Shoring Up Estates

The Assembly splits up Shadowsilver’s coins but waits to get the gems appraised before splitting those. The silver taken from the Ironborn is split between all of them, including Jonah.

                QHOR:                  She certainly has a lot more money than she let on… Or a lot more than any of us had.

                THOL:                    I guess we should have seen that coming.

                QARZ:                   I’m not surprised. I’m more surprised at how she fit all of this into her purse!

Qhortho exchanges his half-plate armor for Shadowsilver’s gold dragon scale armor. He dons it, looking supremely pleased with himself. Ornogrim takes the Deck of Illusions, given that he is now the stealthiest of the group and can covertly plant cards.

                JONAH:                I understand you are on some sort of quest from the King of the Reach. If you wouldn’t mind splitting the loot with me along the way, I would be glad to help shoulder the burden of this quest with you. I was planning to get to the Lannisport Faire anyway.

Qarzdaq consults the map and sees they are 16 days along the Ocean Road.

                QARZ:                   That seems acceptable. Group?

The rest of the Assembly agrees.

                THOL:                    Jonah, we’re glad to count you amongst the Assembly, even if temporarily.

                JONAH:                I appreciate it, but just so we’re clear, I keep my own company and join no group. This is a mutually beneficial relationship for the task at hand and exists only until a renegotiation is in order or until we decide to go our separate ways.

                THOL:                    Fair enough.

The group nods in agreement.

Just before they get on their way, Tholannan remembers that he didn’t trust the cauterizing technique employed by Qarzdaq to seal the Red Slaad wounds. He casts Lesser Restoration on Qarzdaq and sees the wound open slightly and weep blood. Knowing this is a sign that the body is expelling something foreign, he takes this to mean that something else may have just been healed. Not having run against Sladds in the past, or having seen anything like these wounds, he cannot be certain. His intuition tells him it did some good though, so he performs the same incantation on Qhortho, who was also struck by the Red Slaad. The same bodily response is shown by Qhortho.

Neither Qazdaq nor Qhortho feel any different. They shrug off the overlay cautious priest’s heals.

                QHOR:                  Not sure that was needed Thol, but thanks for looking out.

                THOL:                    Glad to do it, friend. I must say though, I could use a nap.

                JONAH:                I think we all could. I’ve been cooped up in that tight cell for almost a day…

After Tholannan throws Shadowsilver’s body over his shoulder, the group proceeds towards the red dragon illusion and as the Assembly curves right to go through the cave system, Jonah continues towards the tunnel straight ahead.

                JONAH:                Where are you going?

                ORNO:                  I’m pretty sure that’s a dead end that way…

                JONAH:                This was the way Jaidyn took me. That way doesn’t go deeper into the cave?

                ORNO:                  Not that we’ve seen. This was the way we came. Let’s take a look at the way you and Jaidyn went.

The group lights their torches and walks the cave until reaching a dead end.

                JONAH:                This wasn’t here before…

                ORNO:                  I thought there was something out of place about this wall. I thought there may have been some hidden door or something, but I couldn’t find anything.

They all begin searching for hints of a doorway and find nothing.

                ORNO:                  I don’t know Jonah. It doesn’t look like there’s any way through.

                JONAH:                Obviously there is some sort of magic at play here. Let’s go your way.

They walk out of the tunnel, past the red dragon illusion, past the rubble piles that were once Ropers, past the alcove with the Piercers, past the dead Slaads, and finally into the cavern entrance with dead Ironborn littered about the floor.

They exit the cave and stop on the shore. Tholannan places Shadowsilver gently on the beach ​and turns to the group.

                THOL:                    Shadowsilver was one of ours and deserves a proper funeral.

Qarzdaq picks up a piece of driftwood.

                QARZ:                   How about we gather more of this, enough for a small raft, send her out to sea, then light it aflame?

The group agrees that this is a fine plan. They spend a couple of hours gathering enough driftwood and compile Shadowsilver’s final vessel. After placing her neatly on the raft, Tholannan takes one of his platinum coins and presses it into her right palm. He gently closes her fingers around the coin and folds her arm across her chest to rest on her heart. He then wades into the ocean with Shadowsilver and her raft to get past the breakers. He says a small prayer and gently pushes the raft out towards the foggy horizon.

As Tholannan walks backward towards shore, Qarzdaq says a muffled prayer and launches a firebolt at Shadowsilver’s resting place causing it to catch fire, slowly rising to a great blaze.

Qhortho and Ornogrim bow their heads. Jonah just looks around, then picks something out of his teeth and sucks it free.

The three on shore look over at him. Jonah shrugs and they all look back out to Shadowsilver’s burning corpse.

A few minutes later, the vessel begins to sink, extinguishing the flames in small bouts of white smoke.

They climb the rope and decide it’s time to rest before continuing their journey.

Ornogrim looks over at the horses.

                ORNO:                  It looks like we’ve got one extra horse. Jonah do you need one?

                JONAH:                The one I rode here will do fine for me.

                ORNO:                  Oh. Right. Too many Goodberries.

Jonah grins.

                JONAH:                Understood. I’ve had my bout with Goodberries in the past.

They rest here for the night.

A New Day, A New Way

Upon first light, they all awake and begin their morning rituals. Qarzdaq meditates on the amulet; Tholannan prepares his spells for the day. Qhortho and Ornogrim can’t help but watch in awe as Jonah practices with his blades. His timing is impeccable; his style, flawless. It is clear why he has the reputation he does.

Qhortho approaches Jonah.

                QHOR:                  Hey Jonah, you look to be pretty good with those. Maybe I could learn something from you. Want to spar with me?

Jonah looks over at him and smirks.

                JONAH:                Sure Dothraki. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers off the poison triggers.

                QHOR:                  Ah, so that’s your secret. Poison is a woman’s weapon.

                JONAH:                Seems to have done you and yours quite well. Sounds like a comment from one lacking the understanding of how to use it effectively.

Qhortho draws his arakh and the two men square off.

                JONAH:                You are welcome to begin when you so choose.

Qhortho’s first attack is clearly meant to be a show of force. Jonah is forced to step back a few feet. He is hit on his left shoulder and the right side of his abdomen.

                JONAH:                Very nice, Dothraki.

Jonah answers with two swift strikes to Qhortho’s torso.

                ORNO:                  Hey guys, part of sparring is knowing when and how to block!

                JONAH:                Ha!

Qhortho attempts to slash again at Jonah, but he sees it coming far in advance. So much in advance that Jonah uses this time to show off a little. He quickly spins the handles of both short swords axially in his hands so the sharp sides of the blades are now facing himself. He gets into a defensive stance and sets both swords parallel to each other to perfectly block the arakh. Jonah slides back in the process, then directs the arakh down towards the ground. As he does so, he spins the swords back to their normal orientation and follows up with two more strikes.

                JONAH:                How’s that, Ranger?

                ORNO:                  That’s more like it!

A few more strikes are traded before Jonah emerges as the victor.

                JONAH:                Good round. I appreciate a good fight.

                QHOR:                  Yeah. Good way to start the day. I’ll beat you next time when I’m not going easy on you.

They mount up and continue towards Old Oak. The next few days go without incident until they see a town with a keep in the distance. As they get closer, they see it has a Renaissance style without being overly flamboyant like Highgarden.

Elective Surgery

Entering the town in the afternoon, they pass a few shops without patrons before reaching the local tavern, just a hundred paces from the keep. The tavern appears to be doing quite well, based on the number of merchant caravans parked outside.

                QARZ:                   How about Qhortho and I get these wounds looked at one more time? Do you guys want to go sell the gems?

                ORNO:                  I wouldn’t mind tagging along to see the local medic. Might as well get my wounds looked at as well.

They seek out the local apothecary and find it empty other than the shopkeeper, who greets them as they enter.

Qarzdaq walks up tot he man and fills him in on the giant toad-like creatures they encountered and the wounds inflicted.

                QARZ:                   We attempted to treat them in the field, but since we didn’t know what these creatures were, we figured we would stop in to see if you could provide some insight and check us out to be sure we’ve treated them completely.

                APOTHECARY:     Hmmm… I’d be happy to take a look.

Qarzdaq pulls up his shirt to expose a very faint scratch.

