​​​Shifting Winds

Back at the Inventorship, knowing what they learned about the Teletherscope, they feel as if they’ve fulfilled a major part of their mission. Certainly too much to hold this device until the second part of the mission is fulfilled. The group has decided to head back to Winterfell to provide the Assembly this key piece of equipment. This may get them a head start on what they’re up against, but there is another simple reason: if anyone is tracking this thing, they don’t want to be anywhere near it.

They leave the Inventorship without much ado, and head southeast. With five days’ travel, they get their first glimpse of forest. It’s like being home again even if they aren’t in their neck of the woods. The smell of moist forest and the coupled cool humidity finally puts them at ease. The first night in the forest is like being in a warm cozy bed.

The next day, they awake fully rested and calm. They get on their way and about mid-morning, they sense the winds changing. A frigid cold overtakes the area. Something is nearby. Have they been spotted? Or have they caught wind of this presence early enough?

Draven sniffs the air and looks around. He transforms int a Dire Wolf and sniffs the air again. He senses something nearby, within a hundred feet. It’s not human. It is definitely evil. The rest of the party readies their weapons.

                LUCIAN:               Should we just book it outta here and go straight to Winterfell?

Draven’s hackles go up. Seeing this, Artair casts Pass Without Trace.

                ARTAIR:                We should hide and ambush them.

                DUNCANN:         We can all just Fey Step into the trees.

                LUCIAN:               I think we get out of here. The Teletherscope is too valuable to chance it.

                ARTAIR:                If we hide up there, we can just stay hidden until they pass if we don’t like the looks of it.

Lucian looks around, knowing time is running out.

                LUCIAN:               I have a bad feeling about this.

Lucian remembers the dragon glass dagger given to him by The Assembly. He quickly grabs it from his bag and whispers to Artair and Duncann.

                LUCIAN:               You guys head up, I’ll stay down here with Draven and hide behind a tree. If I need to get out, I’ll Fey Step.

Artair and Duncann disappear just as they hear some rustling and light groaning not more than 20 feet away.

Eight undead corporeal wights slowly make their way through the trees, flanked on each side by a very large white wolf. These are not mere dire wolves; these great white beasts possess a cold stillness in their eyes and drool blood. They do not appear to have noticed the Roots.

When the Roots get their eyes on the walkers, they see no armor, no weapons. Their bodies are degraded and malformed, yet they move with persistence, unhindered by their physical defects.

Draven lunges at one of the large wolves. As he sinks his teeth into its flesh, he realizes just how much bigger this creature is than him. Thankfully, the wolf spirit keeps his course as he tears a chunk of flesh off its shoulder. It separated easier than expected, as if it was already in a state of decay.

Duncann Fey Steps to a tree just above the corporeal wights. He summons a ball of flame in his hands and drops it onto the closest walker. He catches fire, looking around and finding Duncann above.

Lucian pops out from behind a tree, in his Archer Starry Form. He casts Guiding Bolt on the large wolf by Draven, causing it to stagger and sway momentarily. The strike leaves him with a residual glow.

Draven knows what that means. He lunges at the wolf, bringing it close to death and causing it to fall prone.

Duncann drops another ball of flame on the walker below him. He falls to the ground, but the fire extinguishes and he stands back up.

Artair flings his Thornwhip at the Winter Wolf but it barely misses the prone creature. It stands up and exhales a Cold Breath. A blast of freezing wind strikes Draven. He manages to hold his footing though, and is ready to retaliate.

The other Winter Wolf charges towards Lucian and Draven, but Artair strikes him first with a Guiding Bolt. The wolf seems unfazed but remains glowing. Artair quickly follows that up by loosing a luminous arrow at the wolf by Draven. It strikes, but the creature still does not fall.

The corporeal wights converge around Lucian! He manages to pull his limbs away from a few of their bites, but he cannot stop all of them from sinking their teeth into his flesh. He grits his teeth to suffocate his pain.

