​​​In Walks a Man with Hooterz

Ornogrim walks into the arena preparation area with his caged Hooterz.

                ORNO:                  What’s all the commotion?

                ARAN:                   They disqualified me from jousting in the tournament!

                ORNO:                  Why?

                ARAN:                   Apparently I was hitting them too hard.

                ORNO:                  Well… Hooterz and I have been bonding famously so far. We’re not where we need to be just yet, but I can tell… we’re going to get there.

                ARAN:                   Well, I’m tired of this arena, let’s get out of here. What do you guys want to do? Some more of the games? Maybe the tavern?

                QARZ:                   Let’s combine the best of both and enter the drinking contest!

They leave the jousting arena and turn towards the busyness that is the rest of the Faire. They hear the random carrying-on of the regular folk: a man yelling at his child – a child yelling at their mother – a woman yelling at her man – some child crying about losing their doll – some men drunkenly yelling at each other. Lots of noise.

Ten feet before they reach the outer throughway, still before they enter the crowds, a large armored man thrusts his way through the group and strongly shoves Aran from behind. Aran, quick on his feet, catches himself from falling, but stumbles forward into two other armored men.

The rest of the group watches curiously, ready to take action if needed. Aran’s eyes raise to meet those of the men in front of him… Ser Briden and Ser Jaddon from the tournament? He turns his head to see the large man who pushed him was Ser Maxar.

                ARAN:                   Alright fellas…

                MAXAR:               You think your pidley rank means anything around here?

                JADDON:             What makes you think you can just come in and cheat in a match of skill and talent without consequence?

                BRIDEN:               You’re no knight. Whatta you suppose we should do with him Max?

                MAXAR:               Don’t think it’s worth turning him in. Maybe it’s worth it to the scoundrel to just pay us to protect him… from those like us, for the time he’s here?

Aran turns towards Maxar.

                ARAN:                  Well that’s not going to happen.

                MAXAR:               Ha! So you have a better offer?

                ARAN:                  What do you care about the tournament? You won anyway – and we didn’t even get to finish our fight!

                JADDON:             You bring dishonor to us all.

Aran turns his head to the two other knights.

                BRIDEN:               You’re no knight.

                MAXAR:               You should never have been in that tournament in the first place.

As Aran turns his head back to Maxar, he is slammed in the face with a heavy fist. The momentum of the punch twists Aran’s body slightly. Aran spits out a small bit of blood to the ground before turning back to face Maxar, keeping his emotions in check. The next few moments seem to last hours. The Assembly, unwilling to fight for Aran’s discretions outright, waits anxiously to see whether they need to step in for protection; three-on-one is not a fair fight, regardless of what Aran did or did not do in that arena.

Aran breaks the silence.

                ARAN:                  If you want to have a real fight, then let’s have it out. This time, without tournament rules.

                MAXAR:               Are you proposing we duel right here?

                ARAN:                  Full strikes this time. I don’t want to kill you, but we’ll see who wins. To me, that’s what real fighting is. None of this ‘hiding behind the knight’s code’ bullshit.

                MAXAR:               Ha! Draw your weapon.

                ARAN:                  You’re mad because you think I cheated. I’m just saying we do it legit!

                MAXAR:               Draw your weapon.

Aran comes to his senses, realizing that if he draws his weapon, he’d be the aggressor here and that would not end well – winning this battle would make no difference.

Aran takes a step back, and to the side, as to not get closer to Jaddon and Briden.

Maxar takes a step closer to Aran and looks him over. He then retreats one step lessening his aggressive demeanor.

                MAXAR:               Forget it. I don’t think this prick will be doing this again.

The knights all turn around and walk away from Aran. As Aran begins to walk in the opposite direction, he turns and calls out, “you fought a good fight Maxar!”

Maxar continues to walk away but raises his fist and extends his middle finger.

Aran laughs and continues towards the gaming area. Relieved, and more eXPerienced, the rest of the Assembly follows.

                THOL:                    That guy had all this talk of honor then he just sucker punched you out of nowhere.

                ARAN:                   Yeah… I’d rather just forget that guy. Let’s get to some drinking.

                THOL:                    It’s mighty good of you to let bygones be bygones. It’s a good reminder to us all, really. I’m with you Aran.

​

Make Like a Tree and Get Outta Here

As they round a corner in the path leading to the drinking contest, they hear some ruckus behind the last row of tents. There doesn’t appear to be any traffic entering or leaving that area, so it seems the perfect place for shenanigans, if shenanigans were to be had. They hear muffled shouting and deem it time to investigate. They walk between two moderately-sized, but unused canvas merchant tents.

A man with short oiled blonde hair is forcing a young blonde woman into an empty tent against her will. A smaller man with short brown hair runs up to the man just as the Assembly lays eyes on the scene.

The smaller man points in the bully’s face.

                VIGILANTE:         Hey you. Get your damn hands off her.

                RAPIST:               Listen Troy, just turn around and walk away.

The smaller man makes no move to leave.

                RAPIST:                 Are you deaf? Beat it!

Aran and Qhortho slowly draw their weapons as to not attract attention. Ornogrim starts looking for a safe place to sit with his caged Hooterz.

The man now identified as Troy, waves his index finger at the bully.

                TROY:    No Byff. You leave her alone!

With that, Byff pushes the woman into the tent and onto the ground. He turns around to face the smaller man, but as he does, Troy punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Byff, now angry, gets back to his feet. Troy is suddenly surrounded by five other men that rush over, all with slicked-back black hair. One of these hoodlums grabs Troy and pushes him into another of the hoodlums. Troy is pushed back and forth within this circle, with them laughing at him the entire time.

At this point, the Assembly can finally see the smaller man’s face. They all come to the realization that this is none other than Troy Flowers.

After a few more shoves, he is pushed into Byff, who grabs Troy by his shirt, pulling him close to his face.

Tholannan shouts, “Stand down! All of you! If you want to walk out of here with your lives!”

Immediately the group of bullies turns towards the onlookers.

All but Ornogrim approach the aggressors; he follows the group for a few steps then sits down, cross-legged on the ground. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get involved in the scuffle, it’s more that he’s having such a focused and engaging time with Hooterz that he doesn’t want to interrupt and de-prioritize his new friend.

The group stops a little less than twenty feet away, but Qhortho continues forward. He simply walks up and pushes Byff. Although he budges slightly, he does not lose his footing. This is a solid guy; Troy’s got guts to stand up to him.

Qhortho, not really concerned by this, looks down at the crumbled woman in the dirt. He extends his hand to the woman, “Are you alright, my lady? What’s going on here?”

She looks up into his eyes, scared.

Byff turns to Qhortho, “Hey buddy, what the fuck business is this of yours?”

Qhortho not paying him any mind makes him angrier, which is expressed plainly on his face.

The girl looks at Byff momentarily, then defiantly looks back to Qhortho.

                WOMAN:            This guy just grabbed me and this other fella came in to help.

                QHOR:                 You don’t know him?

                WOMAN:            I know all of them, unfortunately.

Watching this exchange, Byff decides he’s had enough.

                BYFF:                     I’m going to teach you why you don’t put your horsey nose into others’ business!

As the last syllable leaves his mouth, he slams Qhortho with his mace.

Qhortho takes the hit, barely swaying. Though hurt, he would never give that satisfaction to this asshole. He turns back to Byff and stands tall.

Tholannan sees the encounter about to escalate out of control and so calls upon the Mother Rhoyne to create Spirit Guardians around him in the form of ancient Rhoynar warriors, flitting in and out of existence. The sight during a typical battle seems remarkably appropriate with all the magical effects around them, but now that it is contrasted to a “normal” setting, with canvas tents and fair-goers not far away, it is a bit unnerving. The ancient warriors seem to pour from Tholannan’s soul, rushing towards the threats, then fading out of existence after traversing about fifteen feet. This continuous rush of translucent, blue-toned Spirit Guardians is distracting to say the least.

Troy and the surrounding group of thugs turn towards this incredible sight. Tholannan strides towards the group. Troy looks away and covers his face. The warriors flood around Troy, continuously passing directly through each of the thugs. Just as they get enough of their wits about them to run, they are so overwhelmingly sapped of all energy that they collapse around Troy.

Byff screws up his face.

                BYFF:                     What the fuck is th-

Byff suddenly stops moving. He doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t blink. Qarzdaq walks through the guardians towards the collapsed bodies.

                QARZ:                   You’re welcome.

Ornogrim, now absolutely sure he’s not needed, sits cross-legged in some patchy grass with his caged Hooterz.