                APOTHECARY:      Wow! I expected this to be much worse. You can barely even see the scratch.

                THOL:                    You’re welcome.

                QARZ:                   We have a fairly adept field medic with us.

                THOL:                    I am something of a healer myself, sir.

The apothecary praises the work with a few comments. Qarzdaq asks about whether the cauterizing helped at all.

                APOTHECARY:   It looks like that may be the cause of some of the scar tissue, but even that looks pretty well-healed. It looks like these wounds are weeks old, based on how well they are healed, so it is hard to say whether any one action helped it. All I can see is that whatever was done, it worked quite well.

Qhortho asks about the beasts they fought, but the apothecary cannot shed any light on that without seeing the fresh wounds. Based on the description, it does not sound like any sort of creatures he’s heard of.

Ornogrim pulls out one of the claws from his backpack.

                ORNO:                  It had a hand just like this.

                APOTHECARY:   Whoa. I’ve never seen anything like that before. That is quite menacing. You survived a strike from that??

                QARZ:                   Multiple.

Qhortho and Ornogrim show their healed wounds.

                THOL:                    Well, not all of us. We had one fall in battle.

The apothecary expresses his condolences and the Assembly thanks him.

                ORNO:                  It is Game of Thrones after all…

                APOTHECARY:   Game… of… What now?

                ORNO:                  Ah… sorry. Too many Goodberries.

                APOTHECARY:   Yes. Goodberries. I had my time with Goodberries in the past. Good times for sure.

Qarzdaq asks if the man knows for sure that he is fully healed. The apothecary tells him that he could make an incision to investigate it further. Qarzdaq was in agreement to do this immediately. After he found out he’d get Milk of the Poppy, his agreement became excitement.

                THOL:                    So what exactly are you going to do here? Is it some kind of blood-letting?

                APOTHECARY:   I will lie him down and make an incision with a scalpel and use a magnifier to find signs of corruption.

                ORNO:                  Better safe than sorry.

                QARZ:                   That’s what I say!

                THOL:                    This man sounds like a professional. Let’s go for it.

                QHOR:                  Sign me up too.

The apothecary gives them a price for his services at 5gp for each of them, to which they agree. He leads them all into a back room of the shop with shelves lined with light red potions, a few wooden tables with rails along one wall, and a large wooden table with straps in the center.

He retrieves a small vial containing a thin, almond-colored liquid from a cabinet and pours a small amount into a thimble-like cup.  He hands it to Qarzdaq and directs him to drink it then lie on the center table. After a few moments, Qarzdaq feels slightly disassociated from his body. His breathing slows; his pulse dims. The apothecary recognizes these conditions and fastens Qarzdaq to the table. He then slices into Qarzdaq along the faint scratch on his skin.

Qarzdaq feels the pain, but unlike normal pain of body and mind, this is a pain of the body only; his mind seems to be separate, allowing him to analyze the pain with a clear focus. He finds this more interesting than anything else.

The incision bleeds with deliberation but without gushing. Not seeing anything abnormal, the man cuts more deeply into the muscular tissue. The blood flow does not increase appreciably. He puts a magnifying lens, similar to a jeweler’s loupe, up to his eye, allowing his eye socket to hold it hands-free. He opens the previously well-healed meat and examines it closely. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he closes the wound tightly with a strap, sews the wound closed, then replaces the strap with a bandage.

Although Qarzdaq is somewhat awake through the entire procedure, he remains extremely groggy. The apothecary helps him to one of the resting tables with rails so he will not fall off.

The entire process is repeated for Qhortho. He grew noticeably anxious when being secured to the table and required more milk of the poppy than Qarzdaq, putting him into a deep slumber. After the procedure was completed on both of the locations where he was struck by Slaads, Qhortho was lifted with the aid of Ornogrim and Tholannan to another resting table.

Other than the increased dosage for Qhortho, the results were the same for both: neither had any noticeable lingering effects from the wounds.

The apothecary looks to Tholannan.

                APOTHECARY:   Please watch over these incisions carefully for corruption. If anything seems amiss, please treat them immediately before it grows out of control.

                THOL:                    I will. Thank you for your service.

The apothecary nods and tells them that their friends will be sleeping for some time, so they may browse the shop while they wait, or they can explore town and come back to check on them in a short while.

                ORNO:                  I need to have something crafted at the local tailor.

The apothecary provides directions and Ornogrim takes his leave for the clothing shop.

Tholannan stays with his friends and purchases a few basic potions.

Tinkey Suit

Ornogrim arrives at the clothing shop with purpose. He enters the shop and walks up to the bored clothier.

                ORNO:                  Hello kind sir. I have a request for my pet raven Tinkey here…

                TINKEY:                Hell-Lo.

                ORNO:                  … I’d like something she can wear that won’t encumber her, but has some pocketses for carrying small objects, such as keys and multiple parchments.

The man looks at him with incredulity until he realizes he is serious. At this point he becomes more energized.

                CLOTHIER:           Interesting! A Tinkey Suit, you say.

The clothier asks if he has a form in mind and after some brief discussion, they decide a thin vest without any padding would be just right.

                CLOTHIER:           You understand I cannot be held accountable for any accidents that arise from your bird wearing the vest.

Ornogrim looks down at his trousers.

                ORNO:                  What? Uh……

                CLOTHIER:           My apologies. Not that bird. You must take care around woodpeckers, but…

                ORNO:                  That you do!

                CLOTHIER:           …but in this case, I was speaking of the one on your shoulder.

                ORNO:                  Of course. How silly of me. Too many Goodberries.

                CLOTHIER:           Understood. I had my time with Goodberries…  Well, I could do this within just a couple of hours?

They negotiate the price and Ornogrim leaves to meet up with his companions.

Walking Off the Milk

Ornogrim arrives just as Qarzdaq is attempting to get to his feet. After a brief scare with knocking potions off the shelves, Tholannan and Jonah decide they’d better help keep him stable or they may be spending much of their newly-acquired fortune on broken potions.

They wait around the shop until Qhortho begins to stir. He gains lucidity rather quickly after opening his eyes. Like Qarzdaq, he tries to get to his feet faster than his body is ready. Nevertheless, he does so… mostly successfully. Jonah stays with Qarzdaq while Ornogrim and Tholannan help Qhortho, bracing him up as they thank the apothecary and leave the shop.

After a few minutes, Qhortho is able to keep himself from falling over, which is good enough for the rest of them. As he is still a bit heavy on his feet, he continues to meander as he walks, providing idle amusement as they head for the tavern.

                THOL:                    I am going to find that gem shop before I call it a day. I think it makes sense to sell what we don’t need so we are ready to leave in the morning.

The rest of the group agree with the logic but decide Tholannan can handle this task on his own, continuing on their way.

They quickly identify the tavern by the large number of merchant wagons out front. This level of traffic starkly stands out from the rest of the town.

A long bar is positioned along the left side of the tavern with a single barkeep serving six guards on stools. The rest of the tavern is mostly empty, save a group of animated people in the back sitting and standing at a round table.

Scanning the mostly empty tavern, there is also one man at a table by himself looking into his stein of mead.

Qhortho strides, if you could describe it that way being still under the influence of the poppy, up to the bar.

                QHOR:                  Barkeep! I’d like a whole bottle of whiskey.

                BARKEEP:            We haven’t had many shipments recently of whiskey, but I have lots of ale.

                QHOR:                  No. I’m afraid I need the spirits.

                BARKEEP:            I think I’ve got just the thing. It’s a bit pricey. It’s called Rum of the Ancients. It’s aged for a very long time before it is released. Most know of it but have never tried it. We don’t create any of our own spirits in town, and stocks are dwindling.

                QHOR:                  Are you the only pub in town?

                BARKEEP:            We are.

Qarzdaq overhears the conversation and walks up to the bar.

                QARZ:                   How much is it?

                BARKEEP:            It is 5gp for a shot.

                QHOR:                  Where is this Rum of the Ancients from? If I’m paying 5 gold, it better be worth it.

                BARKEEP:            It comes from the North. It is aged in Oak underground for 25 years at minimum. It is a particular blend of dark and light rums handed down from generation to generation since the Age of Heroes. Sometimes it is referred to as the Rum of Heroes. It is extremely smooth and silky, with an aroma to match.

