On the plus side, our three PCs have survived Thornmere Hold and our PCs will be level 2 when they get a Long Rest! Unfortunately, the only way they’re going to achieve a Long Rest (defined in Tales of Argosa as “seven days of predominantly low key activity in a safe location”) is to return to Oakton. Doing so with an unconscious Maelen and a horde of treasure is going to be tough. I considered hand-waving the return home but quickly realized that doing so was against the spirit of the grittier tale I’m writing.
Interestingly enough, Tales’ cool equipment “slots” system helped me work out whether the PCs needed to bury some treasure before making the return trip or not. Their 3 torches are gone, and Vessa has added Fenn’s shortbow and quiver of arrows to her Battle Gear slots. With the torch gone, she can add one bag of 200 coins per the rules, so will take all the gold and 135 silver. Alric, meanwhile, already had a spellbook, which I’ll now replace with Orthuun’s grimoire, and he’ll take the 2 scrolls into his Battle Gear. With no torch, he can also carry a bag of coins of 65 silver and 135 copper. Maelen, though, is flush with empty slots. She can take The Bonebreaker mace, the gilded lantern, and a bag of 200 silver. As it turns out then: No buried treasure necessary!
Let’s return to the Hexploration rules. By the time our two PCs emerge from Thornmere Hold with a heavy Maelen and loot, it will be the Night Shift of their second day. I’ll reduce the 2 rations from Maelen’s stash. The rules say that if an encounter has already happened today that it’s GM’s call on whether another occurs. I’ll say that Sarin is the only reasonable encounter, and he’s fled to his “home turf” to heal and gather the rest of his Lanternless. Alric and Vessa have a tense but free night somewhere near the Hold.
Thanks to Sleep, each PC recovers 1 hit point, bringing both to 10. I never properly gave them a Short Rest, so will do that now. Vessa will make her two Willpower checks: Her first roll is another 3 and the second a 20. With her one success, she’ll recover her missing Reroll. Alric, meanwhile, rolls a 16 and 8, also achieving one success. He’ll recover his single spell slot.
Before I drop back into the narrative, let’s make Hexploration rolls for the day to see how quickly I move through their return trip. For Day 3 weather, I roll 5, which is “Similar,” which is a misty morning and clear day. Vessa is the Lookout and Alric is the Guide. He’ll make an Int+1 (bonus for the map) check to see how well he navigates, rolling a Nat-1! Okay, great. Thanks to Alric’s amazing roll, I’ll skip the Consult the Bones roll for the Day Shift. Then it’s time for the Night Shift, reducing another 2 rations from Maelen (who is now out of food, freeing up another slot if the party needs it).
Is there an encounter that evening? I Consult the Bones and roll a No/Nil on the Twins of Fate, a Yes on the Judgment die, and Nil on the Fortune die. So yes, something happens, but that something is neither good nor bad. Staring at my Threads and Character list makes me think that rolling on those tables would be bad for the party, so let me instead use the Travel Events table in Tales for inspiration. I roll a d20: 19, which is Random Encounter. Hmm. Okay, I have an idea that is neutral for the party but should shake up Alric quite a bit.
Finally, I’m going to dial the Chaos Factor back to 6. It appears that Vessa and Alric have successfully escaped Thornmere Hold. They’re in the wilds, but only a day’s journey from home!
Those rolls helped me figure out where to drop into the story. Here we go!
X.
Frostmere 17, Stillday, Year 731.
A twig cracked nearby. Alric froze, hand reaching for his staff as he listened into the darkness. Nothing. He exhaled but his eyes still searched the surrounding mists.
The scribe sat with his back against a tree. Insects chittered and nightbirds called out mournfully, both sounds distorted by the fog. If he concentrated on it, he could hear Vessa lightly snoring nearby, curled on her side atop a bedroll. He groaned as he pushed himself up wearily, then shuffled his way to Maelen.
The warrior had remained unconscious all day. He knelt, frowning, and listened to her shallow, inconsistent breathing. With his waterskin, Alric dribbled a few drops onto her lips and into the small gap of her open mouth. It was all he or Vessa could do. That and get her to a true healer.
