Plundering the Hideout
Qhortho puts pressure on the bandit leader’s back as he binds his wrists.
QHOR: This kill does not belong to us.
Aran exhales strongly with disappointed agreement.
ARAN: Talk to us. What’s been going on here? Your life depends on truthful answers.
The bandit leader clears his throat. Qhortho kicks away the man’s blade and removes his unique helm.
LEADER: What’s it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway.
QARZ: No. We’re going to take you to the authorities in Stoney Sept to answer for your crimes.
Their prisoner coughs up a little blood. Qhortho examines the helmet more closely, drawn in by the intricate metal work that looks too delicate to be useful in battle.
LEADER: Crimes at Stoney Sept?
Qhortho snaps out of his trance and drops the helm behind him.
QHOR: You killed the boy!
QARZ: One of your victims was from Stoney Sept. His mother needs to know who sealed his fate. You are going to answer for that. What was this operation?
The bandit leader describes a systematic approach to gathering art and high-value items to be fenced with the Thieves’ Guild. They had been intercepting travelers and merchants on their way to larger cities and using the goods to build status with the Guild.
LEADER: I was working towards getting one of those coins.
Aran pulls out Jonah Bick’s Thieves’ Guild coin.
ARAN: You mean this? Sucka! They’re not so hard to come by.
LEADER: So if you are part of the Guild, why destroy our operation?
ARAN: We’re not really, we just killed the previous owner of the coin.
QARZ: We don’t really have strong feelings for or against your trade, but when you kill our friends, that’s a bridge too far.
LEADER: It didn’t start out this way… I guess you just get so wrapped up into the goal that you don’t see the steps you’re willing to take to achieve that goal…
The faint crackling of the burning bridge is heard over the sound of the waterfall. They quickly realize that there could be some very valuable goods in the boxes that are also now aflame from Qarzdaq’s Wall.
Rolan keeps his foot on the badly beaten bandit’s back while the others try to recover what they can. While Rolan is alone with the leader, he learns that there was no specific scheduled meeting location or time; everything with the Thieves’ Guild is based on knowing how and where to look for signs of where a fence is going to be. This requires knowing Thieves’ Cant and the general ways of the Guild – skills only a rogue would know.
Aran rushes to the first of the smoldering boxes, finding a number of burned pieces of art and clothes – totally ruined. However, there are a set of intricate bronzed bracers that are unmarked by flame. Surely, they should be at least scorched.
Upon breaking apart the box, a few gemstones are also found to be in good condition. Among the gemstones is a dark blue stone in the shape of a 3-dimensional rhombus. This is not the typical gemstone for use in jewelry and fine goods; this is something different. Perhaps there is a use for such an object or maybe it is just some type of “art.” In any case, it is worth further study.
Qarzdaq runs past Aran to the second burning box contains some ruined goods, a mostly-burned scroll, a vial of almost black liquid, and a handful of gemstones.
Qarzdaq and Aran circle around the dock area to the remaining boxes and find additional pieces of jewelry, clothing, and art objects.
Since the primary boxes of interest are already being scouted by Aran and Qarzdaq, Qhortho investigates the nearby desk and chest under the leader’s tent. He finds a ledger written in some sort of code alongside a quill and ink well. Turning to the chest, he finds a substantial lock guarding its contents. Thinking back on his failures to break into the wooden prison cell at the shore, he digs deep and smashes the lock to smithereens. Inside the fairly large chest is a single item: a blade with a unique shape called a bolo.
Qhortho waves his Branch of Detect Magic at the bolo. The Branch glows brightly.
When the others reconvene with the loot found around the cavern, Rolan is asking the prisoner about a young girl named Butters. The man says he does not know who he is speaking of and none of them find that to be deceptive.
Aran and Qarzdaq check the chest for hidden compartments and find none.
QARZ: Hey, so what’s the story with this bolo?
LEADER: We just found this from a traveler. It was just like that when we found it. Pretty big box for such a small object. We figured it must be valuable and planned to sell it in our next rendezvous.
ARAN: You know, I’m surprised there isn’t more stuff here… You guys must not be doing too good.
