​​Fighting in the Moonlight

The bandit wolf-leaders rush towards the Assembly. Their wolves held to their masters’ pace by thick chains. Even with the little firelight and moonlight available, the frustration and bloodlust is visible in their eyes as they snap and gnarl at the air.

Immediately, the Assembly takes on the challenge. Qhortho cries out with a nails-on-chalkboard, glass-breaking, roaring whinny and dashes towards his foes, eyes locked on the biggest of them, trampling the ground like a pack of wild horses on the grass plains. Qhortho and Aran dash towards the enemies.

Qarzdaq and Ornogrim take on the ranged-attack role, using one of the tents as cover.​ The enemy archers take off in different directions outside the lage tent. Arrows whiz through the air from both sides, most blocked by armor or shields.

One of the wolf-leaders, still closing the gap to the Assemly, drops his chain. His wolf lunges forward and bites at Aran’s arm. Aran sees this coming and deftly swings his arm out of its path. Meanwhile, the handler readies his pre-loaded heavy crossbow, gets closer to Aran and fires. The bolt glances off Aran’s full-plate armor.

Qarzdaq carefully identifies a point behind the advancing melee fighters. A thin stream of light streaks from his finger. The resulting explosion envelops every one of the bandits and their wolves but remains just far enough from his allies. The large tent behind the line of enemies and the wolves ignite catches fire all at once. The extra light from the tent provides some help to his companions, who can’t see in the dark as well as himself. Unfortunately, this also helps the hostiles.

The smell of burning fur fills the air. The wolf near Aran collapses instantly, while the leashed wolf advances another foot due to its momentum. It collapses and skids to a stop in the dirt. Its handler drops the chain and, through the searing pain, reaches for his crossbow, hopping over the smoky wolf carcass, and fires at Qhortho. The bolt brushes his gold dragon scale armor, glinting in the firelight with his movement. Qhortho’s instinctual response is hearty laughter.

Captain Big Guy forces his way to Aran through the flames and slams him twice with his war hammer.

A moment later, the archer to the left takes a stumbling half-step. He instinctively looks in the direction of his fellow bowman lowering his weapon that was clearly just aimed at him. Looking down, he is visibly startled by the arrow sticking from his thigh. Immediately, he turns to face this unexpected threat and snags an arrow from his quiver. His legs are quickly entangled by a string of vines as he fires. 

The vines grow tighter around him as a second arrow leaves his bow. This second arrow strikes true. The archer on the right retreats into the darkness. A few seconds later, an arrow punches through the entangled archer’s neck. He drops his bow and grasps at the wound. The light from the burning tent backgrounds the silhouette of spurting blood from the archer as he drops to the grass.

Another second later, an unexpected arrow pierces the lieutenant near Aran. The lieutenant falls. Aran looks around. Was the lieutenant this arrow’s intended target, or was this a fortunate, poorly-aimed shot?

Aran slashes his glaive at Captain Big Guy and gets right up in his face. The captain’s eyes go wide and shifty as he becomes unnerved at the sight of Aran. Hooterz dives at the captain, distracting him further. Seeing the perfect time to strike, Qhortho strikes. Both are blocked by his shield. This man is well-trained, but he seems to be on tilt from Aran, as his eyes shift back-and-forth betwen Qhortho and Aran.

The lieutenant nearest to Qhortho releases his crossbow and unsheathes his longsword. Qhortho evades the attack.

A scorching ray pounds the man in retailation. As he turns to look at his attacker, another one slams him the face.

Hooterz flies in front of the lieutenant and flaps his wings to distract him, allowing Qhortho all the window he needs. The first strike slips through his armor and knocks him slightly off balance. The second strike severs him in two, from collarbone to the middle of his ribcage. The man’s top half falls backwards while his bottom half remains standing for a half-second before falling forward. Qhortho jumps back and looks at the captain.

The captain, faces Aran and attacks. The fear in his eyes makes him unable to connect with three swipes with his war hammer. He closes his eyes and shakes his head hard. Where there once was fear, now is fury.

Aran and the captain square off and attack each other simulttaneously.

After a number of well-placed and well-blocked strikes, Qhortho tries to grapple the captain, but the beast of a man is unmoved, ricocheting Qhortho back a foot. The captain grins and laughs in his face. Qhortho slashes at him, but it is blocked by his shield.​ Qhortho notices Ornogrim appear beside him, but his attacks are also blocked.

Qarzdaq musters the greatest power he has to fire five scorching rays at the captain. Two miss entirely, two hit his armor and fizzle out, but one manages to scorch his face badly. Still the captain remains focused on his primary target, Aran.

The captain swipes at Aran twice more without a direct impact, but on his third swing, he connects with Aran’s chest. As the blow slams into Aran’s plate, the captain falls forward. Aran jumps back. The captain’s face slams the ground hard, the scorched side facing up, two arrows planted deep in his back.

Quickly, everyone looks for where that archer could be. This could not be the work of an enemy, could it? It would be highly unlikely. Still, as a precaution, they show their readiness to continue the fight.

Ornogrim calls out.

            ORNO:              ARCHER! BEITH FRIEND OR FOE?!

He then whispers to Hooterz, “find him.”

Hooterz disappears into the night sky. Moments later, hooting is heard to the northwest. Everyone in the party turns to face that direction immediately. The hooting gets further away, then stops, perhaps 75 to 100 feet away. The sound sweeps eastward, now almost directly north of their location. The way they came from. Is he going after their horses? Has he out strategized them? Are there reinforcements nearby?

The hooting does not recede into the distance. Instead, it is slowly getting closer. Clearly, the archer knows he can be tracked effortlessly.

Qarzdaq moves up to be closer to the group. Everyone readies their weapons. Before they see anyone, a voice is heard over the hooting.

Coincidence or Fate?

            ARCHER:           Hello adventurers! Stow your fireballs, call off your Dothraki and angry owls. My name is Rolan and I pose no threat. Let us chat.

Qarzdaq sees Rolan before anyone else can make him out. His hands are raised, his bow on his back. Qarzdaq lets his guard down.

            QARZ:               It seems he is telling the truth.

Rolan emerges from the darkness into the firelight shed by the large burning tent. Now confirming what Qarzdaq already knew, the rest of the group lowers their weapons; Qhortho calms his rage.

Qarzdaq moves to the front.

            QARZ:               Explain yourself.

Rolan moves closer, slowly, speaking as he walks.

            ROLAN:             I am on a journey of fate with an unknown end. Seeing you enter this camp has spoken to me that you are the ones I have been searching for. I would like to join with you, and help you, to see where the next stage of my journey brings me.

            QHOR:              What were you doing with these men? These dead men…

            ROLAN:             You deserve an explanation so you know I tell the truth. Some weeks ago, I heard there were bandits carrying the Kraken and felt a duty to track them. To understand this symbol that the Drowned God meant me to find.

            QHOR:              So you are Ironborn?

            ROLAN:             I am originally Ironborn. Yes.

            ORNO:              So what do you know of this Ironborn blockade and these supposed Ironborn mercenaries?

            ROLAN:             Not much. I am not involved with either. This is an unlikely meeting of chance. Fate. I was following a different task until you attacked the camp.

            QHOR:              You’re pretty far from the sea, there, sailor.

Qarzdaq looks at Qhortho.

            QARZ:               Well, he’s not THAT far from the sea.

Ornogrim joins in.

            ORNO:              He’s closer than you are to the grass sea.

            ROLAN:             I have not been close to the sea for many years.

            ORNO:              We are all from different areas. I come from north of the wall myself. Our Dothraki comes from the grass sea of Essos.

Aran glances at Ornogrim suspiciously, but puts it out of his mind — more important things to focus on.

            ORNO:              You have proven yourself in battle. I’d say we can use the help.

Ornogrim looks over the group to check for protest. He sees none.

            ORNO:              Hey, by the way, did you happen to see a shifty-looking bleeding guy running around?

            ROLAN:             A shifty guy? When exactly? I have been here a few days, so I have seen a lot of unsavory folk. Earlier this day, I did see a man. Dressed poorly, but oddly clean. I believe he went by Godrick. He and the captain talked for a bit, then Godrick took quarter in one of the tents. Since his arrival, everyone here was on edge and began active guard duty. Is this the man of whom you speak?

            ORNO:              No. The man I speak of is one who entered the camp with us, helping our assault. He was badly injured and ran off. It’s not the first time he’s run off.

            ARAN:               Any treasure in this camp? Let’s start some looting!

            ROLAN:             I suppose that depends on what you consider treasure. It was no easy task for someone such as myself to join their ranks, so I had to make a bit of a show. That involved my own coin. Somewhere around here, there are some items of value if you’d like to track them down. I am happy to share those valuables with you if you allow me to join you.

            QHOR:              Do you know who the bandits were working for?

            ROLAN:             No. I arrived just a few days ago and was just getting close enough to figure that out before you arrived.

            QARZ:               We’ve been through the camp already, but saw no man matching the description of this Godrick. Do you know where he may have gone?

            ROLAN:             If he is not in any of the tents, I do not know where he may have gone. Perhaps he ran off during the commotion.

The group winds down the conversation and begins searching the camp.

With the big tent still aflame, Qarzdaq prays hard for the flames to end. Instead, they grow brighter.

