Random encounter time! The party is facing a group of Orthuun-corrupted wolves that have peeled off from their war with untainted wolves to stalk the party. First and most important question: How many are there? Since the event that triggered this encounter described “sentries” as discovering the party, I’m going to halve the suggested appearance from the Tales of Argosa rulebook, from 4d4 to 2d4. I roll 5 total, which still outnumbers the PCs. There’s no need to roll a Reaction for them, as they’re definitely hostile.
Do the wolves have surprise? I’m going to say no, since the PCs were wary and already making their way on guard away from the battle below them. But I will say that in Round 1 the party automatically fails the Initiative roll. This way the wolves still get the “jump” on the PCs without a free round and advantage on their attacks.
Round 1, and each wolf will move and bite. Here are the random rolls for who they target: Wow, three on Alric, two on Vessa. I suppose Maelen was in the middle of the trio and the wolves attacked from either side. This could be bad, as Vessa and Alric are only on 6 and 11 hit points, respectively.
Of Wolves 1-3, they roll 4, 7, and 13, so amazingly only one hits Alric, even with their +1 bonus when outnumbering an opponent. It does 3 damage and brings him to 8 hp. Continuing the lucky rolls, both Wolves 5-6 miss Vessa’s 13 AC, so she is still up to start the battle. That could have gone a LOT worse, and I half expected Maelen to be fighting five wolves solo.
Vessa is less deadly with her shortsword than bow, but I have a hard time justifying her moving away from her friends to shoot from distance. She’ll drop her bow, draw her shortsword, and attack Wolf 4. She rolls 10 total, missing its 14 AC.
Alric will two-hand-swing his staff in panic. He rolls a 17, continuing to impress as a melee combatant. He then does max damage, 7, to kill Wolf 1 in one mighty blow. Go magic user go!
It’s Maelen’s time to shine. She rightly sees Vessa as the most vulnerable and will attack Wolf 4. Nat-19! Yeah. It’s dead. She’ll use Opportunist to backswing at Wolf 5. She rolls a 6, though, and misses.
Three wolves versus 3 PCs. I’m no longer worried. Maelen crushes her Initiative roll, but I’ll have Alric go first to set the stage. He swings again, and rolls… I kid you not… nat-20! I roll 6 hit points for Wolf 2, so the 8 damage kills it. Who needs spells!?!
Maelen will swing on Wolf 6 and hits. Her 10 damage is near max and kills it as well. She’s too far from Wolf 3 to swing on it but will move to within Melee for next turn.
…unless there won’t be a next turn. Vessa drops her shortsword, picks up her bow, and looses an arrow all in one bad-ass motion. Her 14 hits, doing 8 damage against 4 hit points. Combat over, lickity-split.
Because this combat wasn’t “significant” (per the rulebook) and the party must now flee, I won’t give them a Short Rest. What I willdo is roll Dex(Stealth) for all three PCs to get away. Because the other wolves are distracted, I’ll only count Terrible Failures as something to trigger a Chase. Vessa rolls a nat-2, Great Success. Maelen succeeds with a 12. Alric also rolls a 12, which is a failure but not a Terrible Failure. They’re away! I’m still waiting for the game’s first official Chase.
XXVII.
Duskmarch 28, Ashday, Year 731
Wolves black as night dashed from the trees to the left and right in a stir of branches and fallen leaves. Vessa saw Alric crouch and swing with his staff, two-handed, but then two of the beasts were upon her.
They weren’t larger or faster than common wolves, but they made little sound as they bit and gnashed their white fangs. Their eyes were solid black. No beast’s eyes looked like that… Orthuun’s stain had found them. And, as the first wolf leapt at her, she saw their tongues were equally black, an unnerving detail that would plague her dreams.
She dropped her bow to the ground as she ducked the first wolf, drawing her shortsword from its sheath. Before she could stab at the ebon fur, however, Maelen was there, snarling and clubbing the creature with her spiked mace. Her friend’s bestial noises were a sharp contrast to the silent aggression from the wolves.
Another animal darted in. Vessa turned her blade to fend it off, and Maelen crushed its skull as it veered.