Aran, amazed at what he’s witnessed from his fellow travelers, decides that if they are going to take it in stride, he would too. The sight of the Guardians is troubling, but clearly, he is not in danger. He wouldn’t want to come across as a noob, right? He puts the thought aside and reaches out to the cowering, but still standing, Troy.

                ARAN:                   Are you alright?

Troy slowly lowers his guard and turns to face the Guardians that are wisping around him. His eyes focus on Aran as best he can, but it’s clearly difficult for him to maintain focus with ethereal warriors passing by every few moments.

                TROY:                    Uhhhh… Thanks?

                ARAN:                   So what happened here?

                TROY:                    I was trying to save my… friend… well, “friend” may be too light… I mean… she’s someone I’ve known for such a long time… but… well… anyway, I was saving Lorayn here from these thugs.

Aran notices Troy’s cheeks flush a bit in his explanation. Putting life and limb on the line for a just cause, regardless of strength, that deserves some respect. More if he could have actually won, but still, some respect for sure.

Aran looks back to Lorayn, currently being helped up by Qhortho, then grins at Troy.

                TROY:                    I had them though, I did! I did knock him down, you guys saw that right??

His voice gets loud enough to ensure Qhortho and Lorayn can both hear him.

                QARZ:                   Yeah. We saw it.

                ARAN:                   Yeah. So who are these guys? Do you know them?

                TROY:                    These guys hang around the bars in Lannisport. They just cause ruckus wherever they go. It’s such a small town, that they’ve just taken it upon themselves to do as they please. They have a long history with the guards, and they’ve been locked up numerous times for minor crimes and disturbances.

                THOL:                    They look like rapists.

After Qhortho gets Lorayn to her feet, he strides over, as if he was the one that took care of this mess.

                QHOR:                  Yeah, what were their intentions with this woman?

Qarzdaq looks at Qhortho slightly confused, as if the question shouldn’t need to be asked. He turns back to Troy.

                QARZ:                   Why don’t you take another lick at him while you have a chance?

Aran looks over at the standing, but paralyzed, Byff and realizes he’s still armed. He is clearly not a threat in his current state, but why tempt fate? He walks over and takes the mace from Byff’s hand, tossing it away from the scene of men littering the ground. He notices a coin pouch attached to Byff’s belt and snatches it. For a moment, the group watches this carefully, wondering whether they brought another thief into their party. They are relieved a moment later when Aran tosses it to Lorayn.

                ARAN:                   For your troubles.

Lorayn catches the purse and nods deeply.

Aran looks to Troy, then steps back.

                ARAN:                   Have at him.

Troy looks around at the group, realizing they’re serious. He walks up hesitantly and looks him over closely: his face still stuck in confusion, his mouth cemented in a thick “TH” sound; teeth showing but separated, his tongue blocking the gap. What a fucking tool. Anger visibly builds in Troy’s face. He pulls back his fist and launches it into Byff’s face. The sudden force knocks over the paralyzed man. Byff maintains his stance, as if he were a statue. The only difference here is that Byff’s nose is now unmistakably broken and bloodied.

Qhortho faces Lorayn.

                QHOR:                  Everything’s going to be alright now. We’re going to take these guys to the prison.

                LORAYN:              Thank you very much. They deserve everything they get.

With flirt in her eye, she continues.

                LORAYN:              We don’t see many of your kind around here.

In kind, Qhortho responds.

                QHOR:                  There aren’t many of my kind around here.

                LORAYN:              I like it. It’s… it’s exotic.

                QHOR:                  I can show you more exotic things if you like.

Troy plainly does not care for this move on what he would like to be his turf. He steps between them to interrupt.

                TROY:                    Yes, that’s all fine and good. We should be on our way Lorayn. These men have business to take care of here. Isn’t that right?

                ARAN:                   We will probably need you both to stick around until the guards get here. Troy, how about you help us tie these guys up.

Troy lights up at the invitation.

                TROY:                    With pleasure.

Ornogrim looks up momentarily, but makes no move to stand. Instead, he turns back to Hooterz. Everyone except Ornogrim participates in restraining Byff and the others. Qarzdaq releases Byff from paralysis, but Byff’s lackeys remain unconscious.

                BYFF:                     … THE FUCK?!!

He looks around bewildered that he’s tied up on the ground, his face in pain, spirit guardians still flitting around him.

                BYFF:                     Who in Seven Hells are you guys??

                QARZ:                   We’re the Unlikely Assembly.

                QHOR:                  Your worst nightmare. I’m going to get a few guards to wrap this up for us.

During the time Qhortho is away, the group interrogates Byff. Tholannan begins by smacking Byff across the face.

                THOL:                    What were your intentions with that poor woman?

                BYFF:                     Oh please… Lorayn was asking for it. I’ve known her a long time now.

                THOL:                    I find that hard to believe with you throwing her into a tent in a very rapey sort of way.

                BYFF:                     She was just puttin’ up a fight. She was willing. You know how that goes!

Tholannan turns to Lorayn.

                THOL:                    Is this true?

Lorayn looks at Byff, unsure of the repercussions if she defies him, then shakes it off.

                LORAYN:              Of course not.

                BYFF:                     Ah fuck it. This’ll never stick.

                THOL:                    Seems like you get away with this sort of thing a lot around here.

                BYFF:                     I have nothing more to say. Fuck you.

Realizing there really is nothing more to learn from this guy, they move to disarm the tied-up thugs.

                ARAN:                   Ornogrim, how about you help us disarm these guys?

                ORNO:                  Oh alright.

He breaks his concentration with his owl friend, but keeps the cage in-hand as he helps remove a small dagger from the closest one. It’s worth noting that the coin pouches on the men are left where they are, a marked departure from past encounters, though this is in civilized territory where they believe norms should be upheld.

Qhortho returns with three guards just as the last small dagger is tossed into the pile with Byff’s mace. The guards approach the scene, with one stepping forward, claiming leadership of the scene.

                GUARD:               What’s going on here?

                QHOR:                  Like I said, we caught these men assaulting our friends here.

                GUARD:               And what gives you the authority to detain and restrain these men?

                ORNO:                  They were disturbing the peace.

                QHOR:                  I’m not just going to stand by while people are being attacked.

Aran steps forward, ensuring part of his rank is visible to the guard.

                ARAN:                   We were stepping in to prevent a rape. As you know, it is my duty to uphold the peace and stand for those who cannot stand for themselves.

The lead guard faces Aran and grunts.

                GUARD:               I see. You shouldn’t be hanging around with types like this.

He throws his thumb towards the Dothraki.

                GUARD:               People may get the wrong idea. We almost arrested him on the spot when he told us he tied up some locals. He implied there was a group that helped him, so we were ready to arrest the lot of you. I see now that you are fine folk standing for peace, and I thank you for your service in this matter.

Qhortho bites his tongue, showing a manner of restraint opposite his instinct to make this guard bite through his own.

The guard speaks to Lorayn and verifies the story while Byff fumes on the ground.

                GUARD:               Alright Byff. You and yours are headed to the lock-up for a day or two. Maybe you’ll learn this time that this is not acceptable in our nice, quiet little beach hamlet.

                BYFF:                     Pffft…

                GUARD:                 It looks like the situation here is under control, we’ll go get a few more guards and clean up this mess. I commend you for exercising discipline in your encounter here.

                THOL:                    Put them in the rapey cell.

Ornogrim turns towards Troy and Lorayn and asks if they’d like to join them at the drinking contest. Troy politely declines and decides they should wind down instead.

                TROY:                    Though, I now believe what you said back in Old Oak. I did have the wrong impression of you from the start, and I apologize for drawing my weapon against you in the tavern.

                ORNO:                  I appreciate that. I think we’re all on good terms now.

Qhortho tries once more towards Lorayn.

                QHOR:                  You seem interested in the mysteries of the Dothraki ways.

Lorayn looks up in wonder at Qhortho, but Troy steps between them again drawing Qhortho’s eye.

                TROY:                    Thank you Qhortho. I appreciate what you have done here… what you have all done here today… but I think it’s time we go. I hope to run into you in the future. Perhaps I can repay the favor in time.

Qhortho looks over Troy’s head to Lorayn.

                QHOR:                  There is no better person within a thousand leagues to show you than me.

                TROY:                    If we are in need of further study of the Dothraki, we will let you know.

Qhortho looks at the twerp in front of him, seeing the cockblocker for what he is. His voice becomes loud and booming, to show his strength and resolve.

                QHOR:                  For I am Kahakka Qhortho…

Troy steps back, puts his arm around Lorayn and turns her away from Qhortho so they may leave.