LEADER: We sell what we can as often as we are able, but we also have stayed under anyone’s notice… until you…
QHOR: Are you sure there isn’t some kind of hidden area?
The leader glances to Qhortho then looks away.
Qhortho retrieves the bolo from the chest and places the broad side on the prisoner’s shoulder, edge close to his throat.
LEADER: Ok ok ok… behind the waterfall…
ARAN: You may have saved your life with that.
It’s Always Behind the Waterfall
Qarzdaq and Qhortho walk over to the bridge near the waterfall and try to look past it.
QARZ: I think I see something back there.
Qhortho jumps into the water and squeals like a horse running from a Dothraki, as his scrotum attempts to jump inside his body.
QHOR: A little cold!
He moves through the heavy falling water, entering a small alcove with a chest.
QHOR: oooOOOooo.
QARZ: What’s back there?
He waves his branch at the chest. It glows faintly. He looks around its entirety and finds no traps.
QARZ: Qhortho?
QHOR: It’s another chest! I’m going to open it!
He smashes the lock, but this one doesn’t break.
QHOR: I may need some help with this one.
Qarzdaq jumps into the water, but it doesn’t strike him as being as cold as Qhortho made it seem. He passes through the waterfall and pulls himself out of the water, accompanied by small wafts of steam. He looks over the chest and believes he can melt the lock. Just before he does, he raises some concerns about engulfing the chest in flames.
Instead, he attempts to break it off the chest using telekinesis. The impulse is not strong enough to snap the lock but it does pull the latch away from the chest enough to fit a chisel.
QARZ: Hey Aran, get over here with your smiths’ tools! We need to pry the latch off this chest!
Aran scurries over and jumps into the water. He squeals like a horse running from a Dothraki and experiences major shrinkage.
He makes quick work of the latch and pops it open. Inside is a single pair of steel bracers. They look astonishingly plain. Like, too plain to be plain. As if their plaininity was the crafter’s method of camouflaging their non-plaininity. Aran claims them as his own and dons them immediately.
They take a short rest to study the items they’ve found.
Qarzdaq looks over the scroll but quickly realizes it is probably worthless in its current state. He decides a professional should examine it when they reach their next stop. He focuses on the bracers and finds out they are Bracers of Defense. If he is wearing these while wearing no other armor and no shield, he will be harder to hit (AC +2). Fuck yeah.
Qhortho determines the bolo is Twilight’s Bolo. If he lands a perfect strike, it will Hex his target, weakening a target’s main stat at random. Nice.
Aran finds that the plain gauntlets are Delver’s Gauntlets, providing him a constant awareness of his depth below ground and the direction of the nearest upward staircase or passage. In fact, he realizes he is about 50 feet under the surface of the hill forming this cavern. Cool.
They sleep for a few hours then give the boats a quick look over. It’s a good thing too because they find several platinum coins! Some of this coin must be the coin they paid to Lando…
Landar’s Return
They load their prisoner onto one of the boats and proceed to burn the entirety of the camp as they row out of the cavern.
Once outside, they gag their prisoner and put him into the cart with their loot. They take a few minutes to clean Lando’s body then quickly burn the last boat and get on their way.
On their second day, rather than training his horse, Aran focuses on the dark blue rhomboid. He learns it is one of the Ioun stones. This one is for awareness in particular, making it so he can never be surprised as long as it is active. Once activated, it will continue circling around his head as if it is always keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. Nifty.
Later that day, they finally see Stoney Sept.
They redress Lando in some of the clean fine clothes taken form the bandit camp and in Ornogrim’s fine boots. They place him nicely in the cart, stuff the loot into their backpacks and throw the prisoner on the back of Qhortho’s horse.
They ride the last few minutes into town. They enter the main square nearby the sept about which the town is aptly named.
Qhortho rides forward a few feet.
QHOR: People of Stoney Sept! Mother of Landar! Come forth!
Aran dismounts and walks up behind Qhortho’s horse, lifting the prisoner and tossing him to the ground. His face lands in the dirt, kicking a plume of thin dust into the air.
