Another One?
It is currently mid-day on Day 633. The air is fairly clear as surveil the marshy swamp, though it is a bit musty given they are in the middle of a swamp. A soft trickle is heard as some of that water falls into the closest Purple Worm tunnel.
It seems the pertinent path is to travel north to Moat Cailin and towards the Wall, but the main causeway through the Neck is over a hundred miles away. They decide it best to travel back to the main road rather than trying to go directly through the swamp.
Slight ground tremors are felt by all of them and they immediately hold in place. They trade looks with each other but otherwise hold still. There must be another Purple Worm around, though it may still be hundreds of feet away. The tremors don’t appear to be increasing in intensity, so they’ve probably not been noticed yet.
Rolan immediately casts Pass Without Trace and motions for them to leave the area. Despite how hard Aran tries to be heard, they move eastward before they are found.
As they travel the swamp, they find pockets of dead bodies. Definitely human, but they seem slightly off in some way.
ARAN: These look like Crannogmen. Half Children, half People. I’ve heard of them before but never lay my own eyes on them.
ROLAN: Bog Devils?
ARAN: They’re people interbred with Children of the Forest. At least that’s what the stories say.
ROLAN: Ah, yeah. I’ve heard the stories. We on the Iron Islands know them as Bog Devils. Lots of history there, though I don’t know too much about them myself. I do know that they are very dangerous. They use poisons on their weapons.
They decide it best to travel cautiously.
Each night they camp, they realize the moon is approaching being full. On every night near the full moon, they tie Qhortho to a tree to prevent them all being attacked. On their eighth day of travel, the transformation happens while Rolan is on watch near Qhortho.
Qhortho screams out in agony then tries to free himself to attack Rolan. Everyone wakes up and is ready to defend.
He tries to get free with all his might, but the group was careful to use local vines in combination with their hemp rope. The bindings are so strong, that Qhortho can’t make any progress. Rolan taunts him mildly over the next minute before Qhortho freezes mid-grunt.
Rolan looks back at the others then takes a step closer to Qhortho.
ROLAN: Hey bud. You ok? Still with us?
Qhortho’s eyes stare off in the distance. Rolan takes another step very slowly.
Qhortho jerks awake.
QHOR: Ah! Ah! What was that?!
Rolan stumbles backward and almost trips. Luckily, he has the dexterity of a feline trapeze artist and doesn’t fall into the fire.
They explain to Qhortho that he had an episode and that nothing bad happened.
QHOR: Ok, well that’s good. You can let me free then, right?
ARAN: I think it may be safer if we just let you sleep like that tonight.
QHOR: Oh, come on… Really? Really?
The guys stick to their guns and they awake the next morning without any further disturbances.
Another 2 days of travel and they finally reach the main causeway.
Although there isn’t a lot of it, there is some traffic on the main causeway. Not much way around that though given this is the only way to travel north-south in Westeros, at least by land. Despite them being dressed in your traveliest of traveler’s clothes, the Giant Elks draw a lot of attention from anyone who passes: gasps, stares, pointing, children yelling. Each occurrence makes them a little uneasy, but at least they won’t be stalked by creatures of the night.
Each night, they rest on the road, staying to one side, knowing it is unlikely there would be travelers in the dark. The alternative would be sleeping in the swamp water. No thanks.
Moat Cailin
After another 6 day’s travel, they see a large curtain wall with a large open gate. The wall disappears behind the thick bog forest to either side. 3 large towers stand inside the wall, providing a great defense for anyone coming up the causeway. And the natural barriers prevent those approaching from anywhere but.
As they get closer, they can see that the open gateway is unguarded, and the wall seems to have been neglected for some time. The stonework looks sturdy enough, but it seems the keepers of this fortress have let it be assimilated into nature. Though it is already occurring, it will take hundreds of years for the structures to crumble. Surely someone will take possession before then.
Even from outside the walls, indistinct chatter can be heard inside. Upon passing through the gate, they enter what can only be described as a vibrant merchant community. Given the relative peacetime in this region, it seems this is the perfect place for a merchant since anyone traveling between the north and south must pass through. It seems as if the entire town could pack up at a moment’s notice; everything is run out of wagons, much like today’s food trucks and novelty sellers.
Though structures exist, they are in bad and worsening shape and probably shouldn’t be trusted without an engineer’s blessing. These buildings surely would have been explored and looted over the past thousand years. The primary keep is abandoned and is showing signs that it may crumble in the near future. Still, the 3 towers that were visible from the road look to be in decent shape and could probably still be used for scouting and protection.
Overall, the town is active, but it’s not packed.
They notice the stables to the right side and follow the path to meet the stable hand.
The stable hand’s jaw is wide open as the party approaches. They dismount and the stable hand straightens up and greets Aran professionally.
HAND: Some unusual mounts here, friends. No problem, of course. We have the room to spare right now.
QHOR: We are some unusual riders.
HAND: I see. Especially this guy right here. He’s just passed out on his elk? What happened to him?
ROLAN: Yeah.
ARAN: He couldn’t hang last night.
HAND: I see.
ROLAN: You can just lay him down in a dung pile.
QHOR: Yes, 5 stables please.
Aran laughs but eyes his allies.
ARAN: Well, we wouldn’t want any of his items to go missing, right? We can take him with us.
They briefly discuss about shoving all his special items into his “secure pocket” for safekeeping.
ROLAN: It’ll go in easy enough.
ARAN: Yeah, but coming out… now that’s the problem.
Qhortho grunts with amusement.
The stable hand informs the group of the rates, which are double the usual rate for the doubly unusual patrons.
After they all pay their shares, Qhortho tips the man with 10 silver.
QHOR: I want you to take very good care of these magnificent creatures.
HAND: Yes sir, yes sir.
ROLAN: And we want a fair cut of whatever you charge to view these great beasts.
HAND: Huh…. Hadn’t thought of that, but what a great idea! I fancy myself an entrepreneur by talent, so I would be glad to. Once any of my own marketing costs and added maintenance of the grounds are recouped, of course.
ROLAN: Nah… we want it off the gross.
HAND: Hmmm… Yes, I think we can work something out. How about we say you get 10% off the gross.
ROLAN: I think you can do…
QHOR: DEAL!
