Nothing But Jack and Shit…
The group regroups as quickly as possible. In looking around, there is only way out seeing as the way they entered is now blocked by a pile of toys.
They briefly discuss how weird this experience has been and how it feels time doesn’t exist. Had they been down here for minutes? Hours? Days?
In the distance, a toy falls and smashes the floor. They put the pieces together that the piles of toys that make up the walls of this place cannot possibly be stable. The one and only unblocked exit from this room is flanked on either side with mountains of toys. The way to the next room isn’t too far, but they realize they’d do bets to get there sooner than later.
Aran is up front when his foot snags on a thin piece of wire. It pulls at a toy near the bottom of the left wall. As it begins to teeter, another toy on the right falls to the ground.
ARAN: Guys?
Suddenly, the room they are in begins to collapse from the center of the ceiling.
QHOR: GO!!
Aran dashes forward, managing to miss every other trip wire. The rest of the team follows quickly, but carefully, and manage to make it through the corridor. As the toys fall to the ground behind them, sending dusty balls of cotton and shards of metal on the floor.
Aside from the spillage of toy parts from the hallway, there are no broken toys in this room. Instead, the detritus and toys have given way to a collection of crates, boxes and barrels. This is the largest room of this place so far. Their minds are pervaded by maniacal cackling, and a menacing voice echoes inside their heads…
VOICE: I’m ever so impressed you made it through my toybox. I hope you’re ready for the next game!
They take a quick survey of the room and notice a large leather circle in the corner. As they get nearer, a nearby box suddenly pops open revealing a tiny jack-in-the-box. Its head bounces this way and that on a thin spring.
The laughter in their minds continues.
ARAN: What do you want??
VOICE: Light travels faster than sound — which is why you seemed bright until you spoke!
The voice is followed by a cackling laughter.
Aran grabs at his head as piercing pain pervades his mind. Aran destroys the next nearest box as well.
He rushes towards the jack-in-the-box but it disappears before he can strike it. Instead, his attack destroys the box it was in, revealing nothing out of the ordinary.
ARAN: Let’s not give this thing a place to hide.
Qarzdaq takes a few steps towards a nearby pile of boxes and is blocked by the sudden appearance of a giant angry stuffed teddy bear.
He quickly sees through the illusion as his friends get ready for this next battle. Qarzdaq pushes his arms through it.
QARZ: It’s not real guys, break the boxes!
Qarzdaq Hastens Qhortho and Aran.
VOICE: It’s a good thing you have that tattoo – too much of your face would make onions cry!
Qarzdaq’s head aches but he’s able to block out most of the voice’s impact on him.
Rolan redirects his focus to a barrel across the room and destroys it with a couple of arrows.
VOICE: Well… you’re just a grey sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake, aren’t ya…
Rolan winces in pain but blocks most of it out.
Qhortho whinnies and rushes up to a crate, destroying it with a single bash.
VOICE: If your brain was dynamite, there wouldn’t be enough to blow your hat off!
Qhortho grabs his temples.
QHOR: GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!
Suddenly the entire room begins to tilt and whirl. Aran, Qarzdaq, and Qhortho all get their bearings quickly, seeing the illusion for what it is. Rolan, on the other hand, fights to maintain his balance.
Qarzdaq uses Telekinesis to move the tiny jack-in-the-box towards Aran and Qhortho. He holds it floating above the ground and drops the Haste on Aran and Qhortho. Qarzdaq’s mind is instantly invaded by an annoying voice.
VOICE: I hear you like picking up apples — in women’s throats!
QARZ: Very funny…
The distraction is enough to break his Concentration on holding the little bastard and it falls to the ground like a thin tin can. Though this is a small distance, it manages to chip the corner of his little box.
Aran spins around at the sound of the box hitting the floor. Instead of slashing at the tiny toy, he destroys 4 other boxes around the area.
Aran feels the voice in his head again. Piercing his mind and scrambling his brain.
VOICE: Ha! You know, it’s impossible to underestimate you!
Rolan manages to keep his footing in spite of the tilting and whirling he feels. He attacks the tiny toy dealing the first significant damage to it directly. The voice targets him in return.
VOICE: Hold still. I’m trying to imagine you with a semblance of personality!
The quality of the jokes causes him enough pain, but the fact that they actually cause pain somehow makes the whole experience even more painful. It’s enough to get him to realize the tilting and whirling is an illusion and it stops as suddenly as it began.
Qhortho spins around and brings his great sword through the toy twice. He knows he dealt serious damage, but the toy still seems mostly unfazed.
The voice returns in Qhortho’s head.
VOICE: Yada yada yada, FUCKING HORSES, yada yada yada…
Qhortho scrunches his face with pain.
The jack-in-the-box vanishes and reappears in a box across the room. Its cackle fill the room.
This experience of destroying boxes, the toy popping in and out of boxes, and the voice piercing their minds continue until almost all of the boxes are destroyed.
Rolan fires a volley of arrows, destroying a few boxes. The voice retaliates once again and Rolan drops to the ground, unconscious. As he falls, the cackling gains intensity.
QARZ: Rolan’s down!
Qhortho hears this through his rage and it forces him to realize that he’s not doing so hot himself. Not all damage can be seen… not all damage can be seen…
He wipes a tear and rushes toward the bobbing head. He slashes at it and it disappears again, reappearing next to Aran. Qhortho unleashes his fury on the boxes around him, destroying all of them.
Only one box remains and that is the one where the jack-in-the-box sits now.
It locks eyes with Aran and stops moving. Its eyes begin to glow and Aran drops his guandao, fleeing for whatever cover he can find amongst the wreckage and rubble that is now scattered across the room.
VOICE: Looks like it’s time to take out the trash!
A barrel across the room from it mends itself back together as if reversing in time.
Qarzdaq runs to Rolan’s side and pumps him up with a juicy bright red enema.
QARZ: May the Lord of Light bring you life!
Rolan jolts awake and is suddenly on his feet.
ROLAN: Fuck! What smells like burning hamburger?
Qarzdaq runs off and casts Disintegrate on the jack-in-the-box. It causes pieces of its face and box to fall away to the ground. It screams in agony, reflecting that psychic damage into everyone’s minds.
Aran grabs at his head and finds the one intact barrel for cover. He arms himself with his war hammer and prepares to defend himself.
Suddenly the jack-in-the-box appears in the barrel next to Aran.
VOICE: Hello, buddy boy!
A look of terror washes over Aran’s face and he dashes away, looking for any cover possible.
Rolan downs a potion and moves to get a good vantage point for his next attack.