                QHOR:                  Yeah, ok, why not…

                QARZ:                   I’ll take one too.

They sip at the shots and take note of the complex aromas and taste. The texture seems to envelop the mouth without being syrupy. The mix of spiciness and sweetness seems to awaken the entire tongue. The finish leaves a breathiness of hard liquor that fades quickly into an almost fruity aftertaste. This is certainly something neither had ever experienced.

Other than the slight boost in social confidence and the slight loss in fine motor skills, there do not appear to be any other effects, other than the memory of an absolutely awesome experience… and a slightly lighter purse.

Qhortho finishes the rest of his shot quickly.

                QHOR:                  Two more please!

Shocked, the barkeep responds, “Two more it is!”

Qhortho downs one of the shots​ then quickly pours the second one over his recently stitched incisions, splitting it equally on each. He feels an immediate burn that subsides to a whole-body warmth.

Qarzdaq continues to slowly sip his shot, watching this ordeal as if it is the opening act of a greatly anticipated show. After finishing, Qarzdaq turns to the barkeep, “I’ll have another one. If you’re gonna have one, you might as well have two.”

The barkeep obliges without delay.

Ornogrim purchases an ale for the high price of 15cp.

                BARKEEP:            I apologize for the price, but this is what I have to do right now.

                ORNO:                  You gotta do what you gotta do.

                BARKEEP:            I appreciate the understanding.

Ornogrim casually makes his way over towards the group of animated men in the back of the tavern, just close enough to get within earshot. As he passes the man sitting alone looking into his mead, the man jumps to his feet and draws a long dagger.

                MAN:                    YOU! How dare you show your face in a civilized town such as this! Your lawlessness will not go unpunished!

The guards at the bar all turn towards the new commotion, but make no move to stop anything.

Ornogrim sighs heavily, drawing one of his short swords almost as a reaction to being drawn upon. He does this without spilling a drop of his ale. As his eyes focus on the man, he recognizes him as the one they met on the road a couple of days prior. It is none other than Troy Flowers, the man that called out Shadowsilver when she stole from a random traveler on the road.

                ORNO:                  Look friend. I think I recognize you. We don’t want any trouble. I apologize for my colleague’s uncouth behavior on the road the other day. It saddens us, but you should know she was slain in our last encounter.

                TROY:                    Not enough! Law breaker!

Troy swings his dagger at Ornogrim, who blocks it with ease and makes no attempt to counter the attack.

                ORNO:                  I’m really not trying to hurt you. Let’s just drop this, ok? You’re no match for me.

One of the guards lazily gets up and intervenes.

                GUARD:               What is going on here?

                ORNO:                  This man attacked me.

                TROY:                    This man attacked me on the road!

                ORNO:                  I… *sigh* That’s not true. I think he’s drunk or something. I don’t know.

                TROY:                    I’m not drunk!

                ORNO:                  You obviously have me confused with someone else.

                TROY:                    You used the arcane arts to cause me to fall off my horse and break my neck! Then you somehow repaired the break and left me on the side of the road! All this after I called you out for stealing from some random traveller!

                ORNO:                  You’re sure you’re not drunk??

Gems and Heirlooms

After about 15 minutes of exploration, Tholannan finds a building with a wooden sign depicting a pristinely-cut gemstone.

                THOL:                    Hello Mister Doctor of gemology. I am in need to sell a number of gems I’ve acquired in my travels and would like to sell my wares.

                GEMCUTTER:     I would love to take a look. As you can see, I have many stones in stock, as we have had very slow business, but I would be glad to give you prices for the items you have.

                THOL:                    Sure, if you could even just give me a valuation, that would be good. As you mentioned it, could you tell me why you have so much inventory? Surely this town is part of a trading crossroads. Shouldn’t you be getting more traffic?

                GEMCUTTER:     Yes. This is unusual. Well… it’s unusual historically, but it has become the norm over the past few months. The roads have been overrun by Ironborn and it is causing most of the traffic back through Highgarden and up the Roseroad along the River Mander to the Gold Road. The Gold Road then takes folks west towards Lannisport.

                THOL:                    I haven’t heard many good things about these Ironborn. It would seem they are directly affecting your livelihood here.

The gem cutter agrees and they begin to sift through Tholannan’s inventory. As they get through the more common items, the gem cutter notices a glass decorative plaque featuring a grey shield on a field of ships.

                GEMCUTTER:     This looks to be an item from the Shield Islands, specifically Greyshield. It has no exotic gold value to me.

                THOL:                    Perhaps this is one I will keep. It may be something someone might like to have returned to them. 

Tholannan hands over a corked vial containing a clear liquid. 

                THOL:                   ​I don’t suppose you know what this is?

The gem cutter eyes the vial curiously then looks at Tholannan.

                GEMCUTTER:     Hmmm… Do you mind if I open it?

                THOL:                    Please.

The gem cutter opens the cork, then wafts the air above the vial towards his nose. “Ah yes.” The gem cutter re-corks the vial and hands it back. “What you have there is a vial of simple perfume.”

                THOL:                    Oh. Well I’ll use this before I go out whoring tonight.

                GEMCUTTER:     It does smell like a lady’s perfume.

                THOL:                    I’ll make it work.

                GEMCUTTER:     Oh alright. A little fancy, eh? I did not realize you swing that way. I wish you the best.

                THOL:                    Peace out!

                GEMCUTTER:     And a… uh… peace out to you too.

Tholannan heads toward the tavern to meet up with his fellow adventurers.

Back at the Pub

Tholannan enters the tavern to a scene where Ornogrim and another man, who looks strikingly familiar, are facing off. Ornogrim clearly doesn’t find this to be a great threat, as he is still holding an ale in his left hand while defensively holding his short sword in his right.

Becoming furious, the man stows his blade and storms out, yelling “I will catch up with you!” He glares at Tholannan as he approaches the exit, pushing through him rather than sidestepping around him.

A guard looks at Ornogrim.​

                GUARD:               Be careful out there.

Ornogrim nods and stows his short sword. He walks back to the Assembly as Tholannan strides up to the group.

                QHOR:                  You made a friend!

                ORNO:                  Did you guys recognize him? That was the guy that was fighting with Shadow the other day.

                THOL:                    Somebody knows how to hold a grudge.

                ORNO:                  Yeah, I wonder who he went out to get just now. Honestly, I’m not too worried about it, but be on alert. We might have company.

Qarzdaq, still watching what might be the first act of this show unfolding before him, decides to interject.

                QARZ:                   Hey Jonah, what do you think?

                JONAH:                I saw the whole thing happen on the road from a distance, and I could see why he has an issue with you. You did knock him off his horse. However, his real issue seems to be the theft, and therefore with the late Shadowsilver, not with you.

                QARZ:                   He could still be dead.

                JONAH:                He could still be dead.

                THOL:                    I just feel bad for the guy. I mean, who dies from falling off a horse?

                JONAH:                Ah… Commoners…

                ORNO:                  He may die another way if he is not careful.

Jonah agrees. Ornogrim quietly states that he wants to listen to the conversation in the back. They all go to a table in the back, leaving a few empty tables between themselves and the group. After just a few minutes, it is clear they are merchants. They are arguing, almost bidding, on who will take the three willing guards from the bar on the road to Lannisport. Apparently, the other three guards are not willing to make the trip.

Ornogrim turns around to face the merchants directly.

                ORNO:                  I apologize for butting in here, but I am curious about this new Ironborn threat. Are you able to tell us where the greatest threat is?

One of the merchants looks mildly annoyed at the interruption, but responds to Ornogrim.

                MERCH1:             All we know at this point is that anytime we try to travel the Ocean Road, we are stopped – oft times violently – from continuing. I don’t know why they’ve begun raiding the coast again. It’s been a very long time, but this is the world we live in right now and we are just looking to make a living. We just need safe passage to Lannisport. There is a lot of coin to be made at the Lannisport Faire and if we can’t make it there, our families will have a hard time. We rely on the Faire to make most of our income each year. Given the normal trade route to the towns along the Ocean Road has dwindled, this is really our only chance.

                ORNO:                  Are there areas that seems to be attacked more often?

                MERCH1:             From here in Old Oak to Highgarden, it seems relatively clear. I have never run into issues on this leg of the trip. Have any of you?