All day and evening, they had dragged Maelen’s litter through the hills of the Greenwood Rise. Her condition had not improved over that time, though neither had it obviously deteriorated. She lay on her back, motionless atop the drag-sled made from scavenged wood, rope, and a Lanternless cloak. Maelen’s scabbarded sword stretched to one side of her, and that alien black mace stretched across the other. Vessa had wrapped the spiked head of the weapon with a second cloak.
Alric pressed fingers to Maelen’s neck. The pulse was there, slow and sporadic. He sighed and returned to sit against the tree, lowering himself painfully.
Every muscle in Alric’s body screamed with exhaustion. But, he mused, perhaps they had successfully evaded Sarin and the Lanternless. Perhaps they would indeed find their way back to Oakton and survive this whole ordeal, safe within the walls of the city. Perhaps, the thought crept in… he’d done it.
For the first time in days, Alric allowed himself to fully reflect on what he’d accomplished. Thanks to his sharp wit and ability to see connections in obscure texts, he had discovered the existence and location of Thornmere Hold. Then, through his Lodge connections, he’d found two trustworthy mercenaries with the skills to find the Hold, offer protection, and break into its inner vault. Moreover, he’d paid them with coin he’d pilfered from his family’s meager holdings, promising more that he didn’t possess.
Alric felt a pang of guilt about that last part, but the gods had seen the matter resolved. Before they’d camped last night, Vessa had dragged the chests from the vault into the glade. There, they’d counted more money than he’d ever seen. The group’s coin purses now bulged heavily, Vessa and Maelen taking the gold and most of the silver. It left Alric with almost seventy thorns for his own purse, plus handfuls of oaks, more than enough to return the money to his family. It was a miraculous thing, to have gambled his inheritance for this mad quest, only to find himself richer for it. He’d had a far more convoluted plan brewing that would allow him to escape the final payment to the mercenaries, but his scheming had proved unnecessary. This entire adventure was an example of why it was best to be bold, then worry about the consequences later.
Vessa hadn’t spoken much all day. It seemed obvious that she had been equal parts giddy at their sudden treasure trove, concerned for Maelen’s well-being, and vigilant against possible threats within the wilds. There was companionship in their shared silence, however. Although she still smelled faintly like a sewer, Alric found himself increasingly fond of the hired thief, Vessa Velthorn. Indeed, he found her sharp features and lithe figure haunting his idle thoughts, and he couldn’t shake the vivid memory of the fierce hug she’d given him. On some level, he knew his attraction was borne from their survival in the face of danger, but it made the feelings no less real. Too often, his eyes lingered on her bent nose and freckled cheeks, wondering what it might be like to kiss those full lips. Alric shook his head grimly. Thoughts for a later day, to be sure.
He flicked open the satchel at his waist. A chill ran down his spine, and for the whisper of a moment he thought he heard something. He snapped his gaze up, listened, but sensed nothing.
Shadows and the night veiled the satchel’s contents, but Alric knew that inside was a small, black leatherbound book. The Tome of Unlit Paths, its title, was written within, in a looping, ancient script that he could decipher with moderate effort. Just briefly flipping through its heavy parchment pages, Alric felt confident that he would expand his understanding of magic significantly with time to fully absorb its contents. He had thus far been tapping into mysterious forces purely on instinct, yet this book would help guide and train him, he was sure of it. He had, he knew with certainty, finally found a teacher to develop his gifts.
The trick would be to avoid its corruption, for he guessed that it was the Tome for which the vault in Thornmere Hold was built, not the black-metal mace, stacks of coin, or the magical scrolls that now lay rolled into his scroll case. It was a theory he had not shared with Vessa, and a topic he hoped to avoid. Within the vault, the book had been bound in its own case of black wood and was the only chest that had been locked. Indeed, his working theory was that it was this book alone that had so twisted the bodies of the two knights entombed within the Hold. Perhaps it was the call of the book that had prevented Sarin from dying long ago, and instead birthed him as the Night Captain. Perhaps even, if his theory about the Tome’s power was correct, a common spider had been unwittingly sealed within the vault, and the eyeless monster Vessa had killed was the result of a century in the book’s presence. All these horrors shared certain traits that made them seem disciples of this… demon, this Orthuun, the Blind Sovereign. Their sightless eyes and silent manner, for example. There were connections here, threads on a tapestry that Alric couldn’t fully comprehend yet. But, with the Tome of Unlit Paths, he now possessed a tool with which to understand.