                QHOR:                  …Son of Zhavorso, the dragon Khal…

They continue to walk away while Lorayn peeks over her shoulder at Qhortho.

                QHOR:                  …RULER OF THE GRASS SEA!

Lorayn smiles then turns back towards her direction of travel, with Troy, away from Qhortho.

Qhortho turns to the group.

                QHOR:                  Was worth a shot. You guys saw that, right??

                QARZ:                   Yeah. We saw it.

                ARAN:                   Yeah. So, on to the drinking contest?

​

It’s All Fun and Games

During their walk, Aran asks about knowing Troy. Ornogrim mentions that he had only just met him when the guy drew a blade on him at the Old Oak tavern. He then talks about how a woman in their group named Shadowsilver, who, before she met her ultimate demise, was really the instigator that forced their acquaintance.

They arrive at the tail end of a contest where only two men remain. As the two furiously pound steins of beer, Jonah sidles up to Ornogrim. He mentions that he’ll be headed back east and he’d be willing to stick with the group if they were heading back at the same time. Otherwise, he would just go it on his own, making it clear that he has no preference either way.

The group indicates to Jonah they are interested in checking out Red Lake to see if they may identify the major threat to the region. Jonah agrees that the trip through Red Lake may be lucrative and that he would be willing to tag along since it is mostly on the way.

The crowd around them boos loudly causing everyone in the group to look back at the contest. One of the contestants had just purged the contents of his stomach, beer and bits of sausage, on the ground. They turn just in time to witness the last contestant spraying beer into the air and then hurling over. The two men, defeated, stand up with their dazed eyes and wobbly walk out of the roped-off area wiping their permagrins.

                JUDGE:                 Do we have any new contestants for the Lannister Faire Beer Binger Competition, featuring Highgarden Wheat?

Aran turns to the others, “Let’s do this.” He steps into the roped area, followed by Qarzdaq, Qhortho, and Tholannan. Looking back, Jonah is nowhere to be seen.

The four of them claim seats at the long table. Six others from the crowd take the remaining seats. A few beer wenches fill 10 steins of beer in front of each contestant while the judge explains the rules.

                JUDGE:                 First person to finish 10 steins of beer in 30 seconds without throwing up, wins. If no one has drunk all 10 steins, the one who has drunk the most within 30 seconds without puking, wins. Bottom line is that if you vomit, you’re out! Take your mugs… Ready… GO!

They all begin drinking. Various strategies are at work: some take their time, waiting until the end to hold it in easier; others want to get through the ten beers as quickly as possible. Before the first ten seconds of the contest have past, Ornogrim takes a particularly potent hit of pipeweed. His coughing fit is heard over the cheering crowd. He draws some scowls from the distraction and decides to leave the area in search of food across the path.

By the end of the third round, only Qhortho and three other random people remain in the competition. However, no one is able to make it through the fourth round. With all of them out, the house wins again. They stagger off, feeling a little under the weather but slightly more social.​

Looking around, they spot Ornogrim across the way eating at a table with his caged Hooterz. It looks as if they had a feast. Inside the cage, food scraps are scattered around the bottom and Hooterz is in the process of finishing them off. Outside the cage looks worse: Ornogrim is clutching a handful of fried potatoes in one hand, a juicy pork and cheese sandwich in his other. He’s taking a bite of the sandwich, juices rolling down his face and on his shirt, when he is joined by his friends. It’s incredible what Ornogrim managed to accomplish within just a minute of leaving the drinking contest.​

                QHOR:                  Hey Ornogrim, interested in some archery?

With his mouth full of food, he replies, “Yeah, I’d be up for that. I feel like I’m in the perfect zone for archery.”

                ARAN:                   I want to grab a drink first, but I’ll join you.

                QARZ:                   I’ll do the same.

When ordering the drink, they realize they can purchase it in a commemorative cup that reads “76^th Annual Lannisport Faire.” It costs a little more, but at least they won’t feel obligated to return it. Qarzdaq orders a Volantine Red, Ornogrim gets a Rhoynar Malt, and Aran goes with more Highgarden Wheat. Time for some archery.

The so-called crowd around the archery contest is definitely lacking. While it is of course a greater skill than drinking, one would certainly garner a different impression based on crowd size alone. Although Qarzdaq is not one for archery, he has an idea. He walks up to the judge running the contest.

                QARZ:                   Good day my friend. You may be able to get some more spectators here if you had the right draw. No pun intended. There’s no reason those buffoons drinking and barfing should have three times the crowd of a contest with as much focus and prestige as archery.

                JUDGE:                 Hmmm… Yes. Go on.

                QARZ:                   Well, I am one skilled in the art of fire, as provided to me by the Lord of Light himself. If you would allow me to use Firebolts instead of arrows, I am sure we could generate a larger crowd, and perhaps more contestants throughout the day, which of course means more coin for the house.

                JUDGE:                 You make a good case, my fellow. I will allow it, but I ask that you cover the cost of the target that will undoubtedly be destroyed, which is five silver. Of course, there also would be no way for you to win the contest because we would not know where you hit when the target goes up in flames. I see that this means there is very little upside for you, but how about if I do make any gains above what I expected for the day, I part with one-third.

                QARZ:                   I agree to pay for the target, but how about I get half of the day’s profits that exceed your expected levels.

                JUDGE:                 You have a deal.

The judge then takes a few steps back from Qarzdaq and stands on a small wooden box.

                JUDGE:                 Welcome all, to the finest of all the open contests at the Faire, Eagle Eye, where archers will match their focus and skill against one another across a series of challenges.

Aran, Ornogrim, Qarzdaq, Qhortho, Tholannan, and one other fairgoer step up to participate.

He explains to the contestants loudly enough to also address the small crowd, that there will be five rounds using standard three-foot targets at a distance of 50 feet.

                JUDGE:                 All archers will be supplied with short bows to ensure no one has an unfair equipment advantage. Each archer will be allowed to re-shoot up to three times across the entire contest. Otherwise, there is only a single shot per round. The first round simply requires the arrow to strike within the black rings or better. The second round must strike within the blue rings or better. The third round must land within the red rings or better. The fourth round will require the yellow region. Finally, in the fifth round, the remaining archers will be firing at the target swinging from a scaffold, and will be required to strike the yellow region again.​

Aran looks over the one guy in the contest he does not know. He realizes that even with the man’s greater number of years behind him, the man is clearly less experienced. Interestingly, he does appear to be a little more nimble and dexterous.

Aran’s mind goes to how he’d defeat this man in battle; his own experience in trained maneuvers and overall strength would be his asset against this nimble foe. Close the gap. Flurry of glaive strikes. This does little good in this sort of competition, however. He puts the information in the back of his mind, but takes note that although his military background may be an enormous asset in the real world where combat is a matter of life and death, in these civil contests of dainty finesse, his background may get him into more trouble than he’d like. Still, he mustn’t let these fairytalers dull the blade of his mind.

After providing the archers with short bows, and arranging a sixth target out on the field for Qarzdaq, the judge stands up on his crate to address the contestants and the few spectators.

                JUDGE:                 We have a special treat today. A Volantine priest joins our midst to showcase the power of tamed fire. Fear not archers, he will not be eligible for victory in this contest, but he does promise quite a show, and I welcome him to FIRE the first shot as it were.

He chuckles to himself, while providing next to zero amusement to those within earshot. He quickly looks around, clears his throat, and steps down from the crate.

Qarzdaq nods at the judge and steps up to the log denoting the firing line. He looks across a small field of grass roughly 60 feet across and 75 feet long. He lays out his hand palm-up and conjures a small image of a dragon in his hand. Moments later, the dragon breathes a streak of fire at the target downrange. The target bursts into flames. Aran immediately hoots at the sight.

Muffled gasps escape from the onlookers behind them. The background sounds of foot traffic and conversation suddenly stop. Even the judge seems mildly excited.

Some of the passersby decide to stick around to watch the show, but many continue on their way. The boys responsible for setting up the targets run down range to put out the fire and attempt to salvage the target for the next shot.

The judge takes a few steps towards Qarzdaq.

                JUDGE:                 Nice work, more like that will certainly earn your keep!

Each archer in turn steps up and fires at their individual targets. Each makes their shot with ease.

The judge steps up to announce the results of the first round.

                JUDGE:                 Each archer remains in competition! And now we begin round two. We are looking for strikes within the blue rings this time. Once again, we will begin with the Volantine priest demonstrating his keen control of fire to our de-LIGHT!

Some mild groans can be heard within the gathering crowd.

                JUDGE:                 Yes… well…

He steps down and nods to Qarzdaq.