Draven, focused on the Winter Wolf, also takes a few bites from the corporeal wights. He doesn’t realize it yet, but they’ve caused enough pain to pull him from his beast form. Mid-transformation, he lunges toward the immense wolf before him, gnashing his teeth, now dripping with green acid. He bites into the beast’s neck, the acid burning through the fur and skin, clearing the way for his increasingly humanistic teeth. He now realizes he is morphing back to human and focuses on changing back to his Dire Wolf form. He feels his increasingly sharpening teeth sinking into the Winter Wolf’s neck and he knows he’s back. He tears a chunk of meat from the wolf’s neck, causing blood to spray out on the white snow. He turns to face the White Walkers.

Duncann throws a ball of flame onto the remaining Winter Wolf, singing its fur. Artair takes the hint and thorn whips the wolf. He disappears and reappears closer to Duncann. Both are still up in the trees.

The Winter Wolf runs towards Draven, biting him and knocking him prone.

Lucian slashes at one of the corporeal wights with his dragon glass knife. It shatters before him into icy shards. Lucian Fey Steps deeper into the woods.

Without any other target in sight, all of the corporeal wights and the Winter Wolf attack Draven. He snarls in defiance.

They scrape and bite him until he is back in human form, then bite and scratch some more, leaving him bloodied before he even realizes what’s hit him. Instinctively, he claws the Winter Wolf with acid nails, then Fey Steps out of the area.

Artair Fey Steps to a tree closer to Lucian and casts Haste on him.

The Wolf howls in frustration then sniffs the air, smelling for any clues. It backpedals away from the main combat area, waiting to pounce.

Lucian sees this and decides to keep his distance. In a blur of super-fast movement, he circles around to flank the corporeal wights, slashing one with his dragonglass dagger. It instantly shatters before it realizes he was there. The others see him, but only for a moment. He Fey Steps closer to the Winter Wolf and hits it with a luminous arrow.

The luminous arrow gives away his position.

The corporeal wights surround him. The first two attacks are enough to knock Lucian unconscious. His starry form fades out. The next two Walkers bring him within an inch of death.

Draven runs towards the wolf. It turns to face him just as he arrives, but there is nothing it can do to stop Draven from scraping into its hide with his acid-dripping nails. The wolf howls in response and is ready to pounce, but Draven vanishes before it can retaliate.

The wolf is in bad shape, its blood matting its fur in patches. Just as the wolf is about to search for the attacker, Duncann drops a small ball of fire at the base of its skull. The fire gets into one of the acid-filled cavities left behind by Draven and eats into its body, drilling a hole down to its spine. The Winter Wolf collapses in the snow.

Artair thorn whips one of the corporeal wights and Fey Steps into a tree just above Lucian, but out of sight form the Walkers below. He intentionally keeps quiet.

The corporeal wights claw their way into Lucian’s belly, literally ripping pieces of flesh from his body and tossing them aside as if they were trying to get the candy inside this fleshy piñata. The dragonglass dagger is tossed 15 feet from the blood bath as are several ribs. His entrails now strewn about the area, the last remaining warmth from them barely melting through the snow.

The rest of the Roots are horrified by the scene, but they have no choice but to finish this.

Draven runs towards the dragonglass dagger, and immediately at the Walkers. He attempts to shiv the closest one, but the entire scene is too much for him. He barely misses and immediately Fey Steps out of the area.

Duncann drops another ball of flame onto a Walker. It’s just enough to annoy it, but just as it sees its attacker, he vanishes.

One of the walkers is lashed with Artair’s Thornwhip, but he is nowhere to be found.

The Walkers quickly scan the area and find Duncann in a tree, they converge on the tree and climb, fast.

Draven sees this, and knowing he is not the strongest climber, decides the dragonglass dagger will need to wait. He launches an Ice Dagger at the one that is closest to Duncann. The shard of ice explodes into icy splinters, dropping the two highest in the tree to the ground.

Duncann produces another ball of flame and drops it onto the closest climbing walker, causing it major damage. He Fey Steps to another tree. The one with its face still melting is suddenly snatched from the tree by Artair’s Thorwhip. Artair pulls him into open air, 10 feet away from the tree, and drops him to the ground. The combination of the strike and fall are the Walker’s demise.

The attention of the last three Walkers is caught by crunching snow nearby. The one in the tree drops to the ground and the three of them stand around looking into the trees.

The remaining Roots look around and see something coming closer. They look to be some type of ghostly creatures. Their bodies look withered, but they move differently than the corporeal wights.