Qhortho, still Hasted, attacks and destroys the barrel, causing the toy to appear in the box across the room. Qhortho rushes over to his new location and swings his blade as hard as it’s ever been swung.
The toy ducks into the box, causing Qhortho’s attack to strike the outer box. It smashes into a thousand splinters on impact. Given that the jack-in-the-box has nowhere else to hide, Qhortho’s blade continues through the spring holding its head on. The toy’s body and head fly through the air, cackling the entire time. It strikes the ground and lies there motionless. The cackling continues and slowly fades away.
QHOR: Get the fuck outta here!!
The psychic blanket that’s been smothering them since entering this room finally lifts and they are all a bit more at ease. They reconvene in the center of the room and get their bearings. Looking around the room that was pristine when they entered, it is now in utter chaos and disarray.
The Old Leather Circle in the Corner
They immediately head over to investigate the 10-foot leather circle in the corner. They see it is suspended in the floor by springs around all sides. Looking up, there is a wide crack in the ceiling that seems to lead to an empty void.
QHOR: Not it.
QARZ: Not interested in investigating a leather circle in a weird fun house?
Qhortho grunts with amusement.
Aran grabs a few shards of barrel and tosses them onto the leather. They bounce off slightly hitting the wall, but nothing else interesting comes of it.
ROLAN: Fuck it, I’ll do it.
Rolan steps onto the leather and is taken with its bounciness. He jumps on it a little bit and after a couple of bounces, he skyrockets into the air and disappears into the void beyond the crack in the ceiling.
ARAN: Fuck it, might as well.
Aran jumps onto it and immediately flies through the crack in the ceiling.
Qarzdaq and Qhortho shrug at each other. They each take their turns flying through the crack.
Each of them experiences a rushing sensation as if flying extremely quickly through the air, though with none of their friends in sight.
They see flashes of the Children of the Forest. Roots coming out of the ground reaching upwards into the air. The sound of breathing overtakes all other sounds and precedes a vision of breath in the cold that crystalizes midair. The roots reach up and grab the breath, pulling it towards the ground. The surroundings go dark, except one shining pair of blue eyes that seem to get brighter as everything else becomes darker than pitch.
Land of Ice
Four undead corporeal whites get to their feet, each of them looking at each other somewhat confused.
One of them pulls its fist back to punch the closest one to it. It takes a stance to punch when it notices its own hand, seeing withering flesh separating from its bones. The white stops mid-lunge, looking at its arm in horror.
The others watch him then look at their own arms and bodies.
As the Assembly come to realize they are trapped inside some these undead, an awe-inspiring undead skeleton with dry, stretched skin rides up on a skeletal horse. The horse slowly walks up next to them with its rider staring in the distance. The White Walker does not even acknowledge their presence.
The rider is looking out across the ice towards a group of maybe 50 tents tucked just inside a small patch of trees outside a larger forested area. Men, women, and children are congregating and playing. The rider raises his hand to point to the tents. Within the next 30 seconds, a cloud of cold and fog encompasses the Undead Assembly. Strangely, they are able to see the fog itself and see through it clearly.
A small army of maybe 50 undead come from behind, running across the land to destroy the wildlings. The Assembly loses their ability to think for themselves, trapped inside these human remains.
The orders are clear.
The Undead Assembly rush the tents and corner a family of 4. The husband steps in front of his wife and 2 kids with a small saber. His hands tremble, but his resolve is strong.
The screams of other wildlings being torn apart are empowering in a way, providing greater speed and becoming more animalistic.
The first Wight slams his fist through the man’s chest. The man looks at the gaping hole, drops his saber and falls to the ground, dead before his face hits the ice. The same wight immediately jumps at the woman, grabbing her shoulders and sinking its teeth into her neck. With one quick rip, the Wight pulls out a chunk of her neck and sprays blood all over her screaming children.
A second Wight is already by the children. The Wight lunges at both simultaneously. It bites the little boy, ripping out a chunk of his neck and dropping him to the ground to bleed out. It then tears into the chest of the little girl, pulling and throwing organs out in fury. Blood splashes all over the icy area and the tent.
The third and fourth Wights notice a group of 6 strong men maybe 20 feet away dressed in bony armor and armed with spears. They seem to be guarding a tent.
The Wights runs to engage them. One of the Wights slams a guard, breaking multiple ribs. The guard coughs out some blood just as the next Wight runs up and punches in the same place, pushing directly through his abdomen. The Wight pulls out its arm and bites the next closest guard.
The guards surround the 2 Wights and stab at them with spears. Most of the attacks do little damage as they either go between bones or barely scrape the quick-dodging Wights.
The other two Wights rush up to the guards and attack from behind, bringing a few of them close to death.
One of the Wights inside the circle of guards bites the nose off one guard, then rips his jaw off before he falls. The other Wight inside the circle bites the throat out of one, then tries to do the same to another guard, but the guard pushes the Wight off him and stabs at him with his spear. Though he makes contact, the damage is minimal.
One of the Wights outside the circle rips the head off one of the guards. It doesn’t come clean off; instead, it hangs by a chunk of flesh as the guard falls to the ice. The Wight does not let go of the head, choosing to pull it up hard as the body falls. The Wight then tosses the head at one of the other guards. The head hits the guard in the chest as his skin pales and urine trickles down his leg.
The other Wight outside the circle attacks that guard with extreme speed and bites through the front of his throat, spraying the entire area with blood.
One guard remains and he is uninjured. That doesn’t last long. One of the Wights jumps at the guard, knocking him to the ground and slamming him repeatedly in the chest until he coughs blood and his eyes lose their light.
A Wight looks into the tent to see what was being guarded but only finds a large gash cut into the back of the tent. The Wight walks to the side of the tent to see a man running directly away from them – directly toward the larger forest. He’s already got a solid 100-foot head start and is running as fast as his legs can carry him.
The Wight immediately begins dashing after the man, gaining on him. The other 3 Wights follow.
As they are chasing the man, 2 other Wights break off from the main camp and are just about to catch the man. He suddenly spins around, slashing a dark dagger at one. The Wight immediately shatters to bone fragments. The second Wight manages to strike him once, but the man manages to kill that one as well.
As the second one shatters, the man looks at the Undead Assembly for a moment. They get a good look at him before he turns and see he is holding the horn of a very large animal. He turns and runs as quickly as he can towards the forest.
The Undead Assembly continues the chase.
When they get close, the man turns to attack as he had with the other 2 Wights.