Qarzdaq steps up to the log and decides to step up his game. He fishes out a small mirror from his backpack and turns towards the small crowd. Looking in the mirror at the target downrange, he aims his finger carefully. One. Two. Fire.

A bolt of fire erupts from his finger, but he badly botches the alignment. Immediately, his red-streaked dark hair catches on fire. The flames lick his face. Perhaps this is a gentle caress from R’hllor in affirmation of spreading the word and knowledge; perhaps a rebuke for a callous misuse of his god’s powers. Either way, he is still flesh. He hastily grabs at his robes and smothers it, leaving his face scorched.

Ornogrim laughs uncontrollably and drops his bow in the process. Aran lets out a few bursts of laughter, partially at Qarzdaq’s expense, but partially catching the contagion from Ornogrim.

The judge jumps up on the crate.​

                JUDGE:                 And now you see for yourselves how dangerous fire taming can be! Our priest is highly skilled, but clearly the Lord of Light does not approve of using his powers with such… FLAME-boyance!

Pity laughs can be heard from a few people in the quickly-gathering crowd.

                JUDGE:                 We will allow our friend to sit out this round to compose himself rather than take a second shot. See the spectacle and join the contest if you can do better! Come one, come all!

The judge steps down towards Qarzdaq. Lowering his voice and leaning towards Qarzdaq, he grumbles, “And the next one better not take out the entire Faire, or I’ll be on the hook for allowing this.”

                QARZ:                   Don’t worry, I won’t do that again.

                JUDGE:                 Our arrangement was to pay for the targets. Anything other than the targets will need to be paid for, you understand.

Aran steps up to the log, and tosses a few verbal jabs at Qarzdaq, which he takes well enough.

Ornogrim, still under the effects of the pipeweed and stuck in an endless loop of laughter, is now unable to breathe due to Aran’s comments. As a result, Aran’s unpredictable guffaws prevent him from having fine control over his bow. He fires and misses the target entirely.

Using his first re-shot, he nocks an arrow and draws his bow again. Ornogrim still laughing, Aran misses the target again.

Now using his second re-shot, he redraws. Ornogrim now laughing even more, Aran fires and hits just outside the blue ring. Aran is becoming more frustrated, but cannot help it.

Ornogrim comes to some realization that he may be causing some of the issue here, so he does everything he can to stifle himself.

Aran nocks another bow, using his last re-shot. Drawing his arrow while aiming at the ground, he closes his eyes and draws from a pool of internal focus. Ornogrim begins to snicker and covers his mouth. A smile cracks Aran’s lips. He forces it to a grimace and raises his bow, opening his eyes in the process. Ornogrim begins to giggle in a way that only occurs when trying hardest not to laugh. Aran lets out a burst of laughter just as he releases his arrow, sending it just right of the target.

Ornogrim bursts out in laughter once again.

Aran, now also laughing outright, turns to Ornogrim, “You asshole!” This causes Ornogrim to laugh even more.

Now dying down a bit, Ornogrim regains some composure. He picks up his bow and steps up to the log. Just as he is about to fire, he lets out a small laugh, which is just enough to misalign the shot. He uses his first re-shot, invoking his ranger training where immediate control over one’s body is crucial to a long life in the wild, especially north of the wall. This time he strikes the target well within the blue rings.

Tholannan steps up. Not being strong in archery, he musters what he’s got and fires at the target. It strikes the target just outside the blue rings. Using his first re-shot, it strikes just within the blue rings, allowing him through this round.

Qhortho steps up and, without much effort, fires a shot almost at bullseye. The one other contestant follows suit.

                JUDGE:                 Alright folks, you can see how great skill is needed, and how greatly skilled our archers are here today! With only one out of the contest, four continue on to Round Three. Plus our great Volantine priest of course! We hope his wounds aren’t causing SEARING pain!

The groans are louder as the bad jokes continue, but that is partially because the crowd continues to grow.​

                JUDGE:                 This time they aim within the red rings.

Qarzdaq steps up and conjures an image of a mini-priest. The crowd presses in to get the best view possible. The mini priest releases a streak of fire, which sails a bit high of the target and fizzles out in the distance. Some gasps can be heard beyond the next aisle of tents.

Qarzdaq looks over at the judge who returns a disapproving glance. The judge looks over at the crowd then turns back to Qarzdaq and shrugs. Qarzdaq puts up his hand to the judge with some quick nods, indicating, “just wait, let me do that again.”

Qarzdaq shakes out his arms a bit and gets ready to retry. Now feeling the pressure to perform, he decides it’s time to go low brow.

He conjures a small dragon in his palm, orienting it to face him. The dragon raises its tail and shoots a firebolt out of its posterior orifice. The bolt strikes the center of the target and bursts into flame.

The crowd mostly ooo’s, but there are a few aaahhh’s, as the helpers run out on the field to extinguish the flames.

Ornogrim grins approvingly and steps up. He strikes within the red rings on his first shot.

Tholannan takes aim and focuses deeply. The arrow strikes just within the blue rings again. Good precision, but he needs to walk it in for the accuracy. He uses his second re-shot and takes aim. This time, he lands just outside the bullseye, well within the requirement.

Qhortho steps up and strikes within the red rings without much effort.

The last archer steps up. He draws his bow and spends more time concentrating on this shot than his prior ones. The arrow strikes the blue rings. He uses his first re-shot and fires again. This time, missing the target altogether. He looks around, getting a little nervous. Using his second re-shot, he redraws and strikes well inside the red rings.

                JUDGE:                 Wow folks! You can see the competition is sure HEATING UP!

Sounds of annoyance are now heard throughout the crowd, but they stick around because they want to see what’s up next for the fire priest.

                JUDGE:                 This time, they attempt the yellow rings; the bullseye and the small ring just outside it.

Qarzdaq prepares to step up his game a little without getting too crazy. He once again conjures the dragon and sends a firebolt out its ass, but this time it is accompanied by sparks from the exit point. The firebolt marbles the air with smoke and slams the target. The crowd applauds and cheers the display, but a few people cough moments later from the strange prestidigitation odor added by the red priest.

The judge looks over to him covering his nose and mouth. “Nice touch. Not necessary, but nice touch.”

Once the flaming target is put out, Ornogrim steps up and strikes within the yellow region of the target on his first shot.

The crowd, finally getting more engaged in the contest at hand, shows mild appreciation at the efforts with some clapping.

Tholannan, steps up and lands one straight in the bullseye. Some cheers are heard from the crowd.

Qhortho steps up with the same confidence and strikes outside the yellow zone. He uses two of his re-shots before landing an arrow just barely within the yellow area.

The final archer misses the target twice, marking the end of his run in the competition.

                JUDGE:                 This is incredible folks! Very rarely do we end up with three in the final round! You are witnessing something quite spectacular here, aside from our amazing Fire Wielder! But who beside him will go out in a BLAZE OF GLORY?!

The crowd expecting this now, is mostly silent. Except for one guy somewhere in the middle who just yells , “STOP!”​

The judge looks around for the one who would cast such insults, but a half second later he realizes this is the biggest crowd he’s had around the archery competition in ages, and suddenly the fact that he can’t find the guy is a good thing.

                JUDGE:                 This time, we are rolling out the scaffold. The targets will be hoisted up by ten feet and sent swinging. The archers will need to hit the moving target within the yellow region one more time. Most cannot even dream of making such a shot!

Qarzdaq steps up. He turns to the crowd, making the judge a little nervous. Pausing to look around, he just bows. He turns downrange to face his swinging target. Once again, he conjures the crowd-pleasing dragon. Qarzdaq thinks to himself, “Firebolts are so lame… this has got to be big. And I can’t run the risk of missing. I know just the thing…”

Following the sparks from the dragon’s anus is a one-foot wide trail of fire, giving the appearance that this is one hefty fartball. In actuality, it is a wall of fire emerging from the ground. The trail leads straight towards the target and continues through by ten feet before he quickly dispels it.

This effect is met with great cheers and applause from the crowd as the judge scrambles towards the boys to get them extinguishing the fire as soon as possible before the entire scaffold burns down. It is a little late for that, however. The fire continues to traverse the scaffold and is in danger of igniting the other targets still swinging.

Not wanting to lose this opportunity for showmanship, he jumps up on his crate.

                JUDGE:                 Quickly now, archers! You must fire your arrows at once or no one wins this contest!

The three remaining in the contest look at each other. Ornogrim, Tholannan, and Qhortho step up quickly. They each fire immediately. Ornogrim lands his right in the bullseye on the first shot. Tholannan and Qhortho both miss their targets entirely. Both are allowed one more re-shot, but they have to act very quickly.