Qhortho enthusiastically shakes the man’s hand and turns on his heel to face his friends. He is grinning ear to ear with an air of “look at the deal I just got for us!”
Rolan’s mouth remains open mid-sentence. He decides this is not worth the time and just shakes his head slowly as he closes his mouth.
ARAN: Hey, before we go, can you tell us a little about this place? What sorts of people do you get from the north?
HAND: Ah, from the north? Most travelers are merchants and couriers. The merchants within the walls have all sorts of wares, so Moat Cailin is a convenient location if you need goods from abroad. We’ve got armor, weapons, potions, items imbued with the higher mysteries…
QHOR: Magic?
HAND: Yeah.
QHOR: You can just say magic. We got it.
HAND: Yes, well… we also have a fortuneteller…
ARAN: Thank you for the information. We can scout around. I’m more interested in the visitors than the merchants. Any new news you’ve heard of?
HAND: Nothing too out of the ordinary. More people have been talking about winter being on its way. I think they’ve had some snow already at Winterfell. If that’s true, it may be pretty bad given how long our summer has lasted.
ROLAN: How do we talk to the person who runs this place?
HAND: Actually, no lord resides in Moat Cailin. Not for at least a century, in fact. We are all separate merchants with our own protection and we all keep our own peace. It’s a remarkable experiment, really.
QHOR: Anything we might be able to help with?
HAND: You may want to check around, but I think we’re pretty well satisfied at the moment.
ARAN: Ok, let’s go look around.
Sending Word
As the stable hand mentioned, there are no official guards in the area. It seems a bit odd because there must be some sort of protection here.
The keep is the largest building footprint, but all of the activity is from the merchants around the area. They find all the typical hawkers: potions, weapons, armor, a large outdoor eating area with several food wagons, general trinkets and goods, an outdoor inn called the “Innside Out”, and a fortuneteller with a symbol of a pin stuck into an eyeball.
Oddly, there is also a full storefront across the street from the fortuneteller’s tent. It’s the only real storefront in all of Moat Cailin and is a magic shop by the name of the “Illustrious Illustrating Illusionist”.
Turns out, this place also has a raven post. It’s likely to be expensive, but if one needed to send a raven and had no access, this would be the place to go.
Qarzdaq decides to rest for a while at the Innside Out.
QHOR: I want to send a raven.
ARAN: To who?
QHOR: You know I got my girl down there in Highgarden.
Qhortho strides up to the man at the raven post. He is sitting at a table with several ravens in individual cages, each marked with the sigil of the location they are homed to.
QHOR: Are you responsible for posting messages by raven?
POSTMAN: Yes, yes I am. We charge a standard rate per mile of 2cp. This is the cost for us to retrieve the ravens. We then have to add the cost that each location charges for access. And then there is an added convenience and feeding fee for, you know, maintenance of these fine creatures.
QHOR: Yeah, whatever. What is the cost to send a raven to Highgarden?
POSTMAN: Highgarden will be 27gp.
QHOR: Ok fine.
POSTMAN: Plus 5gp for the access fee.
QHOR: Sure.
POSTMAN: And another 3gp as a convenience fee.
QHOR: Ok. Enough. That’s fine. I don’t care about what goes into the price. Now, take this down.
The postman snatches his quill from an inkpot and prepares a tiny piece of parchment.
Qhortho straightens his back as if to address his very own squire.
QHOR: Dear King. Sup. The Unlikely Assembly, reporting in. We have allied with friends moving further north to continue our mission. Uh. Anyone want to help me here?
The postman clears his throat.
POSTMAN: I presume you don’t want that last bit in there.
QHOR: No. Of course not… Ok, I think I have it. To continue our mission for balance and justice to the realm. Send a reply to Winterfell where we will be headed soon. And please send a messenger to Cora to inform her we are well and… uh… sup. Oh and Byff won’t be bothering her ever again.
They head to the potion booth next.
Alchemy
A thin man working the wagon is standing behind a wide table covered with various reagents and vial racks.
Before reaching this merchant, the party was joking about what sorts of crappy selection they’d find, but upon arriving, they were happily wrong. The selection from this merchant rivals some of the larger cities they’d visited.
ROLAN: Hi. Do you have any Purple Worm Poison?
MERCH: Interesting first question. I do, in fact, have a single vial. But I’d prefer not to sell it unless I know who it is I am selling to.
ROLAN: It’s good that you have that level of discretion. Having too much of that stuff out there in the wild could be bad for everyone.
The merchant nods in agreement.
Rolan looks at him skeptically for a moment but does not sense any dishonesty.
ROLAN: How often do you get Purple Worm poison?
MERCH: Not very often at all. Anyone who does go hunting for a Purple Worm has typically spent considerable resources just to find and kill it. And once it’s killed, harvesting it is no simple task. All in all, the risk is great and that prevents many from trying. It also keeps the price rather high due to its rarity.
ROLAN: I’m surprised you have a supplier then.
MERCH: Well, I don’t really. This was a traveler that had a single potion and he traded it for some other merchandise. You see, I’m a bit of a collector, so when I come across a vial of potion or poison that I do not own, I like to keep at least one of them in my personal stock. Not necessarily to use, mind you.
ROLAN: We’d like to get some potions identified. What would you charge for that?
MERCH: My standard rate is 50gp.
Rolan agrees and finds the following:
- The vial with a droplet of red in a clear liquid that continuously contracts to a tiny bead and then expands to color the clear liquid around it.
- Potion of Diminution – gain the Reduce effect of the Enlarge/Reduce spell for 1d4 hours without the need for concentration.
- A container that seems to hold fog that moves and pours like water.
- Potion of Gaseous Form – gain the effect of the Gaseous Form spell for 1 hour (no Concentration required) or until you end the effect as a Bonus Action.
- A vial of syrupy liquid that looks like liquefied iron.
- Potion of Invulnerability – gain Resistance to all damage for 1 minute.
QHOR: Do you have anything that can lift a curse?
MERCH: Hmmm. I think you’d be better off visiting the magic shop around the bend. They can probably perform that service for you.
QHOR: Well, hey, if we can’t lift the curse, you can just give me the Potion of Diminution and you’ll just have an angry little Qhortho running around.