He misses with his first strike, but the second one lands, causing this member of the Undead Assembly to shatter. He turns and runs as far as he can, but he can’t quite get to the forest before another Wight catches up and slams him from behind. The man is clearly injured at this point, but is holding strong.
Another Wight strikes him hard and the man’s eyes go wide. The man takes a step back just as the Wight attempts to strike again. This time, the Wight missteps and falls prone, crawling towards the man, wanting nothing less than to taste his flesh.
The man sees this as his opportunity. He strikes once at each of the two approaching Wights, missing the first, but shattering the second. He turns to run, providing an opportunity for the Wight to attack, which it does. It manages to bring him within an inch of his life as he struggles to run towards the forest. He gets just outside the tree line and throws the horn with all his might. The horn falls well past the tree line, nestled in leaves and pine needles.
The man turns to face his destiny. He will either kill these last two Wights, or die trying.
The Wight that attacked him last is just behind him as he turns around. It attempts to strike him, but misses so badly that it provides an opening for him to counterattack. The man misses with his dragonglass dagger and dodges the Wight’s next attack.
Suddenly, the Wight that had fallen earlier reappears and slams the man, taking him down for good.
The only two Undead Assembly stand side-by-side. They are without any new orders or information. And without orders, they do nothing. They do not think. They do not look around. They do not move. They do absolutely nothing except stand in place, waiting for orders.
The White Walker rider from earlier canters up beside them. He scowls after realizing the horn is within sight but just out of reach. He heads back towards the tents. The Undead Assembly are compelled to follow.
They re-enter the camp, bodies and blood littering the area. The remaining Wights standing in place awaiting orders. The rider raises his arms slowly. Along with a few fallen allies, hundreds of new Wights stand, their bodies still warm, and face the rider. Instinctively, the remaining Undead Assembly also face the rider.
After this recruitment is complete, with the sound torn tents flapping in the wind being the only thing to pierce the sounds of numbing gusty winds, the army follows the rider for what seems like an eternity.
Eventually, after some unknown number of hours, they arrive at an enormous ice castle with tall, crystalized spires. Ice spiders roam around inside and out.
After entering the castle, they soon enter an ice cathedral hundreds of feet long with thousands of other white walkers. A lich sits on a throne wearing a frosted thorny crown with a staff by his side. He is flanked by 2 White Walkers on each side. One of those Walkers was the rider that led the charge earlier.
The lich stands.
As if a wave is sent through the crowd, the Whites closest to him lower their heads and kneel, followed in quick succession by the line of Whites behind them and behind them. When the wave reaches the two remaining Undead Assembly, they also lower their heads and kneel before their leader…
Everything fades to black.
He’s a Never Nude?
They all awake a few moments later, find themselves in a stuffy tent with their heads feeling like they’ve been smashed into an anvil.
DORLECK: Ah, you’ve awakened.
Besides the experience they’ve been through, the Assembly have taken on additional permanent and semi-permanent phobias that have been drilled into their psyches. They aren’t able to pinpoint exactly what is wrong, but they each feel like portions of their minds have been stitched together or otherwise meddled with.
[ meta note: each member of the Assembly now has a set of phobias. Each one expires with different time frames ]
| Aran | Qarzdaq | Qhortho | Rolan | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 week | Amychophobia: Fear of being scratched | Phonophobia: Fear of loud sounds | – | – |
| 1 month | Negrophobia: Fear of Black people | Gymnophobia: Fear of nudity | Gerontophobia: Fear of the elderly | – |
| 3 months | Chaetophobia: Fear of hair | – | Agoraphobia: Fear of open/public spaces | Selachophobia: Fear of sharks |
| Permanent | Pedophobia: Fear of children | Xenophobia: Fear of foreigners | Ergophobia: Fear of work or functioning | Negrophobia: Fear of Black people |
DORLECK: It will take time for you to process what you’ve been through, I’m sure. I was able to see your experience from above, but I could not intervene.
QARZ: It definitely will. I think it’s left me with more questions than answers to be honest.
He rubs his head.
QARZ: This may seem off-point, but where are you from originally?
DORLECK: Essos originally. Why do you ask?
Qhortho stands up and pounds the table.
QHOR: You expect us to pay you for THAT??
DORLECK: I… well… no… Normally I would, but… look. I’ll be straight up with you. I do not believe in coincidences. I told you earlier that I am seeking something, but I did not know what. I believe I have found it. I feel it is my duty to aid you in your destiny. To bring swift justice to the plague I’ve just witnessed… what you’ve just experienced… From my perspective, it seems we have a shared path. At least for a short while. And if it doesn’t seem to be working, we diverge paths, right then and there. No hard feelings.
He stands up with the aid of his walking stick.
DORLECK: And I’m no slouch in a fight either.
ROLAN: I’ve got a question for you. How many doors have you licked?
DORLECK: How many doors?
ROLAN: Yeah.
DORLECK: Maybe not enough… Or maybe too many. I suppose that depends on your perspective. If that was more of a play on my name, it is Dorleck, not Dorlick.
ROLAN: Ah.
ARAN: How long have we been out?
DORLECK: Not more than an hour.
QARZ: What was with the rooms of toys?
DORLECK: That was driven by your own minds, as a group. It was your representation of the obstacles to get you through to the fortune. The obstacles themselves are rather abstract; your minds created more concrete versions that you could fight. As to where the source material originated, I could not say. Each person’s experience is different. Even the difficulty of the encounters are different.
QARZ: Were these visions of things in the past, present, or future?
DORLECK: I do not rightly know. It is always a matter of perspective. In many cases, that is obvious by observing the ages of people involved. In this case, the beings are so far removed from our locations and experiences that they could be ancient, it could be happening right now as we speak, or it could be a premonition of things to come. If this was the past, it is hard to say whether this is distant past or the source of a current threat that began some time ago. If it is present, we are dealing with an army on the rise. If it is future, perhaps we can shift the tracks of time and prevent their rise. My sense, if it is worth anything, is that these are things to come. I suppose we will learn this from how soon we encounter these creatures in the real world.
QARZ: I feel a bit conflicted. I see the danger that this presents, but it feels like a lot to risk for some foreign land. Do you know what that horn was?
DORLECK: I do not.
QARZ: Do you know why the White Walker couldn’t pursue the horn into the forest?
DORLECK: I do not know this either. Perhaps there are others that could tell us more. Here I am presuming your acceptance of me into your group, and onto your path. My apologies for the forwardness. However, if you agree that I am to join you, perhaps we should set out to seek knowledge farther north? Or perhaps Highgarden or Oldtown?
