Landar’s Game
It is Day 393 when they finally see evidence of civilization again, nestled in a valley below. Streams sourced in the surrounding hills make their way by the town, eventually forming the Blackwater Rush in the distance. It takes the better part of the day to descend the hills and enter the town of Stoney Sept.
The town is built around a large rocky hill, where a modest sept stands above. Getting closer, you see this is actually a holdfast, a fort like structure used for defense. It looks quite old but strong; large enough to contain the entire town, but barely.
Perhaps it’s just the stark contrast from being away from people, but the town seems quite busy. Especially the outdoor market just east of the holdfast. They approach the market and see a group of small children splashing around in a fountain in the shape of a leaping trout, water spouting from its mouth.
A few beautiful women stand outside a doorway with a sign above depicting a peach. Looking around the market, various shops have signs showing armor, swords, a scroll map, and a corked bulbous flask. Adjacent to the market is a modestly-busy tavern and inn.
Qarzdaq breaks off from the group and enters the store with the corked bulbous flask. The potion master greets him as he enters the well-stocked shop. Qarzdaq enquires about antidotes to local beast venom. The potion master offers up an Elixir of Health for 4,500gp and a Potion of Vitality for 20,000gp.
Qhortho walks in just as he hears the prices. He attempts to bargain by telling the potion master they should shop around. The shop owner doesn’t bite and wishes them well.
Qhortho and the potion master just stare at each other for a few seconds before Qarzdaq jumps back in, telling him they have a few items to be identified, if that helps. The potion master turns to Qarzdaq and after a few seconds contemplation, offers him 80% off the identification costs if he buys at least one item. Qarzdaq agrees and a deal is struck for the Elixir of Health and the potionmaster begins identifying the party’s most-recent vial acquisitions.
Turns out the party had collected a Potion of Fire Resistance, Potion of Heroism, and some Purple Worm Poison. The Purple Worm Poison caught the shopkeep especially off-guard due to the dangerous nature of the beast from which it was sourced.
It also seems that the antitoxin Qarzdaq purchased at the Lannisport Faire was in fact a Potion of Cure Disease; the merchant at the fairgrounds must have not have been so great. Whodathunkit. And who knows how many others haven’t been quite as versed as they let on…
On their way to the tavern, Qhortho and Aran pop into the weapon shop. It’s not much to speak of, but the man tending to the weapons on display seems to be knowledgeable enough. He presents Jonah’s blades for appraisal. As the man takes possession of one of the weapons, Qhortho tells him not to press the lever that the man was just about to trigger, as it may release some very potent poison. The man then handles the blade as if it were a skunk that must be removed from the premises. He looks over the weapon and feels it is quite off-balance.
The man’s final verdict is that without testing the mechanisms, he must assume they all function, but the weapon is very specialized and would not serve as a standard blade for battle for even a well-trained fighter. This weapon would require someone well-trained in this particular blade and there probably are no others quite like it in the world. Even crafting another sword in this design would lead to different weighting and would require significant training before being reliable in combat.
His findings suggest the blade in the right hands could be quite powerful, but a price cannot be set for the general market. It is worthless to most, but priceless to its well-trained user. Qhortho presses him on the price.
SHOPKEEP: To the right person, it could be tens of thousands of gold. But I couldn’t say where that buyer would be. It’s certainly not something I would buy.
QHOR: What if you could add weight to the blade-side to force the weight to be in balance?
SHOPKEEP: I’m not quite sure how that would work, but I could certainly give it a shot. I would add, however, that I cannot stand behind the work as I have never seen something like this in the past. You do have two of them though, so the first might serve as a good test piece for how this might be possible.
Qhortho and Aran are not too keen on losing one of these blades to experimentation so he thanks him and rejoins the rest of his now very thirsty party outside.
On their short walk over to the tavern, a teenage boy runs up to Qarzdaq.
BOY: Seems you guys are new in town! I can help you find the best deals around this place, if you’d like?
Qarzdaq entertains the idea with some banter back and forth before Qhortho addresses the boy.
QHOR: I’m only looking for one thing.
BOY: We got some of that right over here!
The boy sweeps his arm, stopping at the flock of women outside the Peach.
QHOR: I’m looking for a big, ugly asshole…
BOY: Well, I’m sure they’d accommodate whatev…
QHOR: No, I’m looking for a man.
BOY: There may be…
QHOR: NO! I’m looking for someone by the name of Byff. He’s a big, ugly asshole who assaulted a friend of mine and he must pay.
BOY: Oh I see. Well, I see a lot of people passing through meeting that description. By the Seven, I’m sure some of our residents even fit that picture, but I’m not sure how much help I’d be on finding the man you are looking for. You might find some help at the tavern maybe.
QARZ: Can you get us a good deal at the tavern?
BOY: I’m sure I can!
The Bulbous Flask
They proceed into the fairly busy tavern known as the Bulbous Flask, which cause some confusion with travelers as the potion shop uses iconography identical in description. They approach the bar and inquire about exotic brews. The barkeep tells them they don’t keep any of it on stock, not because it wouldn’t sell, but it’s just not shipped to the smaller towns like theirs. Qhortho looks around for Byff, and although he sees a few big, ugly assholes, he doesn’t see his big, ugly asshole.
They order a few ales and book rooms for the night. The barkeep gives them a price, and the teenager steps up, “Hey there Grotts, the drinks are on me.”
The barkeep nods, “the drinks are on you, got it.”