Draven looks back to one of the standing corporeal wights and take advantage of the opportunity. He runs towards it and slashes with the dragonglass dagger. It shatters to the wind. Draven sees Duncann in one of the trees and runs towards him. He tosses the dagger up to Duncann, then Fey Steps into the forest.

Duncann throws the dagger at one of the Walkers. The undead creature shatters and the blade falls to the snow.

Artair, sees this and puts the pieces together, he runs out towards the dagger and throws it at the last Walker, killing it as well. He Fey Steps into the forest.

Now there is just the matter of these incoming ghostly creatures. As they approach the area, the snow crunches beneath their feet. They stop when they see the Winter Wolf blood in the snow, a human carcass with its bits tossed about, and only two dead corporeal wights. The two skeletal creatures draw long swords but also have long bows on their backs. They’ve happened to stop right next to the dragonglass dagger, though it goes unnoticed.

Draven Fey Steps into a tree directly above them. One of the skeletal Wights realizes something is in a tree above them but it doesn’t seem to have put eyes exactly on him yet. Draven sits tight.

Duncann tosses a ball of flames at one of them, causing it significant damage. Duncann Fey Steps immediately to another area.

Artair uses Heat Metal on the injured Wight’s longsword. The creature drops the sword and grabs the bow on his back, firing an arrow into the tree above. Draven tries not to make a sound, but it’s clear the arrow struck someone. The Wight steps back several feet, preparing for the next move.

The other Wight takes a stance to strike whatever is about to come down from that tree.

Draven drops down from the tree, taking a little damage in the process but handling it well. The sword-wielding Wight slashes at Draven, but narrowly misses. Draven grabs the dagger at his feet and slashes at the creature hard. The dragonglass dagger shatters on impact. It does not appear to have done any damage. Draven’s eyes widen and he quickly Fey Steps away.

The Roots quickly finish off the Wights without much trouble. Hopefully they don’t encounter any more of those corporeal wights before they get to Winterfell…

But Lucian… Lucian. Their brother is no more. They slowly approach his body and discuss the hard topic of his belongings and how to treat his body. They decide to split up the ointments, have Artair carry the Teletherscope, and burn Lucian’s remains.

Return of the Roots

Before they leave the area, they spend a few moments looking over the corporeal wights​ that were not shattered by dragonglass. They were men and women. Not like the Wights, which were hollow forms of the long dead with evil life with their own intentions. The Wights were monsters through and through. The Walkers were more like a recently deceased automaton. Frightening of course, but these were mothers, fathers, cousins… These people existed not long ago. They were brought back from the dead.

Did it require the presence of a Wight or some other ungodly magic? All that could be known is that they must get this information back to Winterfell. They must survive and move on. Or else Lucian’s demise will have been in vain.

They get on their way. They travel as quickly as possible. Now that they were in the forest, it only takes another 2 days to be outside Winterfell. Over that time, they each reflect on their loss, though it’s done without much speaking. He was more than just a friend. He was an integral part of the so-called Roots. He was a brother.

They are mostly feeling disassociated as if in some sort of black and white dream when they arrive at the northern gate. They are shaken into reality when a guard shouts at them at the top of his lungs.

                GUARD:               HALT! Stop right there! State your business!

                DRAVEN:             Uhh… We’re here to see the Unlikely Assembly…

The guard stands with his hand on the hilt of his sheathed short sword.

                DUNCANN:         We’ve returned from a mission for Lord Harlon Stark.

                GUARD:               Stay right there while we verify this.

The guard shouts a command.

                GUARD:               AY!

Archers and additional guards appear on the battlements, but the gate remains shut.

                GUARD:               Here on orders from the King and the Unlikely Assembly?

One of the men on the battlements leaves their sight. The guard before them turns back and speaks in hushed tones.

                GUARD:               You better be telling the truth.

For several minutes of silence, the Roots wait. Finally, the gate opens and Farron appears.

                FARRON:             My Little Roots! You’ve returned!

                GUARD:               Ah, Farron. Good. So they are who they say they are?

                FARRON:             I should say so! Yeah, we need to get what they’ve learned to the King at once!

                GUARD:               Understood. Can’t be too careful these days.

                FARRON:             Sure, sure. Of course, of course.

