Session 7.2: Harvest Moon Rising
”We come to it at last, the rise of the Harvest Moon. All our long journeys, the various paths which have lead us to this point have culminated, together, here, on this night. Through nights filled with wolven terrors, to storms on the open ocean, underground in the depths of the world to the mountain passes of the far north and the sunken depths of ancient temples, we’ve finally come back, full circle.
This is it, we win, or we die.”- Excerpted from the journal of Maebh Preachain-Eite, dated to mid-1650 CE.
Welcome to session 7.2 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.
“This may be the end of an era here ladies and gentlemen.” – Dev.
“There’ll be another session yet.” – Sins.
“I had high hopes we’d be able to drag this out for a decade. I’m slightly disappointed.” – LD.
“You know, the game doesn’t stop until we let him go.” – Sins.
“That seems like most GM’s experiences to me. ‘This is how my story is,’ they cry. No its not.” – Yohan.
“Write monkey, write!” – LD.Exhausted, the companions encamp behind a slight hilly rise on the eaves of a copse of woodland. They share the watch through the night, but nothing interrupts their rest. On the field below, most of the Elspeth troop formations have either encamped in a city of tents before the city walls, or have retreated inside to rest. Moving torchlights indicate the presence of a significant force upon the walls of the city, and the tents are both guarded and regularly patrolled by over one hundred soldiers at a time, split between a picket line set and small squads moving between the tents.
The camp and the city both appear to be on high alert, but thankfully the companions’ presence goes unnoticed.
The dawn light starts to gently peak out over the hills to the east, casting a dim silvery light over the grassy plain and the white stone city walls. The light glints on the armour of the Elspeth heavy infantry as the tent city stirs into life. Labourers exit the city and begin disassembling the shelters, removing them from the field with startling efficiency. Within twenty minutes, the Elspeth army is formed up and ready, their camp broken and packed away, non-combatants retreated away and back within the city walls.
Xander, Harold and Maebh, using the cover of the treeline, stand on the rise and observe the legions in action.
“They’re waiting for something.” – Xander, quietly.
“Not us, surely.” – Harold, wondering out loud.
“No, not us.” – Maebh, pointing towards the east.
Just cresting the hills to the east, the companions can see the fluttering of banners as an army approaches. Over a thousand infantry, accompanied by a small contingent of cavalry and some siege weapons. As they get closer, the companions recognise the banners, a red bird of some kind on a green field. Naille’s army has arrived.
The new army forms up, almost a mile from the Elspeth formations. The Naillish force seems a fair margin smaller than that of Elspeth, and most of their force is made up of light spearmen and archers.
It just wouldn’t be right to not have another Insert Map Here. [/color]
The city of Elspeth is protected by a curtain wall almost 20 metres tall, anchored by tall towers arranged in almost a hexagon-shape. Atop each tower sits a heavy ballista, which, from this distance, appear to be mounted on some kind of device which allows the machine to rotate in place, giving a 360 degree shooting arc.
The keep itself is situated well within the walls, abutting the cliffs overlooking the Sea of Claws to the west. The keep’s walls are much higher, over 50 feet, the four towers taller and broader than those anchoring the curtain wall. Atop each of the keep’s towers sits a large trebuchet. Jutting out from the centre of the keep is a tall marble spire, almost like a stretched pyramid, adorned with a massive sculpture of an eagle, presumably cast in gold, wings spread back over the spire.
“A bit pretentious, no?” – Maebh, under her breath.
Kel’Serrar and Breanna join their companions on the rise, and observe the Naillish forces forming up. Neither of the armies seem to be eager to engage, both content to hold their formations out of range of the enemy artillery.
“I can see a banner down there with a crown on it.” – The keen-eyed Kel’Serrar, looking down at the massed Naillish forces.
“Must be their king.” – Harold.
“We should probably try and gain an audience with the commander down there, king or not. As tempting as it is to go down there and cause as much havoc as we can by ourselves, we should try to coordinate with them if they share our goals.” – Xander, to the general agreement of the rest of the party.
“Hopefully the commander is not the king. I think the king is just a boy.” – Harold, concerned.
“Inexperience would certainly explain their decision to try and besiege a major city with a smaller army than that of the defenders.” – Xander, shaking his head.
“This may well be everyone Naille could muster. They may have no others.” – Maebh, darkly.
“That might be true. If so, they’ll be desperate for aid. Could give us an advantage. I presume you have all pissed this king off at some time?” – Xander.