Guards push their way through the forming crowd. A town guard they had not met takes the lead with authority.
FIRST GUARD: What’s going on here? Who is this man?
Qarzdaq step in front of Qhortho before he gets a chance to speak.
QARZ: This…
Qhortho pushes past Qarzdaq, willing himself to be the first bearer of this news.
QHOR: We tracked some bandits that were killing people to the northeast. This man was their leader. He is responsible for killing Landar.
QARZ: We recovered Landar’s body.
The first guard’s posture relaxes.
FIRST GUARD: Huh… I’ll be honest with you… We really thought you may have been behind his disappearance. This is quite…
A familiar face pops up behind the first guard.
GUARD: … expected. It is good to see you again. Nice job… Very nice job.
QHOR: Is Landar’s mother nearby?
Wailing is heard closing in from a distance and soon Landar’s mother makes her way front and center. The look of anguish on her face tears at Qhortho until she looks away to the bound man on the ground. She falls to her knees and sobs uncontrollably.
Qhortho approaches her and asks if she would like to see her boy. He helps her to her feet and brings her around to the back of the cart where Landar is lying in fine clothes, displayed for the gods. He leaves her side out of respect.
Aran gets the attention of the first guard.
ARAN: This is the ledger we found in their hideout.
He looks at the ledger then to Aran then back to the ledger just as Qhortho walks up.
FIRST GUARD: It looks like everything is checking out here.
The first guard pockets the ledger and approaches Landar’s mother. He sees the care given to the young man’s presentation, bows his head, and rests a hand on her shoulder.
The party gives the townspeople all the time they need, but it is not long before the first guard reengages.
FIRST GUARD: I congratulate and thank you for bringing this to a close. It is a shame. He was well-liked by all that met him.
QARZ: We’re sorry we could not have done more.
QHOR: See that this man pays for his crimes.
A couple of guards pick up the bandit leader and drag him towards the sept and out of sight.
They stay overnight in town and leave at first light.
Return to God’s Eye
On their way, Aran initializes his Ioun Stone. It levitates 2 feet from his head and whooshes around in circles. It’s a little strange at first, but he finds great comfort in knowing he will not be surprised by ambushes.
An uneventful 5 days of eastward travel bring them once again to the water’s edge overlooking the shadowy green Isle of Faces. About a hundred yards left, they find their rowboat. They board it and begin rowing to the island. A mere 8 hours later, now mid-afternoon, they reach the shoreline.
They begin their trek towards the center of the island. Just a few steps into the weirwood forest, Aran clutches his Book of Trees. Immediately, he is almost overwhelmed by the sense of people around him. It is as if every single weirwood is a person, each unique, each with personality. He is not standing in a forest, he is in a crowd.
Faryn appears before them, seemingly from nowhere. They are looking directly at where she appears, but she just fades into existence as if she’d been there all along.
FARYN: Friends.
QHOR: We have news.
ARAN: We have taken care of our problem to the west.
QARZ: We’ve sent the Kraken back to whence it came.
She nods approvingly but as I she already knew.
FARYN: Yes. I felt Water recede and, as I feared, I now sense encroaching Fire. Keeping us from the Root of Knowledge appears to have been strategic… perhaps just to keep us from knowing their plans… perhaps an effort to destroy us… perhaps to seek the power of the Root for themselves. It seems you have helped restore some of the balance, but it isn’t enough.
The party looks at each other.
FARYN: The Fire imbalance is either far to the north and very strong, or nearby and very weak. Wherever it is, I sense it is also far above us.
QARZ: Like in the air?
FARYN: It seems that way. It seems stationary, but I lack fidelity on its location. I know we’ve asked… I’ve asked much of you. But I must ask… no… I urge you to continue forth and snuff out the source.
ROLAN: It seems we are either headed to the Mountains of the Moon or much farther north.
FARYN: For your sakes and ours, I hope it is closer than farther. For if it is far to the north, its power may be too great to stop. I would not place this burden upon you if there were anyone else to take your place.
QARZ: Are we able to get any compensation for this? I mean obviously, we do this for all existence and all that, but perhaps a stipend?