Farron turns to the Roots.

                FARRON:             So, where’s Lucian? He meeting you here later?

​Meanwhile…

The Roots’ reuturn is on Day 706. Over the past 35 days since accepting their mission, a lot has happened with the Unlikely Assembly and Winterfell.

One week after meeting with the Roots and beginning to teach advanced techniques to the Stark men, the Starks got word that the Boltons have been cleverly evading detection. They’d seemingly exiting and entering the Dreadfort during the siege with supplies, entirely unnoticed. Until one scout figured it out. He alerted a squad of soldiers and they managed to capture one of the Boltons’ men without being noticed. They learned that just one fortnight later, a resupply mission would be underway. This was exactly the kind of opening the Assembly could exploit.

A week later, Day 678, they found themselves outside the Dreadfort on a cloudy night…

The Half-Moon Night, Day 678

The Dreadfort is a strong fortress, with high walls and triangular merlons that look like sharp stone teeth. It has thick stone walls and massive towers. The Dreadfort is ill omened, for it is said the Boltons keep torture chambers and a special room where they hang the flayed skins of their enemies, including several Kings in the North.

The Assembly and a small squad of elite soldiers were to finish the Dreadfort siege that had been ongoing for the better part of two years. However, upon arrival, they learned that a few of the scouts leading the way had been captured. Their capture was only an hour ago.

This mission is now more than just ending the siege or making the Boltons bend the knee… this was about saving the Stark’s men, fine scouts that will undoubtedly be of use later. But most importantly, even if a bit cold, this is the opportunity to guarantee the Stark’s willingness to aid their greater goal going forward.

The Boltons have a sinister reputation, flaying their enemies and donning their skins. As they say, “a naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man has none.” Their House words are more succinct: “our blades are sharp.” These are people that will require a show of force.

The problem is that Bryce Bolton cannot just be assassinated… the Starks do not need nor want to capture and control the Dreadfort; they need the Boltons to wave the Stark banner, and they cannot arrive at that goal without Lord Bryce himself taking their side. Plus, a commander of any additional forces may aid you on the primary mission, whether or not they deserve trust… or mercy.

The success of the Assembly’s mission will be measured by how many of the Bolton’s men remain, Bryce’s condition, the attitude he retains towards the Starks, and, of course, the condition of the hostages.

The shimmer of the waning half-moon provides just enough light to see – and be seen. The Assembly leaves their Stark squad with clear directions: they are to be seen without making it seem like they are trying to be seen; enough to draw attention while seeming like they are not trying to draw attention. If they are not sure they are being obvious enough, that is exactly the right amount.

The Assembly is going to approach the Dreadfort from the rear. They give the castle grounds a wide berth and know they should be using everything at their disposal to move swiftly yet quietly.

They discuss a few options for when they find this secret entrance: they could go in themselves, they could alert the Starks of the entrance and let them take over, or they could get in and open the front door for the Starks. If they don’t just take care of this themselves though, the Stark scouts will have certainly been flayed by then.

They make it around the back side of the castle, and are looking for the telltale signs of a secret entrance.

Before they step any closer to the castle, Rolan ensures they proceed stealthily with Pass Without Trace. He keeps an eye out to make sure they stay in places that are least likely to get themselves seen.

Aran thinks back to his historical knowledge and his lessons at the academy in Crakehall. He realizes that along with the gates at each cardinal directions, it is likely that any secret entrances will be either along those lines for ease of building, or they may be in the least likely place, along a diagonal. In this case, the traditionally “least likely location” is probably the most likely location. Aran signals they should begin their search there.

As they survey the area, Qhortho looks for any signs of disturbed ground and finds a hidden trail of sorts. It’s just barely trampled ground that looks recently disturbed. It’s only in patches, as if they were really good about hiding the path.

Qarzdaq’s Darkvision and his experience with secret passages from his days at the Red Temple prove highly useful here. He notices a small depression in the ground out of the corner of his eye and signals to the others.

After only about 20 minutes, they find it! A hidden entrance in the ground! When they attempt to pull it open, they find it is stuck or locked. There is no keyhole so it is probably barred from the inside. So far, they have not been noticed, but from this vantage point and only a hundred yards from the castle, they can both see the castle and those upon the battlements quite clearly. This is obviously a place set up for the Boltons to keep an eye out for their own people coming and going.