“I think the only thing we’ve really done which might have pissed him off is kill his ambassador in Summer Hill. With that said, Carhold was a traitor and in no fit state to fulfil his duties, so I feel like that may gain us some social credit instead.” – Harold, hopeful.
“If we are agreed on sending someone to parlay, I suggest we only send two. Don’t want panic them.” – Maebh.
“Aye, Harold and I will go. Harold to talk, me to get us out in case it goes poorly. Besides, both of us have military backgrounds, they may respond more positively to us.” – Xander.
“Who has the best Charisma and Charm Skill?” – Ladyhawk.
“Harold on both counts.” – Yohan.
“Oh hell.” – LD.
“Harold is better at talking, I’m better at hitting. Out of game, I think it may be the other way around.” – Yohan.
“Can you just, and this is in game and out of game, make sure that you keep a handle on what he says?” – Ladyhawk, to Yohan, about Dev.
“Hey, Harold’s our diplomat and party face.” – Yohan.
“That is a terrifying thought.” – Ladyhawk.
“I think, despite our looks, Harold and I are probably the least off-putting members of the group.” – Yohan, to nods from Dev, Sins and Ladyhawk.
“I’m small and furry.” – LD, laughing.
“Yeah, sure, and if you took off your hood, cloak, all your leathers, knives and poisons, then yes, you would probably not be too intimidating.” – Yohan.
“Actually scratch that, I’m jacked. Breanna’s terrifying without clothes. I am literally the reason there’s racial hard caps on stats now.” – LD.
“Breanna was physically the strongest member of the party until Xander showed up.”
“Didn’t she nearly break her wrist trying to pick a lock once though?” – Dev.
“That’s when her story started, lifting every day, smashing the protein powder.” – Ladyhawk.
“I never skip leg day either guys.” – LD.
A few moments later LD bursts out laughing.
“Sins just showed me that when I started smashing out Strength, so did he. So I had a mental image of Breanna lifting weights, then the camera zooms out and Kel’s lifting Bree and then it zooms out again and there’s Xander lifting Kel.” – LD, to raucous laughter.
[/color]
A warhorn rings out over the field.
Yohan provides the requisite warhorn noise, very cinematic.
“That was very good.” – Ladyhawk.
“It was, but now a real warhorn.”
Yohan provides an adjusted sound, one which devolves into a broken note at the end, like a real warhorn, which sounds, to be frank, not much like those in the movies.
“It almost turns into a screaming goat by the end. I’m imagining the company musician may in fact have an actual goat tucked under one arm and through a mixture of squeezing and stretching it, creates the noise.” – Yohan, who then mimes doing exactly that, almost playing a goat like an accordion.
“Alright everyone, Perception Checks with Evaluation bonuses if you have any.”
Everyone passes except Xander, who fails by a lot.
“Xander looks in entirely the wrong direction.” – Dev.
“When Breanna moved to get a better look, she knocked my helm around and now it is over my eyes.” – Yohan, eyes closed and arms outstretched. Approximately half of the Naillish forces start to move forward a touch, forming a defensive line in front of the field trebuchets, which are being unpacked and made ready to launch. The other half seems to be helping the baggage train in setting up tents and pavilions, well behind the siege equipment.
“I don’t understand, they’re well out of range…” – Harold, confused, gesturing towards the field trebuchets.
“They’re just trying to stay out of range of the city’s engines.” – Xander.
“No, look at them. These things are advanced. They may be in range after all.” – Kel’Serrar, pointing out the steel contraptions on the Naillish siege engines.
“They look like they’re setting up for a prolonged siege. They wouldn’t bother with so many tents unless they intended to stick around for a while.” – Maebh, quietly.
“We should try and gain our audience before they engage, Xander. Let’s get ready to go.” – Harold.
The companions head back to their camp and prepare. Xander takes his two greatswords, binding the hilt of the Corpsewalker Blade with a spare rag, obscuring the iconography upon the hilt. To the other sword he attaches a bolt of white cloth, like a flag. Harold takes the Gilded Sword and a smattering of other weapons, but both men feel that the less weapons they openly carry, the better, and leave the better part of the armaments behind at the camp.
Together, the Invarrian and Feartarbh make their way to the Naillish camp.
* * *
A small squad of five horsemen detach from the Naillish infantry, urging their mounts towards the hills, where an Invarrian and Feartarbh can be seen descending, waving an improvised white flag. The cavalry, clad in green and gleaming steel cuirasses and armed with long lances, gallop up to the two companions and circle around them, lances levelled.
