eyes quickly convey that perhaps this is a reasonable expectation. He eyes each member of the party suspiciously.
QARZ: Look. Jonah. It would make me feel better if you would just drink the Elixir.
ARAN: You should take it.
JONAH: You really think I need it?
ARAN: I do.
JONAH: I haven’t eaten or drunk anything over the last few days that would cause anything like this. I don’t want you to waste it. That stuff’s not cheap and I certainly don’t want to pay for it.
QARZ: It’s not a waste if it gets you back to your top performance.
This is convincing enough for Jonah to take the elixir. He sits down and quaffs the red liquid containing small bubble s of light. They wait around to see the effects. No more than fifteen minutes later, he stands.
JONAH: Ok, I think I’m ready to continue. I’m feeling much better now. Thank you for that.
He steps forward towards his horse and expels his stomach contents onto the beaten-down stalks of grass. A blue tadpole writhes around sporadically in the acidic pool. Jonah lifts his eyes to the movement and in one deftly smooth movement, he draws his sword and slices it down the middle.
Breathing heavily for a few seconds, he slows his breathing and regains his composure.
QARZ: I had a sneaking suspicion you may have been poisoned by one of those frog-like things in the cave, but that was over three weeks ago!
JONAH: It’s the only thing that makes sense. She… er… it must have done that to me while I was imprisoned.
ORNO: Seems these claws may be more dangerous that we thought.
QARZ: So Jonah, want to pay me for the Elixir now that you know you’d be dead without it?
JONAH: You raise a good point. How about half?
QARZ: You really should be paying the entire amount, but yeah, I’m ok with that.
Turning to Qhortho, Jonah asks if he’d like to spar now?
QHOR: YES!
The rest of the group watches the two men spar. Jonah is definitely back up to form, but even so, Qhortho comes out the victor.
JONAH: You fought well Dothraki. We’ll have to have a rematch soon!
We’ll Go Through
On their fifth morning since leaving Lannisport, Hooterz lands back on Ornogrim’s shoulder as he had every morning, except this time, he scratches Ornogrim on the shoulder.
ORNO: Yes, boy?
Ornogrim puts on his Dr. Dolittle hat.
ORNO: Hey guys, looks like we’ve got some trouble ahead. There are nine of these so-called Ironborn blocking the trail about an hour’s ride ahead. I want to warg with Hooterz to see the threat in detail myself, but I want to get closer.
When they estimate they are about a mile from the threat, they all dismount, except Qhortho, who prefers to be mounted whenever possible. Ornogrim lies down in the grass and concentrates on Hooterz. Within moments, he slips into the owl’s skin and takes to the sky.
During his flight, he takes note of the general terrain. They are approaching some large hills in the distance, but the trail remains on the plains and curves to the south. About fifteen minutes into the flight, he sees the bandits in the distance. Getting closer, he notes the group composition: four run-of-the-mill henchmen, one well-seasoned soldier, two pain-in-the-ass archers, and a shit-eating captain.
Ornogrim’s keen ranger training tells him there is no place for any of them to hide from the air; no forests, no brush. His instinct guides his eyes towards a well-covered path that leads up into the hills. Interested, he follows that path for another mile or so to a group of people with two wagons and three dead horses, mostly eaten.
His mind goes to two possible scenarios: either the bandits have not spotted them, or they are in cahoots. Hard to say at first look, but they look like they’ve been camping there for quite some time.
Ornogrim’s consciousness returns to his body, his eyes blinking rapidly as they shift from a gray-white to his natural brown. He relays what he’s seen to the group and they discuss various plans from circumvention to confrontation.
They finally settle on ambushing the nine men on the path: Ornogrim, Qarzdaq, and Jonah will sneak around back of them, staying low in the grass, while Qhortho and Aran approach them directly, acting as if they only want to pass through the area.
Ornogrim leads his group into the grass and they get low, disappearing from Aran’s and Qhortho’s view. Ornogrim speaks a few words in an ancient tongue, triggering shadows to emerge from between the stalks of random weeds and long blades of grass. The shadows envelop the three of them and deadens their footsteps. They move forward slowly as to not reveal their location. Magically, the grass they’ve trodden along their way remains upright as if it had never been disturbed.