Ornogrim douses some the ontents of his water skin and holds it over his mouth. He rushes into the burning tent to quickly search for anything potentially valuable. He sees a stack of Ironborn banners, of various condition. Some are beginning to burn. He snatches them and throws them out of the tent, being careful to separate the ones that caught fire from those that hadn’t

Seeing this as productive, Aran and Qhortho follow suit.

The three of them find studded leather armor, regular leather armor, a container of gems and heirlooms, and a small locked lockbox. They save all of it from the burning tent.

They go on to investigate all of the bodies and tents, finding more leather armor and a decent amount of gold and platinum coins.

            ROLAN:             The container of heirlooms are the items I brought here as tribute. I purchased them for about 2000 gold. However, I did not want to show up here with any more possessions than I was willing to part with, so I hid the rest of my gold at a specific point along the Ocean Road. If it would not be a big inconvenience, I would like to dig up my gold along our way. I would take no offense to leaving me out of the spoils of the rest of the camp. As for the items I brought into the camp, as a gesture of good faith, I would be willing to split those evenly between the five of us.

The group look at each other, knowing this is the most generous deal they’ve ever been offered, and quickly agree to these terms. And with Jonah nowhere in sight, it’s one less share to go around. A good day for all, it seems.

An Elaborate Box

After settling down, they inspect the cast iron lockbox more carefully. There are no visible hinges and where the keyhole should be, there is only a circular opening. Looking closer inside the circle, there appear to be gear teeth inside the mechanism. Even if they had someone in their party who could pick locks, this one looks sophisticated enough to give them a run for their money.

The group begins debating the best way to open the box, given they hadn’t seen anything resembling a key around camp.

Qarzdaq begins digging in his bag without speaking a word. As the conversation ramps up about the best way to open it, and of course who would be the first one to try, the lid pops open. Simultaneously, they hear the ping of a tuning fork. Qarzdaq is standing about 10 feet away, pointing a hollow tube at the box. The Chime of Opening, recovered from the orc camp months ago, shows sign of fatigue after its use. Everyone awestruck, they stare up at Qarzdaq, lit from behind by the roaring bonfire near the lake. Standing with authority. A messiah passing down a gift from the gods themselves.

That vanishes quickly as the rest of them dig into the contents of the lockbox. Qarzdaq takes a seat.

Inside the box are a number of gems, jewelry, and coins. However, even in the low light, the coins look corroded. They have the appearance of normal gold coins otherwise… counterfeits… but why in such an elaborate box?

Qarzdaq causes the tip of his quarterstaff to glow a soft white light. Inspecting the gems, he can see these relatively large gemstones are poorly cut. These are likely fakes as well.

Maybe the bandits didn’t know any better. Perhaps they did, and this was intended to be used as payment for something or someone else. Strange.

            QARZ:               Rolan, have you ever seen this box before?

            ROLAN:             I have not.

            QARZ:               Hmm…

They look more closely at the construction of the box. It appears to have been built specifically to foil the typical tools of the lockpicking trade. The entire locking mechanism is closed off from the inside as well, making it difficult to reverse-engineer its workings.

True Iron​

After settling down, they continue asking Rolan questions about the bandits, since he is the only one who could potentially have answers.

            ARAN:               Did you happen to find out who they were working for?

            ROLAN:             I only know about that Godrick fellow.

            QHOR:              Why were they pretending to be Ironborn?

            ROLAN:             As far as I know, it was only a terror tactic. There was nothing really spectacular going on until this Godrick guy showed up, everyone seemed to be on alert.

            QHOR:              Was he their commander?

            ROLAN:             I don’t know.

            QHOR:              But you did observe the visit, right?

            ROLAN:             Yes.

            QHOR:              Did you see the captain defer to him as a superior? Or did you see Godrick bring something that he did not leave with? Or leave with something he did not bring?

            ROLAN:             I do remember him delivering a scroll, but as to its contents, I have no information. I have a hunch the scroll was burned after it was read.

The conversation steers towards the potential threat to Crakehall overheard by the Assembly on their approach into the camp.

                ARAN:                   What do you know about the men they sent in that direction?

                ROLAN:                Unfortunately, not much. I’ve only been here a few days like I said, so I wasn’t’ privy to many of their plans. There were a number of bandits coming and going the entire time though. It was only a few weeks ago that I was still in Highgarden actually. I was in a tavern… the Deep Onion I think… when I heard some merchants discussing this Ironborn group along the Ocean Road. Based on what I heard, they sounded more like sellswords.

The group nods along with the story, agreeing with what Rolan had reasoned.

                ROLAN:                 Based on that assumption, I crafted a plan based on a story I heard from long ago about a man known as Jaq Bowyer. First, I spent a lot of my own coin to purchase a number of items that could be assumed personal effects and heirlooms. I then dug up a fresh corpse from one of the local cemeteries and removed the man’s head. I didn’t like the act, but deemed it necessary. I wrapped the head in burlap and canvas, and went looking for these “Ironborn.”

Qhortho shows some excitement., anticipating a tale of glorious battle about to be told.

                ROLAN:                I was disappointed that I hadn’t run into them by the time I reached Old Oak, but I pressed onward. It was on my way to Crakehall where I finally saw them. Being at a distance, I figured it best to bury any gold I wanted to keep. I approached them and…

                QHOR:                  You shot them with arrows like you did here??

                ROLAN:                No… That wouldn’t have gotten me into the camp.

Qhortho frowns slightly.

                ROLAN:                I spoke to them about my intentions, and although they did not trust me, they brought me to the camp here to meet with the boss. We had to travel through some strange woods too, just to the west from here. They were going on about them being haunted, but I don’t put much stock in fairytales. Anyway, we got here and I’ve been trying to curry favor by showing my skill with a bow, expecting my path would be laid out before me by the Drowned God. And sure enough, you showed up and proved the wisdom of his way. It is not every day you find yourself in a camp of pretenders draped in the symbol of truth when travelers appear from across the world to destroy those of false intentions.

                QARZ:                   Symbol of truth?

                ROLAN:                The Kraken.

                QARZ:                   The Lord of Light provided the fuel to extinguish those pretenders.

                ROLAN:                That may be, but I do not hold it as coincidence that your Light did not burn all remnants of the Kraken. Some were scorched, sure, but it seems there is more to our meeting than proving one god above another.

                QARZ:                   Interesting… If I may ask, have you heard about the ship blockade near Casterly Rock?

                ROLAN:                I hadn’t heard any details about it.

                ARAN:                   It seemed like they were real Ironborn.

                ROLAN:                I can’t say, but I can say for certain that these men (looking around the camp) were not True Iron.

                ARAN:                   Yeah. We learned that along our way.

            QHOR:              Did you ever ask why they were dressed as Ironborn?

                ROLAN:                No. I was just trying to get into their operation.

                ORNO:                  Did they tell you why they had you wear the Kraken garments?

            ​ROLAN:                Not any more than to cause fear and panic.

            ORNO:              Hmmm… Well it seems we have plenty of information to bring to King Greydon.

            ​ROLAN:                King Greydon? As in “King of the Reach” King Greydon?

            ORNO:              Ah, so you know him too?

            ROLAN:                Not personally, but this is just one more piece of information to prove I am in the Kraken’s wake.

They decide that, in the morning, they will make way for Crakehall to let Aran check in with his commanding officer, then they will travel south along the Ocean Road to reach Highgarden. They will bring the Kraken banners and garments to King Greydon to prove their success. They all agree that Rolan’s True Iron blood shall remain a secret within the group.

They rest in the camp for the night, which passes without incident.

​Some Weird Juju

Upon first light, before performing their normal rituals, they finally can see the landscape of the camp. About 300 feet to the west and wrapping all the around to the south is dense forest. This must have been the so-called “treacherous terrain” described by Lord Daemon in Crakehall.

The path running through the middle of camp leads out to the east farther than they can see. It’s likely that this path leads all the way to the river road used as a shortcut by the risk-tolerant merchants. To the north, the way they entered the camp, is open plains.

The north and east are the easiest routes out of the area. Ornogrim asks Hooterz to scout the area in case there is anything interesting to learn from the air. Hooterz takes off, circling as he gains altitude.

Meanwhile, the group talks over the best route to Crakehall.

            ORNO:              I am extremely familiar with navigating forests – it is, in fact, one of my favorite types of terrain. North of The Wall being my other.

            ROLAN:             That is good to know. On my way to the camp with the bandits, we did experience some weirdness as it relates to traveling through the forest on our way here. I knew we were headed in the right direction, but it seems to take us longer than it should by at least half. Clearly my navigation is not where it needs to be for long trips through the woods. Perhaps we will make better time with you in the lead, should we go that way.

About 15 minutes later, Hooterz interrupts the conversation and lands on Ornogrim’s shoulder. He scratches his large talon on the leather shoulder pad.

Ornogrim focuses on Hooterz and begins hooting at the owl. The two appear to converse back and forth until Ornogrim ends the conversation and looks over the others’ faces.

            ORNO:              It seems Hooterz has noticed something interesting in the forest. Peripherally, he saw fleeting creatures moving from tree to tree, but was never able to actually catch one moving in his primary vision. He’s not sure what it was, but these may be the creatures that the rumors say haunt the woods.