FARYN: We care only for life to continue. We do not hold items of wealth or instruments of destruction. If you do save the balance, I am sure the gods will bless you. I can offer you this: if you run into trouble and can reach a weirwood forest, simply call out “ashayvoo” and the Children will arrive to help.
They get back in their rowboat and begin rowing west towards their horses.
During their crossing, Rolan reflects upon his time in the Mountains of the Moon, his years of training with Jahor. If this is indeed where they are heading, it will bring about mixed feelings. He tells the others that House Arryn is the prevailing family and tells of quiet, sleepy mountain towns, a couple of larger trading hubs, and one large city by the name of Gulltown around the base of the pass leading to the Eyrie. They all agree that the Mountains of the Moon is their next stop, but what the hell are they searching for?
They arrive at their horses late at night and rest until dawn.
The next morning, after their rituals, they travel north along the shoreline to go straight to Lord Harroway’s Town, an intermediate stop on their way to the Mountains of the Moon located at a major throughway intersection known as the Crossroads.
Lord Harroway’s Town
After 5 days’ travel, Lord Harroway’s Town is visible in the distance. It seems to be a peaceful town as they approach. The buildings are well-kept and the presence of security is unmistakable. They may not be knights, but they seem more highly-trained than your run-of-the-mill guards. Entering some of the more bustling areas, it seems everyone is working a deal.
The first stop is a well-stocked gem shop. The merchant buys many of the gems they’d collected over their travels. Qhortho purchases a few gems for his Ring of Universatility.
Their next stop is to an art dealer who buys the finer items from the bandit camp. Qhortho asks the dealer about the rusted Kraken badge they’ve been carrying around, but he doesn’t provide any useful information.
They walk around town and find a small shop dedicated to the higher mysteries. After wading through the plethora of jewelry claiming to give its users an indication of their current mood, they find the expensive displays. Rolan finds a ring on sale for 2500 gp. The merchant tells him that the ring makes him a little faster in a pinch, making it harder for him to hit and easier for him to get out of risky situations requiring saving throws. Rolan buys it immediately. This also piques Aran’s interest.
ARAN: I really do want one of those as well, but I don’t have the coin right now to cover it.
QARZ: Have no worries friend! I would be more than happy to lend you all the platinum you need!
ARAN: That is so kind and generous of you Qarzdaq. I really appreciate it.
QARZ: It is my pleasure! Anyone else need some coin?
Fortunately for Qarzdaq, Qhortho is too caught up in an amulet that radiates fortitude. He picks it up and feels as if nothing could take him down. He immediately purchases the amulet then looks at his friends and their new rings.
QHOR: I’ll take one of those too!
Before they leave, they sell the new bolo they picked up from the bandits and ask about the damaged scroll. They find out it is for detecting poisons and diseases, but it is worthless in its current condition.
They leave for the armor smith. Upon entering the shop, Rolan speaks with the merchant about acquiring some half plate armor.
MERCH: What’s that you’re wearing now?
ROLAN: Oh just some studded leather.
MERCH: Are you sure you can carry yourself. You look rather… let’s say… not proficient.
QHOR: OOOOOoooooo BURN!!
Qarzdaq pokes his head up at the mention of something burning.
ROLAN: Yeah. I can handle myself just fine in any medium armor I choose.
MERCH: Fair enough. Well, I do have one nice set of half plate. It’s not common in these parts, but I do have one. I would sell it for 1150.
ROLAN: Ugh… dick…
ARAN: 1150 gold?
Rolan puts on his charm to the best of his ability.
MERCH: Are you looking to get rid of your studded leather?
ROLAN: Well, I’d rather keep it as a backup. How about we just make the price 1000 gold.
The merchant thinks it over for a minute and agrees to the trade.
MERCH: I’m not likely to see another one of these through this area any time soon, so I hope you appreciate that. Keep good care of it.
Qhortho barges into the conversation.
QHOR: And what would you purchase this fine weapon for?
He twirls a spear around in his fingertips.
QHOR: This is Valyrian Steel.
The merchant plucks the spear from his hands and examines it. He raises his eyes to meet Qhortho’s.