He looks across the other five merchants, all of them shaking their heads.

                MERCH1:             Over the past few months, we have cut a pathway through the grasslands to the east and north to travel along a river north as a shortcut. However, even that has been overrun by Ironborn. Still safer than the Ocean Road.

                ORNO:                  Well, I thank you for the information.

Ornogrim turns to his companions, the merchants continue squabbling.

                ORNO:                  I don’t know guys, what do you think? We may be able to help them out, learn something about the Ironborn raids, and make a little coin in the process.

                THOL:                    Surely, they would pay more for five seasoned adventurers than three measly guards.

One of the guards happens to overhear this comment.

                GUARD:               Ha! You think you are going to fare well against the Ironborn? I wouldn’t do that for a whole barrel of coin! I’d be surprised if you even make it to Crakehall!

                QHOR:                  I’m surprised you call yourself a guard!

The guard shrugs this off and goes back to his ale. Ornogrim stands and turns to the merchants.

                ORNO:                  Travelers, I apologize for interrupting again, but we may be interested in providing you the escort to Lannisport. We are interested in hearing how much this might pay and what it is each of you are carrying.

                MERCH1:             Alright then. The name’s Trytas. I can do 10 gold, but I’ve got two wagons to transport. I am carrying trinkets for the Faire.

                MERCH2:             I can do 10 gold, but I’ve got only one wagon. Clearly a better deal for you since it would be easier to guard! I am transporting common trade goods. Oh and my name’s Janas.

                MERCH3:             My name is Camern, and, well, I may have two in my caravan, but I can compensate you with 20 gold. I carry some common foods.

                MERCH4:             I am Lanner and have 20 gold also — but only a single wagon of exotic spices and delicacies.

                MERCH5:             I have three wagons but can provide you with a total of 45 gold. I have expensive trade goods to sell to the noblemen. I go by Rynk.

                MERCH6:             I have two in my caravan, but I can pay 50 gold. My name is Dantis. I carry weapons. Lots of weapons. Can’t have a fair without jousting; can’t have jousting without spare weapons. Though, some are for sale to the weapons shops.

                TRYST:                  I don’t believe you lot can escort all of us, so I suppose you’ll go with the best deal for yourselves. I would add that although I have the lowest budget per wagon, I also have the lightest load and can travel faster, making it easier to get away if we run into trouble.

                ORNO:                  I beg to differ kind fellow. I do believe we can escort all of you. We would take you each at the budgets you described, but we will provide the safest positions to those with the highest budget per wagon. We will also prioritize guarding those who have paid the highest price. Those paying the cheaper rates will have added security simply by traveling in such a large group.

                QHOR:                  I would like to say that we don’t really need the money. We will not do it for free, but I would be willing to take five gold per caravan since that is a rate everyone can afford.

                THOL:                    Well, hold on just a moment. Five gold per caravan does not nearly carry the level of protection these merchants are getting with all five of us. I would be ok taking less from some of them because we would get more from others, but I agree with Ornogrim that we can prioritize security for those with higher budgets by placing them in a more centralized location in the greater caravan.

The merchants all look at each other and agree to these terms. Dantis, the man paying the highest price says that he expects one of them to ride in his caravan for that sort of price inequality. The Assembly and Jonah agree to this stipulation. Before they part ways for the night, the first merchant has one more question.

                TRYTAS:                You seem very confident about being able to provide for our safety, but have you ever lost anyone?

The Assembly look at each other.

                ORNO:                  Well, this is Westeros, it can be hazardous even staying in town. Have you ever lost anyone in your line of work? I’m sure you have.

                TRYTAS:                Only recently.

                QHOR:                  We’ve never lost anyone that stuck with us.

Immediately after saying it, he reflects on his dear friend Max. He shrugs it off to maintain his position.

                THOL:                    You’re in good hands friends. Sleep well, rest up, we ride in the morning.

                TINKEY:                GoLeft!

The merchants look at the raven.

                ORNO:                  Trust me, she’ll come in handy on the trail.

The merchants are more settled now that a plan is inplace. They continue to converse about their goods and memories of the more peaceful times in the past. As the Assembly is leaving, they overhear the merchants discussing how lucky they are to have met this unlikely assembly of travelers.

The group now makes way for the keep to meet with the lord of Old Oak.

But Wait… Seven Hells…

Leaving the tavern, the last person out is Qarzdaq, which is mildly unfortunate as he ambushed and struck by a long dagger. It causes a minor scrape as the wielder is not very proficient. Qarzdaq yells, “something bit me!” as he spins around and is confronted by none other than Troy Flowers… this fuckin guy…

The rest of the group turns around. Qhortho draws his arakh and runs up to him before he can strike again. In his most menacing voice, “Listen, friend…” Troy drops his blade. Qhortho continues, “We don’t want any trouble.”

                TROY:                    Uh… uh… Ok, ok, ok…

                QHOR:                  If you want to walk away from this, now’s your chance.

                TROY:                    O… Ok…

                QHOR:                  Or else you are going to end up in the ground.

                TROY:                    Y.. Y… You nee… need to pay for your lawlessness!

Ornogrim flips him a gold coin.

                ORNO:                  If you want any more than that, you’re going to get much more than you bargained for.

Troy slaps the coin out of the air into the dirt.

                TROY:                    I don’t want your money!

                QHOR:                  Then it will be your blood! Is that what you want?

Troy raises his arms to show he is no threat. The words hang in the air. His eyes avert down to the ground. After a few moments, “No.”

                QHOR:                  The one that caused this rift has already paid with her life. Take that for your justice and make peace. Walk away or be slain.

Tholannan walks up beside Qhortho.

                THOL:                    She died in a dark cave by herself.

                ORNO:                  This is true.

Troy looks at Tholannan. Then at Ornogrim. Then to Qhortho, still in a menacing stance with his arakh ready to strike.

                TROY:                    Hmm… How… How did it happen and how do I know this is true?

Ornogrim pulls out one of the Slaad claws and puts it a foot from Troy’s face.

                ORNO:                  It was one of these that did her in. Of course, we got the better of it afterwards.

Ornogrim returns the claw to his backpack.

Troy slowly lowers his hands and slowly bends at the knee to retrieve his blade. He slowly picks it up and sheaths it at his belt. Qhortho lowers his arakh.

                TROY:                    For my own knowledge. What was the purpose for what you did on the road? Was this her acting alone?

                QHOR:                  We were on a mission from the lord.

Ornogrim shoots a glance at Qhortho.

                ORNO:                  Yes, she was acting alone.

                TROY:                    Which lord?

                ORNO:                  None of your concern. I’m sorry.

                QHOR:                  We could tell you, but then we’d have to kill you.

                TROY:                    Are you speaking of Lord Arlyn?

                QHOR:                  Never mind that. Just take your justice from the fact that she is dead. Do you accept these terms.

Troy nods his head.

Tholannan points his chin toward the dusty gold coin at Troy’s feet.

                THOL:                    Take the gold. Have a good rest. Move on.

                TROY:                    I don’t want your pity gold. I am just trying to stand up for the common person, who is under siege by the random shitty assholes out on the road.

Qarzdaq moves to be front and center.

                QARZ:                   You mean the type of shitty assholes who stab a man of the cloth in the back?

                TROY:                    And those men of the cloth, as you say, who use those powers to hurt and maim travelers on the road.

                THOL:                    It was I that looked into your eyes as I breathed life back into you.

                QHOR:                  How much was taken from you?

                TROY:                    Well… Nothing. It was someone else that was the target. I was just standing up for what is good and right, in a time when no one seems to be doing anything to help the common person. I… think she got her money back. I believe your recently departed friend threw it back into the traveler’s satchel.

                ORNO:                  I do want to say that I truly am sorry for the inconvenience and trouble our compatriot caused you. We gave her a good talking-to after the incident. It is not the sort of thing we want to be known for.

                TROY:                    I appreciate that. Are you all of the same mind?

They all agree.

                TINKEY:                DamnRight.

                THOL:                    We are also here to help with the bandit threat.

                TROY:                    Oh? Then our motives may be aligned.

                THOL:                    I’m sorry, what is your name again?

                TROY:                    Troy Flowers.

                QARZ:                   A bastard?

                QHOR:                  A bastard.