Qhortho and Aran wait a solid twenty minutes before mounting up and casually trotting towards the threat. Soon, they see the men blocking the road, but no sight of the rest of their own party. The bandits take up arms, making it clear that Aran and Qhortho have been seen.
When within shouting distance, the Ironborn on the path make first contact.
CAPTAIN: Looks like you’re a bit off the roads. This trail is closed.
QHOR: I make my trail where I please.
CAPTAIN: Looks like we’re deciding where you make your trail now.
With that comment, the group of Ironborn fan out, broadening the roadblock.
Qhortho looks around at the open plains, unstressed by this show of force.
QHOR: We could easily go around you, but if you want to make this a whole thing, we can go through you if that is your choice.
ARAN: Which way would you like us to go?
CAPTAIN: Back the way you came! And tell everyone you know this way is closed!
A few minutes of back-and-forth quips and threats follow, and that should have given the sneaking group all the time they need to get into position.
QHOR: Yeah. I think I’m going through. I’m going through anyway.
The bandits ready themselves for combat.
Before anyone has a chance to act, a shadowy figure appears from behind one of the archers. The shadows appear to melt and drip away, revealing Jonah mid-swing with a short sword. Two slashes bring the archer down before he even knew what hit him.
Aran and Qhortho seize the moment simultaneously.
Aran quickly dismounts, and runs up to the henchmen to the right of the Captain. Meanwhile, Qhortho whispers some words to his horse and squeezes his legs. His steed charges one of the henchmen, trampling him to death. Qhortho swipes his great sword at the henchman to his side, spilling his entrails out in front of him.
Aran gets within striking distance of the henchmen and powers his glaive clean through the henchmen to his right. Quickly, he slashes through the one to his left. With both of those enemies fallen, he continues forward to the nearby archer. He slashes through part of the archer’s studded leather armor with a diagonal-downward motion, then, immediately reversing the motion and adjusting his grip, he keeps the glaive low and trips the archer, knocking him unconscious.
Qhortho rides away from the group to prepare for a charge on the seasoned soldier.
The captain runs to Aran and attacks with his scimitar. Being a little overwhelmed by the sudden action, he doesn’t make good contact, providing all the opportunity Aran needs to riposte, showing the captain how it’s done. The captain, returns with a solid strike.
The soldier sees the man from the shadows as the greatest threat, and attacks Jonah. His longsword barley misses Jonah both times, but his short sword connects hard.
Seeing Ornogrim take off towards the archer lying on the ground, Qarzdaq quickly casts Hold Person on all of the remaining foes: the soldier, the captain, and the unconscious archer, just in case.
Ornogrim and Aran slash the unconscious man to death, while the solider and captain stand there watching, paralyzed by Qarzdaq.
Qhortho tramples the soldier, dismounts, then attacks him until his life is drained into the grass.
Death by Mind Fuck
Now that the threat is over, they tie up the captain and Qarzdaq releases the paralysis. The captain immediately struggles to get free.
QHOR: ‘Sup motherfucker? You shoulda’ let me pass. I told you.
CAPTAIN: You can pass! You can pass! What else do you want??
Qarzdaq steps into the interrogation role.
QARZ: Why didn’t you just let my friends here pass? Now we have to go through all this trouble.
Qarzdaq crouches down next to the captain and pulls open the captive’s shirt, revealing his bare chest. He then puts a finger to his own lips. When he takes it away, the tip of his finger has manifested a small flame.
CAPTAIN: We’re… We’re just taking orders. There’s no need for this!
He moves his finger closer to the man’s chest.
QARZ: Who are you taking orders from?
The captain’s silence is all the permission Qarzdaq needs to give him the gentle caress of R’hllor’s kiss. He presses his finger against the captain’s flesh. He cries out in pain. All men break under pressure from the Lord of Light.
Qarzdaq removes his finger and lets the screams hold their presence in the air without speaking a word. The captain catches his breath and Qarzdaq pokes him again.