            QHOR:              They may be just ordinary bandits. We should prepare ourselves for that scenario.

            ROLAN:             I could have sworn I had eyes on me last night. Each time I looked around, I saw fleeting glimpses of glowing specks of light from the tree line, but I chalked it up to fireflies and nerves. My gut tells me Children of the Forest, but I’d be surprised to see them still in this region. Nothing I’d want to mess with on their home turf, that’s for sure.

            ORNO:              I think I’m going to warg and see this for myself.

His eyes flutter and lose their color. He falls backwards into the grass softly. His eyes directly up to the sky, Hooterz takes off towards the forest.

Everyone else takes to their morning rituals. Each of them glances over at Ornogrim at times to ensure he is still ok and not bleeding out of the mouth, or anything like that.

An hour later, when everyone is wrapping up their tasks, Ornogrim suddenly sits straight up.

            ORNO:              Ok… what the hell… There is definitely some weird juju in there. I had the same experience that Hooterz described. I did my best to catch the men… or whatever they were… in my vision, but they eluded me every time. Every time I thought I was close, I just couldn’t get a solid look at them. They seemed to be all over and nowhere all at once. I can get us through it though.

            ARAN:               We don’t really need to go that way though, right? Is it really that much quicker?

            QARZ:               I’m intrigued by the opportunity to explore that forest.

            ARAN:               I think this is just going to slow us down. If we go north and return the path, we can just head west into Crakehall. It would be way easier.

            ORNO:              But the distance is undoubtedly shorter by going through the forest. I know some tricks about traveling through the forest. I’m sure we’ll be able to get through it faster than you have ever traversed dense forest before. I’d say that it would normally be an eight-day trip for normal folk, but I can get us there in four.

            ARAN:               If you say so.

            ROLAN:             I’ll stay in the back so if anything goes awry. That way I’ll have good eyes on our targets.

            QARZ:               No offense Rolan, but I don’t want you traveling behind our party.

            ROLAN:             If I wanted to pull a fast one, I’ve had plenty of opportunity already.

            QARZ:               I wonder.

            ROLAN:             I just don’t want to enter into hand-to-hand combat. That is not my forte.

            QHOR:              We obviously trust you enough or else you’d be dead. But you must grant us leave for concern of our security. You can be near the back, but not behind all of us.

            QARZ:               I can walk with him in the back.

Breadcrumbs

They wrap up camp, find their horses, and head towards the forest. Ornogrim leads the group, with the others two-by-two.

Every few minutes, Ornogrim stops to investigate tracks. Everything seems to be wildlife; nothing considered out of the ordinary. They camp for the night and sleep quite peacefully. The entire next day resembles the first, as does that night.

The next day begins just as the past two. But about an hour into their travel, Ornogrim has a sneaking suspicion that they’ve been this way before. Due to the care with how they’ve been traveling, he is not able to detect their own tracks, but he does recall seeing some of the same patterns in animal tracks yesterday. Still crouching near the animal tracks, he stares off into the distance while the realization dawns on him. He snaps out of it to hear the others idly chatting.

            ORNO:              Guys…

They stop talking.

Ornogrim stands up and turns around to face them.

            ORNO:              We’ve been here before.

            ARAN:               Before?

Aran looks around, expecting the others to understand, perhaps from a time before he joined the crew.

            ORNO:              Yesterday.

Baffled and weirded out, they quickly look at each other and around their peaceful surroundings. All of sudden, they don’t feel as alone in the woods as they felt just moments ago.

            ORNO:              We are heading in the right direction. That, I am sure of. But we’ve been over this ground. There must be some magic at work.

            QARZ:               Maybe we can put something on the trees or the ground so we know for sure where we’ve been.

            ORNO:              Yes, I agree. Good idea. I spend so much time thinking of ways not to be tracked that the ways to enable tracking do not come readily to mind.

Ornogrim decides they will cut a slanted gash into tree bark with the downward side indicating their direction of travel.

He raises his knife to the closest tree. He cuts deeply into its bark.

A terrible screeching scream emanates from all around them, as if coming from the woods themselves. Although no words are heard, he definitely receives the message loud and clear: STOP.

Ornogrim lowers the blade slowly and stows it.

            ARAN:               Is that the Children of the Forest? Shit man…

Qhotho draws his weapon, ready for a fight. He quickly pivot-jumps to face every little sound. No one approaches.

            ORNO:              I have an idea. I’ll break apart this chainmail I have and we can leave the links on the ground.

Over the next few minutes, Qhortho calms himself enough to sheath his weapon, but still remains on edge. 

Ornogrim spends the next four hours breaking down the chainmail into a pile of links. Once complete, they continue on their way for about an hour then make camp.

The next morning, no links are seen in front of them, but none are behind ​either.

Ornogrim wargs with Hooterz and, again, tries to get a good view of these creatures but, again, fails. He does determine that they are getting closer to the coast, so at least they are making progress.

When Ornogrim ends his session with Hooterz, they continue their trek. After about an hour, they see links of chainmail on the ground.

            ARAN:               Great, Ornogrim… You’ve gotten us lost. I thought we were supposed to be through the woods today.

Ornogrim shoots a look that quiets him.

They push forward and after another hour, they reach new ground.

            ORNO:              Ok, so we’re losing about two hours of travel each night somehow. Enough to send a message, not enough to be harmful.

Ornogrim continues to lay down links every few minutes.

They finally make camp after a long day hiking, but they do not rest easy, knowing they are not in control of where they awake.

The next morning, links of chainmail are seen on either side of their camp. They quickly get on their way.

After almost a full-day’s travel, the sun low in the sky, they finally reach the end of the woods. Qhortho rushes out into an open field, breathing the air deeply as if he had been struggling for breath for days prior. A town is no more than 200 paces away. Aran recognizes it as his home. They made it back to Crakehall.

They saunter through the fields behind the homes, the past few days of mental fatigue shedding from them as they approach civilization. It isn’t until this point that they realize the stress they had been under, and it is only moments later that the entire past few days seem like a distant memory.

Aran suggests the party go to the tavern. His plan is to report to Ser Golfryn with their status and then meet them.

Before they part ways, Ornogrim tries to get Aran to accompany them for a “shot of courage.” Aran considers it, but ultimately declines.

Greater Calling

Aran knowns what he wants from this meeting. He wants to leave the town and continue adventuring.

He feels some amount of guilt for wanting to leave his home, but there are more people he can help if he sticks with this group. He expects to run into people who need help. And with this group, anyone they find in need, will likely be in great danger, just to the nature of the stories he’s heard. So with that reasoning, he will be fighting for people who cannot fight for themselves, he just doesn’t know who those people are yet… But if he is being honest with himself, it’s not completely about that. It is about the adventure. 

​​Aran knocks authoritatively on the thick wood door to Ser Golfryn’s quarters. An equally authoritative voice calls out “Come.” Aran pushes open the door.

            GOLF:                First Smith Aran. I am glad to see your return. After your debrief, we have many tools and weapons that are in need of…

            ARAN:               Ser Golfryn, I must start by saying that I believe I can best serve our Lord in a greater sense than as a smith in Crakehall.

Ser Golfryn’s face convey that of annoyance, at being cut off and Aran’s attempt to shed his duty.

            ARAN:               I hope that as I describe our travels and encounters, you will see my greater calling as well.

Ser Golfryn takes a seat at a nearby table and gestures for Aran to do the same.

            ARAN:               My first charge was to find out what was going on. We determined there was a camp of bandits dressed as Ironborn at Red Lake and we defeated them in battle. We learned they were not actual Ironborn, but the camp is no more.

Ser Golfryn shifts in his seat, but looks pleased.

            ARAN:               This means the Ocean Road will no longer be reinforced by more bandits and should be clear relatively soon.

A smile spreads across Golfryn’s face.

            GOLF:                This is indeed great news. Lord Daemon will be most pleased. This is likely to mean a commendation from the Lord for both of us, you understand.

Now it’s Aran’s turn to shift in his seat. The thought of feeling a duty to stick around weighs on him, but he must push forward and finish his case.

            ARAN:               Our current suspicion is that someone along the alternate route with an interest is behind their funding. Someone who would want benefit from the additional merchant traffic .

            GOLF:                Our? I hope you have not gotten too close to your targets. I know you have not seen much battle at your age, but fighting alongside others creates a bond that is difficult to break. Indoctrination into a group while covert is an especially dangerous force.

            ARAN:               Yes sir. I see that… Let me ask you, does the name Godrick mean anything to you?

            GOLF:                It does not ring a bell.

            ARAN:               Someone by that name had some influence in the camp. It seems they knew a threat was imminent – this Godrick fellow is a person of interest for us. The one leading the camp itself was a large man by the name of Zane.

            GOLF:               Interesting. I will keep an eye out for this Godrick.

            ARAN:               My second charge was to understand this group’s intentions. They are genuinely good people. It seems they serve the King’s interests wholeheartedly. Perhaps too well, even for the King’s liking… though I do not presume to know his Grace’s liking, of course sir. I just mean that they were instructed to gather information, but they took it upon themselves to instead rid the region of the threat while it was in sight.

            GOLF:                Action men. That is good. Though, going against orders shows a lack of respect the hierarchy of command. Perhaps the King had a reason for not taking action that was not shared with them. That would be his prerogative.