The fire just about to ignite Tholannan’s target, he reaches out to the Mother Rhoyne to guide him. Though not enough time to cast any spells, he closes his eyes briefly to draw on the inner peace afforded to him by the Rhoynar spirit. He opens his eyes and looses the arrow.

Qhortho, on the opposite side of the spectrum, feels a frustration building in him that pushes him forward. He would call it his inner stallion, others might call it rage. He quickly nocks a second arrow and aims at the swinging target. Letting it loose moments later.

Both arrows strike near their bullseyes almost simultaneously. The crowd erupts with cheering and applause.

                JUDGE:                 Never before have I seen this! We have three winners! We will get this fire put out as quickly as possible so we may start our next contest so you too can have a shot at glory and riches!

Immediately, young men and a few women in the crowd are exchanging remarks about how they can do that too, in classic proverbial dick-measuring style. A few make their way through the crowd to enter the next contest. Much of the crowd is now dispersing though.

The judge approaches Qarzdaq.

                JUDGE:                 That scaffold was expensive and was not part of our deal.

After some negotiation, they settle on a compromise. Qarzdaq will pay for the scaffold by not receiving any of the profits they agreed to earlier. This actually makes it easier on Qarzdaq because he didn’t want to come back out here for a few scraps of metal anyway.

The three winners of the contest walk up to Qarzdaq and the judge as they are concluding their discussion.

                JUDGE:                 Ah, good show from you all. Here are your winnings.

He hands them each 15 silver coins.

                ARAN:                   Yeah, nice job guys. I definitely will not be underestimating you as competent fighters. I think it’s time we get some drink and pick up women.

                ORNO:                  Well, as you guys are focusing on pussy, I’m going to focus on Hooterz.

The party laughs and makes way for the plaza. Getting through the crowd is made much easier as the onlookers exert decent effort to get out of their way, clearing their path forward. This is quite a change from their typical treatment as commoners.​

​

Poisoned ​Apples

A few minutes later, they arrive at the central plaza where the fire-breather is hard at work. Now that the sun has just set, the man’s efforts are much more impressive to watch.

Qhortho and Aran grab a drink at the outdoor bar. After just one drink, they’re not feeling as up for hitting on women as they did minutes ago. They decide to call it an early night, heading into Lannisport, finding the inn, and checking in to their rooms.

Tholannan and Qarzdaq, on the other hand, see two women at the bar that are talking with each other. One seems to be open to conversation, while the other seems more stand-offish; the open one is attractive enough, while the other is markedly less so. However, the lack of appeal may be more due to the overall demeanor than physical attractiveness. Tholannan and Qarzdaq are discussing who should approach which of them. Obviously, they would both like to go for the same woman of these two.

Tholannan attempts to deceive Qarzdaq into believing the more stand-offish one is making eyes at Qarzdaq when he’s not looking. Qarzdaq, on the other hand, attempts to persuade Tholannan not to approach either woman. Instead, Qarzdaq says it would be better if only he makes contact first. If he gets shot down, then Tholannan can give it a try with more information about the two women.

Although not a bad plan, Tholannan is not convinced. Unfortunately for Qarzdaq, he believes Tholannan’s lies about the second woman being attracted to him.

Qarzdaq takes a seat next to the woman-who-must-not-be-bothered. He orders a drink for himself and one for the lady next to him.

                WOMAN:            That’s really not necessary.

                QARZ:                  I’m glad to do it, my lady. What brings you to the Faire?

                WOMAN:             I’m here with a friend, more for moral support. I’m not here to meet anyone.

Qarzdaq doesn’t pick up on the social cues that she doesn’t want to be bothered.

                QARZ:                   Yeah, I get that. It must be annoying with people trying to pick up someone as beautiful as yourself.

She turns to him disbelievingly. After a second of looking over his face, she cracks a smile.

                QARZ:                   See? There it is. C’mon, let me buy you another drink. If you’d like me to leave after that, I will.

She agrees, but is still not warm towards him.

After he sees Qarzdaq situated, Tholannan takes a seat next to the other women.

He immediately orders a drink and talks about how he just won the archery contest. She is immediately absorbed by him, and they strike up a conversation about the Faire.

About an hour later, both pairs are hitting it off quite well. One more drink beyond Qarzdaq’s initial request, he and his companion stand up from the bar to leave together. While they walk, he happens to look in her direction when the firebreather is behind her, causing a beautiful silhouette to form. He catches something… off… He notices a bulge in her neck that was not as distinct while sitting at the bar. Is that just a few misplaced locks of hair?

No. No it is not. The fire behind her drops away and his darkvision is able to pick up a greater contrast around her throat. That is the unmistakable bulge given only to those of his own gender.

Qarzdaq, not up for a bit of apple picking (https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=apple%20picking see def’n #4), decides he needs a way out… fast.

                QARZ:                   I’m sorry, my lady. But I fear I am more intoxicated than I thought. I am going to have to wish you a good evening and get some rest. I will see you tomorrow around the Faire perhaps.

The woman is confused at first, but quickly realizes that he only just then realized her birth gender. She politely accepts his refusal and turns away momentarily. She goes to ask about his plans tomorrow, but when she turns back, Qarzdaq is gone. She quickly scans the area. She takes note of her friend engrossed in conversation with one from Qarzdaq’s group. She thinks to herself, “well, at least that’s on target.”

Qarzdaq watches from the shadows and is glad to see his date walk out of the plaza to go anywhere but here. Once the coast is clear, he heads towards the hamlet in search of a room.

Over the course of a few more drinks, Tholannan learns her name is Belinda, asks her about her hopes and dreams and, not long after, he pulls his trickery of making all nearby lights seem subtly dimmer. She doesn’t stand a chance against this level of seduction. Tholannan is in the zone. They make plans for where to take this encounter next and get up to leave.

Standing after this many drinks, Tholannan feels a little under the weather. No, he feels very under the weather. What the hell was in those drinks? His knees feel weak, his vision pulses slightly. He feels generally slow and uncoordinated. He looks at her very differently as he comes to grip with the fact that she has poisoned him. She “helps” him through the plaza until he gets the strength to push her away. He stumbles backwards and falls, scrambling to get away the best he can.

She just watches him for a few moments, then turns and walks away. After a minute or so, he is able to get to his feet and start towards Lannisport. He continues to look back to ensure he is not being followed. As best he can tell, it is clear. After about ten minutes or so, he finds the inn and checks in. Once in his room, he casts Lesser Restoration on himself. His head clears a bit, but he continues to feel the residue of achiness.

From the time Aran and Qhortho left the bar, Ornogrim has been focused on Hooterz, building rapport. He has been so focused, in fact, that he had not noticed anything awry with Qarzdaq or Tholannan. After a few hours, well past when his friends have gone, he feels Hooterz is finally warming up to him. He decides it’s time to take the chance and open his cage. Hooterz hops out onto the bar, then onto Ornogrim’s leg. He looks around, but makes no attempt to fly away.

Ornogrim looks at the cage, knowing it will now be unnecessary, and wants to return it to the pet shop owner. He feels bad that Tinkey flew away after the merchant purchased her, so this will at least make Ornogrim feel better. He decides it would be best to drop off the cage tonight so they will not be held up in the morning. He walks to the pet merchant’s tent and seeing it closed for the night, as well as all the other tents, he leaves the cage just outside. He and Hooterz now make way for Lannisport to find a room for the night.​

​Mr. Skynyrd, I Presume?

The next morning, Aran and Tholannan meet in the dining area for breakfast. About half an hour later, Ornogrim and Hooterz join them.

                ORNO:                  I scouted ahead and see no threats on the road.

                ARAN:                   I’d been meaning to ask you about that, if you don’t mind. How are you scouting ahead without leaving the area?

Ornogrim tells him about his warging ability, keeping his voice down. Not everyone takes kindly to wargs and, though most will not act on such information, it’s never known what sort of trouble may arise from it.

Just as the conversation wraps up, Qarzdaq and Qhortho enter the dining area.

                QARZ:                   I have GOT to tell you what almost happened last night…

They eat their meal and finish their conversation. After paying their bill, they leave the inn to find the Lord of this town.

It was too dark the prior night to fully recognize just how small this town is. Finding the Lord’s home is a simple matter of looking across the rooftops for the tallest structure. As they walk the quiet road, they take note of the small shops and homes that make up Lannisport. The homes become markedly more ornate and larger as they get closer to the lordship’s home. A break between the merchant district and noble housing provides for an impressive view of the Sunset Sea.