QARZ: What about Winterfell?
DORLECK: Could be. I would expect that as we travel north, more lore may be available to us through their stories and customs on which to draw further conclusions.
ARAN: I think we should head for Winterfell.
QARZ: I’d like to send ravens to Oldtown and Highgarden and request that they send replies to Winterfell.
QHOR: I’d like to stick around town until the blacksmith finishes with my weapon.
DORLECK: I certainly hope that waiting a week is not detrimental to the major task at hand, but if a single week were to decide the fate of man, perhaps we are already lost. Besides, maybe just having a week here in the Moat will give us more time to get to know each other better.
QARZ: Maybe there are some things we can do around town to pass the time a bit and make some extra coin.
QHOR: I think we should use this as downtime. I’m not so sure I want to go do some random work for random people. Something about that just doesn’t sit right with me. I’ll tell you what though, when we get back on the road, we may want to get a wagon or something. I’m not so sure I like the idea of being in wide open areas.
After speaking with Dorleck for a few more minutes, everyone agrees that having Dorleck come with them would be a benefit.
DORLECK: I know you have some things you’d like to take care of, so let us part ways until later. I will determine what I should bring with me and make plans for the things that must stay behind.
Waiting for a Man and His Spear
The Assembly goes to the raven post to send a message to Oldtown.
POSTMAN: Hello! What can I do for you?
QARZ: We’d like to send a raven to Oldtown. How much does that cost?
POSTMAN: To Oldtown that’ll be 40 gold. Plus 4 gold for their “access charges” and another 10 gold convenience fee.
QARZ: Ok, you could have just said 54 gold. How long will it take to arrive?
POSTMAN: Well let’s see, it’s about 2000 miles but our ravens are very fast, of the black variety, quite intelligent, taking the fastest routes available, their pathfinding skills through weather incredible, and can travel about 600 miles a day. So… uh… it should arrive on the fourth day.
ARAN: Ok, you could have just said 4 days.
QARZ: I’d like the message to be addressed to Archmaester Lyndorn. I’d also like him to pass along this message to the Western Light at the Red Temple. I’d like it to say…
The postman clears his throat.
POSTMAN: I would suggest a separate raven for 2 individuals, but if you insist on a single message, I must inform you that we cannot be held liable for the message not reaching the second recipient.
QARZ: Hmmm. Would it be at the same price or would I get a discount? Say 10% off?
POSTMAN: Normally it would be the same price, but you seem like a nice group. How about I make it even better at 15%.
QARZ: Even better. Thanks! Ok… To Archmaester Lyndorn, Care of The Citadel. We are currently at Mat Cailin and headed to Winterfell. Had a vision of animated skeletal creatures on skeletal horses, and a lich commanding both in an ice citadel. Also saw a horn of animal bone hidden in the woods from said creatures. Any information or advice would be much appreciated. Send reply to Winterfell.
POSTMAN: Got it. And you would like the same message sent to the Western Light? Changing the address of course.
QARZ: Yes, same message.
They leave for Ye Olde Foode Courte and grab a few Snowfall Stouts. They sit at an open table, of which there are a number to choose from.
ROLAN: Ok, I’ll be the first to ask. Who’s responsible for manifesting the Hammerdick?
ARAN: Yeah that was an odd one…
QHOR: Yeah, just when you think we’ve seen all the weird shit, we see some shit like that.
One of the barmaids comes over to the table.
BARMAID: Anything I can help you with? Food? Any more drink after this first round?
QHOR: Yeah, how much is a barrel of this stout?
BARMAID: A whole barrel? Let me check with the owner.
She walks to the counter and returns after speaking with a man.
BARMAID: Ok, so that will be 30 gold for a barrel of 675 pints.
QHOR: How about a half-barrel?
BARMAID: Sure, a pony barrel will run 15 gold. I’ll go prepare that for you. Anyone else?
The group declines. Once she leaves, Aran asks about dragonglass.
ARAN: Looks like we’ll need to get some dragonglass. It seemed super effective.
ROLAN: I have a few spearheads.
QARZ: I have a dagger.
QHOR: I have a dagger also.
ARAN: I had the Children make mine into a glaive with a weirwood shaft. We should look into getting more of these things. I don’t know how much they can do before shattering.
QARZ: I wonder what the magic resistance is. Maybe we can use magic against them too.
ARAN: I seem to remember feeling like I was vulnerable to fire when we were in their bodies.
QARZ: Now that you mention it, yeah. A Fireball would do wonders against those things.
They ponder the possibilities in quiet reflection over a couple of more sips of their stouts.
QARZ: Hey so, what do we actually know about this guy? I mean, all I feel is anxious after that ordeal. I feel like that experience is going to be life-changing, but I’m not sure it’s in a positive sense.
ARAN: Yeah, I don’t really know how I feel about his capabilities.
QHOR: And he walks with a walking stick. What if he’s actually really old and just looks younger?
Qarzdaq motions to the barkeep.
BARKEEP: Yes? Is everything ok? Are you not getting service from the staff?
QARZ: Oh yeah, everything’s fine there. I was wondering about something. What do you know about the fortuneteller, Dorleck?
BARKEEP: Oh, he’s a nice enough guy. Mostly keeps to himself. But he’s been around here for a while. Several months at least. I’ve never taken part in the fortuneteller thing… it’s not really something I have a lot of faith in, you know?
QARZ: Yeah, I get that. Do you know anyone who has taken part?
BARKEEP: Not personally, but I have seen folks who get their fortune and they tend to look a bit weary afterwards. Like they don’t want to believe what they saw or that they were somehow impacted. I wonder if it’s the concoctions he brews for the process or if maybe it is legit? You won’t see me doing it though. Why? Are you thinking about it? Or… have you already been through it?
QHOR: We did… let’s just say we got a little more than we bargained for…
BARKEEP: How so?
QHOR: I mean, he doesn’t like jerk you off or anything.
BARKEEP: Then could it ever be a happy ending?
The barkeep laughs at his own joke and scores a soft chuckle out of the group. They wrap up the conversation and book a large tent at the Innside Out.
Over the next week, they pass the time drinking, studying their maps, and meandering around the area.
Qhortho’s Spitting Spear
On the 7th day, Aran and Qarzdaq feel a little better, with Aran’s phobia of being scratched and Qarzdaq’s phobia of loud sounds fading.
QHOR: Let’s go get my weapon and get out of town.
ARAN: You guys go ahead. I think I’m going to spend some time this morning tidying up.
ROLAN: Tidying up?