TYRONE: None for me, thank you.
Aran turns to the kid, now taking him more seriously, and asks who he is and why he has so much influence.
BOY: The name is Landar. My dad’s a boat builder in town and I have inherited his entrepreneurial spirit. I help passers through get deals that the locals get with the understanding that I do so for tips. It’s a win for the merchants, who sell more goods to travelers, and it’s a deal for the travelers who would otherwise be not purchasing items or be paying too much.
Rolan, distrusting of this situation, takes a step back from the bar and motions to the barkeep to an open area on the bar for a private discussion. The barkeep obliges.
ROLAN: What’s the deal with this kid? Who is he?
BARKEEP: It’s just as you heard, though he also gets paid by The Peach to get travelers comfortable and a little looser so they are more likely to visit their establishment.
Rolan nods with understanding and rejoins the group, just as Qarzdaq tosses Landar a silver coin. Not wanting to be shown up, Aran tips him a gold coin.
Landar’s eyes light up. “Wow! Thanks guys!”
Qhortho asks about buying a barrel of ale for the road, to which the barkeep agrees.
QHOR: Hey Landar, any chance there’s a place to buy a mule and cart in town?
LANDAR: Sure is!
Qhortho looks quite pleased with himself for setting up this arrangement then moves to down his beer. He is stopped by Aran’s hand on his arm. Qhortho’s face shifts to concern, for why else would a friend stop a man form drinking.
ARAN: I’d like to make a toast.
Qhortho relaxes a bit and holds out his tankard. The others follow suit.
ARAN: To Honor!
The party repeats “To Honor!” and everyone except Aran drinks.
ARAN: If you can’t cum in ‘er, cum on ‘er!
The rest of the party chokes on their ale, while Aran chuckles and drains his cup. Even Tyrone lets out a short burst of laughter.
A minute later, after they all have recovered, the barkeep rolls a keg out from the back room.
BARKEEP: Here you are.
They ask the barkeep about local rumors and such and are told, again, of a bear issue farther west.
Qarzdaq asks about Gods Eye.
BARKEEP: It’s about 6 days to the lake’s edge then about a half day’s row to the center island. But… you guys aren’t… going there?…
QARZ: That’s where we’re headed!
The barkeep tells them the place is haunted and off limits to humans. Apparently, this discussion catches the ear of another shaggy patron at the bar.
PATRON: Except those half-human greenwalkers…
BARKEEP: Bah… do they really count as human? Even half-human?
Rolan asks if he’s describing the Children of the Forest. He is not. These are some other creatures they’d never seen before. Once pressed, the barkeep admits he’s never actually seen them, but tells them they should rethink their travel plans.
PATRON: Yeah, I’d agree with Grotts here… I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.
He then begins to mumble a bit.
PATRON: … but I guess I’m not you heh… I don’t know…
QARZ: What’s your name friend?
PATRON: The name’s Riky.
Qhortho asks what else he knows about Gods Eye. With slurred speech, he responds that he doesn’t know much except the legends around the area.
Upon further questioning, he reveals that he’s never actually been out there himself.
LANDAR: I could take you out there!
He shoots a glance to the barkeep, realizing he may have just gotten himself in trouble if his dad found out. The barkeep just turns his head and walks down the bar to speak with Riky. Aran turns to Landar.
ARAN: Have you been out there?
Landar tells them he’s been out on the lake several times but has always just stopped short of stepping foot on the island because the whole place is covered in “some kind of weird green shadows.”
ARAN: Ok so how are we supposed to get a boat? Wait, how did you get out there on a boat?
LANDAR: My dad builds small boats for the local fishermen. We have a few streams in the area that lead out to the Blackwater Rush, which leads to Blackwater Bay and to the Narrow Sea.
He describes the land route they’d need to take while carrying the rowboat so they’d have the shortest water-route to the island.
TYRONE: Yes, it seems this is the most prudent path.
Qhortho negotiates a deal with the boy to travel with them for a platinum coin: they will all travel to the lake’s edge and Landar will standby with the mule and barrel of ale. He will wait for one full day while the party ventures to the island. If they do not return within that time, all of the stuff they left will belong to Landar.
QHOR: Let’s make that two days.
LANDAR: … ok, two days. Deal.
QHOR: But if we’re back within three days, and you’re not waiting with all our stuff, we will come back here, and you will pay.
LANDAR: Three? I thought we had a deal at two?
QHOR: Two nights. And there’s another platinum if you’re there with our stuff when we get back.
LANDAR: Come dawn on the third day, then I’m gone.
QHOR: On the third day, you can leave.
LANDAR: Deal.
QARZ: And if we’ll be delayed but safe, we will signal with a bolt of fire in the sky.
LANDAR: Then for every night beyond the first two nights that you use such a signal, that will cost you another platinum.
ARAN: You really are an entrepreneur…
QHOR: This just got really expensive all of a sudden…
QARZ: We aren’t expecting to be delayed though.
They all agree. Aran, Qhortho, and Landar leave the tavern to secure a mule and cart while Qarzdaq, Rolan, and Tyrone stay behind.
The Peach
Night falls as the mule deal is finalized and they head back towards the tavern for one last drink before hitting the hay. On their way, with many of the shops are closing their shutters, one still appears to have some activity. Landar pipes up.
LANDAR: If you’d like, you can jump in here for a drink?
He motions to the door below the Peach sign.
Qhortho stretches his arms over his head and arches his back.