MERCH: Uhh… this is no Valyrian Steel, friend.
QHOR: Yeah huh.
The merchant takes a piece of flint stone from a nearby shelf and stares into Qhortho’s eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he smashes the stone on the spear’s edge. He lifts the spearhead between their faces, showing the edge to be dented.
QHOR: Aghh! You break it, you buy it!
MERCH: 5 silver.
QHOR: But..!
MERCH: 1 electrum.
QHOR: Fine.
They leave for the potion shop.
Aran walks into the store with the black potion in hand.
ARAN: Excuse me, could you tell me what this is?
The woman takes the potion and swirls it around. She looks a little surprised and impressed.
MERCH: Let me show you something.
She holds it up to the light and Aran sees that it is not actually black. It is a dark, dark red.
MERCH: I don’t think you know quite what you have here. I would be happy to take this off your hands for 8000 gold.
Aran asks about other healing potions. The merchant tells of a potion of regeneration made from troll liver.
Rolan begins talking about poisons in the way you absolutely shouldn’t talk about weed in a head shop.
The woman gets a little skittish, shifting her eyes around the shop and looking around her. She tells them that although she won’t throw them out, the market in Lord Harroway’s Town is highly regulated and she is supposed to send away anyone seeking illicit substances.
MERCH: But I’m not going to do that. But please, keep your voices down. Is there anything else I could help with?
ARAN: So you don’t have anything harvested from, say, a purple worm? Some sort of liquid?
She looks at him as if he might be hard of hearing.
Aran asks about where purple worms might be, and she readily tells him they are to the north in a swampy region known as The Neck.
Rolan asks if she has any wine and convinces her to fill his Grail. He demonstrates the power of the Grail by filling her wine pitcher back to full while the Grail is also still full. Seeing she is amazed, he strikes.
ROLAN: So if one were to have something more potent, it could be replaced and then some. We could take a portion, you could have more than you currently have.
She looks around and notices the shop is empty. She locks the door and brings them to a back room.
As they follow the merchant to the back of the shop, Rolan leans over to Aran, “every single one of these places.”
They walk into a room with a few vials of poison in a single rack. Rolan asks about purple worm poison directly, but she doesn’t have any of that. She tells them about giant Dornish scorpion poison, but she only has 2 vials and the Grail requires 4 to work.
Rolan tells her to keep an eye out for purple worm poison because it could be very lucrative. She agrees.
An Unlikely Encounter
They mount up and leave for the Inn at the Crossroads.
They arrive to a fairly busy establishment and make their way to the bar. The barkeep seems rushed.
BARKEEP: Ok, what’ll you have?
QHOR: Whattaya got?
The bartender rolls his eyes slightly.
BARKEEP: New in town, eh? Just about anything you’d expect to come through this area. Anything brewed within a few week’s travel, we got it. Anything farther, we don’t.
QHOR: Hmmm…
Seeing this is not going anywhere quickly, he cuts right to the chase.
BARKEEP: What sorta beverage you like?
QHOR: Something strong.
BARKEEP: You like mead? Ale? Have a region in mind?
They spend the next minute discussing the various brews in Westeros – stouts to the north, ales to the south, sours to the west.
QHOR: I will try this st… ow… t… stout… I will try that.
He pours a thick black liquid into a stein and slides it across the bar.
QHOR: This looks like poison!
BARKEEP: I assure you it is not. It is the finest stout from the north. Stark Stout.
Qhortho sniffs it and takes a gulp.
QHOR: This is amazing! One for everyone! … in my group…
Qhortho pays the man and slams another gulp just a ruckus breaks out in the rear of the tavern.
The Assembly look to the back of the room to see a group of hooligans harassing the waitstaff. They part, making visible one guy at the end. The laughter from this big ugly asshole’s mouth is as much an afront to their ears as his face is to their eyes.
QHOR: Byff… you motherfucker…
Qhortho drops his stout and runs directly at him.
BYFF: Come on baby! You know you want it!