Aran pushes his hand through his hair then wipes his hand on his pants thoroughly.
ARAN: I have got to get rid of this.
ROLAN: Fair enough.
They revisit the weaponsmith to get Qhortho’s new poison-injection spear made from the Purple Worm stinger.
WEAPONS: Mr. Qhortho! How are you?
QHOR: I’m well. I feel a bit rested after being around town for the past week.
WEAPONS: That’s great. That’s great. I actually finished off your piece mid-day yesterday, but I’ve taken a little extra time to tweak and fine-tune its performance. This thing is really pretty splendid.
He reaches under the table and holds out the spear with both hands and places it gently on the table. He focuses Qhortho on the spear head.
WEAPONS: What I’ve done with the stinger here, see these holes at the tip? As soon as it goes into something and hits resistance, it will push the spearhead against the shaft and inject the contents from these holes. There were some other natural holes in the stinger, but I plugged those up with resin. This way all of the stream is focused out of just these few holes. I didn’t want to rely on just the primary stinger injection point because if it were blocked by bone or something else, it might not work. And we want reliability out of this, of course. Inside, I’ve added a few animal ligaments to create the springiness. It’s very stiff, so it won’t just shoot the contents from simply bumping against it, but if you give it a hard push, those ligaments will pull open the holes at the tip and provide the springback action to close them and reset the plunger. I added a port at the base of the spearhead here where you can introduce whatever contents you wish. Within reason of course. It is resistant to poisons and acid though, so you should be good. I chose to add this port rather than at the base of the spear because it will use less “juice.” Also, the spearhead can hold 2 standard vials of liquid or gel, so you can get 2 uses if you fully load it. It will take an action for each vial, but…
He places an ammo belt sash on the table with 8 glass plungers.
WEAPONS: These will allow you to load the entire spear with a single action. They are 15 gold a piece, but I’ll throw in the ammo belt free of charge if you buy any of them.
Qhortho takes in all the information with a dose of skepticism. He holds the spear in his hands, looks down the shaft to analyze its straightness, pushes it against the table to get a sense of the springback, and takes a close look at the spearhead.
QHOR: This is quite the impressive piece of work.
WEAPONS: Thank you! And if you notice, I tapered the spear shaft outwards towards the base so you can get a really nice hold on it and by moving your grip, you can change how the weapon feels in your hand. It’s a nice touch I learned some time back that really helps in actual battle. Would you be interested in any of the plunger vials?
QHOR: Seeing as you went through the trouble to craft them, sure. I’ll take all 8. Thank you very much for all your work. Here’s a tip on top of the 1000 gold I owed you for the spear and the 120 for the vials.
Qhortho hands over 1120 gold and a single platinum coin as a tip.
WEAPONS: Thank you very much sir!
Dorleck’s Story
They leave the weapon smith and visit Dorleck. Upon arrival, Dorleck is outside his tent speaking with Aran. Dorleck is ready to go with his pack, a short bow on his back, and a staff in his hands that is similar in color to his light blue eyes. Aran is without any hair on his head and face. No eyebrows or anything.
Qhortho looks at Aran with shock.
DORLECK: Shall we go north?
ARAN: Yeah. I was just telling Dorleck that we will stop by the stable and collect our mounts.
DORLECK: Yes, though the one thing I am missing is a steed. But I know there are some for purchase at the stable.
ROLAN: Actually, we are flush with horse meat. I don’t think it will be a problem for you to use one of our extra horses.
It is true that they have extra horses, though Qhortho sent Lajak Chaf on his way to prevent him from being in danger before they encountered the Purple Worm, and Qarzdaq’s horse was food for that Purple Worm, sent to his destiny by Qhortho. Rolan still owns his riding horse and Aran still has his warhorse.
DORLECK: That is quite kind of you. Thought I would prefer to buy it from you. Are you willing to sell?
ARAN: Yeah, you can buy mine. It’s a war horse equipped with splint mail, but I’d like to fit that armor to my giant elk.
DORLECK: That sounds great. How much would you want for it?
ARAN: No charge for now. If you decide you want to keep him, I’ll sell him for a fair price. I do want that splint mail though, but we can keep it on him for right now.
DORLECK: I only need a riding horse, so having one that is battle tested is already beyond anything I expected. Thank you.
When they get to the stable, Aran is sure to cover his giant elk’s back with blankets so he doesn’t even have to look at the elk’s fur.
They mount up and leave town to the north. Over the next 2 days they travel north along the road and learn a little more about Dorleck. It turns out he came through Dorne by the way of the one and only Tyrone Bannister. Upon learning of Tyrone’s demise by the hands of the Assembly, Dorleck is supremely impressed.
QHOR: Yeah, we’re kind of a big deal.
DORLECK: I see.
QHOR: We are the Unlikely Assembly, the Busters of Ghosts, the Gang of Solutionists, the Guardians of the Redwyne, the Exorcists of the Mists, the Friends of Sand Snakes, the Tutelary of Trade, the Shields of Shields, the Arms of the Reach, the Breakers of Bannister, the Slayers of Dragons, the Defenders of Da Nong.
QARZ: We were all knighted by the King of the Reach, too.
Dorleck nods along.
DORLECK: Interesting. Though, I prefer the experiences to flashy titles myself. Still, that is quite the list.
Qhortho fills him in on their history with Tyrone, which is remarkably similar to Dorleck’s experience.
DORLECK: Though my story is not nearly as worthy of praise. And if I’m being honest, I still feel guilty about how I left those other people in Ghost Hill. I looked out for myself rather than the others that were forced into Tyrone’s task with me. I found a way to flee. I saw no reason to stick around.
ARAN: Did you see the dragon down there?
DORLECK: No. I left before we get in too deep. I was not going to stick around through someone else’s task that was thrust upon me. I’m pretty sure that the others perished. Without a way to get home, I made my way north from Ghost Hill and crossed that large bay. Eventually, I found my way to Moat Cailin.
QHOR: My armor is made from the dragon in the Labyrinth of Ghost Hill.
DORLECK: I see. Why did any of you stay?
QARZ: We had these magical bracelets that prevented us from separating. We were forced to continue.
DORLECK: Ah. We didn’t have those.
QHOR: We had a mission and we were supposed to go home afterwards, but it seemed we got wrapped up into one thing after the next and now… I’m not sure if I speak for all of you, but now… I don’t know if I want to go back. We ultimately have been helping people across the land. And even with as many titles as we have, the one that we were not given is the Defenders of the People.