CAPTAIN: Arrrgghhh… Do your worst!
QHOR: We already know you’re working with the Manderly’s. How much are they paying you?
The captain remains silent. Qarzdaq uses his mage hand to grab the captain’s balls, prompting another scream.
QARZ: Who do you work for?
CAPTAIN: Do your worst! Just do me in already! I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!
QARZ: Death is not the worst. You are going to continue facing the kiss of R’hllor. Maybe, given enough time, that will make you talk.
Qazrdaq pushes his flaming finger against the man’s chest again. Quickly following it up with a telepathic message, “R’hllor commands you speak to this priest!”
The captain screams again, then goes entirely silent, his eyes widen, his mouth drops open. A moment later, he falls unconscious.
ARAN: You mind-fucked him.
Qarzdaq attempts to wake the man by slapping his face, but he does not stir.
ORNO: It pains me to say so, but I do not feel we can leave him alive.
ARAN: I agree, but we should try pressing him for information one more time.
Ornogrim generates some Goodberries and pushes one into the captain’s mouth. The bound dying and tortured man lying by their side, Aran takes interest.
ARAN: Oh hey! Can I get some of those?
ORNO: Sure!
Ornogrim holds out his hand so he can take a few. Aran scoops all of them up and pops them in his mouth at once.
ORNO: Oh. So you’re taking all of them.
Aran, with his mouth stuffed full of Goodberries, “Yeah. Is that ok?” Ornogrim, seeing this as a pointless question at the moment, simply shrugs.
The captain awakes, incredibly angry that he is not dead.
QARZ: I told you. The sweet release of death is not for you. Maybe if you give us the information we’re looking for, we’ll oblige you.
CAPTAIN: I’ve told you all I know.
ARAN: I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this guy.
Qarzdaq clucks out the side of his mouth, then turns to the youngest in the group.
QARZ: Qhortho?
Qhortho grins widely.
QHOR: Say goodnight asshole.
Qhortho lops off his head with a single blow. The captain’s head rolls a few inches away and comes to rest in a blood-matted bundle of weeds.
They check all the bodies and find a decent amount of gold on these men. Whoever these guys are, they’ve been paid well.
QARZ: So Jonah, it must feel pretty lucrative to be alive.
Jonah grins his sly grin and agrees with the priest.
JONAH: It does.
Providing Light to Those in Need
Aran suggests they investigate the wagons Ornogrim saw up in the hills. They agree and Ornogrim leads them about fifteen minutes along a densely-covered path. Before reaching the wagons, they decide to rest for about an hour in the chance that the men near the wagons are hostile.
Before the hour is up, five men approach on foot. The one leading the pack is an armored guard; the others are dressed as commoners. They halt about thirty feet from the party and draw weapons. The guard draws a sword while the others ready themselves with clubs.
The guard is obviously startled by the party.
GUARD: Who… Who are you guys?
QHOR: Hello there!
ARAN: Hi, we’re just travelers trying to make our way through the region.
GUARD: Well, you don’t look like Ironborn, but we’ll fight you if needed!
QHOR: We actually just took care of some Ironborn, just a little ways down the path there.
GUARD: Yeah, we saw a fight take place from our vantage point, but couldn’t make out the details. We don’t want a fight here, but if you push us, we will.
Aran is just about to talk them down and calm their fears, but before he can, the four commoners toss their clubs out in front of them. One of them calls out.
COMMONER: Look we’ll give you everything we have, just please let us live!
The guard mutters under his breath, “Seven Hells…” Then tosses his blade out in front of him.
QHOR: Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re no bandits.
Aran laughs and tells them to pick up their weapons as they pose no threat. Eyeing them cautiously, the guard and commoners do as they are told; they pick up their weapons and stow them. The guard inquires about Aran’s Crakehall sigil.
ARAN: Ah! Yes, I am First Smith of the Crakehall Armed Forces. We were about to leave Lannisport when we found the trail that lead to those Ironborn. We then found this hidden trail into the hills here and decided to explore it to ensure we were not ambushed.