This thought amuses everyone, including the merchant.
ARAN: Do you have anything rare for sale? Something along the lines of what we brought to you for identification?
MERCH: One thing comes to mind: a Potion of Invisibility.
He pulls what looks to be an empty vial from one of the stands.
MERCH: I sear to you this is not an empty vial, though I know it looks that way. When you drink this, you will become invisible for an hour. Anything you wear or carry will be Invisible with you. The effect ends early if you were to Attack or Cast a Spell. This will set you back about 10,000 gold though, if I even want to sell it. It is my only one.
ARAN: I mean, it’s tempting, but not 10,000 gold tempting. Do you have anything for curing diseases or to negate poisons? Also, what about your Potions of Healing?
MERCH: Ah yes. I carry loads of Keog’s Ointment for basic healing and removing the effects of poisons and diseases and I also have the entire array of red healing potions. Well, not the entire array… I don’t have any of the black-red ones. Those things are super rare. I’ve also got Potions of Regeneration, Potions of Heroism…
ARAN: Yeah, we have a few of each of those actually.
MERCH: Oh wow! Maybe you should set up shop somewhere! Not here though… Heh, heh.
QHOR: I’d like 7 of your Keog’s Ointments. Would you do 2000 gold?
The merchant agrees and they complete the sale.
They leave for the Illustrious Illustrating Illusionist magic shop.
Chair Stress
Aran is the first to open the door. It feels as if he is touching nothing but air, but the door acts normally. Clearly this is an illusion. This is made more apparent when they are “inside” the shop and can still clearly make out everything outside the shop. On the “walls” are drawings of events and people, all of which are moving in their frames.
A man stands behind a table and introduces himself just as the party enters, as if they were expected. If the storefront’s illusion were not made obvious upon opening the door, this might be unsettling. It is clear that he only saw them coming as they approached the door.
ILLUS: Good day friends! My name is Illus, the Illustrious Illustrating Illusionist. I offer many services that require careful application of the higher mysteries, but I specialize in the drawings you see all around the shop. If you would like such a drawing on display, or would like to have one commissioned, I am happy to give you a price!
QHOR: No. I am Ser Qhortho of the Grass Sea. You can call me Ser. I am stricken with a curse that I need removed. Are you capable of such a service?
ILLUS: I certainly am! That would be 150 gold, as long as it’s not something very exotic. Some curses require multiple angles of attack and thus require more reagents and applications of skill.
QHOR: I am interested.
ILLUS: Then please, take a seat right here.
He points Qhortho to a seat near the table. Qhortho goes to sit in the chair and falls through it and right onto the floor.
Illus laughs hysterically.
Qhortho does not look amused. His face is of cold steel.
ILLUS: I’m sorry Ser. No offense intended. I do this with all my customers. It’s just a gag. Here, take this chair. Please, my apologies.
He takes another chair from near the table and smacks it a few times to prove it is not an illusion.
Qhortho stands up, puffs out his chest, and towers over the magic man.
QHOR: I advise you not to make any other jokes of that like.
Illus snaps his finger and instantly enlarges, now towering over Qhortho. He does not appear aggressive in the slightest.
ILLUS: We don’t need to do this.
QHOR: I mean no threat…
Illus snaps his finger again and reduces to normal size.
ROLAN: I bet the ladies must love that trick.
ILLUS: Yes, it’s quite handy!
Illus reaches up and places a hand on Qhortho’s shoulder. He chants briefly and looks up to Qhortho.
ILLUS: That’ll be 150 gold.
QHOR: I ought to just give you 100 after that stunt.
ROLAN: Just give the man the 150 and let’s continue.
ARAN: Yeah, I agree.
Qhortho pulls 150 out of his pouch, gives him 100 of it and waits for a reaction. He looks at the 100 in his hand then back to Qhortho.
ILLUS: Is there a problem?
Even now, with the potential for being stiffed by a third of the service fee, the man is not angered or aggressive in any way. It’s a little eerie.
Qhortho hands over 49 gold and keeps the last one between his fingers. The man takes the 49 gold. The edge of the left side of his mouth tightens and pulls back.
ILLUS: Really?
Illus takes one of the coins and tosses it back to Qhortho and pockets the other 48.
Qhortho does not catch the coin thrown to him. Instead, he lets it bounce off his body and fall to the floor. He then drops the coin he held in his and straight down. He turns around and leaves without a word. Aran and Rolan watch Illus pick up the 2 coins and walk behind his table. Seeing as there is no move by Illus to escalate the matter, they approach.
ARAN: Do you have anything interesting? Different? Something I may not have come across in my travels?
ILLUS: I basically…
ROLAN: We’re not in the market for Tier 1 stuff. We’re looking for the next level of crazy.
ILLUS: Next level of crazy.
Though it is a statement, it comes out as a question.
ILLUS: Well, I don’t have items here, I mostly provide services. If you’d like a nice drawing, I could certainly provide that.
He drapes one of his latest across his arm. Seeing no interest, he drops it on the table and strides to a pile of scrolls. He unrolls the blank parchment and turns to Rolan, quill in hand.
ILLUS: I can write up some scrolls if you have some higher abilities. I am pretty, pretty, pretty knowledgeable.
Seeing no interest, he jumps back to the table and places the items on the table.
ILLUS: Or if you need something identified, I can do that too.
ROLAN: We’re looking for top tier gear. Where should we go?
ARAN: What about enchantments. Can you add traits to our armor and weapons?
ILLUS: I can do some enchantments, sure! What are you looking for?
ARAN: Not really sure. We’ve got some nice stuff. Certainly not junk.
Aran talks about his glaive of weirwood and dragonglass glaive then about his jaded guandao. Rolan asks about special metals for armor crafting.
ILLUS: You’d need a top-level armor smith with some serious equipment for such items. Well beyond what you could get here at Cailin. We just don’t have the infrastructure, even if the skill were here.
ROLAN: What if we were to invest in such gear? Do you think that would be of interest? You could make this more of a permanent location with the right funding.
ILLUS: I… Actually, I… hmm… I can’t say, actually. Maybe I can talk it over with a few of them and see what they think.