In the distance, ships are seen on the horizon. They appear to be evenly spaced, maybe a half-mile apart, perhaps keeping watch for Ironborn raids. The closest ship is probably a few miles out, but there is something strange about the colors these ships are flying. They are not the expected red and gold of House Lannister. Instead, they look to be a familiar orange and black. Upon a more focused look, they realize they know these banners quite well by now. These are the banners of the Kraken. This is no watch crew; this is a blockade.

Continuing on their way, Lannister guards confirm which building is their destination. The wide-open door conveys to the group that visitors are welcome. They walk past the guards as if they belong, proceeding directly into the main hall of the building. The entrance layout is similar to most other lords’ foyers: a great hall with a large banquet table in the center.  A line of five guards stand along the back wall.

The group approaches the guards. Qarzdaq addresses the senior-most one.

                QARZ:                  Good day. We have come to meet with the Lord of Lannisport.

                GUARD:               Understood. I will have someone fetch Lord Lynard at once. Please have a seat while you wait.

They see one of the guards step out of line and leave down one of the rear hallways. Each of the visitors take a seat at the long table to await Lord Lynard. Hooterz perches on the back of Ornogrim’s chair.

A few minutes pass before a modest, well-dressed man with angular features appears with a guard in-tow.

                LYNARD:              I am Lynard Lannister, Lord of Lannisport. What can I do for you?

They stand immediately. Qarzdaq steps forward.

                QARZ:                   My lord. We’ve been sent by King Greydon to explore the safety of the Ocean Road.

                LYNARD:              Hmmm.

                ORNO:                  We’ve been sent to gather intelligence about these Ironborn raids. I’m sure you’ve noticed, my lord, the contingent of Ironborn ships lined outside your harbor.

                LYNARD:              Yes, they’ve been blockading us for months now. We haven’t been able to send or receive any shipments by sea. And as you’ve noted, the Ocean Road is not safe. We still have a solid land route directly east, so we do not suffer greatly.

                QARZ:                   Is King Greydon aware?

                LYNARD:              I believe he is, but we have not seen any troops from Highgarden. Though we are not certain our ravens have been received, we expect he would have heard from rumors alone, for there are still safe routes from here to Highgarden along the Gold Road.

                QARZ:                   I see. Do you know of the Red Lake?

                LYNARD:              Well sure. I know where it is. It has an interesting history.

                QARZ:                   I see. Would you be willing to offer your time to tell it my lord? It may be pertinent to our mission for the king.

                LYNARD:              Sure, I would be glad to. Let’s see… Do you know nothing of the Red Lake or its inhabitants over the years?

Qarzdaq looks around to his friends.

                ARAN:                   I know some, but most of my schooling was in craftsmanship, not philosophy or history, my lord.

                LYNARD:              Ok. Maybe we should sit down.

They take their seats for story time.

                LYNARD:              Let’s see… Well, the legends from the First Men say that Brandon of the Bloody Blade, one of Garth Greehand’s sons, slayed so many children of the forest that what had been called Blue Lake was renamed Red Lake because of their blood. Soon after, one of his sisters founded House Crane, and was known as the Rose of Red Lake from that point forward. Some say that she could even skinchange into a crane herself, but you know how those sorts of stories go.

                LYNARD:              In any case, House Crane inhabited the area for some time and lasted through the many uprisings over the millennia. It was during the last uprising in the Reach, where House Lannister, led by my yestercousins in Casterly Rock, rose up against House Gardener and House Manderly to seize control over the Westerlands. Actually, it was in that uprising when Lancel Lannister, the fourth of his name, King of the Rock at the time, was killed in battle at Red Lake.

                LYNARD:              It was after that last uprising when House Crane fled their castle on the northeastern shore of Red Lake and it’s remained unsettled ever since, maybe 30 or 40 years ago. The rumor has it that the members of House Crane fled to various seats of power throughout the Reach and go by different identities now. Perhaps they think they are being sought by House Lannister, but I hold no ill will towards them. It always seemed strange to me that they would abandon an ancient seat of power like that…

                LYNARD:              But that is neither here nor there. Peace had been restored by House Gardener through pacts of friendship and mutual defense, but it seems the “defense” part is lacking presently. Clearly you lot represent a method to perhaps change that status, and I, for one, welcome it. If what you are doing indeed represents a change… I depart from the topic once again… my apologies.

                LYNARD:              Nowadays, people go to Red Lake for hunting and fishing, but generally steer clear of the northern areas of the lake for fear it is haunted. Many do not believe these stories but instead say as I do: the Children of the Forest still inhabit the region and now defend it aggressively. Some say they retreated to the dense forest ages ago to lie in wait until the perfect moment to strike.

                LYNARD:              Whether or not the stories are true, anyone who spends time at Red Lake will tell you that they pay deep respect to nature and the natural order, just to circumvent any issues with the Children. I haven’t ever laid eyes on them myself, but I’ve been there fewer times than I have fingers on one hand. What did always strike me as strange was the population of cranes at the lake. Always made my hair stand on end. It’s the sort of thing that makes you want to trust in the legends of old, but the learned part of me knows that legends always originate from some fact then add loads of fiction. The crane population are much more likely to have been using the lake as a nesting ground well before the First Men.

                QARZ:                   That’s a very interesting history to the region. We’ve learned that there may be raiders stationed at Red Lake.

                LYNARD:              Well, it would be a good place to be positioned if you were to set up a bandit camp… and paid no mind to the rumors. There are no towns or settlements to get in your way.

                THOL:                    I have a question about this blockade. Have they sent any demands or conditions?

                LYNARD:              We’ve tried attacking them in the past, but they simply sail farther away so we cannot reach them. Once we leave, they move back into position.

                ORNO:                  That doesn’t sound like the Ironborn I have come to know.

                LYNARD:              Yes. It is strange. But it becomes both more and less strange if you think about what they’ve done here and what their intentions might be. Now, I am not in any power to set plans in motion and this is all conjecture, but here are my thoughts. Assume you are the Ironborn.  And say that you do not want a response from the kingdom as a whole. And say that you do not care for occupying territory. You might simply prevent ships from getting far out to sea, but not return fire when provoked; their fleet is faster than ours, so they take very little damage while keeping us under control.

                LYNARD:             We’ve been able to use land routes to get the same goods anyway. They’ve blocked the Ocean Road, sure – and that has hurt our friends in Crakehall and Old Oak – but those hardly seem like targets worth disruption to me. I mean, it seems as if they only want to block traffic along that road, not create large-scale distribution issues, which makes me think… what do they gain from that? I haven’t been able to put that together completely though.

                LYNARD:              Granted, this is may be more strategy than those cretins deserve. On the other hand, I have learned to never underestimate anyone – especially those that seem easiest to underestimate. Presently, they are under the rule of a man who has stopped the raiding traditions of the Ironborn. If there were a sect that wants to resort to their old ways, perhaps they would apply more strategy. Maybe they just want to sail the seas without any interference? What in Seven Hells do I know though.

                QARZ:                   Well, we’ve just come up the Ocean Road. We escorted a caravan of merchants to your Faire…

                LYNARD:              That’s ballsy.

                QARZ:                   We have great big brassy balls.

                ARAN:                   It didn’t seem that the men along the road were Ironborn.

                ORNO:                  We have reason to believe there is some other interests behind the Ironborn impersonators to halt trade.

                LYNARD:              Who do you think is behind this?

                ORNO:                  We do not know yet. We are in search of a motive.

                ARAN:                   Who might gain from such a situation?

                LYNARD:              Perhaps the towns that see less trade when the Ocean Road is open? It is worth some thought. Those along the Roseroad and the River Mander, then along the Gold Road.​

                ORNO:                  I dare ask a pointed question, my lord.

Lynard nods for him to continue.

                ORNO:                  Do you know of anyone who may have received a pronounced windfall of recent?

                LYNARD:              Windfall? Hmmm… not necessarily. But I’ll give you my personal feeling…

Ornogrim nods for him to continue.

                LYNARD:              Those Manderlys out in Dunstonbury. They are a House of extremely high stature. I believe they are doing this to the allies of House Lannister that are along the Ocean Road. If they can force trade through their region, we cannot gain influence with the smaller, but geographically dispersed Houses of Old Oak and Crakehall. Keeping us divided prevents us from raising our stature within the region. House Manderly has the greatest influence in the Reach, after House Gardener of course. We… well… my cousins in Casterly Rock, are of greatest influence after House Maderly. We’ve had a long-standing rivalry with House Manderly.

                THOL:                    Why the rivalry?

                LYNARD:              They’ve always been nearby to Highgarden. They get all the benefits of being there and they are just so far up Greydon Gardener’s ass.