The commoners loosen up and divulge that they are, in fact, merchants and were on their way to the Lannisport Faire. They were travelling with two small wagons with trinkets and three other armed guards when they had a run-in with Ironborn farther east and south along the trail.
GUARD: We put up a good fight but lost my comrades in the battle. We did kill all four Ironborn attackers though. We heard some more of their men calling out in the distance, so we made way for the hills, covering our tracks along the way. My father was a ranger, so I’ve been well-trained in some of the skills and art. We were able to escape and hide, but our horses were injured during the fight. Once we were sufficiently in the hills, we found a place where we could remain hidden while still easily seeing the way we came and a promising path forward. However, both ways were blocked…
COMMONER: We had no choice. We had to eat the horses.
Qhortho’s face turns sullen.
One of the merchants picks up on this and adds that they were stuck in the same location for weeks. They would have died if it hadn’t been for their fallen steeds.
QHOR: I understand. Sometimes we don’t have a choice in the decisions we face.
ARAN: You’re only about a five-day ride from the Faire and the way is completely clear.
GUARD: The path is clear all the way to town? That’s fantastic news!
ARAN: So where are you coming from?
GUARD: Honeyholt. We heard about the risks along the Ocean Road, which is our normal route, but we decided to take our chances along one of the shortcuts that had been carved out. This was the first trouble we ran into.
QHOR: Did your path take you near Red Lake?
GUARD: Not quite. That would be about a five-day travel directly west of the river we followed north. Besides, that place gives me the creeps.
COMMONER: We’ll have to just come back for our wares, but I don’t suppose we’d have the time to sell them at the Faire this late anyway.
QARZ: What do you have?
COMMONER: Just little trinkets. You know, carvings of wood and ivory. Some metal-worked pendants. Nothing of too great a value.
QARZ: How much would you say the whole lot is worth?
COMMONER: Probably no more than ten gold pieces.
QARZ: I’ll tell you what. I found ten gold on the bandits out there. I’ll give it to you and then you don’t have to come back for your trinkets.
COMMONER: Well that’s mighty generous of you friend! Thank you ve…
Qarzdaq cuts him off.
QARZ: You just have to let me speak to you about the wonders of R’hllor.
All of the men agree and, after about twenty minutes, each of them is in awe of the Lord of Light. Soon after, the visitors decide it’s time for them to get back on the trail and say their goodbyes, again expressing their thanks for the help and information. As soon as their visitors are on their way, Aran suggests that they pose as merchants using those wagons. Seeing this as a great idea, they ride another 15 minutes up the hilly trail and find the trinket wagons. Given this area has been used for a hidden campsite for the past few weeks, this turns out to be the ideal place to rest for the night.
Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Roads
The next morning, they have their meals and perform their morning rituals. It only takes a few minutes to hitch the horses up to the wagons before they continue their journey.
QARZ: That guard was right! You can see quite a ways! Looks to be entirely clear right now, but we should remain on alert.
Not too long after beginning their travel, they reconnect to the trail they had been following from Lannisport, and the rest of the day goes by without incident.
On the second day, their trail intersects with another in a Tee. To the left is east; to the right, west. The road does not continue south. Based on their reading of the map given to them by King Greydon, they figure this other path may be the merchant trail to Crakehall. The Red Lake, though, is to the south.
ORNO: Based on what we see here, I think we should travel west for up to one day along this trail. If we don’t see a pre-cut trail through the tall grass by then, we should just make our own way south. That should give us the shortest route to the Red Lake.
They realize that pulling the wagons through the tall grass would most certainly slow them down. Knowing they are probably going to ditch the wagons anyway, they decide it’s not worth the effort to drag them along this portion of trail. They decide to just ditch the wagons here at the intersection, and continue west.
Another day of easy travel makes them start to question how unsafe these roads really are, but as they discuss the circumstances, they realize that the paths do not need to be swarming with bandits, they just need to be placed at strategic points to be effective. This reminds them of Greydon Gardener’s reasoning for not sending troops: far too costly, and not likely to do the job of cleansing the threat anyway. The insurgents could just as easily pop up anywhere.
ORNO: Ok guys. This is where we should start to the south.