Meanwhile, Qhortho is outside just staring at a man holding a staff outside the fortune teller’s tent. The man has sharp features and long white-blonde hair with cool blue eyes. He seems to just be taking everything in, especially the sight of Qhortho. The two men stand about 30 feet apart just staring at each other.
Qhortho starts to walk towards the fortune teller.
Dorleck Graw
Inside the magic shop Rolan is engaged in Round 2 of the Hard Sell. Aran looks around through the walls and notices Qhortho walking towards the fortune teller outside. He nudges Rolan and motions towards Qhortho with his chin.
ROLAN: Ah fuck. Ok, Illus. We’ll come back. We need to make sure our friend doesn’t break this deal before it starts.
They rush out of the magic shop and sidle up to Qhortho, who is mid-sentence.
QHOR: … of the Grass Sea, but you probably already knew that.
SEER: I didn’t know that precisely, no. It is nice to meet you Qhortho f the Grass Sea. My name is Dorleck Graw.
ARAN: Good to meet you Dorleck. I am Aran and this is Rolan. Are you from around here?
DORLECK: No. I am originally from Essos.
ARAN: Really?
DORLECK: Yes. It’s quite a long story and not worth going into. It’s been a long and, at times, very difficult road to travel. I set up my place here close to 2 years ago.
QHOR: So it seems you’re some sort of fortune teller.
DORLECK: Yes, something like that. Your group caught my eye because you seem to be seeking something. I can tell, for I am seeking something too.
QHOR: And what is it that you seek?
DORLECK: I don’t exactly know. But I do know there is more for me. I am on the watch for what that might be. I sense that if I see it, I’ll know it. May I tell you of events that have come to pass… in the future?
QHOR: I got nowhere else to be.
DORLECK: And… are you interested?
QHOR: Sure, go ahead.
DORLECK: It’s more of… well…
He lets out a hard, short sigh.
DORLECK: Some might call it destiny. I dislike the term because of how folk use it so loosely… Understanding does not come from explanation. It comes from… being.
QHOR: I would agree with you there.
ARAN: Well, it seems you are destined to do this for us, so is there a discount?
DORLECK: There might be. If all of you are interested, I must warn you. This will not be like any other so-called fortune-telling experience. This will be harrowing and will reach into your very core. This is no decision to be made lightly, though no one has been physically harmed in the past.
ROLAN: You put on a good show.
ARAN: Yeah. You’ve intrigued me.
QHOR: Me too.
DORLECK: Ok. Give me about an hour to prepare some things. Do you want to say 25 gold per person?
The request is met with gasps and scoffs.
DORLECK: I don’t mean to offend.
ROLAN: It sounded like you needed something too, so is there a barter or something at play?
DORLECK: Well, no. I was just telling Ser Qhortho here that…
ROLAN: You don’t need to call he “Ser” by the way. I’ll just put that out there.
QHOR: Excuse me??
ROLAN: Huh?
ARAN: So you need an hour?
DORLECK: Yeah. An hour will suffice to prepare.
ROLAN: We’ll be bringing one more with us. He is resting right now.
DORLECK: I see. That is no problem.
QHOR: How do we know you’re not just some charlatan?
DORLECK: You won’t need to pay me up front. If the experience is not to your liking, pay me for the small amounts of materials, and we will part ways. But… if this does have an impact… if this does resonate with you… 25 gold a piece.
ARAN: Alright. I think that will work. Let’s go to the bar!
QHOR: I want to visit the armor shop.
The party leaves Dorleck to prepare for the session.
Squirting Spear
The armorer’s table and wagon abuts the weaponsmith’s, creating a one-stop-shop for all sorts of adventuring gear. The armorer has mostly light armor in stock alongside a lot of other basic gear such as block and tackle, caltrops, rope, and other necessities. The weaponsmith has mostly basic weapons, but they seem to be very well-made.
Qhortho requests to see the most rare and unique items that either of them has for sale.
The armorer notices the hilt of Qhortho’s great sword.
ARMORER: I’m not sure that anything here will win out over that.
Qhortho produces the blade and shows it off. Immediately, the man is taken aback.
ARMORER: Valyrian Steel! Well, I did not expect that from…
Qhortho grimaces.
QHOR: From what?!
ARMORER: Oh. I mean nothing by it. I did not expect that from common travelers. Even lords do not typically travel with their Valyrian.
QHOR: Would you like to hold it?
The man’s eyes brighten.
ARMORER: I’d never turn down holding another man’s sword.
Qhortho hesitates in handing it over but ultimately lays it in the man’s open hands.
ARMORER: That is some fine work. I could clean it up for you if you’d like.
ROLAN: Oh yeah. Polish the shit out of it.
Qhortho shoots a harsh glance at Rolan.
QHOR: Yes, and sharpen it if it needs it.
The armorer puts a bit of oil on a cloth and wipes off some of the dried blood, testing the sharpness at various points along the blade.
ARMORER: This thing’s as sharp as ever. Not much needed here! No charge.
Seeing as there is nothing of great value here, Aran decides to take charge.
ARAN: Yeah, I thought this would mostly be a bust. Let’s go get some beer!
ROLAN: Hold up. I want to search out some arrows. Do you have any Truer Shot arrows?
The armorer yells out to the weaponsmith.
ARMORER: Oy!
WEAPONS: Yo!
ARMORER: Customer! Truer Shot Arrows.
WEAPONS: Ah. I’m sorry, but I’ve got no imbued arrows, but the arrows I do keep are of supreme quality. Maybe Illus could do a bit of enchanting for you?
ROLAN: I have plenty of regular arrows. I’ll check in with Illus.
Qhortho pulls out the Purple Worm stinger.
QHOR: Would you be able to make a spear from this?
The weaponsmith looks over the stinger carefully.
WEAPONS: Yeah, I think I could do that.
QHOR: It took great risk to come about this trophy and I want to ensure it is not ruined. How long have you been at your trade? Would you call yourself a master smith?
WEAPONS: Understood completely. I would not call myself a master, but I have been at my trade for over 20 years and I am confident I could do this without much concern.
QHOR: Could you show me your finest piece?