Lynard looks a little ashamed for saying those words.

                LYNARD:              I mean no disrespect to our king of course.

                ARAN:                  Of course. My lord, what is the closest you can get to their ships by land?

                LYNARD:              Our shore is closest. The ships you can see from here are about 2 miles or so, but from Casterly Rock they are closer to around 10 miles off the shoreline.

The party thanks Lord Lynard for his time and hospitality, and leave for the stables so they may ride to Casterly Rock. 

​The Rock​​​​

They pass by the pet merchant on their way to the stable, so Ornogrim stops in to make sure the merchant received the cage. The merchant affirms that he did, and thanks him for the unexpected act of kindness. The merchant tells him that if more people in the world were like him, everyone would be better off.

Minutes later, the group arrives at the stable, gathers their horses, and go to the smith area to have Aran’s and Qhortho’s horses fitted for their barding. The entire process takes about 30 minutes, but the service is impeccable. Qhortho tosses one of them a gold piece and thanks him. Ornogrim, who isn’t even purchasing anything, flips an electrum coin to one of the men for “service of a caliber he’d never seen.” He thanks Ornogrim and the party gets on the road. A short 15-minute ride later and they arrive at Casterly Rock.

The castle is carved directly from a great stone hill beside the Sea. The height must be greater than even the top of Hightower, the beacon tower of Oldtown. Against the backdrop of the clear sky, it could be said that the entire silhouette resembles a lion at the right angle… maybe… A ringfort perches atop the peak of the great hill with many walls, gates, and watchtowers surrounding it.

The front entrance from where the Ocean Road and Gold Road converge is an enormous natural cavern reaching two hundred feet high. Ornogrim states that he wants to scout the area first, forcing everyone to just stand around. He wargs with Hooterz and, after about 20 minutes, awakes to relay that the castle looks solid; he also knows the exact route to the lord’s home.

They enter the cavern, Aran mentions that below their feet are rich gold mines and caverns that span at least two leagues to the ocean.

It takes a solid 45 minutes to traverse the cave’s winding ramps and stairs. Soon after seeing the end of the cave ahead, they are greeted by ornately armored Lannister guards, in their red and gold breastplates, lining the walls near the exit. A large courtyard opens in front of them. The guards make no move to stop the group either because they don’t look like a threat, or Aran’s rank shows him as a trusted ally. Regardless, they are given unchallenged access. Several pathways provide ramps up and down to other areas of this castle town, but the stable stands out as the first required stop.

After dismounting and tossing a few coins to the stable hands, Ornogrim tells the group to follow him, then leads the way directly to the great hall. Hooterz follows from the air.

They enter a cavernous hall through the large wooden doors to see the back of what looks to be a gaudy fur coat. They approach, but refrain from calling out across the large space, their footsteps echoing in the great hall. Obviously hearing this, the coat stands and turns around, revealing an older, hard-faced man. A young girl of six or seven stands behind him, peeking out from behind the thick fur.

                LORD:                    Yes?

                ORNO:                  We are the Unlikely Assembly. We have been sent here by King Greydon. Might you be the Lord of Casterly Rock?

                LORYS:                 I am Lorys Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. What is on your mind?

                ORNO:                  Good day my lord. We are investigating these Ironborn raids along the Ocean Road. We are a bit curious about this blockade as well. Our mandate is to collect intelligence and to inform the lords in the region of King Greydon’s efforts.

Lorys eyes Ornogrim then the others curiously. He turns his head to the side.

                LORYS:                 Lelia, how about you go and play elsewhere.

She backs up then goes running off down a hallway with her small ragdoll. Once she is out of sight, he turns towards Ornogrim.

                LORYS:                 Efforts… Pfft… About time someone is looking into this.

                ORNO:                  We are looking into this with the utmost priority. Any assistance or information you can provide…

Lorys cuts him off.

                LORYS:                 What have you learned so far? The road is blocked and there’s plenty of Ironborn all of the roads? That it’s disrupting trade to our allies? Does Greydon really need a team of greenhorns to spell that out for him?

                ORNO:                  My lord, we’ve learned that they are no Ironborn.

His pause tells the Assembly that they’ve told him something he had not known.

                ORNO:                  There’s someone else besides the Ironborn behind this who is trying to pin this on the Ironborn.

                QARZ:                   And they may be based out of Red Lake.

                LORYS:                 Maybe you do have some worth. What makes you say Red Lake?

                QARZ:                   We interrogated a bandit dressed as Ironborn and not only did he tell us that they are not Ironborn, but added that they’re based out of a camp at Red Lake. We have not investigated Red Lake yet. We just escorted a merchant caravan up the Ocean Road to the Faire, which was successful.

                ARAN:                   Our plan is to check it out on the way back.

                QARZ:                   We wanted to ask about the blockade and see if there is any way we can assist.

Lorys looks over the group more slowly now, assessing their worth.

                LORYS:                  I don’t allow pets in here.

Ornogrim looks over at Hooterz.

                ORNO:                  Well…

                LORYS:                  Not him.

Lorys stares at Qhortho.

                LORYS:                  Him.

                QHOR:                  I am price Qhortho of the Dothraki…

                LORYS:                  Everyone’s a fucking prince out there.

                QHOR:                  Son of the dragon Khal!

                ARAN:                   My lord, he is perhaps the best fighter in our group.

Lorys looks at Aran with a sly smirk, looking briefly and intentionally at the rank shown over Aran’s shoulders.

                LORYS:                  The best you say? Even as a member of the Crakehall armed forces?

                ARAN:                   He’s fantastic. He is better than I am.

                QHOR:                  I have slain a dragon!

Lorys waves his hand in Qhortho’s direction.

                LORYS:                  Ehhhh…

                ORNO:                  We could surely prove this to you, but if you would like to trust us and move forward…

                LORYS:                  I don’t know what one has to do with the other. I’ll listen, but I’m not apt to trust you just off the street.

                ORNO:                  Fair enough.

                ARAN:                   My lord, if you want to just get down to brass tacks, we’ve just supplied much information. Do you know of anything else that might help us on this mission?

Lorys smirks at this forceful initiative. With a nod of respect, he answers.

                LORYS:                  You’ve seen the blockade. We haven’t been able to get anything in or out over the water, but that’s been handled well enough over land. House Manderly has told us to continue paying them off because they are in the process of getting something handled on their side to put an end to this.

                ARAN:                   Do you have a good relationship with House Manderly?

                LORYS:                  I wouldn’t say so. I mean, we are on the same side, and we work together under the King of the Reach, but we would not be allies otherwise.

                ORNO:                  I’ve heard they’re up Greydon Gardener’s ass.

                LORYS:                  Well… some say that… Not me personally of course! King Greydon is a personal friend of mine.

                ORNO:                  Yes, yes, of course.

                ARAN:                   Would it be worth it to you if we took care of the blockade?

                ORNO:                  No no no …

                LORYS:                  Ha! You think you’ll be able to do more than my men?!

                ORNO:                  … no no no …

                QHOR:                  I’ve destroyed blockades!

                ORNO:                  … no no no …

                LORYS:                  Do not presume to raise your voice to me! Who the fuck are you?!

                ORNO:                  … no no no. Settle down guys. My lord, what if I were to tell you that a few of the ships closest to Lannisport are just going to happen to sink tonight? If you had something you’d like to get through the blockade, tonight might be the night to do it.

                LORYS:                  Interesting, but we don’t have anything held up. The land route continues to do fine for us. However, I take your point.

                ARAN:                   Well, Lord Lorys, it was a pleasure meeting you. We thank you for the time you’ve given us here today, but we dare not steal any more of it. We will continue on our way.

                LORYS:                  It is always a pleasure to treat with our friends in Crakehall.

They finish their pleasantries and leave Casterly Rock. Once back on the road, after the back-and-forth about what an asshole that guy was, they discuss purchasing a rowboat to do some “burnination.”​

​​The Great Sunset

The group arrives back at Lannisport well before mid-day, head to the docks, and line up the purchase of a rowboat. They are able to convince the dockmaster that since they would only have the rowboat for a single day, they would like to sell it back at 90% of the cost, rather than at half the cost which would be typical of such a sale. The dockmaster agrees to this arrangement, but the full price must be paid up front.

Once the boat is secured, Tholannan mentions that he believes there may be a way to control the water around the ship to create a whirlpool, but he’ll need to rest before he can put the effort in to prepare the spell. The group agrees this would be a useful ability to have so Tholannan heads back to the inn to rent a room. The rest of the group walks around the Faire a bit. They talk about acquiring more potions just in case, but decide against it because Tholannan can heal them at essentially zero cost.