Unquestioning, the group follows Ornogrim’s direction, while Qhortho still insists that he is leading the pack.
QHOR: Gwe.
Four days of uneventful travel follow. Late into the fifth day of leaving the trail behind, Hooterz’s scouting reveals a castle in the distance near a great deep blue lake. Ornogrim wargs with Hooterz to look at the castle and the lake area in greater detail.
The castle is dark and looks as if it has not been inhabited for quite some time. Vines grow on the castles walls; all the surrounding foliage is overgrown and left to nature. Ornogrim uses his keen tracking skills through Hooterz’s eyes and determines that there has not been any significant human activity in this area for many years. So where is this so-called camp?
He flies south, along the lake’s edge, for more than an hour and a half. To him, it feels like he’s just gotten started. The speed difference between Tinkey and Hooterz is exhilarating. He must be able to fly at least 20% faster now. He’ll never forget his good friend Tinkey, but Hooterz is pretty kick ass.
The sun setting off to his right, he finally sees some activity up ahead. This must be the camp! The darkvision is going to really come in handy. Then, before he realizes it’s even happening, Ornogrim unexpectedly blinks his eyes rapidly, waking to the rest of his party around a small fire chatting about their next moves. He must have reached the edge of his range. All he can do now is await the return of Hooterz.
ARAN: Welcome back.
It takes Ornogrim a few moments to become reacquainted to his own skin.
ORNO: Thanks. I saw the camp. It’s about a four-hour’s travel from here on foot. We could probably get down there tonight and make our move.
They agree that it is feasible, but decide they should get closer and see if they can make an opportunity for themselves. If the opportunity doesn’t work tonight, they can find a way in tomorrow. Qhortho mentions that King Greydon never sent us to remove the threat, but the other shrug this off. They continue to discuss theories about the Ironborn and what might be going on.
ORNO: It is interesting to me that the ones that we have met on the road were clearly fake but the ones in the blockade seem to be actual Ironborn.
QHOR: Such a weak disguise too. They should’ve listened and let us pass! Ha!
ORNO: The Ironborn at the cave where we killed those frog-like creatures also seemed real… and they were picking up all that silver and those trinkets. I wonder if the real Ironborn are working with the fake Ironborn. That would be ironic.
QARZ: But they were all full of loot. You think they’re paying off the fake Ironborn? That’s not very Ironborn, from what I know of them. Thinking about the ship we destroyed at the cave, do you think it was heading to that blockade on Lannisport and Casterly Rock? Or maybe heading home?
The group ponders this a bit.
QARZ: You know, the frog thing that locked up Jonah went by a Lannister name, right? We should have asked about her while in Lannisport! Could all of this be connected?
QHOR: That’s interesting, Qarzdaq. What if the Manderlys are paying the real Ironborn to blockade the bay with the loot they get from the fake Ironborn?
ORNO: Hmmm that could be…
About two hours after Ornogrim disconnected from him, Hooterz returns and scratches his shoulder. The two discuss what else Hooterz saw on his flight.
ORNO: Seems like there is one large tent and several smaller tents. There is also a large bonfire going right now. There are a decent number of people down there. Perhaps we should try to infiltrate them and see if we can listen in on any conversations?
ARAN: I think that’s a good idea. I can stay behind since I’m not particularly stealthy.
Infiltrating the Camp
They decide it should be Ornogrim and Jonah to enter the camp. The group finishes their meal and starts south into the darkness. With about a half mile remaining, they stop and dismount.
Ornogrim harnesses the shadows, shrouding Jonah and himself. They approach the camp, slowing as they get closer.
They see six bandits, dressed as Ironborn, standing around a large bonfire, not far from the lake shore. The fire lights up almost the entire camp. Three tents, each maybe five feet wide by ten feet long, are along a path that leads out to the east. Outside one of these tents is a wolf chained to a large stake in the ground. The path continues through the camp to the west about 100 feet to a large tent, at least thirty feet wide. The bonfire’s light shines only dimly along most of the path, but the tent is visible from the two large torches planted in the ground outside it’s entrance. The torches provide about twenty feet of bright light, leaving a stretch of about 75 feet shrouded in darkness.