One of the cavalry, a bearded Midlander with a green feather attached to an open-faced steel helm speaks. Harold recognises that the feathered helm denotes the Naillish military officers.
“State your intentions.” – The cavalry captain.
“I am Harold Oakenshield and this is Xander Rothgar. We would like to ask an audience with your commander. We have important news.” – Harold, speaking up.
“I see you are both heavily armed. If you will surrender your weapons, that meeting can possibly be arranged.” – Naillish captain.
“I would understand if you intend to try and restrain us, but I fear you have no bonds which could hold me.” – Xander, tall enough to look the mounted captain directly in the eye.
“Do I have your word that you will do no harm?” – The Naillish captain, with an appraising look at the two companions.
“You have my word, upon my life and the honour of my clan.” – Xander, solemnly.
“That is good enough for me.” – Naillish captain, nodding in satisfaction.
Xander is loaded up like a pack mule, with all the weapons they saw fit to bring with them slung over his back, out of easy access. Then the riders slowly escort Harold and Xander to the rear of the Naillish forces.
The game was then interrupted by the players comparing their respective armouries. As expected, Harold’s collection was the greatest, but Breanna’s massive selection of knives came a close second. Yohan suggested that the saddle on his shoulder may have possibly incorporated a closed compartment of some sort, which acted as a handy storage space for Breanna’s various weapons. The scouts lead Harold and Xander past the artillery and then through the camp. Closer to, they can see the trebuchets are very advanced, with sophisticated pulley systems allowing a swift reload, a steel-reinforced launching arm and a system which increases the momentum of the counterbalance when the payload is launched. Speaking of the payload, neither of the companions can determine exactly what they are. They look almost like large clay pots rather than a more traditional missile, but there is no way of knowing from this distance what is inside.
“Those things are going to range over a mile.” – Xander, in an undertone to Harold.
Eventually Harold and Xander are led to a large green and white striped pavilion, flags waving proudly in the morning breeze, bearing red sparrows on a green field, replete with golden crowns. A troop of soldiers in heavy armour, tall shields at their backs and halberds in hand, guard the tent and, after a brief conversation with the scout captain, allow Xander and Harold into the tent, relieving Xander of their weapons before they enter.
“And I just let it happen.” – Yohan, laughing.Entering the command tent, the first thing they notice is the large table set in the middle of the room. Upon it sits a fairly accurate representation of Elspeth City, along with several coloured wooden blocks, which look as if they indicate the troop positions on the field before the city. Opposite the door is a high, intricately carved wooden chair, flanked by two men, one a heavily armoured, shaggy brown-furred Feartarbh, the hilt of a large greatsword visible over his shoulder and a truly massive axe, the blade of which is embedded in the patchy grass beside him. Even bigger than Xander, the Feartarbh looks over the new arrivals with a keen interest, scarred and heavily muscled arms crossed over his enormous chest. The other man is a Midlander, tall for his race, clad in a dark green robe, middle-aged and bearded. He is generally nondescript in appearance, but he does have a rather thick golden chain clasping a grey cloak.
Upon the chair between the two is a small, dark-haired Midlander boy, perhaps 12 years old. The expression on his face is that of someone who is unsure of every move he makes. His clothes are rich, and he wears a nice coat with an ermine fur trim on his thin shoulders. His hands bear three rings, all of which seem slightly too large for his slender fingers. Upon his head sits a thin crown of silvered steel, and this suits him well, unlike the other regalia he wears.
Around the table, three Midlander men stand in debate, two in the rich green officer’s uniform of the Nailish command, the third in steel plate armour, a feathered helm carried under his arm. All three have the bearing of long military service. Attending them are a scattered handful of pages, girls and boys ranging from 10 to 16 years of age, predominantly Midlanders, each carrying platters of food and drink.
As Harold and Xander enter the room accompanied by another page, the robed man is stooped slightly, whispering something to the boy on the chair. The mood in the room seems grim, and the officers are arguing around the table.
“My king, lords, may I present Harold Oakenshield and Xander Rothgar at the bequest of Captain Matthias.” – The page, ushering the companions into the pavilion.
The boy is given a gentle nudge by the robed man and, after a brief pause while he remembers his line, speaks.
“Come forward then, and speak.” – The king of Naille, in a surprisingly confident voice.
Xander and Harold walk past the war-table and approach the king, halting at a respectful distance. Behind them, the argument begins anew, but in more hushed tones. Harold bows to the king.