QARZ: There is something that needs to be said. We did not make it this far without looking out for each other. The only reason Qhortho and I have made it over these years is by following the principle of picking up your friend if he falls down. And since Rolan and Aran have been a part of our group, they’ve taken that charge as well. We won’t stand for someone to run off when things get tough. We won’t abandon you either.
QHOR: Yeah, we need to know you have our backs too.
DORLECK: So here’s the thing. When I was put together with these random people, I didn’t know them. That was not my choice. I was forced into that. I don’t know about you guys, but I am not going to be made someone’s slave. With you, I am with you. There is a shared destiny here. I am entirely in with you wherever this takes us. I will stand for you, as I hear you saying you will sand for me. We are working toward a common goal. This is different from Ghost Hill for me. Did you know each other prior to arriving in Dorne?
QHOR: We were strangers when we were taken.
DORLECK: So why did you stick together after Tyrone’s game?
QHOR: We found that we could rely on each other and became friends.
QARZ: And after Ghost Hill, we found that our goals were aligned and Tyrone seemed to not be so bad. And we pursued these goals willingly… until Tyrone turned.
DORLECK: Turned?
QHOR: Yeah, he was manipulating things for some time and was trying to amass the power of multiple magical artifacts.
DORLECK: I see… so the Tear of Life…
QARZ: …was just one of those artifacts. Rolan’s got that one now. I have the other one Tyrone wanted, the Amulet of Lightbringer.
QHOR: And I got a 3rd one from the Children of the Forest, the Root of Knowledge.
DORLECK: And nothing for you, Aran?
ARAN: No, but that’s just fine with me. Seems like a lot of responsibility. If I were chosen to wield one, I would, but I won’t fight to have one myself.
QHOR: Not to switch topics, but Qarzdaq, I’ve seen you go down a little too often, so I’d like you to take my Stinger Spear. It’s not loaded though.
QARZ: I’m not proficient with it, but it might help out in a pinch. Thank you, my friend!
QHOR: Not hard. If they get too close, just stick ’em with the pointy end.
Qarzdaq laughs.
QARZ: Hey Dorleck, speaking of proficiencies, what would you be using in battle? I see the short bow, but do you only have that walking stick? It looks rather ornate, but can it handle what we’re about to be up against?
DORLECK: Oh yes. It’s no ordinary staff, but I’ll show you that when the time is right. But also, check this out.
He sticks his hand out in front of him and after a few seconds, a shimmering rapier appears in his hand.
DORLECK: This is my special blade.
He stows it in a nondescript loop on his belt that went unnoticed before.
DORLECK: I suppose it’s better to keep this ready, just in case. I’ve been in civilization for such a while where having this on all the time would just bring unneeded attention. For all I knew, Tyrone was out there trying to capture or kill me.
Qarzdaq had his suspicions, but now he’s certain there are some additional magical abilities that Dorleck hasn’t let them in on just yet.
QARZ: If you don’t mind me asking, which of the gods do you follow? What do you worship?
DORLECK: I don’t know what you would call it. I know it is a powerful source, but I do not know much more. I have pledged my allegiance and it provides me with abilities. I had not followed any religions prior to Ghost Hill, but it was then that it reached out to me. I haven’t had to use these abilities often, but I know how to wield them well enough, I think.
QARZ: How did you happen upon this source, as you call it?
DORLECK: As we were entering the labyrinth, I noticed a shimmering stone. I’m not sure why it stuck with me, but when I was exiting… Ok, I need to stop myself here a second. I want to be clear about something. When I left, it wasn’t in the middle of a fight or anything like that. I mean, it was during a fight, but it was near the end and everything was under control. They were just finishing off a couple of creatures. That was my opportunity. But anyway, as I was leaving, I noticed the stone again and went to investigate. It spoke to me telepathically and promised powers. I, of course, questioned about the catch to such an arrangement. It responded that it would just need my loyalty and has never asked anything of me. It may have even forgotten about me, I don’t know. What I do know, is that through my telepathic link that day, I sensed it was opposed to what Tyrone represented, and that was a huge draw for me. I never did seek my revenge, nor do I think the stone wanted me to.
QARZ: The stone was a part of the labyrinth you said, but you don’t know what was on the other side of that stone.
DORLECK: Well, no.
QARZ: Fair enough. So what else can you do besides summon a fine rapier?
DORLECK: Well, I don’t want to hurt anyone.
QARZ: Well, you’re definitely going to have to hurt someone.
DORLECK: Yes, on our travels. I just mean that I don’t want to hurt you for the sake of demonstration. I can hold my own, if that’s what you are asking.
QHOR: You mentioned you are from Essos. Whereabouts?
DORLECK: Ghiscari Coast. Spent some time in Astapor, Yukai, and Meereen as well.
QARZ: Do you have any questions for us?
DORLECK: I don’t think so. I got a good sense of your character and motivations through the shared vision and from speaking with you afterward. I believe you are true to your words. You demonstrated what you speak while going through that scenario. Any other questions for me?
The group shrugs at each other.
QARZ: I don’t think so.
They do not rest well this night, knowing the moon is at it’s fullest. Qhortho should be rid of his curse, but who knows whether that Illus is any good. They take turns on watch, ready for any sight of Qhortho’s moon-driven moodswing. Turns out Illus isn’t a charlatain… thankfully. One less thing to worry about.
The Merchant’s Wagon
On the 4th day since leaving Moat Cailin, about mid-day, they happen upon a clean-shaven man with a covered wagon, hammering at the hub of his wheel. He calls out.
MAN: Please, please, may I trouble you?
QARZ: How might we be of service?
The man explains that he broke a wheel while traveling and is almost done replacing it, but he doesn’t completely trust the security of the replacement. He is looking for some help ensuring proper alignment on the axle.
Qhortho dismounts his giant elk and swaggers up to the man, looking forward to the chance to show off a bit. As he does, he realizes there is a slowly building pool of blood under the wagon. It looks like it’s trickling from the other side, not dripping from the wagon itself. Qhortho does not show any sign that he’s seen the blood.
MAN: So just a few good hits and I think we’ll… I mean, I’ll be alright.
QHOR: No problem.
Qhortho looks back to his allies with concern, then down at the ground by the wagon, then back to the man.
Aran immediately dismounts.
Qhortho continues walking past the man to the front of the wagon to see what is on the other side. As he does, the man gets visibly nervous, triggering Aran to draw his guandao.
ARAN: Just hold on right there while we find out what’s going on here.
The man immediately puts his arms up. Aran sees the blood under the wagon now that he is a little closer.