His eyes light up as if he’d hoped to hear this question for years. He immediately produces a small dagger. The blade is finely crafted and tapers to a slender point. The blade is of black steel. The handle is wrapped in leather, but by looking at the pommel, it can be seen that the handle’s steel is blued. This dagger even has a metal handguard that looks like woven vines.
Qhortho asks to hold it. After inspecting the workmanship, Qhortho is sold.
QHOR: This is very fine work my friend. I would like to commission you to build my spear. In fact, since you are so talented, I would like to pose a challenge.
The man’s interest is piqued.
Qhortho produces one of Jonah Bick’s swords and describes its workings. The man looks it over and handles the weapon.
WEAPONS: So, you’d like a bladder inside the stinger that could force some contents out of its tip when it makes contact?
QHOR: Exactly. How much time will you need? And what will be the cost?
WEAPONS: How about a week? And, say… 2000 gold?
Qhortho agrees to pay half now and half when he returns in a week. Given that they do not know what will happen over the next week, he adds other stipulations.
QHOR: But look, if I’m not back in a week, I’d like you to hold it for 2 months before you think about selling it.
The man agrees, but adds that even after the 2 months, he will not try to sell it, but will only do so if the right offer comes along.
Qhortho agrees.
ARAN: Can we get a beer now or what, guys? Geez! Let’s get to the pub! We’ve been traveling for months through the fucking swamp. I want a beer!
They follow the worn path through the grounds to the outdoor biergarten. Large-breasted and tight-assed barmaids serve a few patrons, getting pinched and grabbed in the process. They seem to be compensated well enough by the customers and clearly don’t take the groping as anything more than part of the service offered.
QHOR: Our first breastaurant!
Finally… A Drink
Six wagons surround the outdoor seating area, offering a variety of foods from across Westeros. It’s not more than simple bar food, but it is a far cry from the rations and berries they eat on the road.
They sit down and look over their options, relaxing their armor straps just a bit. The cool breeze outside is pleasant and it feels good to finally get some interaction with proper humans that don’t want to kill them.
The alcohol selection is fairly varied as well. They offer several beverages they’d had in the past.
- Beer
- Snowfall Stout (North)
- Potter’s Porter (North)
- Kraken Bock (Iron Isles)
- Gardener’s Barley (The Reach)
- Blackwater Bitter (The Reach)
- Highgarden Wheat (The Reach)
- Buddy’s Bright (The Reach)
- Spirits
- Phoenix Hard Cider (The Reach)
- Fireplum Schnapps (The Reach)
- Rum of the Ancients, aka Rum of Heroes (The North)
QHOR: Mmmm Rum of the Ancients.
ARAN: I’ll pick up a round.
Aran comes back to the table with a round of shot glasses.
They each sip on the Rum gently, first smelling the complex oakiness and earthiness with a flare of cherries and chocolate. The silky texture envelops the mouth without feeling syrupy while the mix of spiciness and sweetness awakens the entire palate. After every sip, the breathiness of hard liquor fades quickly into a very pleasant, almost fruity aftertaste .
They finish their drinks and are ready for something else.
ARAN: Ok, I am getting a beer.
He gets a ___ and looks over the other patrons. He approaches a table with 2 men who appear to be merchants or couriers.
ARAN: Hi guys, how’s it going? Mind if I join you?
MAN1: Not at all, it is going well. We are leaving shortly, but please take a seat, have a pint.
Aran sits down with his beer and raises it to the table. They return the gesture.
ARAN: Where are you coming from, where are you headed?
MAN1: We hail from Crakehall and are headed back that way.
ARAN: Crakehall. That’s pretty far south.
MAN1: Yeah, it’s along the coast near the Shield Islands. It’s about halfway between Highgarden and Lannisport. You ever been out that way?
ARAN: Yeah, actually I am from Crakehall also.
MAN1: Huh! Well it’s a small world!
He raises his stein in comradery. Aran returns the gesture.
ARAN: Yeah, it’s crazy, isn’t it?
MAN1: It’s actually been great because over the past several months, we’ve been able to bring supplies into the area, so it’s been very lucrative. I’m not sure when the last time you were back home, but there was a bandit presence for a while that prevented us from doing anything.
ARAN: I actually did know about that. I heard it was taken care of.
MAN1: It would have been great if it had happened earlier, but on the other hand, the delay built up quite the demand.
ARAN: Why come all the way up here? That’s quite the trip. This is actually the farthest I’ve ever been away from home.
MAN1: We used to do this route quite a bit. The unique wares we could source from Moat Cailin allow us to charge a bit more.
ARAN: We’re headed farther north, but I’ve never been. Anything you can tell me about things up there?
MAN1: It is fairly spread out. I don’t get up there often, but they are definitely bound in ritual and religion. The Old Gods as they’re known. There’s some strange shit up there. It’s not really for me. I like cities, towns, civilization.
ARAN: Yeah I hear ya.
MAN1: What about you? Why are you all the way up here?
ARAN: I’ve just become a traveler and like to explore. It’s been very different from my previous life in Crakehall. I used to be a blacksmith there.
MAN1: Oh! You were a blacksmith? With the Guard or on your own?
ARAN: With the Guard actually.
MAN1: Wait. No way. You’re Aran?
The second man who has just been listening quietly perks up. Aran shifts in his seat.
ARAN: Yeah. You’ve heard of me?
MAN1: Of course! Some of the finest gear in Crakehall for sure! I’d seen you around town before, but it’s been quite a while.
ARAN: Yeah it has. So it sounds like everything is good down there now.
MAN1: Very much so. If you were to come back, you’d surely be welcomed.
ARAN: I’ll definitely be headed back at some point, but not for some time.
MAN1: And come look me up when you get back down there. The name’s Ari.
ARAN: Will do! Thanks for spending the time. We have an appointment in just a bit and I want to see if anyone else here knows of rumors or has any information about the locals up north.
ARI: Sounds good. Safe travels friend.
ARAN: You as well.
Aran stands up with a half empty stein and scans the area and sees a table with a stocky man with a great bushy beard and a slender tall man with a short, yet thick beard. If there were any doubts as to whether they fared from the north, their patchy furs put that to rest.
ARAN: Hey, can we join you guys? I’ll buy you a round of beers.
MAN1: Hmmm… What’s this about?
ARAN: Nothing in particular.