“King, I am Harold Oakenshield of Varr, my companion is Xander Rothgar. To get right to the point, my companions and I offer you our aid.” – Harold, straightening again, maintaining eye-contact with the young king.
“I appreciate it. How many do you bring?” – The king, already perking up a little.
“Ah, well, five.” – Harold.
The disappointment on the face of the king is palpable.
“My company is five battle-hardened veterans, one of them, one of the greatest mages of our age.” – Harold, trying to salvage the situation a little.
“I mean no disrespect to you or your companions, Sir Oakenshield, but I fear five soldiers will not avail us greatly.” – The king, disappointed.
“King, have you ever heard of The Crag?” – Harold.
The boy shakes his head, but the robed man leans down and starts to whisper in his ear. His eyes widen and his jaw drops.
“I had not heard of The Crag, but my advisor here has. Your mage… They say she destroyed a mountain?” – The king, wide-eyed and awe-struck.
“Stories are always exaggerated. In truth, she almost single-handedly took the main gate to the fortress. However, between us, we took the fortress as a whole.” – Harold.
“You see-“ – The king, who looks up at his advisor and receives an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
The king’s jaw sets and his eyes harden slightly as he turns back to the companions.
“We are here to prevent something from coming to pass.” – The king, ignoring the slight nudge from his advisor.
“The Greyflood Prophecy?” – Harold.
Now he has their attention. Silence descends over the tent as the captains’ debate turns still. All eyes are on the Invarrian as the king slowly nods.
“An old prophecy of my people. King, with your permission, may my companion retrieve one of our belongings from outside the tent?” – Harold, entreating the king.
“Is it a weapon?” – The king’s robed advisor, to Harold’s nod of affirmation.
“Would you allow Heriman here to retrieve it for you?” – The robed advisor, gesturing to the massive Feartarbh standing on the other side of the king.
“Obtaining that weapon came at incredible cost and hardship. We would prefer to have no others touch it. If your efforts are aligned with ours, then there is nothing to fear from us.” – Xander, quietly.
“This weapon is also an ancient artefact of my people, an heirloom of the first Stormlord of Varr.” – Harold, shaking his head.
I asked for a Charm Check here, which was very narrowly passed. “Very well, please allow Ser Rothgar to retrieve their belongings.” – The king, projecting his voice to the guards outside the pavilion, who nod as Xander lumbers over to them.
The hulking Feartarbh picks up both Gilded Swords from their small pile of undisturbed arms, and returns the true Gilded Sword to Harold, who draws it gently from its makeshift sheathe.
“This is the sword from the Greyflood Prophecy, recovered at great cost from a sunken temple on Varr.” – Harold, presenting the blade to the young king.
For his part, the king is absolutely captivated by the artefact, the swirling designs on the golden, leaf-shaped blade, the intricate hilt, the almost magnetic pull it exudes and the razor-sharp edge. The king, it would appear, is a bit of a sword nerd.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” – The king, softly.
“This entire scene almost seems like a bit of, ‘All hail King PG,’ to me.” – Sins.
“I’ll admit, at the moment, his reactions are basically me just looking at Albion’s catalogue.”The king’s advisor however is looking at Xander, still holding his own massive blade.
“I see you retrieved a second weapon, Ser Rothgar. Should we be concerned?” – The advisor, clearly starting to worry a little.
“No need to be concerned, I simply felt we should be entirely forthright with you. This blade was captured in Summer Hill, from a man I believe, from what my companions have told me at least, was once one of your own.” – Xander, withdrawing the rag tied around the iconography on the hilt and presenting the offending designs to the king and advisor both.
Between the quillons on one side sits the inscribed and enamelled sigil of the Carhold family, on the other, in brilliant blue, the banner of Elspeth.
“I see. We had heard a little of what occurred in Summer Hill and as such had some idea of what became of Edmond Carhold. Clearly, this is the final proof, if it was needed, of him being in league with Elspeth. You won it through force of arms. May it serve you well.” – The king’s advisor.
Xander nods, and slings the sword over his shoulder with a thoughtful expression on his face, stepping back.
“So this is the sword which the prophecy speaks of… What do you need?” – The king, at first still a little lost in the beauty of the sword before him before looking up at Harold, a determined look in his eye.
“Honestly, we need the biggest distraction you can provide while we get inside the city to disrupt whatever ritual is happening in there. Any information you might have from spies in the city would be handy as well.” – Harold, wrapping the Gilded Sword up again.