Where was Alric? She turned to see him still grunting and swinging his rune-carved staff. Amazingly, two black-furred bodies lay prone at his feet, but he didn’t see the wolf crouching behind him. In one smooth motion, she dropped her sword and plucked the bow from the ground. Draw, pull, loose, and the arrow took the animal in its throat as it leapt. The soundless body hit Alric’s back, making no sound as it hit. He stumbled, spinning to face the threat. Vessa’s shot had been a good one, though. The wolves that had ambushed them were dead.
The entire encounter had taken mere heartbeats, but Vessa was panting. Her wounds from the Starless Rift were far from healed, and she was not, she realized, prepared to again face death.
“We have to get out of here,” she hissed at Maelen. The warrior gripped her weapon with two hands, eyes wide and searching. Vessa recovered her sword from the leaves and sheathed it, placing a hand upon Maelen’s shoulder. Her friend flinched, breath ragged. Maelen may have physically recovered from her wounds more than Vessa, but her psychological ones were far worse. Vessa squeezed the shoulder.
“Mae, we have to go,” she urged with a fierce whisper.
Maelen blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. She scanned the small clearing, the prone bodies scattered like shadows in the grass. She nodded once.
Vessa plucked the arrow from the dead wolf as they left, covering their rear and keeping her eyes sharp for more predators. Out of sight, they could hear the two wolfpacks still battling, though she noted there were far fewer sounds than before. Since only the brown wolves snarled and growled, that could mean both sides were depleted, or it could mean that the Orthuun-tainted ones had almost finished them off. That latter possibility made her breath catch, and she hurried her pace.
Maelen half-carried Alric down the slope of the hill, their steps reckless and stumbling. Almost immediately, Vessa’s chest and legs began protesting, and she uncharacteristically tripped and fell hard on one knee. The jolt sent a stab of pain through her cracked ribs. Maelen paused when she heard her yelp, and through tear-blurred eyes Vessa waved the concern away. Vessa pushed herself up, gritted her teeth, and ran.
That evening, the party reaches civilization for the first time, back to Leandra’s Rest. But the overall environment has changed since Saelith’s release, so we must ask some Fate questions!
First, is the town still standing? In other words, can the party reasonably find safety and rest there? Since not much time has passed and they’re days from the Starless Rift, I’ll say the odds are Very Likely. At Chaos Factor 7, that’s a 90% chance of yes and I roll 54. Next question: Is the town changed in some way? I’ll give this a 50/50 chance, which is 65% given the upped Chaos Factor. I roll 69, so the answer is no! Okay, great. So, Leandra’s Rest, true to its name, will be a true oasis for the party.
Do they meet Wink the seer? I don’t really have anything planned in this regard, so I’ll also leave this up to a 65% chance. I roll 28, so yes. Final question: Do they meet anyone else unexpected in the town? I’ll say this is a true 50/50 chance and roll: 33. I’ll pull my ongoing Character List and revise it for who could reasonably be there: 1) someone from the Latchkey Circle, 2) someone from the Inkbinders Lodge, 3) the shade of Hadren Kelthorn, 4) someone from the Lanternless, 5) Sergeant Brodan Flinthewer from Vastren Hollow, 6) an unexpected survivor from the Larkhands. I have my 1d6 ready and roll: 3! Fun, fun, fun.
That day, they eat their last daily rations, so it’s good that Leandra’s Rest is untouched by the darkness spreading across the land. Even though there was a Travel Event that day and they’ve made it to a town, the rolls above compel me to Consult the Bones on the party’s nighttime. Sure enough, the Judgment die says Yes to another Travel Event, overruling the No/Nil of the Twins. And the Fortune die shows a big fat Skull. I roll a 1 on the Travel Event table, which says Freak weather change. Not what I expected but certainly fits with the overall “something bad is happening out there” vibe. I won’t even roll on the weather table for this one, as I have an idea.
Alright, armed with my many random rolls, I’m ready to fit these pieces together into the narrative.
They were well out of the forested hills and trudging wearily across grassy plains by the time they collapsed into a brief rest. Alric lay panting and clutching his shoulder. Maelen dropped next to him, her eyes clenched shut in either pain or exhaustion. Vessa sat in a way that gave her ribs some relief, her body slick with sweat.
Her gaze was drawn back to the Greenwood Rise, now on the horizon. She saw no evidence of black-furred shapes darting out of the trees in pursuit. Their quick work of the wolves ambushing them seemed to have kept the party away from the larger pack. Either that, Vessa thought, or the black-eyed animals wanted to stay within the forest.