Byff is grabbing at the waitress’s waist. Qhortho, still in full charge, releases an ear-piercing whinny and his eyes take on an obsidian fill. He launches at Byff from about 10 feet away and slams him into the ground. Qhortho stands above him, making sure he gets to say his piece before making him pay.
QHOR: YOU RAPED HER!
BYFF: Who the fuck?? What the fuck you talkin’ about?? You betta’ back the fuck off! You don’t know who you’re fuckin’ with!
QHOR: YOU SOILED MY CORA!
BYFF: Cora?? Oh right, I remember that fuckin’ broad! She wouldn’t put out for nuthin!
QHOR: She will be the last thing your mind sees before you black out to eternal darkness.
BYFF: Look bud, I don’t know what you think you know, but yeah, I tried to hit that, but she clocked me good. Pretty, but fuck that broad.
Rolan sees this unfolding and takes a long sip of his stout.
ROLAN: Kick his ass Seabass!
QARZ: Yeah, get him Qhortho!
Byff jumps to his feet.
BYFF: Look, dick, that bitch gave me this.
He points to a scar along his chin line where someone sliced him with a well-honed dagger.
QHOR: You will get much worse from me.
BYFF: If she hadn’t gotten me by surprise, that woulda’ ended very differently. Same goes for you!
Byff lands a hard sucker punch to Qhortho’s face. Qhortho snaps back immediately to lock eyes with him. Another punch sails from the other side, but Qhortho pulls back just in time and with extreme control. Byff’s hand reaches down for the mace dangling from his belt.
Aran strikes Byff’s leg with his guandao.
ARAN: Play fair now!
Byff looks at Aran like he should stay out of this. A moment later, Byff has a dagger in his left hand headed straight for Qhortho’s stomach. Qhortho, smacks Byff’s arm, providing more momentum into his swing. The dagger leaves Byff’s hand and slides along the ground towards Aran. Aran raises his foot just as the dagger slides underneath. He taps his foot on the dagger.
ARAN: That’s not playing fair.
Byff and Qhortho trade a few punches as the other tavern-goers clear the area. Rolan notices one of the hooligans about to jump Qhortho, so he rushes in with short swords drawn. To slashes later and the man is on his knees, bloodied, holding his arms in the air.
HOOLIGAN: I yield, I yield, I yield!
Rolan holds a sword on the man’s shoulder.
Qhortho notices this and he becomes even more agitated. He roars and grapples Byff and lifts him into the air as if this 6′ 5″ muscular man weighed nothing at all.
BYFF: What the fuck man?!
He carries him to the exit just as a few guards are entering to check out the disturbance. Qhortho pushes past them as if they didn’t exist and tosses Byff into the middle of the dusty road.
GUARD: What exactly is going on? There will be no violence here. No violence. What did this man do to you?
Qhortho drops his rage and begins tying Byff’s wrists.
One of the guards draws a short sword and approaches Qhortho from behind.
Suddenly screams erupt from inside the tavern and Aran bursts out into the street, momentarily taking the guard’s attention. Two of the other guards enter the establishment.
GUARD: Did you not hear me??
Qhortho moves to bind Byff’s ankles.
QHOR: I am a bounty hunter. This man is wanted for several crimes. By order of the King of the Reach, King Greydon, this man is to be taken into our possession.
GUARD: By order of King Greydon… what gives you that right?
BYFF: This guy is FUCKED! You gotta’ stop this freak!
Qhortho finishes securing Byff and turns around, rising to his full stature and towering above the guard who shrinks back a foot.
QHOR: I am Ser Qhortho of the Grass Sea, my group has been deputized by the King himself. This man is a criminal and will be brought to justice.
The guard lowers his sword but does not stow it.
GUARD: And what proof do you have of this?
BYFF: He ain’t got no proof! This guy’s full a SHIT!
ARAN: Yeah, we do have proof.
Qhortho retrieves the scroll complete with the King’s seal, describing Ser Qhortho as a member of the Tutelary of Trade, the Shields of Shields, the Arms of the Reach, and generally, a protector of the realm.
GUARD: Huh…
The guard stows his blade.
GUARD: I suppose that’s that then.
While the guard turns his back to address Aran, Qhortho is already lifting Byff onto the back of his horse.