Anyone watching this area will definitely see anything bright and may hear anything loud. The hatch door is wooded, banded with iron. The handle is made of leather and the entire thing is covered by bits of grass. The area has a few small bushes around it.

They discuss whether they can tear the door open and how much noise that would make. Another option is to lie and wait until the next round of people go on a supply run. Qarzdaq has a different idea in mind.

                QARZ:                   I don’t know if this will work or not, but I could try teleporting to the other side. I mean, I know it’s there, right? If I assume the door is less than 1 foot thick and the space is at least as wide as the doorway, I think I can just get through there.

They all agree that it’s worth a shot.

And He’s Gone

He disappears. On the other side of the door, they hear a slight gasp then a faint thud. After a few moments, Rolan hears a message in his head that Qarzdaq made it. Rolan shares this with the others and a few moments later, the sound of a heavy bar sliding is heard before the door slowly opens. Qarzdaq is on the other side, standing on a ladder. He had fallen the 20 feet down to the stone floor below when he teleported through.

They descend the ladder with the last one closing and barring the door just as they found it.

Walking down the underground hall, the damp cold mixed with the smell of mildew are oppressing. They pass several offshoots into storage areas on either side. They notice one of the rooms contains multiple instruments of torture, though the items have not been well kept.

At the end of the 250 ft corridor is a stone staircase; they know this is the entrance to the castle. When only 50 feet away, you hear an iron door open, shedding light from the staircase. Though no one is seen yet, the voices and footsteps tell all they need to know. The shadows cause the light to seem as if it is flickering quickly until someone at the front lights a torch and a dim light can be seen at the end of the hall.

They quickly find a place to hide in one of the offshoot rooms.

The people walking down the hallway are discussing the specific people they can source various goods from, just food and basic supplies. As they pass where the Assembly is hiding, they realize that what they did to gain entrance and cover their tracks was probably the best coordinated effort they’ve ever pulled off.

It’s now clear there are three people, but only two are going on a supply run. They get to the ladder and unbar the door. A few moments later, the door is barred again and the man walks back down the hall towards the staircase. The shake of chainmail is unmistakable with each step. The iron door opens again and closes just a few seconds later.

They quietly make their way to the door, now about 30 minutes into this mission. They give it a good shove and it gives.

Peeking through the door, they realize they are at the ground floor of a cylindrical tower with a staircase wrapped against the inside wall. There seems to be a floor about 30 feet up, and another about another 50 feet after that.

​

​​Inside the Walls

They quietly close the door behind them. As they take their first steps, they realize how easily the sound echoes against the stone walls. At first this seems to be yet another hurdle, but they quickly realize that this serves as an early warning for them if anyone else were to enter the tower. Right now, it’s pretty clear that no one else is in here – at least not walking around.

It takes them about 1 minute to reach the next floor. This is probably the actual ground level of the castle grounds. The staircase continues up another 50 feet or so, probably going to the battlements. This floor has a door that appears to lead just behind the main keep.

They open the door and walk out to a fairly open area. It’s only 30 feet to the main keep and a door is in plain sight. They consider whether they should go around the keep or enter it directly. They expect that either way they go, they are probably going to run into people. They think there will be more people outside the keep and that may provide more cover for them.

As they casually walk from the tower along the keep, a frail maester suddenly appears from around the corner, not 10 feet from them! What’s worse is that the maester is struggling to hold the leash of an attack dog, just 5 feet from them. It definitely does not know the Assembly.

The maester negotiates with the dog, trying to calm him, but he is getting suspicious. They notice a single key attached to a ring on the maester’s belt. Looks important to be the sole key on a ring like that.

Qarzdaq breaks the quickly-worsening awkward silence.

                QARZ:                   Good evening! The dog seems a little agitated.

The maester struggles with the dog as it growls menacingly.

                QARZ:                   What did you feed that thing!

                MAESTER:           I don’t know what they gave it! Who… Who are you??

Qhortho steps up and puts his hand out slowly.

                QHOR:                  Whoa. Easy boy. You know us.

The dog calms down enough and begins sniffing Qhortho’s hand. His tail wags slightly and he sits next to the maester.