QHOR: I’m kinda tired. I think I’ll skip it.
LANDAR: You don’t have to buy anything more than drinks, just take a look!
ARAN: Do you own this place yet?
A grin spreads across Landar’s face.
LANDAR: Not yet. I’m trying to.
ARAN: I feel like you’re close.
QHOR: You do have a knack for hospitality kid. I’ll give ya that.
LANDAR: So just come on in and take a look. If you don’t like it, it’s no problem.
Aran and Qhortho acquiesce and follow Landar into the establishment.
A greeter stands behind a small podium and asks how he may be of service. After seeing Landar, he just motions them into a bar room area behind a thick velvet curtain.
After negotiating a few prices, Aran follows an attractive woman into a back room, leaving Qhortho at the bar. Qhortho takes a long sip of ale as he looks around at the attractive and not-so-attractive “merchandise” when Aran returns.
QHOR: What’d you forget your coin purse?
ARAN: Nope. I’m all set.
Qhortho widens his eyes, shocked. He takes another long sip of ale.
ARAN: To honor!
Qhortho sprays his beer all over the bar while letting out a huge belly laugh.
ARAN: So what about you? That one over there looks kind of like Cora.
Qhortho declines, stating he has a lot on his mind. Overhearing this, one of the women approaches him, “you know, I can take care of that for you.”
QHOR: Sorry, I’m not interested.
Another woman approaches from the other side, “we can both take care of that for you.”
QHOR: Uhh… Uhh… I’m sure you can…
ARAN: Well, I’m about ready to head back.
QHOR: Yeah, why don’t we do that!
He stands abruptly, knocking over both woman half-sitting on his lap.
They hastily leave The Peach passing right by Landar standing outside. He catches up with them on their way to the tavern.
LANDAR: Everything alright??
QHOR: Yes… yes… I just need to… uhh… get to bed… early day tomorrow, right? Meet at dawn you said?
LANDAR: I actually didn’t say, but…
Qhortho quickens his pace beyond Landar and Aran, raising his voice slightly.
QHOR: Ok, dawn it is. See you then.
He enters the tavern and quickly walks past Qarzdaq and Rolan sitting at the bar. A moment later a door is hastily shut in the upper hall.
QARZ: I wonder what is up with him…
Aran walks in a minute later and tells the story to Qarzdaq and Rolan over another tankard of ale.
Sea Bitch
The next morning, they meet outside the tavern, their mule and cart waiting for them as arranged the day prior. While they wait for Landar, they discuss where to go after Gods Eye since that may dictate a better boat launch location.
Tyrone is mostly quiet until he is asked for his input directly. He simply states that he is focused entirely on their mission and he would be more than willing to join them where they go next, after this mission is fulfilled.
QHOR: Would you plan to go back to Highgarden once this is all through?
TYRONE: I would like to meet back up with Mors Martell.
Landar walks up soon after the party is ready to leave.
QHOR: Lando! You ready?
LANDO: The name is Landar.
QHOR: Do you have a strong preference?
LANDAR: I suppose not.
QHOR: Then mount up Lando!
LANDO: Let’s do this!
QHOR: Morning ales all around!
As Lando starts toward the barrel of ale, he is stopped by Qhortho.
QHOR: Not for you kid.
They quickly get on their way towards Lando’s house, retrieve the boat from his dad’s workshop, and load it up on the cart.
QARZ: A fine ship it is. Rolan, what shall we name this.
ROLAN: Sea Bitch.
QARZ: And what a fine name it is.
Seconds later, Sea Bitch is burned into the wood by Qarzdaq’s hand.
As the daylight on their first day dwindles, they make camp. This takes a little more effort for everyone except Tyrone and Lando because the others have been drinking all day. They decide the ale is going to require rationing.
QARZ: I think 30 tankards a day seems reasonable for the group.
ROLAN: So how much goes to the donkey?
QHOR: It’s not a donkey, it’s a mule.
ROLAN: Not after 30 beers! I say we name it Susan!
Eventually they finish setting up camp and rest until morning. The next five days go by smoothly when they finally arrive at the lake’s edge in late morning: their launching point.
In the distance, the island of Gods Eye can be seen, and the stories are true. It looks a little strange, as if covered in a deep-green fog of some sort.
Aran asks Tyrone what would be the best approach: row to the island now or leave in the very early morning so they arrive during daylight?
Tyrone prefers to get on the island as quickly as possible, having less of an issue camping on the island than the others. They decide against this, opting instead to rest here until just after midnight so they can arrive at the island closer to mid-morning.
They take it easy for the rest of the day and go to sleep in mid-afternoon. Awaking in pitch black, they prepare for their long row. Before leaving the shore, Aran has one last thing to say.
ARAN: Hey kid. If we’re not back in time and you do leave with our stuff…
LANDO: You mean MY stuff at that point.
ARAN: …if you do leave with THE stuff, I’d like to still get my horse back from you.
Aran flips Lando a gold coin.
ARAN: I’ve spent a long time training him and he is more a friend than a simple piece of property. I hope that gold coin will be enough to have those rights secured.
LANDO: Sure.
Qhortho flips a gold coin to Lando.
QHOR: Mine too.
LANDO: Fine. But the armor is fair game.
Crossing the Lake
The Unlikely Assembly boards the rowboat and begin their long row. As they traverse the still lake, Rolan sets a blue sapphire into his Ring of Universatility.