The guard turns back as Qhortho is mounting up to ride away.
GUARD: Carry on, we’ll settle… up… here…
The guard turns to Aran and eyes him up and down. They enter the tavern together to see a gruesome sight.
One of the hooligans has been gutted and is bleeding out on the floor. Rolan is standing next to the body with his sword resting on the other hooligan’s shoulder, looking as if about to behead him.
GUARD: HALT!! DROP IT!
ROLAN: Whoa whoa whoa. These guys attacked us.
Everyone’s eyes move towards the dead man on the ground.
ROLAND: … aaaaannnnd I did not do that.
He points at the dead man.
ARAN: Yeah, I did that. And it was self-defense. And we are under the King’s orders anyway.
Qarzdaq is still at the bar sipping away on his stout, just taking in the whole scene.
GUARD: Oh come on! Was this really necessary??
ARAN: You weren’t here. We were. Yes, it was necessary. The guy outside is a known rapist. Women. Men. Livestock. We had been searching for him for months. He was harassing one of the waitresses so it was probably about to happen again. The guys in here were his armed accomplices.
A few guards carry out the dead man and 2 others carry out the one who yielded.
The guard verifies their paperwork before being satisfied.
GUARD: You guys should know restraint. You’re knights… So, the way I see it, a man and some accomplices used weapons in an attack and you defended yourselves… defended the kingdom really.
In unison, Aran and Rolan agree.
GUARD: Well, I guess someone’s going to have to clean this up. Glad it’s not me. Be safe, be peaceful. I will not have avoidable violence in my town. Got it?
ARAN: Yes. Definitely.
ROLAN: Yes.
The bartender directs a few waitresses to scrub the bloody floor and replace some broken furniture. Aran catches the attention of the barkeep.
ARAN: I’m sorry for the problems here today.
Aran flips the man a platinum coin.
BARKEEP: Thank you very much. You are welcome back anytime.
Aran and Rolan take seats at the bar with Qarzdaq to finish their stouts and wait for Qhortho’s return.
ROLAN: He’s coming back, right?
Qhortho’s Moment
Qhortho’s bindings were more than for securing the prisoner; they were tactical. He used his long hemp rope to bind Byff’s ankles and wrists, leaving plenty of rope to spare. He tied the other end of that rope to the saddle’s pommel. With his steed now at full gallop, and the town shrinking behind him, one shove knocks Byff from the horse. Byff smashes into the ground and rolls slightly before the slack in the rope goes taut. The cry of pain signals that at least one of his legs was dislocated. Good.
Qhortho knows his horse felt it too, but he gets the sense the horse knows what’s what.
He continues riding towards a small forested area, slowing down at the last possible point and dragging Byff beyond the tree line by a hundred feet or so.
Qhortho dismounts and walks with purpose towards Byff, who is now unsuccessfully scrambling to get away.
BYFF: DUDE, I’M TELLING YOU I DID NOT TOUCH THAT BITCH!
Qhortho gets behind him and puts him in a choker hold until he is unconscious. He unties Byff and places him against a tree, binding his wrists and tying them to the tree. He cuts the excess rope and binds Byff’s ankles and ties the other end to the horse’s saddle.
He smacks his horse lightly. Just enough to give Byff a little stretch. Byff jolts awake in agony.
QHOR: My name is Qhortho, son of Khal Zhavorso the Great Dragon Khal of Sarnor and the Silver Sea. Your presence disgraces she who would be my Khalisi. I judge that you raped her. You have no honor.
BYFF: DID SHE TELL YOU THAT?? THAT LYING FUCKING CUNT!
Qhortho unsheathes his father’s arakh and walks slowly to Byff.
QHOR: This was the same arakh wielded by my father to slay the great Dragon of Sarnor. And just as the dragon received no mercy from my father, you will receive no mercy from me.
BYFF: WHOA, GUY, WHOA!! I DIDN’T DO WHAT YOU THINK I DID!!
QHOR: May the Great Stallion forever trample your firis in the afterlife.
Qhortho places the blade on Byff’s midsection and gives his horse another tap.