Just across the path from the nearby smaller tents, are ten more of similar size. If all of these tents are occupied, they are in for some trouble.
Jonah and Ornogrim sneak towards the large tent, being careful not to enter any of the lit areas. Although they can hear someone moving around, the tent is quiet until someone hurries in from the entrance. Ornogrim and Jonah overhear a conversation, beginning with a man speaking rather quickly.
MAN 1: Boss. Another blockade has been breached near Crakehall.
A deep, measured voice responds.
MAN 2: What? How long ago?
MAN 1: No way to tell for sure, but it must have been a couple of weeks, at least.
The deep voice becomes enraged.
MAN 2: What in the holy fuck!? Who is getting through our ranks??
MAN 1: I don’t know yet.
MAN 2: Yet?! So you have some way of tracking them and identifying these assholes??
MAN 1: Well… not exactly…
MAN 2: Not exactly? So what DO you have?
MAN 1: We’ve heard that some unknown travelers have stood out, passing through Crakehall. We have sent reinforcements to the area to prevent passage along the road.
MAN 2: This is now two blockades we’ve heard about being broken! Are these from the same people?
MAN 1: I don’t know.
MAN 2: I pay you to KNOW! GO FIND OUT!
MAN 1: Yes, boss.
Jonah and Ornogrim are sure to remain out of sight as the man hurries out of the tent.
The rest of the group patiently await the return of Jonah and Ornogrim, discussing what their priorities should be.
QHOR: Again guys, our mission from King Greydon was to gather information, not to engage these bandits ourselves.
ARAN: I thought you were some kind of problem-solvers.
QHOR: Well, we are, but King Greydon told us that he would send in the forces to clean up the mess, but they just needed more information before doing so. Maybe he wants the credit. Look, I’d love to engage them, but he was very clear.
ARAN: I think we need to engage. We should just fix the problem and move on.
QARZ: I have to agree. We’re the Gang of Solutionists. If it’s a problem we can fix, then let’s fix it.
QHOR: That was not our mission.
ARAN: Sounds like you just don’t want to fight.
Qhortho laughs, but catches himself mid-burst to keep prevent the camp from being alerted to their presence.
QHOR: I’d love to go in and tear them all to pieces…
ARAN: But someone told you not to. I get it.
QARZ: I guess he is the king. You make a good point. But we’re right here.
ARAN: So you’re just going to listen to everything he says?
QHOR: He’s the man paying us.
ARAN: What’s he paying you?
QHOR: Well… nothing…
QARZ: Not exactly nothing, but he’s not paying us in coin. We are doing this favor for him so our friend can get access to his maester for a lengthy period of time to do some research. But still, we can give him one better than the favor he asked for.
Seeing the argument as futile, Qhortho concedes again.
QHOR: … alright… we’ll engage…
The three men are suddenly startled by footsteps pressing down the thick grass. They turn towards the direction of the sound as Jonah and Ornogrim appear out of the darkness.
ORNO: Hey guys. Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you there. These are definitely the people staging the Ironborn. I heard them talking about it and sending more reinforcements around Crakehall because of us.
ARAN: Funny they are just getting that information now. While you were gone, we decided that we need to just go in and engage them. We should rid the world of this threat while we have the chance.
QARZ: We should learn what we can from them before we completely slaughter them though.
They spend the next few minutes strategizing and decide its best to have Ornogrim, Jonah, and Qhortho sneak into the camp and begin the assault from the southeast. They will kill as many as they can as quietly as they can. Once the camp is alerted to their presence and the bandits focus on them, Aran and Qarzdaq will strike from the north side, dividing the bandits’ efforts. After the bandits around the smaller tents are out of the picture, the entire group will face the boss of the operation in the large tent.
Ornogrim calls upon the shadows to cover himself, Jonah, and Qhortho. They make the trek towards the camp and carefully cross the path from north to south when no one is looking. They travel pretty far south before turning towards the east and circling back to the north, towards the path.
Soon, they are close enough to the camp to make out a group of four “Ironborn” near two long torches planted in the ground. The large bonfire is behind them by about fifty feet.