She shivered. They would definitely not be returning to the wilds anytime soon, she quietly vowed.
“I think…” Vessa panted, catching her breath. “I think we made it out. For now.”
The others nodded, unable to speak, and for some time they sat in depleted silence. Vessa kept her keen eyes on the tree line the entire time, searching for some movement that would signal their pursuit. She saw nothing, and they drank water from yesterday’s stream and ate the last of their dried rations. Vessa hoped they would reach Leandra’s Rest by nightfall, otherwise it would be a lean and hungry night.
As if sensing the thought, Maelen pushed the group up and moving again, far before any of them looked ready. The day remained sunny and warm, and, as they trudged eastward towards the coast, Vessa tried to conjure the feelings of peace and shelter from their shared Rootmother dream. Her thoughts, however, frequently drifted to the empty tomb of Saelith the Vanished, the lone hill giant and its tent, the morning’s swarm of wolves. The Redwood Marches were changing, in ways that made dread settle at the base of her spine. Were demon-led armies massing? Would Oakton soon be under siege? She pictured black-eyed wolves and savage skratts in the city’s alleyways, the City Watch bells ringing in earnest.
Gods but she yearned for a drink, or a smoke of lotus leaf—anything to lessen her anxiety about what was coming.
Late in the afternoon, they reached the Long Road and followed it north. Any travelers they saw steered well wide of them, both because of their bedraggled appearance and, Vessa guessed, Maelen’s scowl. It was just as well… she would rather the word not spread about the coin-laded packs they carried. She did note that the wagons and foot traffic seemed to be headed exclusively north, though. Not a single traveling party moved south, away from the city.
Well before dusk, they’d found Leandra’s Rest, the small fishing hamlet nestled between reed marshes and the road. It was even smaller, she realized, than Vastren Hollow had been, and not nearly as fortified against attack. For a grim moment, Vessa pictured the scattered wood houses on stilts and various docks aflame as creatures of shadow tore the residents apart. She blinked and shook her head to clear it of horror.
Just beyond the town’s low, unmanned wall was the rocky patch of soil the locals called their village square. Beyond it lay the Brine Spoon, where Vessa aimed to eat whatever fish stew was offered, fend off any advances from the lascivious bartender, and sleep. Before they’d taken three weary steps into the square, however, a familiar, dry voice called out to them.
“They live! But lo, you’ve stared into the shadows, haven’t you? The rabid dog is frothing,” she nodded towards Maelen, “the mouse’s tail is stained ink-black,” she frowned at Alric, and then she turned a sad smile to Vessa. “But at least the beaten pup has found love, eh?”
Maelen growled under her breath, but Alric answered with a lopsided grin. “Wink!” he said, as they moved to where the old woman squatted on the same overturned fish crate near a lantern post. She looked just as she had—what was it? Nearly two weeks ago?—her tightly coiled hair bound up in a patched, sea-green shawl, driftwood cane at her side. Her white eyes never left them. Wink’s dark, weathered face crinkled in knowing mirth.
“My boy! A mixed journey for you, eh? The book still plagues your pocket, but at least you took an old crone’s advice and didn’t take the hand that was offered! And you all survived, which I admit I didn’t expect.”
“How did you–?” Alric began, then shook his head. “I do not understand prophecy.”
“The shore speaks tide. The blind speak time!” Wink answered with a cackle, then slapped her knee.
“Leave the bitch,” Maelen growled, her fists clenched. “I’m in need of a meal and a bed.”
“Maelen, please,” Vessa said. “She got us to the Rift, didn’t she?”
“Which lined your pockets in gold, hm?” Wink smiled open-mouthed.
“Keep your bloody voice down!” Maelen hissed, eyes searching the square.
“But at what cost?” the old woman continued. Her face transformed into a tragic frown, and she seemed to be talking to herself more than Alric. “The darkness is spreading, threatening to blot out the sun. The boy will search for answers, but will he find them in time? Will his friends be strong enough to shine the lanterns and banish the shadows? I wouldn’t bet on it, alas. Doom comes.”
A chill shiver crept down Vessa’s spine at her words. Just then, someone with a high-pitched voice yelled, “Look!”
Vessa and the others in earshot raised their heads at the boy, who was no more than ten, in patched overalls at the far side of the square. He was pointing a thin finger westward. Vessa turned to look.