                ARAN:                   Hi, I’m Allen.

                MAESTER:           I’m Maester Gristo.

Aran reaches out his hand to shake, but the dog suddenly sitting throws off his balance somewhat and he bumps into the maester a bit. At least, that was the gag. He manages to deftly swipe the key from the maester’s belt.

                ARAN:                   I apologize.

                QARZ:                   Allen is a little clumsy. Allen, you should probably get away from that dog. Maester Gristo, we’ve met actually. The name is Carmen Snow.

                MAESTER:           Carmen Snow? Uh.. I don’t… well, maybe, maybe. Yeah I think I remember you. Maybe before you had the face tattoo? Although I’d like to catch up, I really need to take this dog to the wall.

                QARZ:                   Sure sure.

Once the maester leaves their vicinity, Rolan shares some insights.

                ROLAN:                I was watching that whole encounter there and they are definitely on the lookout for outsiders. I think they know that if they are getting supplies, there could be spies amongst them and they seem to be trained well.

                QHOR:                  Not well enough to get around the Assembly.

                ROLAN:                Perhaps, but we should proceed with some caution.

                ARAN:                   Check this out.

Aran holds up the key.

                QARZ:                   Nicely done, by the way.

They reconsider their choices. Follow the frail old man with the rambunctious dog, go around the keep the other direction, or enter the keep through the door.

                ARAN:                   Now that we have this key, I think we should go inside the keep.

                ROLAN:                 Why?

                ARAN:                   Well, think about it. These guys like to flay people. Like, they REALLY enjoy it. Their house words are about how sharp their knives are. If you could put your favorite thing anywhere, wouldn’t you put it in your house? In a place that only few people could go? Before the key, we didn’t really have a solid lead, but now, I think we see where this key fits.

                ROLAN:                Hmm.

Rolan nods.

                QARZ:                   Yeah, ok.

                QHOR:                  Works for me.

​​The Keep​

They reach for the door and walk through as if they belong. The hall is dim and smoky, with rows of torches grasped by skeletal human hands jutting from the walls. The hall has a vaulted ceiling and wooden rafters turned black from smoke. It’s fairly busy, with people eating and drinking at long tables. A dais with a high table is on the far end of the room.

They walk across the room, scanning for where they should go from here. The problem is that the Assembly are not dressed like the others. They realize they should change clothes if they find the opportunity. Qarzdaq points out an archway with a staircase that goes upwards about midway along one of the walls.

                QARZ:                   That probably goes to the quarters.

Rolan taps Qarzdaq with the back of his hand.

                ROLAN:                Over there. It looks to be another tower entrance.

                QARZ:                   Yeah.

                ROLAN:                You see that door inside the tower?

The door Rolan is pointing out looks somehow more foreboding and aged than the other doors they’d seen, but it isn’t entirely out of place either.

They walk towards and into the tower as if they know exactly where they are going, but without any sense of urgency; enough to show they’re familiar without drawing any more attention than is absolutely necessary. Although people are taking notice, they are only drawing a few eyes that don’t seem keen on interrupting them.

They enter the tower and can hear some footsteps on the floor above. This is the same layout as the tower outside the keep; a staircase circles the inside call of a cylindrical tower.

Aran tries the door. Locked.

                ARAN:                   Well, here goes nothing.

He tries the key lifted from the maester… it goes in easy enough, and <CLICK> it turns. He pushes the door open, doing his best not to celebrate. They all get inside and close the door. Aran is careful to lock the door behind them.

They are now inside a square stairwell that only goes down in 5-foot segments followed by square landings. Aran draws his weapon. The rest of them are prepared to draw. They descend the staircase to the bottom, 20 feet, to meet another door of the same style as the one they’d just transited.

Aran puts his ear against the door. He strains to hear muffled screams on the other side.

Restrained ​Anguish

Aran looks at Qarzdaq then to the ground. He takes the stolen key and inserts it into the keyhole. It turns <CLICK> and he gently pushes it open.

The screaming is now quite loud. This looks to be almost a mirror image of the secret entryway they’d used to infiltrate the Dreadfort, but this… this is much more well-travelled. The corridors are lit by torches. The first room they pass on the right, a trophy room of a sort, has walls lined with dried skins. Human skins. Just above, faces. Aran knows that if the stories are true, many of them are Starks.