                TROY:                    A bastard.

                ORNO:                  So Troy, you asked about Lord Arlyn. Is that the lord of this town?

                TROY:                    Yes.

                ORNO:                  We actually do have some business with him. We’d like to talk to him about these bandits actually.

Astonishment washes over Troy’s face.

                TROY:                    You do? Wow!

                ORNO:                  Would you be able to help us talk with him? Or point us in the direction so that we may meet with him?

                TROY:                    I don’t know anyone of that stature to make any introductions, but the keep is just there.

He throws his thumb back over his shoulder to the large keep, clearly visible a few hundred feet up the road.

                ORNO:                  Ah, right. Of course.

Ornogrim leaves his gold coin in the dirt and they all walk towards the keep, leaving Troy outside the tavern.

Troy looks at the coin, turns to leave it and enter the tavern. Just before opening the door, he looks back. He runs over to the coin, snags it and runs back to enter the tavern.

Dark Wings, Dark Words

The Assembly and Jonah approach the renaissance-style keep. It is noticeably less flamboyant than the castle in Highgarden. Where Highgarden showcased wealth, Old Oak showcases modesty while maintaining style. It is certainly not minimalist like The Sandship. They enter with great ease and no guards prevent their entry. Large tapestries of battles line the walls, all of them showcasing defeated Dornishmen.

Ornogrim nudeges Qhortho and whispers, “Notice they don’t like the Dornish.” Qhortho replies, “Noted.”

Up ahead, a few knights are drinking with a nobleman at a large oaken table.

In a loud but cordial voice, Ornogrim states, “My Lord.”

                NOBLEMAN:      Yes?

                ORNO:                  I am Ornogrim of the Unlikely Assembly. We were sent here by King Greydon.

                NOBLEMAN:      King Greydon? Hmm… Take a seat. I am Arlyn Oakheart, Lord of Old Oak. Please have some wine and bread.

                ORNO:                  Thank you My Lord.

Ornogrim receives wine poured by one of the knights. He raises his cup in the manner of a toast, making sure to clank cups with Arlyn and allowing wine to slosh between the two.

The rest of the Assembly also receive wine and bread.

                ARLYN:                 You are all guests now. So, you say King Greydon sent you.

                ORNO:                  We’ve been asked to gather intelligence about the Ironborn threat.

                ARLYN:                 I’m glad someone is doing something about this. We’ve had a huge loss in merchant traffic, causing our local supplies and shops to dwindle. I will say though, our neighbors farther along the Ocean Road, around Crakehall, have it worse than we do. At least we still have a safe route to Highgarden. It seems that the few merchants we do receive tend to stay in town until they have sufficient numbers to continue safely. I’ve also seen that they don’t continue from here ​along the Ocean Road. Instead, they travel across the grasslands to the east and north. From my own reports, even that way is dangerous.

                ORNO:                  We hope to get you some help before too long.

                ARLYN:                 Like I said. I am glad someone is doing something about this. We have been suffering for some time now. To be honest, we were beginning to lose a bit of fai……

His voice trails off.

                ARLYN:                 Please… don’t tell the King I said that.

                ORNO:                  Ah. Perish the thought. It is understandable My Lord.

                ARLYN:                 I have had my share of wine this day, so you could also understand the slip of my tongue.

                THOL:                    If I may, My Lord, what information do you currently possess about the Ironborn whereabouts and tactics?

                ARLYN:                 As you can see, and I mean no offense to my men here, we are hardly staffed to travel The Road and retrieve our own intelligence.

                THOL:                    So you don’t even know where they are attacking from.

                ARLYN:                 We do not. And we have had no solid information from Crakehall or Casterly Rock.

                QARZ:                   So you don’t even know if they still exist.

                ARLYN:                 I would find it hard to believe that they would be overrun or destroyed by raiding parties, especially given that WE still exist. Ironborn raids are typically targeted to small fishing villages and easy targets. They have traditionally struck fast and hard as to not wait around for large armies to resist them.

                QARZ:                   You don’t seem to have much in the way of defenses here.

                ARLYN:                 Not more than this keep. Lack of defenses, however, is not as big a problem if you have a lack of people and things to defend. It seems there is more to be had on the open road than the towns that spot the way. It is a sad state of affairs, for as you well know, my wealth is generated by the wealth of my people through taxation.

                ORNO:                  Of course. And we must maintain ours as well. We are seeking sponsorships from the Lords along the way. King Greydon included. If we are able to clear the trade routes for you, would you be willing to show your appreciation with, say, 1500 gold? Not up front of course. Only after results have been delivered.

His demeanor changes from cordial to a mix of disbelief and mild confusion.

                ARLYN:                 Just so I have this straight. You’ve come here to tell me King Greydon has this under control by sending you to clear the way, and you are now trying to extort me for more gold?

                ORNO:                  He has sent us to gather intelligence. And so far, is planning on sending his own men. We would be much more effective.

                ARLYN:                 It seems to me that a raven to Highgarden is in order here.

                THOL:                    My Lord, there is no need to do that. Surely, we are all aligned in terms of desired outcomes.

                ARLYN:                 Are we?

                THOL:                    You would like the trade routes cleared to ensure your economic survival. We want the same thing. It is an expensive business, policing these roads.

                QHOR:                  Maybe we should go back to Highgarden right now and report what we’ve found so far? Then King Greydon can send men.

Arlyn is becoming mildly upset by what he is hearing.

                ARLYN:                 Maybe that’s a good idea. I don’t like the idea of spending my own coin for a matter that seems to be undertaken by the King’s men.

                THOL:                    Apparently, we have offended you in some way. There is no need to be brash about this.

                ARLYN:                 Some way?

                THOL:                    We all have to meet our needs.

                ORNO:                  And My Lord, if extortion was our aim, we would have asked for money up front.

                QHOR:                  We’re just asking for traveling expenses. We’re not asking to have you line our pockets. Our pockets are plenty lined.

                ARLYN:                 I… I… I don’t know where to go with this. Plenty lined? Then why do you ask for gold from a struggling and dwindling town?

                THOL:                    It’s an investment in your future economic success.

Lord Arlyn grows angry and stands up, almost knocking his chair over.

                ARLYN:                 I invite you all to leave my keep at once. I will be sending a raven to Highgarden.

Ornogrim turns to the rest of the group. “Friends, please leave the keep as requested by our host.” The group places their cups on the table and, as they leave, Ornogrim turns back to Lord Arlyn.

                ORNO:                  My Lord, I want to apologize for how things have transpired here. We do adventure for profit typically and this mission from King Greydon is a bit outside our norm. Our intent is to help the people of the Reach because King Gardener is providing us with a favor in return for us doing this favor for him. We realize how this would be offensive, and we offer our sincere apologies.

                ARLYN:                 Alright. I accept your apology and will refrain from sending a raven to Highgarden and wish you well on The Road ahead. I want to add that while it is true that clearing the route will help my town, it will help the entire region. I would imagine that the King will have a suitable reward as a result of regaining stability within his realm. IF you get the job done, I will tell King Greydon that you came with good graces.

                ORNO:                  That is most gracious My Lord. Thank you.

Ornogrim leaves and reconvenes with his companions.

                THOL:                    Were you able to smooth things over?

                ORNO:                  Yes, but that was close.

                THOL:                    That guy is just flat broke.

The Unlikely Assembly (feat. Jonah Bick) make way for the tavern. On the way, Ornogrim stops by the tailor shop to pick up the Tinkey Suit.

Decisions, Decisions

Upon arriving at the tavern, they each purchase rooms for the night. Before turning in, they briefly talk about discussing the plan for tomorrow, but instead, they decide to have a few drinks and scope out the bar help, which grows more attractive with each drink. As is Tholannan’s style, he casts a powerful spell to enhance his and Ornogrim’s chances of scoring. And score they do. The others “choose” not to, and go back to their rooms, all by themselves.

The next morning, they meet for their morning meal. It seems that the merchants are eager to get on the road, as they are already out front, waiting by their wagons.

Eleven wagons and only five people to protect them… did the Assembly bite off more than they can chew?

They discuss at great length how each of the wagons should be positioned based on the payment levied from each merchant. While everyone else is discussing business, Jonah watches Ornogrim as he wargs with Tinkey. After about 30 minutes, Tinkey has arrived back, Ornogrim has reconstituted himself, and everyone is in agreement with the travel arrangement.