Clouds had gathered over the Greenwood Rise, darker than she could ever remember seeing. Even as she watched, open-mouthed, the black clouds bubbled and expanded over the hills, gathering ominously. Below the heavy clouds, ebon shadows engulfed the forest and began spreading out towards them on the plains. Trees darkened and vanished in the prowling black. Vessa had never seen distant clouds look so threatening or gather so quickly. People around them began murmuring and exclaiming at the coming storm. The parent of the boy who’d called out hustled him inside a nearby building.
“All things happen, in time,” Wink sighed dramatically, even as the square stirred with activity. “The lights go out, only to be lit again, someday, far from now.” She seemed to slump. “We did our best.”
“How do we stop him?” Alric urged, leaning in towards the blind woman. “What do we do, Wink?”
But Vessa saw the blind woman’s white eyes fill with tears, lost in thought. Her lips moved almost imperceptibly as she murmured something below hearing. The woman’s age-gnarled hands clutched between her knees, almost like prayer. In that moment, Vessa recalled vividly the time by the warm column of air, deep within the Starless Rift, when Maelen and Alric had been broken by their defeat. The prophet Wink had the same hopeless, distant feel, and Vessa wasn’t surprised when she didn’t even acknowledge Alric’s words. Once again, fear gripped Vessa’s spine as she felt the threat of helplessness creeping in from all sides.
“Let’s go, lad,” Maelen pulled Alric’s arm roughly, and he stumbled away. He seemed to come to the same conclusion as Vessa and, with a worried look back once more at the distant storm, limped to keep up. Vessa followed more reluctantly, pursing her lips and rubbing at her bent nose in agitation. She hurried her steps and caught her two companions just as Maelen threw open the door of the Brine Spoon.
Late that night, Vessa padded silently on bare feet across the hallway of the inn. As expected, they’d eaten their fish stew, she’d fended off the bartender’s inelegant advances, and she’d even enjoyed a rare sponge bath before bed to free herself of the grime and terror from their journey. Maelen had drunk too much ale and lay snoring on her back, still in her chain shirt. The warrior’s black mace lay at the bedside, close at hand.
Outside, the storm hammered at the Brine Spoon’s windows and roof, lashing rain and wind. Vessa thanked the Rootmother they were indoors, as sleeping in the mud during this night would have been harrowing at best. She could almost picture it, and shuddered.
The door across the hall was locked, but she’d brought her picks. It was a simple lock, and within several heartbeats it clicked. The wooden door’s hinges creaked annoyingly as she swung it open cautiously, but the buffeting storm helped dampen the noise. She paused, hesitated, almost turning back.
The room beyond was far smaller than her and Maelen’s. Square, with only a bed and wash basin as adornment, pegs on the wall for clothes and an unlit iron lantern. A single window rattled with the wind and rain, letting in little light. Even with Vessa’s adjusted night vision, the room was a smudge of vague shapes. There was a lump in the bed, which is what she’d expected. She closed the door softly and stealthily, then carefully approached the bed. Her heartbeat quickened.
“Alric,” she whispered lightly. The lump stirred and he mumbled something. She repeated his name.
“Vessa?” his baritone voice said groggily. “What’s happening?”
“Shhh,” she whispered, leaning close. “Everything’s fine. Listen: The innkeep said it’s the twenty-eighth, which means we missed the Sweet Requital.”
“Wh– what?” he mumbled, confused. She thought she could see him rubbing at his eyes in the gloom.
“It’s my favorite holiday,” she continued. “It must have been while we were underground. I lost track of the days, and now I realize we missed it.” She blew out a soft breath and moved closer. “With everything happening…” she paused, swallowed. “Well, I don’t know that we’ll see another one. So…”
She shrugged out of her shirt, pulling it over her head and trying not to cry out at the protest from her ribs and shoulder. Vessa lay a hand down upon where she thought his chest was. He utterly stilled, saying nothing. The window rattled at a particularly violent assault of wind and water.
Her hand pulled his blanket down slowly and his breath caught. She used the sound to lower her own lips to his. After a hesitant kiss, she whispered. “Just tonight. To banish the darkness.”
“Vessa…”
“Shh. Don’t overthink.”
The next kiss she gave him was not so hesitant.
Next: Haunted [with game notes]
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