The man is clearly not a threat, most probably a merchant or well-to-do traveler, but something is clearly not right here. The man looks at Aran then off into the woods behind him. Aran turns just as an arrow sails through the man’s eye, pinning his head to his own wagon.
THUNK.
The strike is so powerful that it causes the man to fall off-balance and leaves him suspended from the ground by a few inches.
Simultaneously, Qhortho gets a glance at the body on the other side of the wagon. Looks to be a body guard or security of some sort.
Qhortho goes into a rage and charges towards where he believes the arrow may have come from, drawing his great sword mid-stride.
Aran runs alongside Qhortho towards the tree line with no indication of the threat.
Rolan, Qarzdaq, and Dorleck all dismount immediately and take cover behind their horses, scanning the area for the threat.
Aran and Qhortho stop at the tree line and still see no one.
Another arrow sails directly between Aran and Qhortho, sinking into the side of the wagon just above the previous one. With how much they were open to being struck, and the display of the archer’s precision, this was clearly meant as a warning.
Aran’s ears are telling his eyes to look in exactly one place, but he still sees nothing.
Finally, a voice breaks the silence.
VOICE: Looks like you’re just passers through. Be on yer way, we have no business with you.
VOICE2: Hey, hold up. Garrel, I think that might be who we were talkin about just the other day.
GARREL: I think you might be right, Dyron! Alright, well, listen up. We’re goin ta come out. Want to talk to you about something.
A man steps out of the forest as if emerging from a foggy shroud. He is wearing light leather armor and holding a short bow. As he is walking out, he stows it on his back.
ARCHER: Good day. I wish you well. What brings you through this way? You are The Unlikely Assembly, are you not?
When this man speaks, the voice is different from the two heard from the woods.
ARAN: Who are you?
ARCHER: The name is Goryn.
The name does not sound familiar to anyone in the Assembly.
ARAN: How do you know about The Unlikely Assembly?
GORYN: Your stories are known. You took down the legendary Jonah Bick, no?
QHOR: I did.
ARAN: So you’re part of the Thieves’ Guild, huh?
GORYN: Yes, actually! If you wouldn’t mind clearing something up, how did you manage to take down Jonah?
QHOR: I killed him with my great sword. Beheaded. One swipe.
ARAN: Our team is really hard to beat. Lots of strengths. No weaknesses.
GORYN: I see. Do you still have his coin?
The Assembly remains silent.
GORYN: Maybe better put: are you willing to give up his coin? I doubt that you’d lost it.
ARAN: I may know where it is. What’s it worth to you?
GORYN: We might be able to work out a deal.
Qhortho stows his great sword and draws Jonah’s blades. He holds them pointed downward in a non-threatening manner.
GORYN: Whoa whoa whoa…
Goryn takes one foot backward to be in a more defensive stance, still unarmed.
QHOR: Oh. Oh. Do you recognize these?
GORYN: Of course, I do!
QHOR: They’re mine now.
GORYN: I see that. About that coin?
ARAN: I don’t have it with me, but I know where it is.
GORYN: How could you get it?
ARAN: You haven’t said what you’d offer for it, so I don’t even know what we’re talking about here.
GORYN: What do you want for it?
ARAN: What do you have that’s not money? I’m less interested in coin. I am more interested in other things. Things that are harder to come by.
GORYN: Well, I have money. You could buy something exotic with the coin we give you. Other than coin, I’ve got some bright red healing potions and ointment. The ointment may not look like much, but it’s fantastic!
ARAN: Let us talk things over.
GORYN: Ok.
As Aran steps to walk towards his friends, another arrow sails from the woods and slams into the ground where his next step would have been.
Qhortho rushes towards Goryn and holds one of Jonah’s swords up to his neck.
QHOR: What’s your game??
GORYN: Whoa whoa whoa… I got no game. Let’s just take it easy.
QHOR: Where are these arrows coming from?!
GORYN: Not me! I’m not shooting them!
QHOR: No shit! Who is?! Who’s shooting?
Another person steps out of the woods, bow stored on his back and hands raised. A third steps out of the woods, holding his bow, but without an arrow nocked. Neither of these people exited the woods from the trajectory of the arrow’s path.
ARCHER 2: All we want is the coin, guys.
QHOR: Who else is back there?! Come out now! Qhortho’s rage still flowing, he steps quickly this way and that, the adrenaline making him a bit twitchy.
ARCHER 3: All we want is the coin. Nothing more needs to happen here.
ARAN: Alright so let’s talk. I never said no. I just need to speak with my team.
GORYN: You didn’t say no, but I’ve got a blade to my neck!
Qhortho pulls the blade away from Goryn’s neck and steps back.
ARAN: Don’t expect me to be sympathetic to you in this moment. I’m going to talk to my team now.
The Assembly congregates behind the horses as the three archers stand side by side. They keep their voices down as they discuss.
ARAN: I don’t have any reason to keep this thing, so maybe we arrange for them to give us free passage going forward. Not just these guys. The entire Thieves’ Guild. As in, they cannot hassles us anywhere, ever.
QARZ: I think that’s fair.
ARAN: And if they do, it will be total retribution on the entire organization.
DORLECK: I haven’t had a run-in with the Guild myself, but from what I understand, they are not exactly honorable.
ARAN: They do follow some sort of a code though. We’ve used these tokens to get into their establishments in the past.
DORLECK: I see. So we would be losing this key then.
ARAN: Yes, but it’s not that valuable. I’m not sure losing the key matters at all. I’m not sure I would give it up for money though.
QARZ: There are more valuable things than money.
Rolan and Qhortho agree.
DORLECK: You’d mentioned that there are a lot of potions that were unaffordable.
All of them nod in reluctant agreement.
ARAN: This is true. Ok, so I have an idea.
Aran approaches Goryn.
ARAN: Ok. So we need 1000 platinum and free passage from the Thieves’ Guild in the future and if any Guild member crosses us, you’ll have to pay twice.
GORYN: We don’t have 1000 platinum, but what about 200 platinum? We have that on us.
ARAN: Make it 500 and we’ll call it a day.
GORYN: I don’t think we have that in coin, but we’ve got some gems to sweeten the pot.
Goryn starts throwing out types of gems they have with them, but since none of them are the elusive Blue Sapphire, they don’t pique the Assembly’s interest.
ARAN: Ok fine. Give us the 200 platinum, the bloodstone, and the star rose quartz.
GORYN: Ok. So everyone stow their weapons and we’ll make the trade.
Everyone complies on both sides.
Two men step out of the woods. When they speak, they are recognized as the first two voices heard when no one was seen.