Ornogrim is packing up his horse when Trytas, the vocal merchant transporting trinkets, walks up and asks which path they are taking to Lannisport.

                ORNO:                  We will be taking the Ocean Road.

                TRYTAS:                The Ocean Road?! Are you sure about that?? The safest path is to the east and north.

Ornogrim stops packing and turns to face Trytas directly. The two men lock eyes.

                ORNO:                  Well, you said earlier that even that path is dangerous. We intend to travel the Ocean Road and we know we can keep you safe. If you think you’d rather fare the grass path alone, we can refund your money and you can take your chances. But as I said, we are taking the Ocean Road, and we know we can protect you.

Tholannan overhears this and nudges Ornogrim. He whispers, “you sure you know what you are doing?”

Ornogrim does not acknowledge Tholannan and instead continues to stare into Trytas’s eyes. The merchant breaks the staring contest and looks off into the distance. After a brief introspective, he reconnects with Ornogrim.

                TRYTAS:                Alright. We are trusting you, but if something goes awry, we will be holding you personally accountable.

                ORNO:                  Understood.

Trytas smiles nervously. “And if we do survive, I suppose we will have more time to sell our goods.” He lets out a short, anxious burst of laughter.

Ornogrim maintains his solemn expression and nods.

The merchant reconvenes with the other merchants and relays the plan, speaking in mostly hushed tones. Some of them look tensely at Ornogrim, glancing quickly around at the Assembly. A couple simply look at the ground as if they are already defeated. The weapons merchant smirks, then looks calmly at the Assembly and nods with approval.

Seeing the high anxiety, Tholannan and Qarzdaq approach them to relive some of the tension.

                THOL:                    If we run into trouble, we stick together. Do not try to run, or you may be picked off if we are confronted with a large enough group. You should simply hide in your wagons while we deal with the threat and we continue on our way.

                QARZ:                   You have to understand that we are experts.

                THOL:                    We are experts.

Qhortho hears an opportunity to tell of conquests and approaches in his dragon scale armor, unsheathes his Valyrian steel, and intentionally glints it in the rising sun.

                QHOR:                  Does it look like we are amateurs?

                TRYTAS:                I suppose not.

This show does not appear to put them entirely at ease, but it does prevent them from expressing their doubts.

Before leaving town, they stop at the stable and sell their extra horse. Finally, the entire caravan departs Old Oak for Crakehall.

The first night, all of the merchants are on edge. None of them sleep well, but the Assembly performs their normal watch rotation. This has the effect of calming some of them by first light, but not all.

They continue another three days. Each morning, the merchants witness each of their guides’ daily rituals. Ornogrim sends Tinkey off and appears to speak to her without words; Qarzdaq meditates on his amulet; Tholannan concentrates on preparing his religious texts; Jonah and Qhortho spar. These daily rituals put the group more at ease with each day, almost providing a normality to the trek. Knowing they are nearing Crakehall does hamper that easiness somewhat, as they know this has been described as a hotspot of Ironborn activity.

Family in Peril

On the fourth day since leaving Old Oak, Tinkey returns to Ornogrim with information that a group of people appear to be harassing commoners on the road ahead. It sounds as if Tinkey saw the beginning of the confrontation take place. Ornogrim takes to warging with Tinkey to get a better look.

Through Tinkey’s eyes, Ornogrim takes to the skies. As he flies northward, the cliff to the west gradually gets near to the road, leaving only 25 feet to the left of the road at the point where he sees nine Ironborn preventing a family from proceeding. It looks like they intend to kill the family based on the threats being made.

Tinkey flies back to the group and Ornogrim snaps to consciousness. He relays the information about the Ironborn and overall terrain ahead.

                ORNO:                  I suggest we intervene post haste. All of us should continue forward as quickly as practicable. Once we can lay eyes on the situation, we should have the merchants stay back.

The Assembly agrees. Jonah could go either way.

                QARZ:                   The question we need to answer is how many of us are needed to take out nine Ironborn. Clearly all five of us could do it, but I think we need to ensure at least two of use stand with the wagons at all times. Our responsibility is to our paying clientele, not to the family on the road. If we can effectively take care of all, that would be good, but we must keep our word to the merchants.

                THOL:                    We must do all we can to protect everyone’s lives. None of us or them are expendable. We should quicken our pace at once.

They mount up and quickly leave their camp. This is aided by Qarzdaq taking up the rear of the caravan and keeping a fire lit under their asses – sometimes more literally than the merchants would have liked.

Although none of the merchants are told of what lies ahead, this increased pace does make them visibly anxious. None of the merchants say anything about their apprehension; they simply follow the orders and continue along the road.

Soon, they see a wagon stopped in the middle of the road and hear some commotion. They quickly take in their surroundings before proceeding, noticing a steep cliff to the left side of the road and open grasslands to the right. No one appears to be in the open area. Cautiously, they get closer.

Now they see what Ornogrim saw: nine Ironborn harassing a family. It looks like they are about to pull the mother out the back of the wagon. It does not seem the Ironborn have seen them.

They motion to the merchants to halt, and the Assembly (feat. Jonah Bick) creep up ahead. All, except Qhortho, dismount.

Knowing they still have not been seen, they all run at once towards the family’s wagon. Qarzdaq stops and opens a blaze around the wagon, shedding immense heat. Recognizing this as Qarzdaq’s magic, the others know the wagon itself is not being burned.  Five of the Ironborn notice the fire taking form below their feet and are able to jump free, away from the wagon. The other four are not so lucky, and they fall by the flames’ power.

Ornogrim, Tholannan, and Jonah all see this as the perfect time to strike.

Ornogrim fires two arrows at one of the men jumping out of the fire on the right. The man falls flat on the ground, dead, his body beginning to catch fire.

Tholannan notices that the enemy at the front of the wagon might be in charge. He fires a guiding bolt his way. It hits him hard enough that he almost falls to his knees.

Jonah takes out a light hand crossbow and fires it at someone jumping out of the fire on the left, striking him dead.

While the others stop to make ranged attacks, Qhortho stampedes past them all, getting closer to the wagon.

Qarzdaq and Ornogrim run around the right side of the wagon to get a better angle on two of the men still struggling to get out of the fire. Once in a good position, Qarzdaq fires four scorching rays at them. The first takes down the man at the front of the wagon. The second two hit the other man. The fourth ray soars past the wagon into the distance before fizzling out. Ornogrim watches this and, after getting a few steps forward of Qarzdaq, fires two arrows into the second man. He falls to the ground lifeless.

On the other side of the wagon, Qhortho sees the last of the Ironborn running from the inferno and tramples him. The man is hit by the horse’s hooves, but manages to keep his footing. He looks up just in time to see Qhortho’s arakh bearing down on him. Unable to avoid it, the curved blade slices his flesh lengthwise up his left arm.

The frenzied man reacts by unsheathing his blade and slicing at the air behind Qhortho’s horse as it runs away. He starts after it and is hit by a light crossbow in the back, courtesy Jonah Bick. Nevertheless, the man gets close enough to the horse as it slows to slice its hind legs badly.

The great black warhorse whinnies and turns around on the spot. Qhortho inspires his steed to rise on its hind legs and smack the man with its front hooves. As the horse lands its front legs, Qhortho sweeps his arakh across the man’s neck, spraying both him and his horse with blood. The man falls face down.

The fire around the wagon disappears as quickly as it formed.

Jonah and the Assembly move to the front of the wagon towards the bandit that seemed to be the leader.

Tholannan says a few words and waves his arms. The bandit coughs to life but remains unconscious. Qhortho and Ornogrim kneel beside the man. Qhortho holds him down while Ornogrim places a Goodberry in the bandit’s mouth. The man blinks his eyes open and screams as if still in the fire. Ornogrim pulls a blade and holds it to his throat. The bandit immediately quiets when he realizes he is captured.

Tinkey, out of sight from everyone, does a backflip for the hell of it. But since nobody saw it, did she really? The world will never know.

False Hope

                IRONBORN:        I’d rather die than be prisoner!