What’s more haunting is that these are not hung at decoration height; these are accessible for those that wish to don them.

Everyone now has their weapons fully drawn.

The screaming is coming from the next room down. They approach the door and peek in. Three young men are bound to wooden slabs, positioned mostly vertically, arms outstretched.

A man in a cloak seems to be taking pleasure in running a blade down the forearm of one of these young men. It appears his other arm has already been stripped as have parts of his face and chest. His screams a stunningly vibrant. The other two appear to be untouched. There does not appear to be anyone else in the room.

Qarzdaq casts Hold Person on the flayer. The blade rests between the meat of the boy’s forearm and the long flap of skin hanging wayside. They run in and remove the blade from the torturer’s hand. They know by this point based on the descriptions, this torturer is Bryce Bolton.

The Assembly assures the boys that they will get them to safety and they can heal the screaming boy’s wounds. They just need to figure out how. They quickly bind Bryce before Hold Person wears off. Qhortho keeps his foot on Bryce’s back for when we awakens.

                ARAN:                   Qarzdaq, can’t you just snap a finger or something and get us back to Winterfell?

                QARZ:                   Not for several hours…

                ROLAN:                Wait! The stones! We open a portal to Fire Lake, we can just rest there, right?

Qhortho grins. He’s come to like these special gifts of the gods.

                QHOR:                  We need to be back soon though. What of the Stark men outside the walls?

                ARAN:                   Our time constraint was on the rescue, not getting back.

                ROLAN:                True. They will be without information for some time, but it’s been two years of this siege, what another day or two?

They open the portal and get everyone through. They use various healing spells on the wounded scout while Qarzdaq gets some much-needed rest.

Bryce’s Destiny

When he awakens, and his allies are ready, he retrieves the brick from Winterfell. He teleports everyone back to Winterfell, straight to the courtyard from which the brick came, just outside the main keep. All three of the scouts are bewildered by the sight, falling to the ground in quiet tears.

Bryce, less shaken, but obviously defeated, relaxes his shoulders and stands tall. He knows he is a prisoner of war, but an important one at that. He knows what comes next, and it is not death. They need him. He knows this.

Seeing the look of comfort on his face angers Qhortho greatly. He puts his face just inches from Bryce’s.

                QHOR:                  If this were the Grass Sea, you would be gutted and bled freely dragged from my faithful steed.

Bryce just stares into his eyes, saying nothing, giving no reaction.

Guards surround them without menace.

                QARZ:                   We need to see the lord.

The guards are speechless, except one.

                GUARD:                Yes, yes! Right away!

He runs towards the main keep and returns just a minute later with Karlon Stark.

                KARLON:              I did not expect this. Quite the entrance, I must say. You continue to be full of surprises.

                ARAN:                   We act fast. That’s what we’re here for.

                QARZ:                   We get shit done.

Qhortho pushes ahead of Qarzdaq and Aran.

                QHOR:                  You will see that we’ve achieved the impossible. We’ve killed no Boltons, rescued all three of your captured scouts, and have done no harm to Bryce.

                ROLAN:                We’ve even healed the one scout that was being tortured when we showed up. Physically at least. He may have some other issues from what he went through.

                QARZ:                   And not by some Bolton minion, mind you. This was conducted by Bryce himself.

Bryce shifts his shoulders a bit as if to shrug it off like he’d do it again in that situation, though he maintains his prominent stature.

Karlon shifts his gaze to the bound and gagged Bryce Bolton.

                KARLON:              Bryce. Gig’s up. You’re done. Bend the knee and this will all be over.

Bryce spits out the gag showing that it was he who decided to keep it in, and that removing it was his decision. KArlon knows what he is saying and grits his teeth.

                BRYCE:                  You are not my king. You are not even the so-called King of the North. I do not kneel to you. Where is your father?

                KARLON:              He will be here shortly. Show respect now and you’ll be treated in kind later.

Bryce spits at the ground.

                BRYCE:                  Respect? Fuck your respect child. The adults speak in due time.

Karlon loses his patience. Karlon kicks Bryce’s knee from the side, causing him to fall. The nearby guards draw their swords, their pointy ends trained on Bryce.