            ARAN:               That may be true sir, but they always seem to act with good intentions, as I have seen over the past 2 fortnights.

            GOLF:                The road to the Seven Hells were paved with good intentions.

            ARAN:               I cannot argue with that. But this does bring me to the current situation.

            GOLF:                Yes. Your greater calling. We are in need of you back at your post First Smith.

            ARAN:               About that. I’d like to get back on the road with this group to better serve our people. There are still some of those bandits out on the Road, and I’d like to help clear that up. On this path, I may be able to serve my King directly because this group is currently reporting to him. Ever since I was a young boy, I’ve always felt I am to serve a great cause. I feel this may be my calling; my fate.

            GOLF:                Fate, shmate. We have troops in need. Your intent, then, is to break ranks? Do you not feel a sense of duty to them? Do you believe your own desires greater than theirs? Are you truly willing to abandon them?

            ARAN:               Sir, with all due respect, I do not see it as abandoning them. I see it as helping in a greater capacity than I can here, but it would be from outside the town limits. We have other smiths and, although they are not at my skill, they can get the job done.

            GOLF:                I see. And it seems your mind is made up.

            ARAN:               It is, but I would heed any advice your wisdom may offer.

Golfryn slouches a bit. Not in defeat as much as just letting down his hard-edged guard. Aran had never seen him just “be comfortable” before so it catches him off-guard. Like a soldier seeing his always-on-point general in a bathrobe.

            GOLF:                Aran, I’ve helped you advance the ranks since you were just playing with scraps of metal. Today, I believe you have become the man you need to be. You show respect and honor, but also backbone and might. Although I feel I am losing one of my best, I am proud of the man you have become and who you will become.

            ARAN:               Thank you sir.

Golfryn clears his throat and sits up straight.

            GOLF:                Understand that this is not a discharge; you are still a member of the Crakehall Guard. You are in no means absolved of your duty to Crakehall or to the Reach at large. You will still be required to report back with your status when able.

            ARAN:               I understand. And thank you again.

Golfryn nods.

            GOLF:                Now. You say there are still men on the Road. It sounds as if you plan to head towards Highgarden. I will send troops north to clear out any stragglers in that direction. Do you think thirty men will do?

            ARAN:               It should.

Golfryn pushes out his chair and stands.

            GOLF:                Alright. Well. I’d say we both have things to do. I will inform Lord Daemon of your continued efforts and send those troops out at once.

            ARAN:               Yes sir. I will meet up with the others and inform them of your decision and be out at first light.

The two men shake hands and Aran leaves for the tavern.​

Unlikely Employment

Upon Aran arriving at the tavern, the group is already well on their way to intoxication. They happen to have five moderately-attractive barmaids at the table. When they see Aran, they cheer and wave him over. Given that no one else is in the tavern, this was not necessary. Over the next hours they share their stories of travel, adventure, and triumph with the women, and each are bedded that night.

In the morning, they awake refreshed and ready to take on adversity. After a good meal and their typical rituals, but before they get on their way to Highgarden, Rolan inquires about selling his goods to recover the gold he paid for them. Qhortho reminds him that the town had been cut off for some time and the market prices will not be as good as in Highgarden. Rolan agrees to wait.

On the other side of town, tens of armored men in loose formation are readying to leave in the opposite direction, towards Lannisport. The party mounts up and makes way for Rolan’s stash of gold to the southeast and then to Highgarden.

The first day goes by without incident, but on the second, Hooterz notifies them of a threat of ten Ironborn on the road ahead.

            ARAN:               Hey Rolan, I’m just curious. Do you use poison?

            ROLAN:             I have not been trained to use poison.

            QHOR:              Yeah! Because you’re not a bitch!

            ARAN:               You should think about it. That guy Jonah that was with us was pretty badass with it.

            QHOR:              And he ran like a bitch!

            ARAN:               What do you think about wearing some of those Ironborn sigils we got from the camp so we can get the jump on them?

The group likes this idea. They want to send Ornogrim and Rolan dressed as Ironborn to speak with them and, if things go badly, Hooterz would signal the others to rush in. However, how would the rest of them stay hidden on the open plains? If not hidden, they would be too far away to be of any help if things go awry. Perhaps they can still make it work.

As they get closer, Rolan uses his superb vision to make out whether he’s seen these bandits around camp. Although they look like the random comers and goers, he does not recognize these particular men’s faces.

Ornogrim speaks with Hooterz to describe hand and arm signals so he knows when to return to him, when to tell the others to move in, and how to appropriately deliver a written message from his vest.

Rolan and Ornogrim swap out their current clothing for the tattered Ironborn cloaks and armor.

​Ornogrim and Rolan ride towards the bandits, Hooterz following from above.

It doesn’t take very long before they are noticed.

            BANDIT:            Who goes there?

            ROLAN:             It’s us from back at the Red Lake Camp. We’re trying to find Godrick. There was an attack and everyone is dead. Zane told us to tell Godrick what happened. Do you know who this person is?

            ORNO:              Yes, Zane told us we need to find Godrick’s whereabouts immediately.

            BANDIT:            Zane you say?

            ROLAN:             Yes.

Rolan and Ornogrim dismount.

            BANDIT:            I do not know Godrick, but whatmaybe I can still help?

            ORNO:              It saddens my heart that you do not know Godrick’s name. Zane’s dying words were to find Godrick. He bled out before he could say much more.

            BANDIT:            Zane is dead?

            ORNO:              Zane is dead.

            BANDIT:            Zane is dead… Then what the fuck are we doing here?

            ORNO:              I don’t know. I mean who’s going to pay us now?

            BANDIT:            That’s what I’m asking.

            ORNO:              I wonder if this Godrick fellow might know something more about that.

            BANDIT:            Maybe we should go find him.

            ORNO:              Yes. Let’s find him.

            BANDIT:            Alright. Where would you say is the best place to start? Should we go back to Red Lake?

            ORNO:              We hired a few mercenaries to help in this pursuit. They’re not far behind us.

            BANDIT:            Well then. You have coin if you can hire mercenaries.

            ORNO:              But I don’t get coin by giving it away.

            BANDIT:            It wasn’t thinking about it being given away…

            ORNO:              Well, hold up. We were thinking that you might know more about this. But to be honest, I was coming at the angle of concern for Godrick because of Zeus’s orders but, like you, I just wanna get paid…

            BANDIT:            Zeus…

The bandit draws his weapon, as do the other nine men around him. Rolan draws his as well and takes a few steps back.

Ornogrim keeps his swords sheathed.

            BANDIT:            This one ain’t one of us! Everyone knows his name is Zane!

            ORNO:              A joke, a joke… it’s just some humor there… you know, because he’s dead…

The bandit tries to find the reference to the joke, but clearly comes up short. Rather than sound stupid in front of his men, he circumvents the content of the joke and focuses on the fact that a joke was intended.

            BANDIT:            Humor for our loss of income?

He takes one step closer.

            ORNO:              You gotta laugh or cry. Look it was a dumb joke. We both have the same problem here, ok? A poor choice of words. He’s gone now, who gives a fuck about him. Let’s get our fucking money from Godrick.

The rest of the bandits begin stowing their weapons while mumbling things like “he’s got a point,” “yeah, he’s right,” “here’s to that.” The captain keeps his blade drawn.

            BANDIT:            We have no source of income except for this Godrick fellow, who I’ve never heard of.

            ORNO:              Well maybe there are some other opportunities for you to get coin.

            BANDIT:            The fact that you were able to hire mercenaries tells me you have coin, or backing, or both.

            ORNO:              Well it is true.

            BANDIT:            It sounds like you’re about to hire us now. Isn’t that right?

            ORNO:              I think that is fair. We can recover it from Godrick when we catch up to him. We will negotiate payment…

            BANDIT:            I get a hundred gold and my fella here get fifty gold each. That’s how it’s gonna be.

            ORNO:              For how long?

            BANDIT:            Every time we see you.

            ORNO:              Hold on.

Ornogrim takes out a tiny scroll of parchment and his ink pen. He scribbles a note, “Come in. Do not attack. We are negotiating.” He signals Hooterz to land on his shoulder and speaks with him.

            ORNO:              Hoot, hootie hoot, hoot hoot hootie hoot.

This of course means, “find the others, give them the note.” Hooterz takes off heading west.

            BANDIT:            Never seen no one around camp with a skill like that.

            ORNO:              Well, you’re hooking up with more of a winning crowd than you’re normally with. I can tell you that, but no more.

            BANDIT:            Look. I know now that you’re not really part of our crew here. But you pay us off, and we have no issue. If you say the Red Lake is gone, I believe you if you pay me to, but that is as far as we go.

            ORNO:              I think we will come to an understanding.

            BANDIT:            So you acknowledge that you are not part of our group…

Ornogrim begins to speak, but is cut off.

            BANDIT:            But you are now our employer.

            ORNO:              The rest of our party will be here shortly, but we will come to an agreement.

A few minutes laterm, three men on horseback ride up. The nine other bandits begin to draw their blades. Ornogrim motions that they should lower their weapons and they comply. Rolan also stows his blade. Ornogrim and Rolan walk over to the others. Only Aran and Qarzdaq dismount.