After about five hours of rowing, sunlight begins to light the sky, creating a greenish glow above Gods Eye. Another two hours later, with the sun rising well above the horizon, Gods Eye still remains rather dark and shadowy. It’s not a settled darkness, however; shifting green misty shadows are woven throughout the weirwoods. As they approach the shoreline, the water still calm, Rolan picks up a tremendous number of recent tracks laid by Children of the Forest all leading into the green shroud. The sense is almost overwhelming.
They get out of the boat and are immediately on guard. They unsheathe their weapons, preparing for an attack. Their attention shifts intently with every little noise emanating from the wood. A few seconds pass. They continue to focus, looking for anything emerging from the green shadows. A few minutes pass. The concentration required to be ready for anything is remarkable and commendable. Rolan is the first to move from his stance after five minutes. He looks at the others as he lowers his bow, the rest of them remaining ready. He crouches and makes his way towards the woods… towards the shroud… slowly… carefully…
Suddenly a bird flies out form the shadows from a nearby tree catching him by surprise. He jumps back and, with one fluid motion mid-jump, he arms and readies his bow. By the time he lands, crouched, it is trained on the bird as it skirts into the treetops and out of sight. He lowers his bow and, for the first time since landing, words are spoken.
ROLAN: Guys, this place is crawling with Children, but I don’t think they know we’re here.
Tyrone pushes through the others and steps out in front.
TYRONE: Oh, they know we’re here. The question is when are they are willing to face us…
He looks curiously at the shifting shadows and walks to their edge. He pushes an arm through it then pulls it back out to look at his hand. He turns towards the others and steps directly through. Although still visible, it looks as if he stepped into a darkened alley. His arm pokes through into the light to wave them in.
They rest of the party joins Tyrone, each carefully stepping into the shadows, not feeling anything substantial as they pass through the shrouded border. The only noticeable change is the darker ambience. Their eyes adjust well enough and they begin walking directly away from the shore… directly towards the center of the island. Perhaps the creepiest aspect of this forest, beyond the ultra-creepy shadow aether, is that faces are carved into the weirwoods. Every single tree is a weirwood, and each one has its own face. There must be a million of them on this island.
They proceed cautiously but deliberately, knowing danger lies ahead but not shying away from it. Qarzdaq and Rolan stay in their best ranged position, but as the hours pass and visibility becomes a problem, Rolan casts Darkvision on himself and the two adventurers take the lead with Tyrone. They press forward another couple of hours before they know they must make camp. They have not met with any threats so far; perhaps the rumors were not as bad as they sounded… or maybe they were just that… rumors…
They find a small clearing knotted with roots. It’s hardly an ideal place to camp, but it’s unlikely they will find anything better. They take what they can get and lay out their bedrolls.
As night settles in, it is one of the darkest nights any of them had ever experienced, despite the moon still being visible. With Aran on watch, they lie down and try to get some shuteye amidst the tension lingering over all of them. It is broken when Aran, looking out into the pitch, lets out a “bah…”
Qhortho’s eyes spring open but see no more than when they were closed.
QARZ: Do you hear something?
ARAN: No, no… I was just thinking that Lando’s probably swimming in our ale right now.
QHOR: He better not be!
Qhortho seems to have as much of a start with that comment as he might if they were being attacked. The rest of the group lets out a bit of nervous laughter before settling. Even Tyrone has a chuckle.
QARZ: But you’re probably right!
Qhortho grunts and rolls over as if this is what will keep him up this night.
Something Strange in the Neighborhood
Several hours later, while on Qhortho’s watch, a damp fog settles in the area. The only indication is the moist air affronting his nose and mouth.
QHOR: Guys! Wake up! Something strange is happening!
They all open their eyes. Qarzdaq looks around, and although he can normally see in the darkest of conditions, he sees nothing. Rolan, still under the influence of his Darkvision, also see nothing. They all jump to their feet when a slight rummaging is heard within the small clearing. Everyone jumps to their feet, armed for battle. It does little good when your enemy moves unseen.
Still, Aran swings the butt of his glaive through the area where he hears the rummaging, but strikes nothing.
Qarzdaq casts light on a nearby rock. Though the source can be seen, everything around them is saturated in fog. As he tries to squint through the lit clouds around him, Qarzdaq hears three thuds in succession.
QARZ: Something strange is happening.
Expecting a response, but getting none, he moves towards his closest ally and almost trips. Kneeling down, he feels a body, Rolan’s body. He’s still breathing. Qarzdaq shakes Rolan and wakes him.
ROLAN: What was that?
QARZ: I don’t know, but we have to find the others.
They search on their hands and knees for the others, finding only Qhortho and Aran. They are awakened in similar fashion. They search for Tyrone over the next several minutes but his body cannot be found. The fog dissipates. Although the others cannot see in the darkness, Qarzdaq and Rolan spring to their feet, peering all around them.
It looks as if some of Tyrone’s belongings are still lying in camp. Qarzdaq begins looking through a single book that is altogether uninteresting.
In the distance, a light wooshing sound is heard from deeper in the woods.
They track the sound for about a minute. The sound is getting louder. Another minute later, lights can be seen above the treeline. They feel as if they are being watched from all sides, but the only thing that can be seen is a pulsing glow of swirling blue and red.
Getting closer to the source and peeking through the trees, a mix of blue and red bright lights fill a clearing. A silhouette is visible against a canvas of extremely bright swirling blues and reds, combining to form indigo and then to a deep shade of violet.
Qarzdaq reaches for his Amulet, but does not find it.