                KARLON:              You’ll bend.

Karlon walks towards the keep. The Assembly steps away from Bryce but keep their eyes on him. After another minute, a man runs up to them, out of breath.

                FARRON:             You’re … back! … Good! … Roots … still not back yet … probably some … weeks until their return.

                QHOR:                  Hmmm… we will continue to train the Starks then.

                QARZ:                   Yeah, and we will need to secure their aid in our more most pressing situation.

Farron has now fully caught his breath, and is back to his typical fast-talking way.

                FARRON:             Indeed yes. And I was thinking. On that mission of yours. I could be of more use to you than you realize. The Roots may be as well. More than just scouts they are. I…

He is interrupted by the Assembly shifting their eyes to the keep door. Harlon and Karlon are making their way over so all of the Assembly stand side-by-side in a line. Farron joins as if he is already a part of their group.

                HARLON:             Bryce. Come. We will speak behind closed doors and provide you with bread and salt. And you.

He turns to the Karlon.

                HARLON:             You have done well, son. You have managed to finish the siege that began too long ago. We will discuss what you requested later.

He addresses the Assembly.

                HARLON:             And you. The Tacticians. The Enders of the Siege. You can count on the aid of Winterfell as its allies as you progress. We would be served well to continue counting on yours as well. I pray we need not boil down favors to simple transactions.

Qhortho is about to speak up, most likely about getting a reward, but Qarzdaq just puts the back of his hand on Qhortho’s chest as if to say, “this is not the time.” Qhortho listens to the simple gesture this time.

Karlon nods to the guards who immediately sheathe their swords. Karlon starts towards the keep while two of the guards pick up Bryce Bolton by the arms. They get him to his feet and act as his crutches to climb the stairs into the keep.

Harlon turns to the Assembly.

                KARLON:              I’ve never heard my father speak those words of alliance so freely. You’ve done exceptionally well. We will get a raven to the Dreadfort that Bryce is now in our custody as a prisoner and that they should open the gates. It seems I will likely get my land and title now.

Karlon continues.

                KARLON:              We will need to speak about this greater mission of yours and how we can help. Specific plans.

                FARRON:             Lord Harlon. If I may.

Farron steps forward to formally address Karlon Stark.

                FARRON:             May I suggest that we hold the specifics until my Little Roots return from their mission and the Unlikely Assembly here be permitted to continue training your men in their advanced tactics, the Tacticians they are, as the King named them. Upon the Roots’ arrival, we shall have more knowledge with which to plan our next steps.

Qhortho is staring at Farron. Farron notices but quickly glances away.

                QHOR:                  That was my…

                FARRON:             …your thoughts as well? Indeed, quite good ones if I do say so myself.

Qhortho is not sure to accept that Farron thinking his thoughts were good as a compliment, or as an underhanded way to steal credit for the idea. Qhortho grimaces but lets it drop.

The Assembly and Farron follow Karlon inside to debrief on the Dreadfort infiltration and to prebrief on the greater mission ahead. The Assembly tells of the secret entrance and the trophy room, of human-skin robes and masks.

They are about to leave when Aran remembers something else.

                ARAN:                   And there’s this.

Aran produces the key that leads to the active torture rooms.

                QARZ:                   We retrieved this from the maester of the Dreadfort.

Karlon pockets the key and thanks them again.

                QARZ:                   My Lord. Would you like to join us for some Fireplum Schnapps?

                KARLON:              We do not have any here, I’m afraid, but I have some things to attend to here.

                QARZ:                   Some day, we will need to share a bottle.

                KARLON:              I welcome the day, Ser Qarzdaq.

The Assembly and Farron go to the tavern for some much-needed unwinding.

​The Assembly continues to train the Starks for the next two days. Around mid-day, Farron approaches the training grounds with the Roots behind him.

                FARRON:             Guys? I have some good and bad news.

We end here on Day 706, with the Dreadfort siege ended and the Assembly with another exemplary win under their belts. The Assembly have each gained 2500 XP, bringing their totals to 131 kXP.

The Roots, however, are down one brother. The tree will live on, but Lucian’s light has gone dark. The remaining Roots each gained 1200 XP, now each totaling 15.2 kXP.​