            ORNO:              Well this went a little different way than we were initially planning. It turns out that if we just pay these guys off, they’ll tell us whatever we need to know. Or at least give us a good lead for where to find them. They want 550 gold total.

            ARAN:               Why not pay them, kill them, then take the gold back?

            ORNO:              I cannot abide that. I say we make the deal and stick with it.

            QARZ:               It sounds like you’ve already negotiated the terms.

            ORNO:              Well, that’s what they want, but I wanted you guys to come here first. What we really need is information.

            ARAN:               These guys are no good man.

            ROLAN:             I take particular offense to their use of my people’s symbol and the disrespect. If we have the opportunity to end their lives, I think we should take it.

            ARAN:               I agree. These guys completely ruined my town and now we’re just going to pay them money?

            ORNO:              … that is the way of the world though, right? If we can avoid bloodshed, we should. I just want the information. We could also see if they know anything about the Manderlys. What do you think we should offer them?

Aran shakes his head.

            ARAN:               I don’t get this at all… If you’re that stuck on it, then why not just see if they will tell us what we want for 150 gold?

            QARZ:               Ok, let me see if I can negotiate this.

Aran, Qarzdaq, and Ornogrim walk up to the leader. Rolan stays back, keeping the distance he needs in case some well-placed arrows are in order. Qhortho continues to glare at them from atop his steed.

            QARZ:               Good day.

            BANDIT:            Who are you?

            QARZ:               I am the leader of this band.

            BANDIT:            I thought this guy was the leader.

            QARZ:               He’s our spokesman and our animal handler. Here’s the deal. We do not have need for mercenaries, but we’d be willing to give you 150 gold just for a little information.

            BANDIT:            I don’t think you understand what I was saying to your spokesman. We are without an employer right now. And it seems you were at the camp when everything came apart. Given our lack of income, you are responsible for our income. Now, if we were employed by you, we’d talk to ya.

            QARZ:               Well, for 150 gold, that sounds fine, sure.

            ORNO:              You wouldn’t even have to do much. You talk to us, under our employment, and we part ways.

            QARZ:               That would be the start and end to our employment arrangement. How about 200?

The bandit captain considers this and agrees. He finally stows his blade.

​​Diplomatic Interrogation

            ORNO:              Who is the ultimate person behind these raids?

            BANDIT:            I do not know beyond Zane.

            QARZ:               Where did Zane come from?

            BANDIT:            I’m not sure exactly. He led the group. He recruited all of us. He was getting the gold to pay us from someplace. We were just never privy to that information. They managed to keep it a good secret, which means it must have been important to keep it so. Secrets are kept like water in a sieve in most operations.

Qarzdaq pulls out the elaborate box found in Zane’s tent.

            QARZ:               What do you know about this box?

            BANDIT:            I’ve never seen that before. But it seems like it would have some valuable contents.

            ORNO:              Some FAKE valuables!

Ornogrim opens the box and pulls out one of the rusted coins. He tosses it to the man, who snatches it out of the air like it’s his job. Which, it is now… apparently… 

The bandit inspects the coin, then tosses it over his shoulder. It hits the dirt and the men behind him scramble for it. One of them pockets it after the others lose interest.

            ARAN:               We think they may have been paying you with fake gold.

            BANDIT:            Fake gold?!

All the men clamber at their purses to check. To their relief, their coins seem real.

            QARZ:               What do you know about the blockade near Lannisport?

            BANDIT:            I haven’t been up that far, so I wouldn’t know.

            ORNO:              What do you know about the real Ironborn’s involvement in all this?

            BANDIT:            That I don’t know. I don’t even know that there are any real Ironborn involved. I know that we were given these garments to scare the region. It was described to us that we would not have to face as much combat if we wore this, making it safer for us.

Aran looks across all the bandits, addressing them all at once.

            ARAN:               Have any of you spent much time around the Red Lake.

They all indicate that they had.

            ARAN:               So you had to see someone that looked more important than the rest.

One of the archers speaks up.

            ARCHER:           There was this fella that came in a couple of times.

            QARZ:               How was he dressed?

            ARCHER:           Mostly just…

            ARAN:               Hey Rolan, why don’t you come up and listen to this.

Rolan walk up within earshot, still not getting into melee range.

            ARCHER:           … tattered clothing. Looked to be more a disguise to me though.

The other bandits look at him with slight surprise, as if they hadn’t thought that before.

            ARCHER:           Well that’s what I thought anyway. I didn’t pay it no mind. If he’s the funder or the go-between for our funding, I don’t care how he’s dressed. I just want to get paid.

            ROLAN:             Would you say he was well-groomed or clean?

            ARCHER:           I always saw him at a distance, but yeah, you could say that.

            ROLAN:             That sounds like Godrick.

            ARCHER:           Never caught his name.

            ARAN:               Which way would he normally leave camp?

            ARCHER:           Always along the path to the east.

            ORNO:              Did everyone use that same path?

            ARCHER:           Yeah, mostly.

            QARZ:               No one went through the forest?

            ARCHER:           None of our group. Those wood are kinda creepy if you ask me.

            QARZ:               No kidding.

            ORNO:              With Zane gone, who would you say is going to take over this operation?

            BANDIT:            All our funding was through Zane, so if Zane is really dead, we’re done for.

            ARAN:               I think Godrick was the funding.

            BANDIT:            That would make sense.

            QARZ:               What are you guys going to do now?

            BANDIT:            Off to find work elsewhere. There’s always banditing to be done somewhere.

Aran grits his teeth.

Feeling they’ve reached the end of the conversation, they pay the men, mount up, and get on their way.

            BANDIT:            What are your names, if I may ask?

            QARZ:               This here is Tholannan, that guy is Max, the guy on the horse is Burton…

            BANDIT:            Doesn’t seem like a Dothraki name.

            QHOR:              How many Dothraki do you know?

            QARZ:               He chose that name when he came over to make it easier to pronounce for us Westerosi.

            BANDIT:            I see.

Qhortho turns to Qarzdaq.

            QHOR:              Can I please kill them now?

The bandits shoot glances at each other.

            QARZ:               No…

Qarzdaq turns to the captain and nudges him with his elbow.

            QARZ:               These Dothraki. All they want to do is kill.

            BANDIT:            Uh right. We’ll be on our way. I wish you well.

The bandits scurry down the road to the west.

As they walk off, Ornogrim tells Hooterz to follow them for one day and then report back.

A few hours more travel and they make camp beside the road.

​Promises Kept

The next morning, they follow the typical routine and continue their journey. After a few hours they finally reach Rolan’s buried gold. He quickly digs it up and hands over 500 gold to each of the party members, as he agreed to do in the camp. This act definitely wins him some trust points.

            ARAN:               During my short time with this group, it has been quite lucrative. And a lot of fun.

            QHOR:              We do find adventure.

            ARAN:               That battle at Red Lake was the best battle of my life!

            ROLAN:             So where next?

            QARZ:               To Highgarden.

            ROLAN:             If anyone brings up a body with a missing head, leave me out of it.

They all laugh about the dismembered corpse, mount up, and press on.

That night, while winding down, they discuss what might be going on around the region and who might be behind it. Nothing but speculation comes from the conversation.

            ARAN:               I would consider it a personal favor if, anytime we see people in Highgarden, we tell them the Ocean Road is clear so we can get some merchant traffic funneling back through Crakehall.

The group agrees and they rest for the night.

The next few days pass quickly, and before they know it, Old Oak is in the distance. The only interesting thing that happened during that time was the return of Hooterz. He told Ornogrim that the bandits removed the Ironborn sigils and tossed them in the dirt. Later, he saw them entering Crakehall, but it was without malice. He turned back at that point.

            ARAN:               I say we spend the night and have a few drinks. It looks like they may have had a little boost in business.

They stable their horses and enter the tavern. After a few drinks, they make their attempts with the ladies at varied levels of success. Afterwards, they rest for the night.

In the morning, they visit Lord Arlyn before leaving town.

They enter the keep, with its tapestries of defeated Dornishmen and various battles lining the walls.

Lord Arlyn is sitting with one of his guards talking over some wine.

            ARLYN:              Oh it’s you lot. Pleasure seeing you still alive, I’m sure. Hold on… I don’t believe I’ve met a couple of you. I see a few are missing. Are they having trouble getting up after a long night?

            ARAN:               Good day, my lord. I am Aran… Westbrook. From Crakehall.

            ROLAN:             My name is Rolan, my lord.

They tell him the road is clear, the bandits have been removed, but a naval blockade still exists at Lannisport and Casterly Rock.

They go into some detail about the camp at Red Lake and about the other bandits just being involved for the coin.

            ARLYN:              So the roads are safe again?

            ARAN:               Yes. There may be some straggler bandits out there, but they are no longer with an organization.

The lord congratulates them on the success and they take their leave.

They gather their horses and hit the road. After three days of travel, they recognize the area where they lost Shadowsilver. The cave system directly beneath the road on which they travel. The next six days pass without incident.

In the distance, with wide-scale plains and rolling hills behind it, is the tiered castle of Highgarden. A sight for sore eyes.

            ARAN:               You been here before Rolan?

            ROLAN:             Yes, I passed through here before I met up with the bandits.