MAN1: Ain’t no law against you sittin’ at the table. And we won’t make no bother about havin ya.
Aran orders up 5 Snowfall Stouts and they all sit down together. Both men are skeptical, but not aggressively so.
ARAN: We’re headed north and you look to be from there. Is there anything we should know before we head up that way?
MAN1: When’s the last time you were there?
ARAN: Never.
MAN1: Ah. Yeah. Ok. Keep to the roads. Don’t go wanderin off. You’ll be fine. Probably best to check in with Winterfell. They’ll treat ya good. Keep a watch for the clans fighting. They come down the mountains and cause ruckus. Havoc. What have ya.
ARAN: Got it. So where are you from? Where are you headed?
MAN1: Torrhen’s Square. About 100 leagues northwest of here. About 70 leagues southwest of Winterfell. Good place. ‘Cept when the clans decide to be rowdy.
ARAN: Yeah, probably good that Winterfell is nearby for reinforcements if needed.
MAN1: Yes, it’s not a bad thing. I don’t care for being this far south. You lose all the forests. The forests are life. You take away the forests, you take away life. Where do you come from?
ARAN: Crakehall. It’s down in the south.
MAN1: Eck.
ARAN: This is as far north as I’ve been. We’re headed to Winterfell next.
MAN1: Given that yer a southerner, you’ll want to go straight to Winterfell. Stay on the road.
ARAN: Have you ever been to the Wall?
The man downs his pint and slams it on the table.
MAN1: Ahhhh. Never been. No. I’ve heard some of the tales from old times, with the long winters and such. But that is all I know about it other than it is a highly respected post. They defend against the wildling raids from beyond the wall.
ARAN: Well, good talking to you. Have safe travels.
MAN1: Yah. Safe travels.
They leave Ye Olde Foode Courte for the fortuneteller.
The Illus Arrows
On their way, Rolan decides to stop in at Illus’s shop to get his arrows enchanted.
The fortuneteller is standing outside his tent, relaxed with his hands behind his back. He raises his head when they notice him as if to ask, “are you ready?”
Rolan points to the magic shop and the fortuneteller just nods, clearly in no rush. Before entering the shop, Qhortho tells Ara and Rolan that he is going to retrieve Qarzdaq from the Innside Out and meet him at the fortuneteller’s tent.
Rolan and Aran walk into Illus’s shop.
ILLUS: So you’ve returned!
ROLAN: Is there an enchantment you can do to allow my arrows to hold onto an application of poison for a longer time?
ILLUS: Yeah, I can do that. That’ll be 500 gold per arrow. I’ll also need some time to complete my work.
Rolan produces 5 Truer Shot arrows. Illus recognizes they have a slight shimmer.
ILLUS: What enchantments have already been applied to these?
ROLAN: They increase the chance of hitting my target by about 10% per so and have a slightly harder impact.
ILLUS: I see. Very nice! I’ll be sure not to interrupt the magic currently applied.
They leave the shop and meet with the fortuneteller.
The Fortune Begins
As they are explaining that the other 2 members of their party will be here soon, Qhortho and Qarzdaq walk up. Qarzdaq rubs his eyes and yawns.
QARZ: Ok, I think I’m ready for this.
DORLECK: Are you sure you’re ready?
Dorleck is clearly concerned about their state.
ARAN: Yeah, let’s do this.
DORLECK: Ok. Then come in.
As he turns to enter the large tent, Rolan speaks up.
ROLAN: Ok, we don’t need the drama, let’s just… come on.
Dorleck looks at him briefly shakes his head. Aran laughs. Qhortho grunts. Qarzdaq yawns.
DORLECK: We’ll see how you feel once we get started.
He leads them into his dark tent with a large hexagonal table. Several smaller tables are placed around the room with various reagents and herbalist ingredients. He sweeps his hand to offer them seats at a table where a small coin sits.
Qhortho is suspicious of the chair he’s been offered and reluctantly takes a seat.
DORLECK: Before we begin, I want to reiterate that this will not be a simple ‘grave force is coming to destroy mankind’ type of prophecy. I think you know that is true as well as I. This will require effort on your parts as well.
He leans over the table and picks up the coin. He spins the coin then takes a step back. As the coin continues to spin, precessing around the table, he slowly makes his way over to his chair and takes a seat.
As the coin spins, the Assembly’s eyes are drawn to it. It’s as if they could just watch that thing forever. They begin to feel very relaxed. Though they don’t feel like moving, their muscles feel so limp that they probably couldn’t get up anyway.
DORLECK: I said no one has been harmed, but I suppose that is not entirely true. There was one woman who lost her husband in the swamp. She wanted to know whether he was lost forever.
He slams his hand down on top of the coin and raises it above the coin about a foot. A few drops of blood fall from his hand onto the face of the coin.
DORLECK: It was only after the experience that I learned she waasz wiitthh-chhiiiiiilllllddddddd…
The Assembly feels as if time itself is being slowed. Their vision warps. They feel as if they are being sucked towards the floor. They feel the blood leaving their brains. Their vision fades and they all black out.
Tin Men and Wooden Soldiers
As they come to their senses and look around, just moments later, they find themselves in a dimly lit musty room. That is, all except Qarzdaq, who is lying in the corner, unconscious.
The floor is a deep rich mahogany and the walls are covered by piles of broken toys, shards of wood and metal, giant crayons, torn fabric and discarded stuffing are piled as high as can be seen. It is too dark to make out any sort of ceiling, but there are rays of light filtering in through cracks.
Qhortho shakes Qarzdaq’s shoulder. He is unable to wake him, but he is clearly breathing.
Looking around, there is a large mural on the wall in front of them and a large 2-tiered cupboard on the right wall. The top tier has man-sized tin soldiers; the bottom tier has full-size wooden horses.
The mural is made up of sliding tiles in a 3 by 3 grid. 8 of the tiles are in the wall and 1 lies on the floor.
ROLAN: This is definitely a door. We need to slide these tiles around so they are arranged properly, then that last piece will probably fit in place and let us through.
ARAN: Definitely agree with that. Let’s get started.
They are startled by the sound of grinding of metal on metal and wood on wood. The two front horses step out of their storage and the two soldiers above jump out of the cupboard and onto a horse each, they are about to charge.