GARREL: You could come work fer us. You’d do quite well. You’d have all da wealth you’d eva need. We could do more with you as our front end than these archers.
He motions to the first three archers that stepped from the woods.
ROLAN: Meh.
DYRON: We could do really well togetha… We know yer reputation…
ARAN: I don’t think that’s something we’re interested in.
DYRON: It’s disappointing, but you’re not the best there’s ever been, so it’s not a problem. We’ll find help for our big scores elsewhere.
Garrel removes a pouch from a pocket inside his sleeve and pours a few of the coins out into his hand. They look to be platinum. He scoops them up and closes up the pouch, holding it by his side.
ARAN: No offense, but I don’t trust rogues. Pour them out on the ground and take a few steps back.
Dyron turns to Garrel and nods. Garrel tosses the pouch out front by a few feet. It clinks when it hits the ground.
ARAN: I said pour it out.
GARREL: You saw they were platinum and you have the whole pouch right there.
Aran motions to Qhortho who steps forward to pick up the pouch.
DYRON: Nuh uh uh uh. Not another step before we get Jonah’s coin.
Qhortho wants to pick it up. More because he is being told not to. However, he’s willing to defer to Aran since he’s been handling the negotiation. Aran signals for him to stop.
ARAN: Look. I don’t trust you. I want those coins dumped out on the ground.
They don’t seem inclined to give in before seeing the coin. Aran nods to Qhortho. He steps towards the pouch and leans down to pick it up, keeping an eye on his adversaries.
The Promise of Safe Passage
Dorleck immediately picks up that the party is in danger. He steps out from behind his horse and Hexes Dyron, following it up with 3 charged Eldritch Blasts of bluish-white.
Qhortho leaves the pouch alone and rushes towards Doryn, drawing his sword on the way. He slashes him twice but is ready to counter.
However, before he gets a chance, Aran runs up and slashes him. This knocks Doryn slightly off-balance. Aran follows it up with one more strike to end his life. Aran follows through that strike to connect with one of the archers, taking him down with a single strike.
Qarzdaq launches a Fireball into the mix, and Rolan follows that up with a Volley of arrows, bringing all of them close to death.
Garrel attacks Qhortho with a sheathed dagger. He manages to slash Qhortho’s forearms, but that only serves to piss him off.
The two remaining archers shoot at Qarzdaq, but he pops up a force Shield, causing them to ricochet to the ground.
Dorleck holds out his hand and seems to group the air, suddenly, Garrel and one of the archers are held in place.
Qhortho grins and attacks Garrel, killing him immediately. Aran runs to the one that is not held in place and destroys him with two slashes of his guandao.
Aran ties up the paralyzed one and Dorleck releases his hold.
QHOR: If you knew who we were, you knew what we were capable of. Are you and your dead friends really that dumb to cross us?
ARCHER: Guys, I’m hired help. I don’t give a damn what happens to them, other than I won’t be paid now.
DORLECK: Bullshit.
ARCHER: Check my pockets. Those two guys, Dyron and Garrel, have those Guild coins on them. They hold it out as a prize to be coveted.
Dorleck stands ready to hit him with Eldritch Blasts if he tries anything.
Qhortho searches the two Thieves’ Guild members and finds their Guild coins that look similar to Jonah’s.
QHOR: Checks out.
DORLECK: One of you guys want to check him to see if he’s got one too?
Qhortho picks the archer up by the ankle and dangles him upside down, shaking him violently.
All of the arrows fall out of his quiver and his bow falls to the ground. After a few shakes, 15 silver and 35 copper coins fall to the ground. No Guild coin.
Qhortho feels for any other weapons or items, then tosses him to the ground roughly.
Dorleck lowers his hands.
QHOR: I’ll snap your neck if you try anything. Now start talking.
QARZ: Aran, give him the truth serum.
QHOR: Be a real shame if he gets that mixed up with the venom of the Purple Worm we just slayed.
QARZ: A shame because it cost so much…
ARCHER: No need for that. Just tell me what you want to know. If you promise to let me go, I’ll talk. I have no allegiance to the dead who cannot pay.
QARZ: As written by Azor Ahai, an honest man has nothing to fear, but a liar before R’hllor has flames to greet him. I promise you safe passage.
ARAN: Should I really waste the serum on this guy? Let’s see what he has to say first. We want the truth. And in exchange, your life will be spared. If I doubt you, you’ll get the serum. And if you lie about anything, I’ll kill you myself. Now… What have you and this group been doing here?
Qarzdaq looks at him very closely for any tells.
ARCHER: I was hired with two other men who I did not know prior to this engagement. We were to hijack the merchant on the trade route between White Harbor and Torrhen’s Square. I don’t know for sure who you are exactly, but I would prefer not to wager a guess…
ROLAN: What were you using to hide in the forest?
ARCHER: I’ve done this a few times with them. Every time we went on this route, they did this thing that brought shadows around us or something. I don’t really know exactly how they did it but it was effective.
Rolan nods.
Qarzdaq doesn’t get the sense that the archer is holding anything back.
ARAN: I say we take him with us to Winterfell and let them deal with him.
ROLAN: Works for me.
ARCHER: You said you’d let me go!
ROLAN: We are going to let you go. Once we get to Winterfell.
Rolan shoves a rag into the archer’s mouth, gagging him. The archer doesn’t attempt to struggle, but his anger shows on his face.
QARZ: I promised safe passage and we shall provide safe passage… to Winterfell.
Dorleck steps back from the situation, not wanting to get in the way of your process.
Aran walks around the back of the wagon and finds a lockbox. It’s relatively small given the size of the wagon. He attempts to pick the lock with his Thieves’ Tools, but is unable to open it.
Dorleck returns with a key in hand.
DORLECK: Want to try this? Found it on the merchant.
Dorleck hands the key to Aran.
Aran uses the key and the box pops open, revealing a small pile of gems and an assortment of platinum gold silver and copper coins.
ARAN: Hey guys, check this out.
Qarzdaq, Qhortho, and Rolan walk up behind Aran and Dorleck.
QARZ: Hmmm… We should drive the merchant’s wagon and corpse to Winterfell and give the box to the Lord. It would make a good impression on the Lord that we are just and honest folk.
DORLECK: If I may… We could state that we found the goods, but we’re going to need some considerable resources in our battle ahead. Still, what you say may buy us favor with the Lord who has much more coin and personnel.
They toss the bound archer into the back of the wagon and rest.
We end this session on Day 644. They are now at 117.5kXP and only 2.5kXP from Level 13.