Near 8pm, Tholannan meets up with the group at the plaza, where they’ve been planning the attack. Tholannan tells them that he has the knowledge to perform the sequence required to generate a vortex under a ship.

                ORNO:                  That’s excellent news. Ok, so we’ll row out to the closest ship under Pass Without Trace. Once we get within range, Tholannan should begin his whirlpool and Qarzdaq should launch his first Fireball. We’ve all seen that his Fireballs do leave a streak through the air, so the gig will be up at that point so we’ll have to do as much damage to them as possible. We’ll probably be able to take down the entire crew with just a couple of those Fireballs. At the very least, their boat will be aflame.

                THOL:                    That sounds like a good plan. So it sounds like you’ve secured the rowboat. Will we all be able to fit?

                ARAN:                   It’ll be a little snug.

                QARZ:                   But it should do the job.

                QHOR:                  I’ll get us where we need to be.

After about five hours, with only the drunkest folk still around, they leave for the docks. Before loading up, Aran spends some time doffing his armor.

                ARAN:                   I know all too well what that can do to a man on the water and I want no part of it. Plus, if I shift around, I don’t want any of that sound blowing our cover.

                THOL:                    I’m going to keep mine on. If they start firing at us, I need to be protected. I don’t have the fortitude to withstand hits like I’m sure you can Aran.

Aran struggles to change Tholannan’s mind, but he is headstrong about his decision.

                QHOR:                  I’ll be rowing, so I will not be able to take cover. I will also not be standing, so I am at little risk.

                ORNO:                  Well Aran, you’ve convinced me.

Ornogrim proceeds to take off his pants; he leaves his chain shirt on for good measure.

                ARAN:                   Really?

                ORNO:                  Oh alright.

He doffs his chain shirt as well. Aran is not amused.

                ARAN:                   Can you please put your pants back on.

                ORNO:                  Fiiiine.

​After about an hour’s row into the Sunset Sea, they are a little past the halfway point to the first ship. Ornogrim summons shadows from the surrounding water to envelop them for the latter part of their row. Once within 150 feet of the first ship, Qhortho stops rowing. He slowly and silently turns the bow of the boat to shore. Now, with him facing the ship, his heart pounds. All of them feel the heavy curtain of impending battle on their shoulders. They can see the crew aboard the ship at this range. They certainly look like Ironborn, but so did all the others at this distance.

                THOL:                    Here goes.

Tholannan concentrates on a point under the ship. He twirls his right index finger in the air while holding his holy symbol in his left hand. Slowly the boat looks to be pulled down slightly, as if the water level has fallen by at least a foot or two under it. The crew scatters across the deck looking in the water for some great beast. Some yell about the kraken taking its revenge.

All of a sudden, a Fireball explodes at a point above the ship directly where Qarzdaq is pointing. Both of the masts catch fire immediately as does part of the deck. Shouting overtakes the relative silence of open water. Several men have identified the source out on the water – a rowboat – THEIR rowboat. Not everyone on the ship has seen them yet though. Qarzdaq takes the opportunity to launch a second Fireball. Still no crewmembers fall, but more of the ship catches fire.

                QARZ:                   What the fuck is with these guys?!

Arrows fall from the sky all around them. Qarzdaq is able to use a force shield to prevent him from being hit. The arrows that strike Tholannan are deflected off his armor. Everyone else is hit by a number of arrows. Qhortho starts rowing with all the might of a stallion. Ornogrim fires arrows with the hope he can at least take a few of them out.

Oars appear out the sides of the Ironborn longship.

                QHOR:                  Fuck.

The Ironborn begin rowing with military discipline. The whirlpool slows their start, so at least for right now, the rowboat has the advantage. But they have tens of Ironborn rowing towards them now, and only one Qhortho sits in their favor.

Qarzdaq hits them with another Fireball just as another barrage of arrows strikes the Assembly’s vessel.

Everyone except Qhortho is hit this time, including Tholannan, who loses concentration on the whirlpool. The longship is catapulted forward slightly, knocking many of the men on deck prone. The longship gains speed quickly. Closing the distance to a mere 75 feet.

Ornogrim reaches into his backpack and fishes out an item, holding it in the air.

                ORNO:                  Guys…

In the light of the flaming longship, the rest of the group squints to see what he is holding. It is the Deck of Illusions. A sense of triumph washes over them.

                QARZ:                   Fantast- Wait, that may give us a short term start, but we need cover to get out of this. I have an idea. We’ll take a page from those archers the other day. I’m going to create a wall of fire to break our line of sight. You call the shadows to cover us.

Ornogrim stashes the deck, apparently in favor of this idea.

The ship continues to close the gap, so Tholannan forces a wave of water towards the longship, figuring any attempt to slow them down will help at this point. Aran sees the Ironborn archers raise their bows to fire. He gets low in the boat and behind Tholannan. The wave of water from Tholannan’s influence rocks the boat just as another wave of arrows falls around them. The combination of sudden movement from Aran, the wave from Tholannan’s magic, and the shock of an arrow striking between plates in his armor causes Tholannan to lose balance.

A huge splash off the side of the rowboat grabs all of their attention. Tholannan grasps for the side of the rowboat. Aran and Ornogrim jump to the same side to grab Tholannan’s hand. Ornogrim second-thinks his action immediately, as the row boat shifts strongly to one side. He quickly returns to his position to stabilize the boat.

Aran reaches into the water, feeling Tholannan’s fingers slip through his own. He continues thrashing into the cold water with panic.

Qarzdaq snaps his attention back to the longship. He waves his arms creating a large wall of fire just 10 feet away from them. That should give the longship time to stop so they don’t sail right through it and see them.

Ornogrim, still captured by the sight of Aran reaching into the water, sees the flames spring from the water just off their stern. He closes his eyes and calls forth the shadows. A second later, they are shrouded.

Qarzdaq stares over at the bubbling water where Tholannan’s reaching arm went under, barely able to comprehend what just happened.

Once Ornogrim feels the shroud overtake him, his eyes open to Aran, defeated, slumping back into the bottom of the row boat. Aran looks into the inky black depths of the Sunset Sea, seeing nothing but the reflection of fire.

Qhortho changes direction by 45 degrees and slows his rowing speed to be stealthier. Shouts are heard through the wall of fire. Moments later, the burning mast of the ship becomes visible over the top of the wall. The ship is slowing. It seems they’ve escaped. Qarzdaq dispels the fire.

Over the next 15 minutes, the group is silent. The quiet is finally broken by Aran.

                ARAN:                   I… just couldn’t… I tried the best I could… It just wasn’t enough…

Over the next two hours, which just as well could have been six or twelve, the group maintains relative silence until they hear the familiar sounds of waves crashing on the beach. Once close enough, they jump out and drag the boat ashore.

Qhortho gets on his hands and knees and kisses the wet sand, glad to be off the poison water. Quickly this turns to rage. He digs his hands into the sand and grits his teeth. Taking two fistfuls of sand, he raises his arms into the air, looks to the sky, and cries out, “WHY THOL???” The sand sifts through his fingers, leaving his hands empty. The analog of his empty hands to the emptiness felt in his heart hits him. His hands hit the sand with a thud and he presses his forehead to the ground.

​Qarzdaq grabs a shell from the shore and imbues it with light. He tosses it into the bottom of the boat and looks it over. It looks more like a porcupine than something you’d want to take on the water.

                QARZ:                   We’re lucky we got out of there alive.

He kills the light.

                QHOR:                  We have to get this boat back to the dockmaster immediately.

                ORNO:                  That dockmaster is never going to buy this thing back. We should leave it.

                ARAN:                   We should push it out to sea and burn it.

Qarzdaq agrees with this. Aran and Ornogrim take it out past the breakers and move away.

Qarzdaq says to himself, “to Tholannan.”

He launches a firebolt at the boat, igniting the numerous arrows penetrating its hull from inside. They leave the boat burning on the water and make way for Lannisport, about a quarter-mile down the beach. Beaten, but wiser, they tread through the small side streets of the town just as the sun is rising over the fairgrounds. The sounds of early morning merchant carts being driven to their sites are heard in the distance, well before they can be seen. To the merchants, this is just another day of patronage and profit. The group arrives at the main road, the inn directly ahead. They cross the street and enter the inn.

                INNKEEPER:        Morning. Looks like you’ve had a rough night.

                QARZ:                 Yeah, you could say that.

We end this session just after sunrise on Day 290. Each member of the party has gained 150XP in the process, bringing them to 30,580XP total.​