QHOR: We have to keep them from Qarzdaq!
Aran immediately explodes the wooden horse closest to him into shards of wooden debris before it even has a chance to consider trampling him. The toy soldier riding it lands safely and attacks Aran with his short sword. Aran leans to one side as the sword comes down at him, avoiding the attack altogether.
ARAN: It looks like they are focused on us, let’s just keep it that way!
A second horse builds circles around the room to get enough of a running start to trample Qhortho, who is knocked to the ground. The horse stomps on him a second time for good measure. The toy soldier atop the horse attempts to strike Rolan but is unable to make contact.
Aran disregards the soldier in front of him and attacks the rider instead. He lands 2 solid attacks, shredding its tin skin.
Qhortho goes into a rage and stands up, breathing heavy with anticipation. He uses all his strength to cleave the head off the wooden horse. The vengeance feels good. Now for the soldier. As the soldier is falling to the ground off his horse, Qhortho applies the entirety of his momentum with a second strike, tearing through the tin soldier before his feet touch the floor.
QHOR: Yeah.
Two more horses and two more soldiers step forward within their cupboards.
ROLAN: Hey, we should open up a couple of portals on the floor in front of these things and just have them all go straight to the cave.
QHOR: They might even be protection from anyone who dare enter while we’re gone.
ROLAN: We’d just need to remember they’re in there.
Rolan turns to the puzzle and slides a few pieces around.
Suddenly the sound of a bugle fills the air. The horses step forward and the soldiers jump onto their mounts.
Aran severs a leg from the closest horse, but does not take it down. Aran proves too much for the horse and its rider, with neither able to land a blow. The second horse and ride attempt to attack Qhortho, but they miss as well.
Aran decides these creatures are no threat and turns his back to them in favor of trying the puzzle door.
Qhortho decides the creatures are way more fun than the puzzle and attempts to strike the closest soldier. The horse rears back as Qhortho strikes, sacrificing its own health for its rider. The second attack lands on the solder, who is knocked cleanly off the horse, slamming into the wall, and falling lifeless to the ground.
Rolan slides a few more pieces around, feeling that although he’s got a ways to go, he’s confident he’s brought them a few steps closer to opening this thing.
Seeing as these creatures are going to be piling up here soon, he runs through their line for the corner where Qarzdaq sleeps to ready for the next round of enemies.
The horses and single soldier attack Aran and Qhortho. Aran ripostes and destroys the horse that attacked him. The rider jumps off and lands as gracefully as tin can.
Aran turns to the puzzle and slides a few pieces around.
Qhortho chops the horse in front of him, once from each side, halving it and draining its life. He steps forward, readying himself for the next round of attackers.
Rolan fires a Volley of arrows into the cupboard, destroying most of the creatures.
A loud bugle resounds in the small room and the remaining creatures step out of the cupboard and attack.
Although these things are no match for the party, having too many of them could become a problem.
Qhortho tries to pull the cupboard from the wall, but it’s no use. If this were any other cupboard, it would definitely have fallen. There is clearly magic at play.
Rolan jogs over to the puzzle to help Aran. After working on the puzzle for longer than they care to, the next round of reinforcements attack. Rolan leaves Aran to the puzzle so that he can send another Volley into the cupboard.
QHOR: Where the hell are these things coming from!
ROLAN: How much more you got on that puzzle?
Aran is constantly sliding pieces around and becoming visibly agitated.
ARAN: Man, fuck this thing!
Aran crashes his glaive into the puzzle repeatedly. After a few strikes, parts of it are already breaking off. With one final strong bash, an overwhelming wave of Force overtakes everyone in the room, causing significant damage to the party. The remaining horses and soldiers that were already activated continue to attack. The group makes short work of those creatures and see that the pieces of the puzzle have been reduced to a pile of rubble, revealing the way forward.
ROLAN: Well damn, that’s one way to do it.
ARAN: Hey it worked, didn’t it?
QHOR: I could’ve done that with one strike.
Qhortho lifts Qarzdaq over his shoulder and they proceed towards a wide but slightly oppressive corridor. It is strewn with piles of detritus, broken and crushed Tin Soldiers and Wooden Horses, and piles of string. There is no clear path forward.
Aw, Beans
They eventually find a gap they can slither though. Aran leads the way.
ARAN: Watch out for the shards of wood and metal in there. Just take it slow. I don’t want to blow all our Keog’s ointment on this pile of trash. Looks like we have more to squirm through up here too.
After Rolan gets through, Qhortho stuff Qarzdaq into the hole while Rolan and Aran pull him through.
ROLAN: You hear that?
ARAN: Yeah.
QHOR: What?
ARAN: Sounds like a faint rattling noise.
ROLAN: Yeah, like dried beans in a beaker.
They find a narrow passage along the side.
ROLAN: At least we can stay standing this time.
They slide through unscathed. As they reach the end of the narrow passage, the junk around them is softer. Remnants of fluffy toys are scattered amidst large colored blocks with letters and numbers on each side, lacy fabric pierced by shards of metal adorns the passageway.
The rattling is louder than before.
QHOR: Ah, I hear that rattling now. What the fuck is that?
The passage curves around to the right and they proceed cautiously around the bend. The room ahead has more of these fluffy toys amidst giant bottles, rattles, pacifiers, and various debris from broken toys and cribs.
The rattling is getting louder.
Suddenly, a giant animated rattle enters the room. The party quickly jumps back unnoticed. The rattle seems to be patrolling the room; a golem protecting its space.
ROLAN: This is some creepy shit.
Qhortho grits his teeth and drops Qarzdaq to the ground.
QHOR: I don’t like this one bit.
He sweeps his arm through Rolan, pushing him aside. He takes off at full steam and charges the huge rattle. As he gets within 10 feet, the rattle emits a thunderous boom. Qhortho proceeds unfazed, bashing it hard twice. With each strike, the rattle shakes violently and shards of its hard material are cast off.
It quickly lunges at him with retribution, but Qhortho dexterously bobs out of the way.
Meanwhile, Rolan is shaken slightly by the thunderous boom, but not enough to disrupt his attack. He sends a couple arrows into the rattle’s carapace, shattering more of it onto the floor.