                THOL:                    Well, that is not your decision. If you haven’t noticed, you are at the mercy of my friend’s blade. If you want to walk out of here alive, you’re going to tell us where your compatriots are. Is that clear?

A brief silence passes.

Tholannan realizes something is off with this guy. He looks the part of an Ironborn, but his features are too Westerosi.

                THOL:                    Wait just a minute… You’re not from the Iron Islands! What are you doing with them?

The man tries to scramble a bit but can barely move.

                IRONBORN:        Whatta you talking about?

                THOL:                    I can tell. Look at the color of your skin, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself. You’re not one of them, explain yourself!

                BANDIT:               One of who??

                THOL:                    The Ironborn, obviously!

                BANDIT:               WE ARE IRON BORN!

                THOL:                    YOU are no Ironborn. We both know that. Now you’re going to start talking. Tell us where you are from, NOW!

Qhortho puts pressure on the man’s wounds while Ornogrim pushes his blade into the surface layer of his skin.

The bandit’s eyes convey a deep fear.

                BANDIT:               Aright aright!! We ain’t no Ironborn!! We just taking orders from our leader back at the Lake! Alls I know is we’re being funded by someone.

                ORNO:                  Where is this lake?

                BANDIT:               It’s back in the woods, east of here.

                ORNO:                  So someone is funding these mercenaries to dress as the Ironborn and raid the roads.

                BANDIT:               Now kill me and get it over with!

Qarzdaq gets closer to the bandit.

                QARZ:                   I was thinking we should let you go, are you sure you want to die?

                BANDIT:               (in a sheepish tone) Oh… well… if you’re talkin’ ’bout letting me go, I suppose I’ll take that.

                THOL:                    Look. We’re taking your armor and your weapon. You will go find a life of peace.

                BANDIT:               Well… You gotta let me keep my weapon, right? It ain’t fair to go and send me out into the wild without a weapon.

                ORNO:                  Yeah, give him his weapon.

                QARZ:                   I say let him live. Strip him naked, let him take his blade, and send him off into the wilderness.

                THOL:                    Hope that you never run into us again.

Ornogrim lowers his blade; Qhortho maintains his restraint.

                QHOR:                  No no no no… what is this guy talking you into? Just kill him!

The bandit wildly looks towards Qhortho’s direction. This is now the person holding his life in the balance.

                ORNO:                  He probably will go back to his employers though… Maybe we should just kill him.

                BANDIT:               NO! YOU JUST SAID I COULD GO! I’M NOT GOIN BACK TO NO ONE!

Tholannan detects a level of deceit in his voice.

                THOL:                    I don’t know, you’re making this really hard on me, man. I don’t want to kill you, but I just don’t know.

                BANDIT:               Aright aright… How about you just tell me where you want me to go. I’ll go there and leave all of this life behind.

Qhortho is unconvinced, but relieves his weight from the man and stands up. He looks at Tholannan.

                QHOR:                  Look, we can’t run the risk of him giving away the location of our caravan. We have all these people counting on us. (Turns to the bandit) I’m sorry buddy, but this is going to be it for you. In the name…

                BANDIT:               No.

                QHOR:                  … of the Great Stallion…

                BANDIT:               NO.

                QHOR:                  … I sentence you…

                BANDIT:               NOOO! You just told me…!!

                QHOR:                  … to death!

Despite Qarzdaq’s attempt to push Qhortho, he brings his Valyrian steel down through the man’s neck, severing it entirely from his body.

                QARZ:                   Qhortho, the group decided to let him go! We are assembled by mutual respect and agreement. You can’t just go against that! We can’t stand to have one of us acting against the wishes of the group. That’s what got Shadow killed.

                QHOR:                  What I did was for the good of the group and our goals.

                QARZ:                   That is for the group to decide, not any one person.

                THOL:                    Your callous disregard for this man’s life may cost us in the end.

                QARZ:                   Look, honestly, I don’t care if that man lived or died. All that matters is that we told him that we’d let him live. We needed to stick by that.

                THOL:                    We should be faithful to our word.

Ornogrim stays out of the conversation. He knows what Qhortho did was smart, but flashbacks of his home prevented him from taking that course of action.

                QHOR:                  It was too much risk. You were not seeing that clearly.

Tholannan sighs in disgust.

                THOL:                    There’s nothing to be gained from this squabbling now. Let us move forward.

Ornogrim looks around at the carnage.

                ORNO:                  I agree. I say we let the weapons dealer take the weapons and armor. He may feel a little better about the premium he is paying with respect to the others.

The group agrees.

Qarzdaq realizes they haven’t engaged with the wagon that was being attacked. He walks over the back and opens the canvas flap. Huddled together inside is a family of a father and mother with their two young children.

                QARZ:                   Are you ok?

                FATHER:               Y… Yes… I think so. Thank you so much for the help! I don’t know what we would have done without you.

                QARZ:                   Where were you going?

The rest of the group walks up behind Qarzdaq while the father is explaining they were leaving their home in Honeysuckle for a better life in Crakehall.

                FATHER:               We were a peaceful town. For a long time, we were invaded by monsters, but we were able to work through that. As ferocious as they were, they were stupid creatures and we could hide well enough. One day, that threat was neutralized and we thought the days ahead would be golden. However, the destruction of the monsters brought new monsters. The Sparrows. We were overrun by their harshly-enforced rules – and there is no hiding from them. Any attempt to speak out against them is punished. We figured that since we have distant relatives in Crakehall, maybe we could make a better life there.

                THOL:                    Punished how?

                FATHER:               By use of the whip. They make it a town spectacle. Wait a second… You all look familiar. You are the ones who killed the monsters! … and brought the Sparrows.

                ORNO:                  We are heading for Crakehall. If you would like to join us under our protection, you are welcome.

The father agrees and settles his family.

The Assembly loots the corpses and finds a decent score of gold. They pile the armor and weapons up on the edge of the road and discuss what, if anything, they owe the family. Before they offer all the gear to the weapons merchant, they discuss whether they should let the family take a few weapons to sell so they may begin their lives anew in Crakehall. Ultimately, they decide that the safe passage to Crakehall without charge is restitution enough; all of the gear should be offered to the merchant.

The Assembly tells the family to prepare for departure while they speak with the merchants. They offer the armor and weapons to the weapons merchant, who accepts the offer and retrieves the weapons from their pile on the road.

                ORNO:                  We hope that you all see now that we are experts.

The merchants seem to be a combination of pleased, proud, and amazed with a touch of fearful of the Assembly’s capabilities.

They mount up and continue on the road. As they leave the area, Qarzdaq looks back and sends a fire bolt at each of the unburned corpses.

A few hours later, as the sun gets low in the sky, they make camp on the desolate road. The night goes by without incident.

To Crakehall

Except for one, everybody awakes fully refreshed – probably the best night of sleep the merchants and the Assembly have had on this trip so far. Ornogrim is the only one who arises more tired than when he lay his head. He spent the night tossing and turning over the man they’d murdered after he posed no threat – and they’d promised to set free.

Though it’s not fair to say he caused no threat. Qhortho’s action was the smart course in terms of safety. But smart does not always coincide with right. Back home, Ornogrim had undergone a similar ordeal, where the smart course of action was to kill a child, but he could not bring himself to do it. His tribe shunned him for this. He left in the dead of night voluntarily before they could officially make him an outcast. Surely though, this bandit was no child. He knew what he was doing and he had tried to kill them. He was also part of a plot to close down the Ocean Road. Clearly an enemy combatant. Still. They promised to let him go and he might have steered clear of this lifestyle. These are the circular thoughts that raced through Ornogrim’s mind all night, continuing this morning.

Ornogrim brings up the incident to his comrades without laying blame to anyone, more to assess whether they share the same thoughts.

Qhortho gets mildly defensive and seems a little tired of this discussion.

                QHOR:                  We killed all of the other ones and he was about to die. Why would it be wrong to finish the job? He would have alerted his allies and that would end badly. End of story.

Qhortho gets up to sharpen and polish his arakh.

                QARZ:                   I agree that it wasn’t right to kill him, but I feel better after having burned his corpse and offering his flesh to R’hllor.

Tholannan reflects on the encounter, staring at the ground.

                THOL:                    It pains me how quickly we were able to reverse his course of death and yet, the woman I loved so much could not be saved. It makes me wonder how I can tap into that power to bring her back. Looking at those corpses, thinking “he could walk again and do my bidding.”