QARZ: Oh shit! My Amulet! It’s gone!
The hair on their necks stand on end. Something strange really is happening…
The Ritual
The silhouette… it’s Tyrone… hanging from the trees.
Wait… he’s not hanging, he’s floating. His arms are straight out to the sides, palms up. His head is pointing down towards the ground. He raises his head and look at you and immediately they are frozen where they stand. Unable to move, but still conscious of their surroundings, they watch Tyrone fly towards them, levitating just inches from the ground.
He pushes over Qhortho and he lands with a thud. Tyrone drags him along the ground and arranges him on his back. He places the butt of his staff at Qhortho’s feet and drags it directly away from Qhortho through the dirt about 10 feet.
He pushes Aran over and drags him near Qhortho, with his feet facing Qhortho’s, then drags his staff through the dirt from Aran’s feet, connecting this new line in the dirt to the other drawn from Qhortho.
He then pulls Qarzdaq into a placement orthogonal to the other two, dragging a line that bisects the one connecting Qhortho and Aran.
Finally, he does the same with Rolan, placing him opposite of Qarzdaq, and finalizing the symmetrical arrangement of their limp bodies. Here they lie, in the shape of a cross, their feet towards the center. As Tyrone walks from Rolan’s feet towards the center, he drags his staff through the dirt.
TYRONE: You truly are an Unlikely sort. You continue to help me in the most amazing ways. You see, once I finalize my communion with the Amulet, I will destroy the Children and take the root. Then, I shall revisit the Valyrians and destroy their homeland as they have destroyed mine. I will seek every last one of them and destroy all of their families.
Once he completes Rolan’s line, he stands in the center and drags his staff in a 5-foot circle around himself – around the point of intersection – completing the assembly.
TYRONE: I’ve been waiting for this very moment for quite some time. Years. Though seemingly unlikely, it this specific moment has been foretold. It is known. By combining these forces of nature and performing this ritual, your part in my destiny will come to an end. You have done the world a service, but your duty ends tonight. It is a shame really. So much potential extinguished… a cooking fire that has fulfilled its purpose.
Standing in the center, he slams the butt of his staff to the ground, a shockwave of thunder to ripple through the Assembly, followed by a soul-ripping force of almost equal impact.
Qarzdaq is unconscious.
TYRONE: I should have warned you this will hurt. A lot. Next is ice…
A hailstorm erupts above them, slamming their bodies with large chunks of ice, some of the ice tears into their flesh.
Rolan is unconscious.
TYRONE: …and now Fire…
Sheets of roaring flames pour down from the sky. Nearby trees go aflame. The squealing from the wood almost sounds like screams of despair.
Qarzdaq and Rolan, though unconscious, still draw breath. Meanwhile, Aran and Qhortho lie awake screaming inside with agony.
TYRONE: And now to finish you off and finalize my destiny!
He flies back to where the party found him initially, thirty feet in the air. He summons a ring of swirling ice-formed blades in the form of a 5-foot thick wall. The wall of blades gouges their skin, cutting deep into muscle and grazing bone.
Both Aran and Qhortho lose consciousness.
Both Qarzdaq and Rolan stop drawing breath.
A few moments later, and Aran and Qhortho also stop drawing breath.
Somehow, they know they are dead. But can one be dead, if one can still know? Can one reason without a corporeal presence? What they do know, is that they still exist, they know this, they can think of such matters and process them somehow. They are still tethered to this world, to their bodies… they still have… essence.
The Assembly’s collective essence, able to see somehow, views their bodies from above.
The Resurrection
Two portals open on opposite sides of the Assembly. From each portal, a dragonesque creature emerges. One is a bluish-purple, slender with a long tail, and large vertical fins formed of glowing sapphire. The other is a reddish-orange standing more upright, its scaly skin shimmers in the darkness, reflecting the glow of its ruby crest along its neck. They look down upon the bodies lying before them. Then look at each other. Their heads turn to Tyrone in unison.
The Assembly’s collective essence, able to hear somehow, listens to a series of screeching, yet muffled, roars.
These sounds, they’re not of beasts. This is some sort of language. As if a voiceover is being played in their minds, the screeches are narrated.
BLUE: It is rare that a single being would summon us both. Clearly you have mastered the incarnations of our power in this plane.
A second distinct voice is heard, as if the screeching is now in the background.
RED: No human may be entrusted with such power. There was one in the distant past, but his demise was inevitable, for humans are never satiated.
BLUE: Then it is agreed.
RED: It is agreed.
The Assembly’s collective essence, able to feel somehow, is pulled down towards the ground.
A sudden flood of warmth rushes through their bodies. How can they be watching their bodies from above while feeling such a physical sensation? They feel the warmth as they watch their dying bodies steam with life.
Suddenly, they feel as if their heads will explode. It subsides as quickly as it began. Suddenly, each feels as if they’re lying in a warm pool. Their essence can no longer see the bodies. Everything. Is. Black.
They realize they are lying on the ground. They are… alive… They realize they are no longer paralyzed, but still a bit sluggish. Their eyes flutter open just in time to see a glimpse of the closing portals. No more than a moment later, they each feel totally refreshed and fully rested, as if just waking after a long rest.
What is this? Was it all a dream?
Their ears go from a low-volume tinnitus to hearing the loud roar of ice blades directly above. This is no dream. A wall of blades bears down on them and they must act quickly.
TYRONE: No… NO… NOOOooo! You must obey! YOU MUST!