Aran, also unfazed, chases the arrows, slashing the rattle 3 more times, destroying it and spilling its beans all of the floor. They scatter as they hit the mahogany, coming to rest in all the stuffing and shards that make up this creepy-ass room.
ARAN: What the fuck was that? It seemed like it was patrolling the room.
QHOR: DOOOOORRRRLLLECK!!!
Qhortho picks up Qarzdaq and they proceed into the passage behind the rattle’s remains.
Hall of Shapes
The corridor ahead is much darker than the previous areas; the walls are of a lighter wood and the only light in this room comes through several oddly shaped holes in the ceiling. Even with the little light in the room, it’s easy to see the entire floor is covered in a layer of broken toys, including crushed Tin Soldiers and Wooden Horses. Among the crushed toys are two large blocks, similar in shape to two of the holes in the ceiling.
Before stepping forward, they discuss what might be going on. They deduce that blocks must have fallen through the holes above and there is a non-zero chance that blocks might fall through the other holes as well.
ARAN: I want to test this theory out. I’m going to run ahead and see what happens.
QHOR: I have a Wand of Detect Magic, we could try that out.
ROLAN: I’m not so sure that would be that useful here.
QHOR: Yeah. We’re probably surrounded by magic anyway… This place ain’t right.
Aran dashes forward to the first block, passing directly underneath the first hole. A large 500-lb cylindrical block falls from above with such force that his leg is crushed underneath. Qhortho and Rolan run up and help lift the block off Aran. He patches up his leg and is able to continue forward.
ARAN: Ok, let’s take it slow on the rest of these.
ROLAN: Agreed.
They squeeze around the next block, which they can now see is in the shape of a star, fitting the profile of the hole above. The next hole is a square.
ARAN: I’ll go ahead, but give me some room to jump back if needed.
Qhortho and Aran rest against the star block, arms crossed.
Aran holds flat against the wall and inches forward. Suddenly a large block slams into the ground within the blink of an eye. It misses hitting him, but it is enough to get his heart racing.
ARAN: I’m ok. It’s safe to come forward.
Aran continues forward, approaching the lit ground from the triangular hole above. He flattens himself against the wall, takes a deep breath, and inches forward. As before, a large block slams the ground in front of him before he can see it coming.
ARAN: Still good, guys. How the hell are these things falling so fast? It’s like they just appear.
QHOR: Yeah, we’ve been watching up above and they definitely come down faster than anything I’ve ever seen.
They squeeze past the last remaining block, this one in the shape of an X. As they round the corner past the mountain of toy remains, the room opens to a comparatively clear plateau.
The War Hammer
The ground here is unlike the rest of the rooms. The only clutter seems to be piles of string, and an assortment of wooden limbs and heads. As well as the now usual walls made of broken toys, there are several unstable-looking mountains of a similar composition, groaning and creaking as they sway.
The far end of the room has a dozen of odd-looking puppets and marionettes posed and arranged in some sort of scene as if acting out a play. Above them is a tattered banner with words that are difficult to make out. A gap in the wall is to its left.
Aran and Rolan look at each other.
QHOR: What?
ROLAN: Giggling… What the fuck is this shit.
Aran walks over to the tattered banner.
ARAN: Hey check this out.
Qhortho places Qarzdaq on the ground and they join Aran.
ARAN: Does that say Puppet Theater?
ROLAN: This shit is creepy af.
Aran looks down at the base of the small “theater” and notices a scrap of silk. He pulls on it and find that it is a 50-foot length of silk rope.
ROLAN: Hmm… that may prove useful at some point.
Rolan notices another on the other side of the theater and retrieves it. Qhortho looks around hoping to find a third, but as he peeks behind the theater, one of the very large odd-looking marionettes comes to life. Its crossbar levitates above, raising the marionette by its strings, its head hanging downward. This marionette is no children’s toy; it’s easily as large as the giant rattle they just fought. Suddenly, its head jerks up to look directly at them.
The party backs up towards the center of the room and spreads out enough to not hit each other with their attacks. As it moves towards them, its eyes glow a dim red. It wants blood.
Aran lunges forward, striking it a few times. Qhortho goes into a rage and attacks with reckless abandon. Rolan fires off a couple of well-placed arrows.
The marionette’s head string comes towards Qhortho, narrowly missing him, but its hand strings manage to grapple Qhortho, squeezing him in their grasp.
Qhortho responds by slashing the marionette’s head, releasing some beads from beneath its cloth-like skin.
Behind them, a pile of rubble topples over, blocking the way from which they came. A pair of bunny ears are visible from where the mountain of detritus once stood. The bunny’s head becomes visible as it climbs over the remaining scraps. As it climbs up, its upper body becomes visible and a disembodied voice surrounds them.
VOICE: You’ve heard of Peter Cottontail.
An inflatable wheelbarrow becomes visible as the bunny crests the rubble. He turns slightly to reveal some sort of disfigurement.
VOICE: Now let me introduce you to Henry Hammerdick!
The voice cackles then fades away.
ROLAN: What the shit is this now?
Aran focuses on the marionette and destroys it with one more slash. The strings wrapped around Qhortho fall to his feet. He rushes at Henry Hammerdick. He manages to get one good slash into the wheelbarrow, deflating a portion of it.
Mr. Hammerdick responds with a few eggs thrown at Aran. Aran dodges them all. Henry hops towards Aran and attempts to swing his hammer dick war hammer at Aran. It clashes into Aran, but does him no damage. Aran responds quickly, deflating another section of the wheelbarrow.
Qhortho recklessly attacks the bunny, destroying its wheelbarrow, one of its legs, and one of its ears. Aran slashes it across its belly, and chops off its hammer dick.
As Henry Hammerdick deflates to completion, it emits a high-pitch squeal. Though it is quite uncomfortable, no one suffers any ill effects. However, it is annoying enough that it stirs Qarzdaq from his sleep.
He awakes to find his allies bruised and beaten in an absurd situation. He realizes that he doesn’t feel quite 100%. The team decides it’s time for a short rest before going into the next room.
Still Day 633, the party sits to catch their breath and figure out what they are dealing with. They are now at 115kXP and are only 5kXP from Level 13.