Byff begins screaming for help, but that does not hasten or deter Qhortho’s resolve.
QHOR: Save it for the Great Stallion.
Qhortho slowly puts pressure on the blade until Byff’s shirt reddens. Byff continues to scream in higher and higher pitched tones.
Quickly, Qhortho finishes the cut into his belly, making it deeper with a single slashing action. Immediately after, he smacks his horse, who rears up and tries to gallop away. The strength of the horse is enough to overcome the remaining skin holding Byff’s top half to his bottom. The horse is able to move a few feet then stops, leaving Byff’s spine resting on the ground, his hips not far away, though any distance would be considered too far.
Byff is still conscious and screaming while Qhortho unties the rope from his saddle and rides away towards town. It’s only a few moments before the screaming stops. Whether because he was too far to hear it or Byff finally passed out from the pain, who cares.
Reunited
He dismounts outside the Inn at the Crossroads and walks inside to a mostly empty establishment. Empty except for his friends at the bar.
QARZ: So you made it back.
Qarzdaq takes another sip of his beer.
QARZ: What happened out there?
Qhortho recounts what he remembers, but his memory is blotchy from rage.
They get rooms for the night at the Inn, but the owner insists on not having them pay.
Rolan asks if there have been any reports of fire magic or anything out of the ordinary, but he has not heard anything of that sort. Rolan focuses on news from the Eyrie, but again finds no information despite being told that there are lots of people traveling to and from that area passing through the Inn.
The only news they hear is that merchant traffic is up and bandit threats seems to be down.
BARKEEP: Though there have been reports of vigilantes all the way down to the Ocean Road, so I’m not sure what kind of impact that has had.
ARAN: Vigilantes cleaned up the Ocean Road, huh?
Aran smirks.
BARKEEP: That’s what I hear.
They have a few more steins of Stark Stout before resting for the night.
Mountains of the Moon
The next morning, they hit the road for the Eyrie. After 2 days of travel they enter the foothills of the incredible Mountains of the Moon. Another 8 days of steady travel across rocky terrain and the temperature falling a bit, they finally reach Gulltown. It’s no Highgarden or Oldtown, but it’s certainly one of the larger towns they’ve seen.
Looking up the mountains, they see the main road going back and forth across the steep terrain in the distance.
They find a tavern with a decent crowd and order drinks. Aran asks about any weird rumors, but that is met with a number of questions about himself and his fellow travelers: where are they coming from, how long they will be here, what their business is in town, etc. Aran tells him that they are seeking information about a disturbance involving fire magic.
BARKEEP: Hmmm… Nothing I’ve heard about that. I mean, there’s the old tale of Fire Lake that you might not know if you weren’t from these parts.
ARAN: N…
QHOR: Yeah…
BARKEEP: It’s a tale… like a kid’s tale. The Legend of Fire Lake. People have theories about whether it exists or not. It has something to do about passing through a portal or something like that? Seems silly. I don’t know. The details slip my mind right now.
A dusty poorly-dressed patron about 10 feet down the bar interjects.
PATRON: I know about Fire Lake. It does exist. The bar man is right about a portal. I ain’t seen it myself.
ARAN: What kind of portal are we talking here?
PATRON: It’s a portal of light. You pass through somehow and… wait… what was that phrase… oh yes… “Pass through the portal and have a pillar fight at the Lake of Fire”? Something like that.
ROLAN: A pillow fight?
PATRON: A pillar fight.
ROLAN: What the hell does that mean?
Rolan looks to Qarzdaq who just shrugs.
ARAN: Are there any volcanoes in these parts?
BARKEEP: Just the smoky island in the Blackwater. Nothing around here.
QHOR: Sounds like we should look around.
BARKEEP: Fellas, be careful out there. I’m sure you can handle yourselves, but you’re not exactly dressed for the cold and much of the area up there hasn’t been scouted. Plus, no one can even say the tales are true.
PATRON: Oh it’s true.
The barkeep rolls his eyes.
This is now Day 507. The party sits at 68,500XP. A fire presence looms in the unknown with no way to find it. Where should they go next?