Anger takes hold in his voice.
TYRONE: No matter, I will just deal with this myself!
They all jump to their feet.
Revenge
Qhortho dodges the blade barrier and rushes towards Tyrone in a rage.
QHOR: GET DOWN HERE AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!!
TYRONE: You will die.
QHOR: YOU WILL DIE!! GET DOWN HERE!
Qhortho, frustrated, throws down his pack and grabs his rope. Tyrone is distracted when Aran’s arrow sails a little too close to the Amulet he’s holding. Aran jumps behind the blade walls to take cover. He is joined by Qarzdaq, who quickly quaffs a potion.
Rolan clears the blades as best he can and gets inside the ring, knowing damn well he can shoot through the blades with his focus. However, given his new gashes from the blade barrier, he decides it’s best to quaff a potion as well.
Tyrone drops the blade barrier. Seeing Tyrone casting a spell, Qarzdaq attempts to counter it, but he knows he’s failed when sheets of fire fall upon the entirety of the Assembly.
Qhortho finishes tying a lasso in his rope and is able to wrangle Tyrone while in the air!
QHOR: Got him guys!
Tyrone struggles a bit, but can’t get free.
ARAN: Great work! Keep him there!
Qarzdaq casts Haste on Aran and Rolan. Feeling a bit faster, Aran quaffs a potion and strikes Tyrone with two arrows, one of which causes the Amulet to fall from his hand. When it strikes the ground, its red glow flickers a few times before going out. Aran runs up behind Tyrone to help distract from his allies.
Rolan uses his newfound speed to down two potions, all but guaranteeing his longevity in this fight.
Tyrone spawns a Guardian of Faith next to the Amulet. It takes the form of a floating gleaming sword and shield emblazoned with a water droplet. He then creates a Spiritual Weapon in the form of a mace next to Qhortho and commands it to attack. Although he is struck hard, Qhortho maintains his grip on the rope.
Qhortho’s had enough. He begins to climb the rope. Because Tyrone cannot carry Qhortho’s weight, he is pulled down towards the ground with each stride. In five-foot increments, he pulls Tyrone down (DC5 Acrobatics check). When he is close to the ground, Qhortho falls prone but maintains his grip on the rope. Tyrone is now tethered only five feet from the ground.
Qarzdaq rushes up towards the Amulet and uses his Mage Hand to retrieve it, ensuring he doesn’t get too close to that Guardian of Faith.
Seeing Tyrone within his glaive’s reach, Aran tosses his bow and rushes Tyrone, swinging as soon as he is within range, making contact with one solid strike.
Rolan sees that Tyrone is still unfazed and determined and decides to tip the odds in their favor. He grabs the vial of Purple Worm poison on his belt and uses it to coat three of his Truer Shot arrowheads. Just before he looses his first arrow, he creates a Hunter’s Mark on Tyrone. It strikes him hard in the shoulder, but not as hard as the second arrow to his thigh. The poison streams into his blood causing him to scream out. The sheer power he wields causes a small shockwave to fall over everyone, though it is superficial.
Tyrone quickly recomposes himself and struggles to move away. Seeing it is futile, he calls upon Spirit Guardians to swarm around him for protection. While they swarm Qhortho, lacerating his flesh substantially, Tyrone commands the floating mace to strike Qhortho in the face. Qhortho being strong of will, holds the rope steady. He wraps his arm around the rope, allowing him to free one hand to quaff a healing potion.
Qarzdaq tosses a Fireball above Tyrone, carefully positioning it as to not hit his allies. He then gets farther away from Tyrone… just in case.
The Spirit Guardians swarm Aran, lacerating him badly, but he pushes on and strikes with his Glaive. Tyrone takes the hit and strikes back with lightning, forcing him to skid backwards ten feet. Aran, not to be deterred, rushes at Tyrone again. The swarm of Guardians attack Aran, but Aran moves through them and strikes Tyrone twice more.
Rolan sends his last poisoned arrow towards Tyrone, striking him between the shoulder blades. His back arches.
TYRONE: NOOOOOOoooooo……
He falls to the ground, face down. The Guardian of Faith, Spirit Guardians, and Spiritual Weapon disappear in a series of small flashes of light. His staff falls by his side. The Tear of Life is visible on the ground, the necklace still around his neck. Its light fades out. Even with the burning trees around them, the forest seems somehow darker without its glow.
Qhortho unsheathes his great sword and slashes at his neck. At least, that’s where he was aiming. Instead, because his hands are in rough shape from the rope, the great sword slides out of his hand and lands a few feet away. Not willing to let this mishap stop him, he smashes his face with his fist, feeling Tyrone’s frail cheekbones crack under his fist.
Aran begins searching Tyrone’ body and finds a decent amount of gold.
Qarzdaq uses his Mage Hand to pick up the Tear of Life and bring it towards Rolan.
QARZ: Rolan, take this.
ROLAN: What am I supposed to do with this?
QARZ: Just hang on to it.
A Full Rack
Just as Rolan is about to take the Tear, several arrows strike the ground at each of their feet. Far enough away to not be a direct attack; close enough to signal a warning. Hushed whispers emanate from all around in the trees.
Suddenly, Children of the Forest are scattered all around them. These look to be of a darker color than the ones near Red Lake, similar in the manner older wood tends to shift in color; it may not mean they are evil, but there is no way to know that for sure.
Qarzdaq drops the mage hand and raises his own hands to show he is no threat. The Tear of Life falls to the dirt. Rolan backs away from the Tear.