Then, once filled with the knowledge found therein, he would bury or burn the book and be rid of its demonic influence. After all, hadn’t the corruption he’d witnessed occurred over a hundred years or more? He only needed days with it, no more than a week.
He clung to his vow: be bold, worry later. Thus far, this approach had served him well. Indeed, his life felt blessed by Oakton’s gods. Though Alric was no Nametakers priest, it was as if the Herald himself was using Alric as his mortal instrument for preserving history and uncovering the power within knowledge. The events that had led him here, to the Tome, against all odds, very well could be divine providence.
Amidst his musing, Tatter the mouse crept out from another belt pouch and scampered across Alric’s lap. It looked at him, small eyes twinkling in the moonlight, and squeaked once. Alric smiled and ran a finger across its skull to the base of its furry neck. The fact that the mouse had survived its time with Maelen and her violent lifestyle was its own miracle. At first, he’d thought the idea of a traveling pet for mercenaries bizarre, but Tatter’s presence was comforting, especially after brushes with horror and darkness. He was happy to have the mouse accompany him until Maelen awoke.
Tatter squeaked again, this time with some distress. In a flash, it scampered to his belt pouch and disappeared. Alric blinked and tensed, scanning the darkened campsite and listening intently.
All sounds had ceased. No nightbirds called out. No insect chittered. No trees groaned and cracked in the breeze. Everything had grown still and silent, much like the glade surrounding Thornmere Hold. Patchy mists drifted all around, gilded by silvery moonlight from above, the trees standing like dark, mute sentinels.
Vessa lay three strides away, too far to shake awake. Alric found his throat constricted with sudden fear, unwilling to call out and draw attention to himself. Slowly, slowly, he returned the black book to its pouch—when had he removed it?—and reached for his staff.
The light in the campsite dimmed noticeably. Alric glanced up, and his eyes went wide. The moon had begun to turn black, as if someone had spilled ink upon a white dinner plate. The blackness crept inexorably across its celestial surface, until it was nothing but a black circle, limned ever so subtly in white against the night sky. Was he still awake? His pounding heart insisted he was.
Maelen shifted, the first movement he’d seen from her since the battle with Sarin. Her face twisted as if in pain, her body twitching. It looked as if she were moaning in agony, but Alric could hear nothing.
He pushed himself stiffly up, leaning his staff into the forest floor, his back still against the rough bark of a tree. Once he’d fully stood, the mists parted to reveal dark figures moving outside the campsite. There were four of them that he could see, each tall, black silhouettes, faces hidden beneath heavy cloaks and each holding an unlit lantern. Had Sarin returned, with a host of Nightwights? Alric’s eyes rolled in terror, his breath catching. Knuckles white on his staff, he shuffled through the fallen leaves and dirt towards the silent procession. Why he moved forward and not to wake Vessa, he couldn’t say. He would only later realize that his movements made no sound, as if he’d been struck deaf.
The four figures passed by, moving in loping, smooth steps. Alric stood, heart hammering, as they proceeded through the mists, never looking at him. The mountain fog enveloped the procession, one by one, until the last in line remained. Only then did it turn its shadowed, hooded head to look at him. Alric could do nothing but stare as it raised a white, bony hand to point in his direction. Then it too was gone.
Moonlight gradually brightened the woods, and with it the sounds of insects and nightbirds. Alric heard his own gasping, panting breath as he sunk to one knee. Then he vomited into the fallen leaves.
He did not wake Vessa for her watch. As the forest slowly awakened with sound, Alric’s heart pounded and worry gnawed at what the visitation might mean.
Onto a new day! Alric and Vessa again each recover 1 hit point, and both are now at 11. I roll a 10 for weather, which means it’s gotten cooler and wetter. I don’t see any navigation checks needed this close to Oakton (they’re less than a day’s travel to the city), but I will Consult the Bones to see if something happens either that morning, or even at the Root Gate when they reach the city. The Twins say Yes/No, the Judgment die pushes that to a Yes, but the Fortune die has no result. Hm. Let’s roll a Travel Event and see what the dice say: I roll an 18, which is Taxing Terrain, “Difficult and unexpected terrain impedes explorers’ path…Progress is slow and taxing, requiring a Montage. If failed the party is Fatigued and a random PC uses up or loses a piece of relevant gear.”