ATTACK!
The men near the torches are arguing about nonsense and shoving each other. It doesn’t look like a real fight is going to break out, just a few idiots doing idiotic things. Had they been doing their jobs, they might have noticed the men in the shadows before they were slaughtered. The surgical strike is so well-executed by Ornogrim and Jonah that their targets don’t even make a sound as they go down. However, the wolf in camp begins howling, alerting the bandits to a threat.
Qhortho continues to sneak under the cover of darkness back towards the west, remaining south of the camp, to get a better vantage point who might be in these tents.
The men around the bonfire look over at the torches, seeing the invaders. They draw their weapons immediately, but before they can make a move, the bonfire explodes via Fireball a la Qarzdaq. All six of the men burn up instantaneously, falling to the ground in flesh-sizzling fire, their weapons slanging against bits of metal in their armor as it all falls to the grass.
Well-armored bandits with swords and bows emerge from a few tents, ready to defend their camp.
Jonah and Ornogrim move between the tents and attack those south of the path. Aran moves in from the north, stopping just outside the wolf’s reach. The wolf jumps at him, but is yanked back by his chain, still staked to the ground. The wolf snarls and bites at the air.
One of the archers and two soldiers go immediately for Aran; the other archer and two soldiers go for Jonah. They are stuck in battle, trading blows, each of them taking more hits than they should reasonably expect to survive. Luckily, Qarzdaq is able to give some reprieve for Aran. He spawns a sixty-foot wall of fire parallel of the path, just between Aran and his nearby attackers. The burning men yell out in agony. Aran gives himself a little room to reposition and Qarzdaq runs up to get within a shorter range.
The only reprieve for Jonah is the fact that Ornogrim is by his side. This is good, but there are simply too many to keep this up.
All of a sudden, a roaring whinny, if there were ever such a sound, takes over the camp. A raging Qhortho rushes in, blindsiding and killing one of the archers. Between Ornogrim and Qhortho, they successfully draw some of the attacks to themselves, but Jonah is badly injured in the process.
Qarzdaq drops the wall of fire and sends some scorching rays at the other archer. The archer returns fire, but Qarzdaq is able to incinerate the arrows just in the nick of time. Aran takes the hint and rushes the archer, knocking him prone in the process.
Meanwhile Qhortho is not fifteen feet south, engaged with one of the soldiers.
Jonah kills the soldier next to him, then escapes behind a tent.
Ornogrim sees the prone archer and rushes to meet him, bypassing the other two soldiers. Aran and Ornogrim slash the archer until he tries to escape, backing away on his hands. Just as he is about to stand, Aran decapitates him, while Ornogrim slashes his body in half. Immediately they turn to face the other soldiers, who rush them just as they are hit from behind by some well-placed scorching rays. The one closest to Aran falls.
Ornogrim engages with the soldier closest to him, managing to slide his blade directly through the hide armor, clean through his torso, the tip emerging from the other side. Ornogrim looks into his eyes as the life drains. He lowers his blade and the man slides off the end. Quickly, he turns around to see Aran slashing the soldier fighting Qhortho
The soldier’s eyes widen, and he becomes rushed in his movements. However, the man is clearly well-trained, as he defends himself ably even battling while panicked. Qhortho recognizes fear in his opponent’s eyes, giving him the boost of energy he needs. With one great Stallion-worthy swipe with his Valyrian Greatsword, he cleaves his enemy from shoulder to hip. The pieces of his tors slide apart and collapse to the ground.
The camp is silent for a moment, the fallen bodies cluttering the camp, the tents slashed and destroyed.
Wolves howl in the distance, drawing their attention to the large tent, a hundred feet away.
Two men, well-armored, exit the tent with gnarling and snapping wolves on chains. A moment later, a huge man, larger than anyone else they’ve battled, emerges from the tent and points at the group. Two archers, still inside the tent, ready their bows for battle.
We end this session on the night of Day 303 since they’ve boarded that ship in Essos, sending them on this remarkable and Unlikely Journey. Their experience sits at 31,400. New abilities await them when they reach 34,000.