He raises his eyes quickly to scan the group, as if he said something he shouldn’t have.

                QARZ:                   Be careful with those thoughts Tholannan. Once the Lord of Light has one’s soul, it is the Lord’s choice whether life can be channeled back into the body, not ours as mere mortals.

Jonah watches the group dynamic as they have this discussion, as if studying something he has had little experience with. He doesn’t weigh in on one side or the other.

The next couple of days pass easily and they make it to Crakehall before they know it. Literally. Entering the town, they would never have guessed this is the bustling trade hub they’d heard about. It has a distinctly dusty and desolate feel, though the buildings look to be in good repair. It is as if the buildings were taken from a great town center and relocated to a remote location. In fact, these structures are even larger than those in Old Oak.

A central keep lies ahead along the entry road. As with other buildings in The Reach, it is also of renaissance style, with a touch more flair than the keep in Old Oak. As they travel towards the keep, they realize they are passing a large tavern when a man sitting outside yells over to them.

                INNKEEPER:                        Travelers! Welcome to the Rickety Ratchet! Will you be needing room and board?

The Assembly dismounts and determines this man is the sole barkeep and there have been no passersby in weeks. Looking around, there are no horses docked outside the tavern. Qarzdaq calls back to the merchants, “Alright everyone, we’ll be staying here for the night. Tomorrow, we make way for Lannisport.” The merchants park their wagons and tie up their horses. They enter an almost empty tavern. Jonah enters the tavern with them.

Qarzdaq turns to the innkeeper, “We have some business at the keep but will be back here soon.”

The innkeeper looks the group of adventurers over and appreciatively nods with hope in his eye. He enters the tavern to serve his customers.

The rescued family waits until after the merchants have gotten out of earshot. The father approaches the group.

                QARZ:                   Welcome to your new home!

                FATHER:               Thank you so much for getting us here. We are truly grateful.

With a sad look in his eyes, Ornogrim responds, “It is our pleasure.”

The father continues to thank them as he walks backward in the direction of his family, turning around after a few steps.

The adventurers leave for the keep on foot and arrive at a grand structure. They enter to colorful tapestries lining the walls, each depicting artistic variations of the House Crakehall sigil: a boar on a red field.

Two men are drinking at a table in the center.

As to not startle them, Ornogrim calls out at a distance to get their attention.

                ORNO:                  Good day gentlemen!

When they get closer, it is clear that at least one of them is a knight. The other looks to be a nobleman of some sort.

                ORNO:                  Good Ser. We would like to speak with you.

                GOLFRYN:           I am Ser Golfryn. And who might you be?

                QHOR:                  We are the Unlikely Assembly.

                THOL:                    The Exorcists of the Mists.

                QARZ:                   The Busters of Ghosts.

                GOLFRYN:           That is some list of titles.

                QHOR:                  There are more.

Qarzdaq elbows him harshly. “My name is Qarzdaq.” Each of the other men in the Assembly provide their names. Ser Golfryn introduces the nobleman at the table as Lord Daemon of House Crakehall.

In a tired and drunken voice, Lord Daemon acknowledges the introduction without getting up from his seat, “How do, folks…”

                ORNO:                  My Lord, we are on a mission from King Greydon himself.

Lord Daemon’s words are slurred with the thick dialect of good wine.

                DAEMON:           King Greydon? And why should I believe you are here by King Greydon? Wouldn’t he send someone from the Royal Guard?

                ORNO:                  What we are about to tell you requires no action on your part and no leap of faith. There is nothing to be gained by us other than to fulfill his request to provide you with information.

                DAEMON:           Bah… The King does nothing for us “lesser lords”! Isn’t that clear from our thriving economy??

The Assembly look at each other with concern.

                QHOR:                  He has sent us to rid you of the Ironborn problem.

                ORNO:                  More specifically, to gather information ahead of ridding you of this Ironborn problem. Any information you have would cost you nothing and would only benefit your cause and ours.

                DAEMON:           Well that’s good. I got nothing left to spend.

                QARZ:                   We brought a large caravan of merchants into town with us on our way to Lannisport. We came from Old Oak along the Ocean Road.

Lord Dameon stares into his cup.

                DAEMON:           Good on ya…

                ORNO:                  In any case, we have at least facilitated a small amount of travel to your town.

                QARZ:                   And we plan to spend gold in your local shops.

                DAEMON:           Yeah… alright… I guess that’s appreciated.

They ask for any information about the threat and the significance of Red Lake.

                DAEMON:           Nothing of any significance that I know of. It’s about a ten-day travel through the woods due east. A treacherous way to travel as a result of the terrain. Much easier to take some of the pathways through the grasslands that I’ve heard about from merchants, if you have wagons or supplies.

                QARZ:                   What about those that live out there?

                DAEMON:           No one lives out there. It’s just a lake.

                ORNO:                  Thank you My Lord. I think we’ve gotten all we need.

They say their formal goodbyes and leave the keep for the tavern. While walking, Ornogrim mentions that he suspects Lord Daemon may be the one behind the Ironborn threat.

Upon arriving, the innkeeper greets them loudly, clearly excited by the business they’ve brought. They see Jonah sitting at a table by himself.

                QARZ:                   What can I get for one of these?

Qarzdaq flips the man a gold coin.

                INNKEEPER:        I can get you five somewhat old ales? I apologize for the lack of fresh supply…

Jonah walks up and says the ale isn’t so bad. He places an empty cup on the bar.

                QARZ:                   Five ales it is!

They take their ales and use this time to purchase rooms for the night. Tholannan pays to have the Innkeeper’s room for the night; the others pay for modest accommodations.

Ornogrim asks the innkeeper about Red Lake, specifically whether anyone has settled there and if the way there is treacherous.

                INNKEEPER:        No one lives out there from what I understand. And as for the way there, I wouldn’t call it treacherous. Difficult terrain maybe, but that’s because of the dense woods. It would be really tough to get the merchant caravan there if you are traveling direct, if that is what you are asking?

                ORNO:                  Ah, no, just curious really.

It wasn’t simple curiosity though. Ornogrim was trying to corroborate the Lord’s story, and it seems to mostly hold together. The use of the word “treacherous” still throws him though. He will want to discuss this with his friends before they get back on the road.

                QHOR:                  On to more important questions, would you happen to have anything harder than ale? Perhaps spirits?

                INNKEEPER:        I am sorry to say that the spirits were the first to go when our economy began to fall through. I may have some Rum of the Ancients, but that is extremely expensive.

                QHOR:                  How expensive?

                INNKEEPER:        150 gold.

                QHOR:                  Unopened?

                INNKEEPER:        I believe it is. I’ll go fetch it.

He disappears into the back for a few minutes and returns with a dusty but ornately shaped bottle of dark liquor.

                INNKEEPER:        Here it is! There are 30 servings in a single bottle.

                THOL:                    The price is high, but we could split the cost.

Ornogrim and Jonah refuse to join payment and walk away from the bar.

Jonah approaches a man that must be the only local and takes a seat at his table without invitation.

Ornogrim approaches the table where the weapons merchant, Dantis, is sitting alone.

                ORNO:                  My friends are over there buying high priced liquor. Not really my idea of money well spent.

                DANTIS:               I am of a like mind. Friend, please join me for a quiet ale. Next round is on me.

                ORNO:                  Thank you friend.

He takes a seat and drinks ale with the man. After a few minutes of idle conversation, Tinkey lands on Ornogrim’s shoulder, and he welcomes her back from exploration. “DamnRight”

Qhortho badgers the innkeeper down in price considerably, and in the end, the deal is made for the bottle of Rum of the Ancients, but he must pour the innkeeper a shot of it.

Qhortho, Qarzdaq, and Tholannan split the cost evenly and take their prized bottle to an open table.

They sit down and immediately pour a round. They raise their glasses and clank them together with sufficient fervor.

                QARZ:                   To The Assembly!

The entire tavern hears them and raises their glasses, “TO THE ASSEMBLY!”

It is now nearing the end of Day 280 and each member of the Assembly has accrued 29,300XP.

With six merchants in tow with 11 wagons full of various goods, they leave in the morning for the Lannisport Faire.​​