What’s happened here feels obvious to me: Dragging Maelen and their gear up and through the Greenwood Rise is really, really difficult for Vessa and Alric. Neither of them possesses skills like Athletics, Wilderness Lore, or Leadership that would be useful to navigate such an arduous task. As a result, I won’t even roll a Montage (which we’ll save for some other time… they’re cool!). I’ll say that both are Fatigued, which means they each lose a point of Constitution until they can recover, and they’ve consumed all of their remaining rations.
Speaking of which, I did trigger an idea that may delay their downtime. I won’t let the PCs off the hook before asking a Fate question: Is there an unexpected complication trying to reenter the city (an opportunity to roll on my Mythic Threads list)? I’ll give it a 50/50 chance, but since the Chaos Factor is 6 that makes the likelihood 65%. I roll 68! Close, but no cigar. Despite my sinister inclinations, the party makes it back to Oakton unmolested and can finally get some rest.
Frostmere 18, Moonday, Year 731.
“Oh, thank the gods,” Alric wheezed. He paused for the hundredth time that day to mop his brow and stretch his back.
Proceeding down the hill towards the Root Road had been far easier than traveling up the Greenwood Rise, but keeping Maelen’s unconscious form safe on the way down had been harrowing. He and Vessa were both bruised, bloody from whipping branches, and filthy. To make matters worse, today the fog had settled overhead into a thin, dismal rain. His hair clung to his face and neck, his robes hung heavy, damp, and muddy. Every muscle, tendon, and bone in his body ached with weariness and the need to rest, his lamed leg most of all.
“What is it?” Vessa asked. Without her hair, moisture collected in her eyebrows and spilled down her face. The thief already had the habit of rubbing at her bent nose, but today she also constantly shook her head like a dog to free it of water.
“We’re close,” Alric sighed, nodding with his chin to the road. “Here is where you’d turn up the hills to Skywarden Tower. If it were a clear day, I suspect we’d be able to see the Argenoak already.”
“Great,” Vessa smiled, then shook her head, spraying droplets of water. “I need a warm fire, a dry blanket, and a bed.”
Unwittingly, the vision of a tall, cloaked figure pointing a bony finger at him filled Alric’s mind. He winced and banished the image.
“That makes two of us,” He said wearily. Then, before they began dragging the litter once more, he asked, “What will you do now? With the gold?”
“Mm,” Vessa mused. “Get Maelen a proper healer first, of course. Then… well, we have debts.”
Alric scoffed. “Surely not more debt than you have gold, now?”
Vessa shrugged a thin, pale shoulder. She’d used her cloak to reinforce Maelen’s litter so was unprotected from the rain and chill of the day. “I guess we’ll see. And you’re sure you’re fine with us keeping the gold and mace?”
Alric cocked a grin. “If it will help your debts, yes. I have little need for gold once our expedition is done. I have the scrolls and book, which is more than I could have hoped for.”
Vessa shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve never met a person who refused gold, but I’m thankful for it. Mae will be too. So… that’s what next for you? Reading in an uncomfortable chair in a cramped room somewhere by candlelight?”
“That’s right,” then added somewhat defensively. “It’s a nicer vision than you make it sound.”
She smiled with white teeth, and his attraction stirred. Vessa looked like a drowned cat in this weather, but it made her no less lovely. “If you say so.”
“When Maelen is recovered,” Alric said, returning the smile. “Let’s have dinner, the three of us.”
“Done,” she nodded. “Now let’s get going. It’s not getting drier or warmer out here.”
“And you’re paying!” Alric added as he leaned to pick up his side of the litter.
She laughed. It was a wonderful sound, her laugh, full of surprise and wit, and utterly genuine.
The sound almost pushed the ominous foreboding of the night before out of his mind.
Almost… but the image of that cloaked procession… the pointing white finger… the blackened moon. Those images still sat there, etched into his waking thoughts, all through the dreary slog to Oakton.
END STORY 1: THORNMERE HOLD
Next: Level 2 (warning: all game notes)
Then: A Message For Alric [with game notes]
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Great ending, love the vision and glad they made it back!
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