The towns along the coast are economically battered; the Lannister region a little too gaudy. Highgarden strikes a balance -sure the wealth pours out of every crevasse, but the beauty, the attention to detail, the artistic flair. Truly no place else like it. Entering the city, performers, harpers, singers saturate the air without becoming overbearing. Somehow the musical tones fade in and out rather than existing as a cacophony all at once.

Cora and Nora

Walking into the city, they see the street performers of all types, including a duo of full-plate fighters engaged in a coreographed battle. This catches Qhortho’s eye.

He quickly walks over to the performance. He recognizes their moves. This is the same one; he’s certain. After the battle is complete, the fighters remove their helmets, revealing the women’s pretty features. They pass around a bucket, collecting coins from the crowd. Qhortho makes eye contact with Cora, the one he would make his khaleesi if he could. She recognizes him and her knees give out slightly. His heart skips a beat.

Qhortho reaches out, putting his arm around Cora.

            QHOR:              You remind me of the first blossoms of wildflowers in the spring time on the Grass Sea.

            CORA:               Deep Onion later?

            QHOR:              I will be there.

They kiss briefly and he lets her go.

Ornogrim tries to forcefully kiss the one he bed that night months ago. She stops his face with her armored hand and pushes it away. She looks away from him as she does, then looks back and smirks at him. He smirks back. He flips her a gold coin.

            ORNO:              Good show.

            NORA:              You going to be at the Deep Onion later?

            ORNO:              Yeah, we’ll be going deep in there.

            NORA:              Well, I certainly hope so.

The two women continue to collect tribute for their art as the party turns away towards the central keep.

Planting Seeds

Entering the familiar and extremely flamboyantly decorated great hall of Highgarden, a line of guards stand along the side and back wall, as if they are decoration as well.

Qarzdaq walks up to one and tells him they have come to meet with King Greydon. The guard agrees to request the king’s presence. The clanging of plate armor is heard echoing down the hall as he leaves.

Ornogrim takes this as the perfect time to take a hit of pipe weed.

They take a seat at the long, heavy oak table. Before long, Greydon’s voice is heard echoing loudly down the hallway, “And don’t you think you should go treat her scrapes and bruises???”

This quickly gets their attentions and they look to the source just as Greydon enters the great hall.

            MAESTER:         Yes, my lord, yes.

            GREYDON:        Your GRACE! Your GRACE! Seven Hells…

            MAESTER:         Yes, my Grace, yes.

            GREYDON:        YOUR Grace! It’s YOUR Graace! You are not the one presumed to have Grace… Fuck.

            MAESTER:         Yes, Your Grace.

The master scurries off down the hallway from which they came.

            GREYDON:        HA! Look who’s here… Well, I hope it’s been worth dealing with this SHITE MAESTER! He may as well be a squire for all the good he’s doing around here. I see you have brought along a member of the Crakehall Guard. Well, at least there is a local in the group…

Greydon nods to Aran.

            ARAN:               Aran Westbrook, Your Grace.

            GREYDON:        Pleasure to meet you.

            ARAN:               Pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.

Greydon looks at Rolan.

            GREYDON:        And who is this fellow?

            ROLAN:             My name is Rolan, Your Grace.

            ARAN:               He joined us along the way and has proven very useful.

            GREYDON:        And you three? What have you to say for yourselves?

            ORNO:              We have had quite some success Your Grace. We have quite a bit of information.

Qhortho pulls out a stack of Ironborn banners and drops them at the king’s feet. He then elbows Ornogrim. Ornogrim digs out one of the slaad claws and drops it on the stack of Krakens.

            GREYDON:        Pick those up. Stow them for a moment. What happened to the girl and the Rhoynar cleric?

Ornogrim picks up all of it.

            ORNO:              Sadly, they fell in battle.

            GREYDON:        I see. Well, we knew it was a dangerous mission, right?

            QARZ:               It surely was. We also learned you shouldn’t wear plate mail in a boat.

            QHOR:              Nor should you abandon your comrades in the middle of a fight.

            GREYDON:        Both are lessons taught early for a reason. It seems you have more than just information…. against my specific orders.

            ORNO:              We were confronted with a deadly force and had to respond as such.

Greydon looks at Aran.

            GREYDON:        You should know better than to disobey your king, boy.

            ARAN:               Yes, Your Grace. To be fair, I was never given that order. I was not here and did not know of such an order. I thought we were acting at your behest.

Greydon grunts, then sighs.

            GREYDON:        Let’s go into my strategy room.

He walks away from the group and they follow. They walk down a hallway, catching a glimpse of the courtyard with the destroyed weirwood throne as they pass. Guards are stationed every 30-40 feet or so. They pass a few of these guards before following King Greydon through a large oak door with iron banding.

​Next Steps

A large and wide heavy table is in the center. Wooden chairs line the walls. A bookshelf is positioned against a back wall with very wide scrolls lining its shelves.

Greydon stands next to the door while everyone enters. Once everyone is inside, he shuts the door.

            GREYDON:        Don’t you understand that I need to be the one that provides the solution? The protection? If it looks like some vagabond travelers can come in and protect my kingdom, why would they continue to have faith my rule. I have no choice now. I must make you official actors of Highgarden. You will need the appropriate insignias and rank to display this fact. You’ll go by The Tutelary of Trade at the order of Highgarden. You will not remove these emblems until Tyrone returns with Maester Paxtan. Is that clear?

They all agree. He takes a deep breath.

            QARZ:               When do they come back?

            GREYDON:        Excellent damn question… I wish it were today…

            QARZ:               You wish it were today, Your Grace?

            GREYDON:        Yeah. This fucking Maester Cranchen. He might as well have tits for fingers…

He sighs heavily again.

            GREYDON:        Ok, tell me everything.

Qarzdaq tells of the Ironborn raiders on land not being Ironborn at all, but goes on to describe the blockade by Lannisport and Casterly Rock that do appear to be real Ironborn. He tells the king that the road is now clear, but the naval blockade remains in place.

He goes on to say that Red Lake was the main base for the bandit camp pretending to be Ironborn.

            GREYDON:        Was?

            QARZ:               Yes. All that remains now is blood and ash.

Ornogrim describes the camp and how they are likely being funded by someone with stature.

            ORNO:              We have been wondering if it is House Manderly.

            GREYDON:        House Manderly?

            ORNO:              Based on our knowledge, it seems they have the most to gain.

            ARAN:               Definitely someone along the alternate merchant route.

            GREYDON:        Dunstonbury is a friend of Highgarden. Ruban Manderly has been a personal friend of mine for years. I’m not sure I believe this.

            QARZ:               We don’t have any direct evidence.

            ORNO:              What we do know is that trade has been rerouted from the Ocean Road along the Rose Road and up to the Gold Road. All of the towns along that route have greatly benefitted during this time. We see this as a motive. However, it would also need to be someone with unfluence. That is why we believe it to be House Manderly.

            GREYDON:        I see.

            ARAN:               Do you know someone named Godrick?

            GREYDON:        I don’t believe so.

            ARAN:               That is our next lead on this path. If we find Godrick, we find our link to the backers.

            GREYDON:        Hmmm… I cannot make a move on the Manderly’s without solid evidence. They are trusted allies of mine. But I will keep an eye on them. As for the camp, I will send troops to Red Lake to ensure the area remains secure.

            ARAN:               Just be sure to follow the path west from the river road to the south side of the lake.

            GREYDON:        Will do. Interesting thath they didn’t use the castle to the north.  As for this blockade…

            ORNO:              They seemed to be real Ironborn by their might, but their behavior was odd. They merely remained out in the bay, blockading the port with hundreds of ships.

            ARAN:               Their training was far superior than anyone on the road.

            GREYDON:        That sort of fleet would require resources and influence as well.

            ARAN:               Absolutely.

            GREYDON:        You know… You say it’s the Manderly’s, but I wonder if this could be the work of House Hoare. Though I doubt they would reverse course and institute a sanctioned blockade. House Hoare currently presides over the Iron Islands, but they’ve been putting an end to their tradition of raiding and pillaging… for generations. We have an agreement.

            QARZ:               Well someone is breaking that agreement.

            GREYDON:        Hmmm.. So are these the only instances where you encountered Ironborn?

            ORNO:              Actually, no.

Ornogrim picks up a slaad claw.

            ORNO:              We ran into real Ironborn in a cave along the coast where we also battled these creatures.

Ornogrim motions at the slaad claw.

            QARZ:               They were using the cave as a stash and to divide their loot.

            GREYDON:        Where exactly is this cave?

            QARZ:               Not too far from Old Oak. Maybe a few days before reaching town coming from this direction.

            QHOR:              Near the Shield Islands.

            ORNO:              This is where we lost one of our colleagues.

Ornogrim goes on to describe the slaad and their way of infecting others as a manner of reproducing. He tells of one masquerading as a female Lannister, but adds that they should all be slaughtered now.

            GREYDON:        How did you learn about this cave?

            QARZ:               We learned of it from a man named Jonah Bick. You may have heard of him. Notorious assassin and ne’er-do-well.

            GREYDON:        I know the name, but I’ve never met him personally.

            ARAN:               He’s a heck of a fighter. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

            ORNO:              He’s a good person to have on your side. He approached us with an opportunity so we took him up on it.

            ARAN:               He stuck with us all the way to Red Lake where he was hurt and ran off.

            ORNO:              He is a mercenary for hire, so that’s not exactly out-of-character.