QARZ: We were led here by this man who is clearly evil. He sought unnatural combining of higher mysteries. We’ve been fooled by this man over the past year of our lives. Now he lies dead. He came here to destroy you, but we now know he is a deceiver. We do not share his quest for your destruction. We only seek answers.
The rest of them follow Qarzdaq’s lead.
A group of ten large green folk with antlers ride on giant elk. They look almost human, but with roots and vines beneath their flesh. The Assembly is flanked on either side by about twenty smaller green folk riding on giant boars.
Based on what they learned at Stoney Sept, they immediately know that this is the Order of the Green Men.
Questions fly through their minds… Is this the threat that Tyrone had seen in his visions? The threat to all mankind?
Or was he corrupted by the Children and their amplified power from the weirwoods? Maybe he sensed their power and it shook Tyrone to take such drastic measures?
Perhaps Tyrone himself had been corrupted in some way? Maybe by these creatures, to be used as a piece in a larger Game? Or maybe it was from simply harnessing both artifacts himself in that vision?
Or… was this his plan all along and the Children were just in his way?
Time is too short to contemplate answers to these questions.
Both artifacts begin to glow with a slow pulse; the Amulet of Lightbringer in Qarzdaq’s hand, the Tear of Life at Rolan’s feet.
One of the giant elk takes a few steps towards them. The rider dismounts. If these creatures have genders, this would undoubtedly be female, at least from a human perspective, but it is hard to say whether that applies to the Greenguard.
She steps forward with a full rack… of antlers.
RIDER: My name is Faryn. What are you doing in our woods?
QARZ: We were led here by this dead man before you.
FARYN: Yes, you said that.
QARZ: He came to destroy you because he told us that you are a threat to all mankind.
Qhortho takes offense to this meek diplomacy.
QHOR: He enslaved us to his will. He compelled us to fight in his service until he ultimately turned on us here. And you see the price that he paid.
QARZ: We now believe he was using us from Day 1.
Given that it is now Day 402, that is quite a stretch of time.
FARYN: I trust that is not a threat.
Qhortho backs down as best as Qhortho can, which is to say not at all, but at least he doesn’t press the aggression.
ARAN: He told us that you created these Slaad that we met south of here to destroy all humanity. Do you know these creatures?
FARYN: I do not know of which you speak.
She twirls her finger in the air and turns her back on the Assembly, approaching her elk. She mounts up and stares at the group of lost adventurers.
Each of the men are struck in the neck by small root-like darts. Once again, all is black.
The Interrogations: Qhortho
The party awakes bound by vines to very thick wooden slabs, slanted at 45 degrees, with moss stuffed into their mouths.
Faryn enters the room.
FARYN: I see you are awake. I will be interviewing each of you separately. If we find that you pose no threat to us, you will be set free.
Faryn walks selects Qhortho’s slab, seemingly at random, and rolls it out of the room through a vine-covered hall and into a smaller, secluded stone room.
FARYN: I am going to ask you a few questions, and you will answer truthfully. If I believe you are not answering truthfully, I have methods to ensure you follow my instructions.
FARYN: What are your intentions in this forest?
QHOR: We were led here by the dead man you saw. We don’t have further intentions as of yet. We’re still trying to make sense of this.
FARYN: How many people have you killed?
QHOR: I have killed many, but none that did not attack me first.
FARYN: So you have always acted in self-defense?
QHOR: I am a man of honor.
FARYN: Why are you seeking our destruction?
QHOR: I am not seeking your destruction. Like I said…
FARYN: So you do not feel as if we have attacked you and deserve retribution then?
QHOR: You did not attack me.
FARYN: You do not count what happened at Red Lake?
QHOR: We left the Red Lake on peaceful terms.
FARYN: Doesn’t seem that way.
QHOR: There would have been a lot more blood if that were not the case.
FARYN: Seems that many of our kind lost their lives.
QHOR: This is true, but we were led there by Tyrone. He is the one responsible for this. He enslaved us. He sank the ship we were traveling on over a year ago, took us into custody, bound us with magic bracelets, and forced us to follow his will. We had no choice. Going against such a great wizard, we did not have much opportunity to resist.
FARYN: I find it hard to believe that over the course of a year, seeing no shackles on you before the binds you wear now, that you were unable to select a different course for yourself. But let’s move on. Why are you working with the Whitemen?
QHOR: Well, that’s an even longer story. I come from the Great Grass Sea of Essos, the son of a khal. I was captured by slavers and sold in Mereen. I had to take my freedom by force. I found myself on a ship just to get away.
FARYN: When I say “whitemen,” I do not mean “human.”
QHOR: … oh …
FARYN: It seems you do not know of which I speak.
QHOR: The only white men I know are the ones I travel with.
FARYN: I believe we are done here.
Faryn walks towards the slab.
QHOR: Wait! I would just like to say that if you release us, we will be glad to leave in peace, never to return. That is my desire and I believe that is shared by my friends.
FARYN: We will see, won’t we…
Faryn rolls Qhortho into an empty stone room with old vines up the walls.
The Interrogations: Aran
Faryn leaves him and returns to the others waiting in the first room. She selects Aran’s slab and rolls him into the interrogation room. She begins by telling him the same thing she told Qhortho.
FARYN: What are your intentions in this forest?