            QARZ:               Every encounter with true Ironborn has been on the water.

            GREYDON:        I should send troops there as well to ensure they do not return. How did you get to this cave?

            ORNO:              We had to climb down a rock face.

            GREYDON:        Then I will send them by ship.

            QHOR:              Just be wary of the Ironborn longships. We encountered three of them, but managed to burn one down. We also killed about fifty of them in that cave before they knew what hit them.

            GREYDON:        So the other two ships. Where did they go? Which direction did they sail?

            QARZ:               We only saw them sail directly away from shore.

Qhortho begins to speak, but King Greydon cuts him off and walks to the bookshelf.

He sifts through the large scrolls, deliberately selects one, and places it on one side of the table. The width of the scroll is almost the width of the table. He pushes the thick rolled vellum hard across the table, unrolling it completely, revealing a map of the western portion of The Reach. When fully open, the scroll is almost as long as the entire table.

He then walks back to the bookshelf and picks up four large black marble statuettes. He walks around the entire table slowly and deliberately, placing a statuette at each corner of the scroll.

Greydon asks Ornogrim to point out where the cave was. Ornogrim looks over the areas then points out with certainty the location of the cave.

            GREYDON:        So you saw these ships sailing from this location directly away from the coast.

Greydon traces his finger from the cave directly to the Shield Islands.

            GREYDON:        Seems to me, this is where they were headed. The Shield Islands have been under attack from the Ironborn at various stages throughout history.

            ORNO:              It is certainly possible, but who knows the direction they sailed after passing over the horizon.

            GREYDON:        Very true. Still…

He ponders a moment before continuing.

            GREYDON:        Well, you’ve shown yourselves quite useful. And you obviously carry quite some ability. I do have another task for you while Tyrone still has my maester. I ask that you visit the Shield Islands to determine their status.

            GREYDON:        If you encounter the Ironborn, and you have the guts, turn back the invaders and make them think twice about raiding my lands. We may be powerless at sea, but on land, we have the numbers. I will provide you a small ship and a crew. Honestly, I think this is a fool’s task and that you will not make it back alive, so if you do, I will reward you handsomely. If you don’t, it’ll just more friends of Dorne that are out of the way.

The party looks at each other.

            ARAN:               I’m no friend of Dorne.

King Greydon looks over the others. As Greydon goes to speak, Qhortho cuts him off.

            QHOR:              We only make enemies of those who cross us and the Dornish did not.

Greydon stares directly into Qhortho’s eyes.

            QHOR:              We are a neutral party, please take no offense.

            GREYDON:        Oh I take offense. I take offense to those who have raided my homeland. I take offense to those who destroyed our sacred throne from the Age of Heroes. I take offense to any who aid my enemies. I take offense to any who help any Dornishman and always will. I care not whether they have crossed you.

Qhortho cuts him off again.

            QHOR:              Have we not helped you?

            GREYDON:        I now wonder how much of a hand you’ve had in any of it. Perhaps your tongue should be cut out to avoid losing your head.

            QHOR:              You describe the Dornish we are against.

            GREYDON:        All Dornish are what I describe. If I had my way, I’d be raiding Dorne tomorrow.

            QHOR:              You might be surprised in that not being true any longer.

            GREYDON:        The surprise would be staggering if that were the case.

            QHOR:              Your Grace, I assure you there is a tide turning in Dorne that you may find favorable and peaceful.

            GREYDON:        If there is a tide turning in Dorne, then perhaps it is high time we act and destroy them once and for all.

            QHOR:              Absolutely. We have fought against these Dornish.

            GREYDON:        I speak of all Dorne, not sparing these so-called “good Dornish.”

            QHOR:              You may have allies where you refuse to look.

            GREYDON:        Maybe, but I refuse to look.

            ORNO:              So how about these Ironborn?

            GREYDON:        Yeah… … … How about these Ironborn… The reward will be commensurate to your efforts. If you need to think it over, take the night.

The group quickly responds that they gladly accept the charge.

            QARZ:               Where are Maester Paxtan and Tyrone right now?

            GREYDON:        Still in Oldtowne, doing their research.

            QARZ:               I see. So does us taking on this task buy them more time?

            GREYDON:        Yes. They will have all the time they need.

They finish the conversation, make pleasantries, and leave the main castle.

In Plain Sight

Once in the streets they pause to discuss a few things.

            ARAN:               Rolan, if we have to fight Ironborn, how are you going to feel about that? Do you have loyalty to them?

            ORNO:              If Ironborn attack us, who’s side will you take?

            ROLAN:             I will always defend myself, but I would suggest that if possible, we err on the side of caution and not get ourselves into a fight that would be regrettable.

            ORNO:              We don’t always try to get into fights, but they have a way of finding us.

            ROLAN:             If we just let a bunch of murderous bandits walk away unscathed, I think we should at least put forth that sort of effort towards this until we know what’s actually going on.

            QARZ:               I think that’s fair.

            ARAN:               I don’t like that kind of talk at all. We’re going to get ourselves killed.

            ORNO:              You of all people know that Ironborn are not able to be bought like those bandits.

            ROLAN:             I just think we should learn what we can before taking action.

The words hang in the air. They begin walking the streets of Highgarden, leaving the words there, floating, knowing they will follow the party into future conversations.

As they continue to wander, the beauty of the city is striking. But something catches Qarzdaq’s eye. They’d walked by this area many times, but hadn’t ever noticed this building before.

            QARZ:               Hey guys, what’s this place?

The rest of the group looks over and doesn’t even seem to notice it; their eyes just drift past it and never land on the building.

            QARZ:               Let’s check it out.

The building doesn’t draw attention to itself, but it fits the environment so perfectly that it hides in plain sight.

As they approach, the others in the party focus on it just fine, as if they just didn’t notice it before.

Although the building is not of great size, its columns out front showcase its stature. It looks like it might be a library of some sort.

Nearing the door, they see a plaque:

                        The Order of Sorcery and the Arcane Arts

Qarzdaq gets a little excited.

            QARZ:               Sounds like fun!

They all enter the building. At first look, it seems no bigger than a standard shop. But where the clerk’s counter should be, is an ornately-carved dark hardwood receptionist desk. Behind the desk, the room goes back a hundred feet at least, but the ceiling is at the same height as the entryway, no more than ten feet tall.

A young cute girl shuffles papers and notices them enter.

            GWENDYS:        Hi there! My name is Gwendys, what can I do for you?

            QARZ:                I’m wondering if you can help my friends here.

            GWENDYS:        With what?

The party continues to approach the counter as Qarzdaq speaks.

            QARZ:               We saw this was related to Sorcery and the Arcane Arts and we found it of interest. What can you tell us about this place?

As they approach the desk, they get a better vantage point of the building behind the desk. The room extends about fifty feet down from the entry floor. Substantial, ornate staircases are on either side of the desk; railings of wrought iron, steps of beautiful blue marble.

Both staircases descend, in a sweeping 180-degree curve towards each other, merging and continuing to descend under the floor where they stand. In the room down below, large bookshelves with tall rolling ladders are arranged in concentric circles from the center of the floor. Wooden tables with stacks of books are organized around the room.

There is a decent amount of activity inside for the quietness of its façade.

Qhortho, enamored with this girl, edges his way in front of everyone else to monopolize the conversation.

            QHOR:              Ever met a Dothraki before?

He cocks his arm, elbow out, in a way as if he is something to behold.

Qarzdaq, slightly annoyed that this brute just pushed past him, but mostly taking the opportunity to show off where he can in front of a girl who would be impressed, speaks a few words while waving his hands. Qhortho freezes in that pose.

            GWENDYS:        I don’t think so!

Gwendys continues to look at Qhortho, expecting him to be pausing for effect. Then furrows her brow. Qarzdaq arrives at the counter.

            QARZ:               You’ll have to excuse my friend, here. Cat got his tongue, horse got his tongue, I don’t know.

She smiles a sly grin at Qarzdaq and chuckles.

            QARZ:               Could you tell me more about this place? When It comes to the Arcane, I’m not much into book learning. All of my abilities come to me naturally.

            GWENDYS:        I see. Well I am in the same position, friend. Though it seems you have a better hold on your abilities than I do. I would not consider myself a practical user of the arts myself, but I want to be. I’ve been told I have the gift, but I haven’t been able to do anything useful with it. I hope that spending time here and studying what I can will allow it to flourish. But to answer your question, this is an open library. Entirely free to those who have the gift from the gods. We have a smaller selection than the Citadel, but everything here is for practical use.

            QARZ:               I’d like to read about what you have on the Red God.

            GWENDYS:        You’re welcome to see what you can find on him, but most of what we have is practical. Most people that visit are here to understand how to create or enchant items to help smiths and crafters create even better works than they could without the use of magic. We don’t have much on history.

            QARZ:               What about the Fire arts?

Gwendys’s eyes light up.

            GWENDYS:        Interesting! Are you from Volantis?

Before she even gets an answer she continues to tell him the location of the fire-heavy books.

            ARAN:               Is there anything for helping with sailing?

            QARZ:               Good thought Aran. Do you have scrolls available to purchase or should we look for a shop to buy those?

            GWENDYS:        The scrolls themselves would be in the local shops. The people who make those scrolls come and go here to fine tune their abilities and learn obscure tweaks to enhance effects.

            ORNO:              We’d be interested in learning more about survival too.

            GWENDYS:        Our selection is entirely about sorcery, but you certainly are welcome to look around.

            ORNO:              Ah, yes, my apologies. I meant in terms of beast mastery and the arts of nature.

            GWENDYS:        I see! Interesting! You seem to be from far away from civilization as we know it. But you are well-integrated.

She goes on to tell him where the nature- and earth-heavy books reside.

            QARZ:               Let me ask you a question. Are you really interested in talking with my Dothraki friend here?

            GWENDYS:        Does he have any… flair?

As she says the words, she twirls her finger in the air. Sparkles trail the tip of her index finger, creating loops in the air that linger for a few moments. She even seems surprised by the result.

Qarzdaq snaps his fingers and creates a little flame.

            GWENDYS:        That’s amazing!

            QARZ:               Eh, it’s nothing…

            GWENDYS:        That’s something!

            QARZ:               Well…

He realizes he might be squandering an opportunity.

            QARZ:               It sure is! I hate that I had to freeze my Dothraki friend here.

            GWENDYS:        Ah, so that was you.

            QARZ:               Yeah, just me doing my thing.

Qarzdaq releases Qhortho, who drops his arm and immediately looks over at Qarzdaq.

            QHOR:              Asshole.

            QARZ:               Well, what do you say Ornogrim? Want to go check it out?

            ORNO:              Yeah!

            ROLAN:             I’m going to visit some of the local shops and sell these items I’ve been trying to get rid of.

            ARAN:               Hey Qhortho, I don’t see any reason you and I need to stick around here either. Want to hit up the shops and then go to the tavern?

Qhortho agrees. Rolan, Aran, and Qhortho leave the library while Qarzdaq and Ornogrim start towards the stairs.

New Learnings of Old Rules

Qarzdaq decides to ride the bannister down to the bottom. Seeing as this produced a giggle from Gwendys, Ornogrim feels compelled to do the same.

Qarzdaq pulls it off gracefully. Ornogrim’s result is less so. He falls off the railing from about thirty feet. He grasps at the air for a split-second before his dexterity training takes over. He hits the ground hard, but lands surprisingly well. The sound of his impact echoes throughout the building.

Eveyone in the library looks up from their studies to look at the interruption. They pause for a few moments, then get back to their studies.

Looking up, Ornogrim sees Gwendys is peering over from the top, covering her mouth. Ornogrim silently signals that he’s just fine as if he meant to do that. She just turns away and gets back to her business.

Over the course of their time there, Ornogrim sifts through numerous books that describe things he already knows how to do. But from all the snippets of information, he gleans that the Children of the Forest are believed a manifestation of greater gods that harness the power of the earth. These gods’ influence provides the Children an ability to control physical nature in terms of plants, animals, and land. Humans that follow these gods religiously simply know them as the Old Gods.

Some books say that there are no earth gods at all. Instead they say that there is only a source of earth magic and its manifestations are simply its effects poking through into the physical plane. This lends itself into the practical arts by replacing prayer for intense focus and meditation. Still other authors make the point that the distinction is unnecessary because “what works, works.”

He also learns that various creatures are predicted to exist that are infused with some sort of earth magic, but they may be rarely seen or experienced.

Qarzdaq is able to learn similar aspects about the fire god. R’hllor is described by some to just be an aspect of energy and that people have experienced enough of this energy to call it a name. Over time, this name built into the entity known today as the Lord of Light, but may not actually have a consciousness or a mind at all. Others claim that the god is the true creation of this energy and that harnessing fire while praying to Red God provides greater benefits than while not praying. There seems to be little evidence available for either point.

Manifestations of fire magic are seen in some humans and various other creatures. In humans, this is visually apparent by their violet eyes, silvery blonde hair, and very fair skin. Qarzdaq recognizes the description immediately as that of the Valyrians.

All of the authors tend to agree that the first imposition of fire magic into the physical realm was on the Valyrian peninsula via volcanoes that bubbled up out of the ground. Inside those volcanoes were birthed fire-breathing dragons. Over time, the Valyrians were able to train them and wield this energy to conquer their foes.

After finishing their studies, Ornogrim and Qarzdaq get together to compare notes. They discuss the similarities between the two facets, but neither read mentions of the other in their books. It seems that although there are many parallels, they do sem to be different dimensions of energy.

​Deep Onion

Meanwhile, Rolan disappointedly sells his items for less than he was expecting and purchases a quiver of Truer Shot arrows each for him and Ornogrim. Aran purchases various potions. They all head to the tavern.

Ornogrim and Qarzdaq leave the library and purchase a few potions and then go to the Deep Onion. Upon arriving, Ornogrim and Qarzdaq quickly find the others and discuss the best strategy for the Shield Islands.

            ROLAN:             I have a few questions, if I can speak candidly. What is your history with this place, what do you know of the Ironborn in this area, and why do you have skin in this fight?

            QHOR:              Qarzdaq and I have been on this quest the longest. We are both from Essos, as you may have gathered. We were, let’s just say, “brought here” by this wizard fellow by the name of Tyrone. Since then, I’ve seen shit that would turn you white.

            ORNO:              We were hired by King Greydon to assist with this Ironborn threat. It now looks like we have been conscripted into his army in a sense. We are also working with the powerful wizard, Tyrone, that Qhortho mentioned. He is the reason we got involved with Highgarden in the first place. Tyrone is using the King’s maester to research a larger threat to this realm. I wonder if this is the same threat that you were being trained for.

            QHOR:              The most recent leg of our journey brought us to the King of the Reach here. That’s when we found out about the Ironborn threat.

            ROLAN:             I can’t imagine my Drowned God would send me on a mission to kill his own people and, likewise, I don’t think he would put me in a position to start a battle with all of you, one that I expect would spell certain doom for me. Is there an option in front of us that allows you to achieve your objective without needless death? Are the Ironborn the real threat or is this just a stop onto something bigger?

            ORNO:              I strongly suspect there use something bigger at play. We know these fake Ironborn, and probably even the real Ironborn, are being paid by some lord for, as yet inscrutable, reasons. Although, as you heard during our treat with the king, there are a couple of lords in particular who seem to be benefiting.

            ROLAN:             I do not want to get in the way of your success, but perhaps the Drowned God has put me before you to help your party prevent further folly, as it sounds like your have been met with tragedy already. You’ll have to forgive me. I speak better after a good night’s rest.

            ORNO:              Our path has indeed been perilous.

            QARZ:               My goal in this latest pursuit is to discover the secrets of this Amulet of Lightbringer.  Tyrone and King Greydon’s Maester are researching in Oldtown. As long as we continue to work for his Grace, he will allow the research to continue. Each day on this path, I gain more knowledge of the amulet. I feel that one day I’ll be able to use it. Defeating these Ironborn will also grant me the opportunity to show the power of R’hllor. I’ve already made several converts on our travels, so at least some of these people are now servants of the Lord of Light. I owe it to them to be his instrument and help wipe out this Ironborn threat

            ORNO:              I merely want adventure….  the extra coin doesn’t hurt either! Being in the employ of king Greydon seems to further these opportunities. I must say too, at this point I am curious to see who is behind these attacks. I also think that this mysterious threat from the north, of which we have heard rumblings, may well turn into something which will require a battle for our very existence!

            QARZ:               No doubt we’ll need the draw on the power of this amulet to face future threats!

            ROLAN:             When was the last time you spoke with the maester?

            QARZ:               We last spoke when we were first given this task by his Grace as a condition for him to continue the work with Tyrone.  We’ve not seen him since.

            ROLAN:             Perhaps we could see if he has learned anything new and also see if he has any information that will help on this quest.

            QARZ:               Tyrone and the Maester are in Oldtown.  I think that we should continue this job for King Greydon, but once this mystery is solved, Oldtown should be our next destination.

            ORNO:              Agreed.

            QHOR:              I too would like to return to Oldtown as soon as we’re done here.  Tyrone owes us a visit even if we have to go to him.  If you think we should be cautious on this next leg of our journey, then I will follow suit for I am simple man… just point me towards a fight!

            ROLAN:             This feels like a bad idea. The last time you encountered these people, real Ironborn or not, you lost a member of your party. It sounds like the sea has not been your friend. Let me propose an idea… Let me scout ahead and find where these people are and assess the situation. If they are real Ironborn, I can attempt to speak with them to gather information and learn more about why they are here. You can have Ornogrim’s owl follow along so that you see I am up to nothing sinister.

            QARZ:               I think this may be a good course of action… he’s right that we did nearly get destroyed by boats of real Ironborn… it’ll be a good way for you to prove your loyalty to the group too.

            QHOR:              We nearly got destroyed because I couldn’t charge at them! But I agree. Let him prove himself. I’ll kill every one of those salty bastards personally if we are betrayed so either way… It’s a win for us.

            ORNO:              Sure, I’m always up for scouting ahead. The more information we have the better.

In the morning, our friends set out on a dangerous mission. Although they do not realize it just yet, they will continue forward with greater abilities. For when they awake on Day 324, thy will have reached 34,000 XP, and will be some of the greatest and most powerful humans in the land. However powerful they may be against humans in singular combat, the trials and foes in their future remain unknown.