ARAN: We don’t really have any intentions. I think our plan at this point is to leave. We came here under false circumstances. We were led here by that guy you saw in the forest. We have not had a chance to discuss what our plan is because everything happened so quickly.
FARYN: How many people have you killed?
ARAN: Many.
FARYN: Care to elaborate?
ARAN: I only kill when attacked or if it serves the greater good.
FARYN: And do you believe that destroying us would be for the greater good?
ARAN: I don’t think so. We were led to believe that until tonight.
FARYN: So you, yourself, do not believe that we are to be destroyed?
ARAN: No. I don’t believe anything that Tyrone told us. He has been the only one that led us to believe you were this grave threat to humanity.
FARYN: I see. Why are you working with the Whitemen?
ARAN: The white man? I’m not sure what you mean.
FARYN: The Whitemen are a different… uh… race…
Aran is still confused by the question.
FARYN: It seems that you do not know what I am talking about.
ARAN: I do not.
FARYN: That is good.
The Interrogations: Qarzdaq
Faryn rolls Aran’s slab into the next holding room where Qhortho is waiting. She returns to Qarzdaq and Rolan waiting in the first holding room. She rolls Qarzdaq’s slab into the interrogation room. She begins with the same intro she gave the other two.
FARYN: What are your intentions in this forest?
QARZ: To find the source of the Slaad we met to the south and west.
FARYN: Can you elaborate?
QARZ: We were led to believe by Tyrone that the Slaad were created by the Children of the Forest, ultimately.
FARYN: And do you believe that?
QARZ: I currently do not believe that anymore.
FARYN: How many people have you killed?
QARZ: Me personally?
Qarzdaq shifts the little he can while being bound.
Faryn nods.
QARZ: I’m not sure. Maybe twenty or so.
FARYN: Why are you seeking our destruction?
QARZ: We sought, not currently seek, your destruction due to Tyrone. We have since learned he should never have been trusted.
FARYN: Why are you working with the Whitemen?
QARZ: By the dead guy?
FARYN: No. The Whitemen are a separate race from humans.
QARZ: What do you mean by Whitemen?
FARYN: It is good that you don’t know. I can tell you speak the truth.
The Interrogations: Rolan
Qarzdaq is rolled into the holding room where Qhortho and Aran are waiting. She returns to the first holding room and wheels Rolan into the interrogation room. She begins with the same intro.
FARYN: What are your intentions in this forest?
ROLAN: At this point that’s totally unknown. We came out here following Tyrone, the dead guy out there. He told us we were to defeat a grave threat to everyone. We came out here to help him and he turned around and attacked us. We had to fight him off and we killed him. I… I… Well… Honestly, I have no idea what our intentions are at this point. If there’s a threat out here, we’d like to know what that is. And if you are the threat, then this gets a bit complicated. At this point, we don’t know, at least I don’t think we know, what to believe.
FARYN: How many people have you killed?
ROLAN: Oh geez… I don’t know. But I’ve killed people.
FARYN: Care to elaborate?
ROLAN: It wasn’t, you know, murder… well… I guess in the sense of it being evil. It was either to protect myself or to carry out a mission of my people, which is just to follow my signs until my journey ends.
FARYN: I see. Are you seeking our destruction?
ROLAN: … No. I don’t think so.
FARYN: Why the hesitation?
ROLAN: We don’t really know who you are. I think that is something that needs to be understood better. Just like you don’t know who we are. At least I hope you don’t know who we are.
FARYN: I know more than you think. Why are you working with the Whitemen?
ROLAN: That goes back to the path, the mission, I am on. I am aligned with the Drowned God. I have received some very meaningful signs that have led me to these folks and the time I’ve spent with them has shown me they are honorable.
FARYN: So you take the “Whitemen” to mean the people you travel with?
ROLAN: As opposed to who?
FARYN: Your question tells me you are being truthful. That is all.
She rolls Rolan’s slab into the holding room with his companions.
Root of Knowledge
Faryn unbinds each of the adventurers and offers them a variety of fruits and nuts from the forest.
FARYN: I find that you pose no threat to us at this moment, and our prior knowledge of you leads us to believe that you would not hurt us if you knew the truth.
FARYN: Though I am convinced, the others are not. They propose treating you as the threat you became in the moment and to pay for the lives you’ve taken. Instead, I propose a chance for you to redeem yourselves. If you take this task, the others will be convinced and allow you free passage. They would also be quite relieved if you happen to succeed.
QHOR: Name your price.
FARYN: Careful of what you ask for, for this will not be easy and there is considerable danger.
QARZ: We wouldn’t do it otherwise.
QHOR: Danger is our specialty.
FARYN: That is a fortunate coincidence. I will add that if you decline, however, I cannot stand in the way of my kin. There was an important artifact taken from us. The Root of Knowledge. It was taken when no one was looking over it. We suspect the humans as they are the culprits in most cases. No offense of course. If you manage to return with the Root, I would be happy to share with you anything you wish to know, for you will have proven yourselves worthy of our knowledge.
FARYN: We have tracked the artifact to a small chain of islands just north of a strait known as The Gullett in Blackwater Bay. We have not been able to find a way to retrieve it. Every plan has risks far too great. However, as time passes, the risks of not retrieving it are growing. We are, as your people say, in a pickle.
Through all of their trials and tribulations this session, the party has gained 5,650 XP, thereby reaching Level 9 (48,010 XP total).
Now on Day 402 with their one guiding force since landing on Westeros dead, in an alien environment that is potentially hostile, who can they trust and where do they go from here?