“Unfortunately our spies are, well, they’re dead. We had five people in the city, but two weeks ago we received word of a public execution within the walls. Our insurgents were put to death and we began the march immediately.” – The king, sadly.
“But your spies got into the city easily enough?” – Harold.
“Sure, but that was probably over a month ago and the city was not on war-footing at the time, with an army outside the gates. It will be an entirely different task today.” – Xander, interjecting, to nods from the king’s advisor and the captains behind.
“Indeed, you will likely need cover of darkness to get into the city, and even that will be difficult.” – King’s advisor.
“We do not doubt it, hence why the bigger the distraction caused by your forces, the better. My lord, I’m sure you trust your commanders, and they appear competent men, but we might be able to provide assistance with the tactical planning. This is not the first fortified location my companions have taken.” – Xander, gesturing to the model city on the war-table.
“That’s right, we are professional poor decision makers.” – Sins.“With that said, what would you suggest? Seeing what we have done so far, what would you have us do?” – The armoured Naillish captain, honestly curious.
“It may be best if we summon all our companions to get their input. They’re smarter than us…” – Xander, the last bit whispered under his breath.
“That can be arranged.” – The king’s advisor, clapping his hands together.
“I must warn you, they are two Danann and a Leathe, and are known to be both abrasive and up-front in their criticism and comments.” – Xander, with a tone of suffering.
“We are the most tactful members of our company.” – Harold, making a truly horrific statement, as in a statement which is both true and horrific.
“So I apologise in advance for their behaviour, because I can almost guarantee they’re going to piss someone off. If someone here takes offence to something one of them says, I won’t say they don’t mean it, because they probably do, but rather I hope that it won’t come to blows. ” – Xander, in a blanket statement to the room.
“I prefer to think of it as honesty rather than poor behaviour.” – Sins.Xander accompanies a small squad of horsemen back to the companions’ encampment while Harold remains in the command tent, talking with the king. Before he leaves, the Feartarbh leans in to the Invarrian.
“Don’t let that sword out of your sight.” – Xander, whispering to Harold before clapping the Invarrian on the shoulder and leaving the pavilion.
* * *
Within the hour, the cavalry return. Amongst them a Feartarbh, with a Leathe upon his shoulder, a Danann riding a large black horse and an Invarrian, hooded and cloaked with a powerful longbow in hand. Two pony-sized marcwolves race amongst the horses and a large, armoured lizard lays across the back of Maebh’s horse, basking in the morning sun. Their motley band receives no small number of questioning looks from the Naillish soldiers and members of the supply train, as they are led to the command tent. Along the way, Kel’Serrar’s keen sight picks up wisps of spirit magic surrounding a small cabal of robed figures, sitting away from the rest of the army.
Approaching the command tent, the guards almost instinctively move to bar Xander’s way before letting him through. Upon arriving back in the tent, the king nods to Xander, with a somewhat surprised look at Breanna, who nimbly leaps down from the Feartarbh’s shoulder and grabs a piece of fruit from one of the serving pages. Then the two marcwolves come bounding in, to the sound of muffled shouts from outside the tent. Bach makes a beeline straight for Harold, while Wolfgang fairly tackles one of the pages and starts devouring the spilled food from the platter.
Xander helps the young boy to his feet and then retrieves a sack of dried meat from his pack.
“It’s okay, they’re trained, they’re trained.” – Breanna, having found a spare seat in the corner of the tent, she now lounges in it, eating her fruit.
Maebh and Kel’Serrar enter the room too, the latter looking identical to Harold, save for the ranger’s thick black cloak. Crithtaluin is laid across Maebh’s shoulders, sleeping.
Seeing Xander pulling meat out of the sack, Bach and Wolfgang immediately run to the corner, where Xander piles up the food for them. Draped over Maebh’s shoulders, Crithtaluin stirs, tongue flicking out to taste the air, then goes back to sleep.
“Could you spare a piece Xander?” – Maebh, absent-mindedly stroking the mantikor’s tail hanging over her shoulder. It gently takes the meat from the mage’s fingers when she offers it.
The captains move aside from the table and allow the companions to see the war-table clearly.
“First things first, we’ll need a distraction to get into the city.” – Harold, almost to himself.
“Has anyone seen the Queen?” – Maebh.
“Not on the field. Our spies’ last reports had her in the city, but that information is old.” – One of the unarmoured captains.
“What range do you have on your siege equipment?” – Xander, looking around at the gathered captains, who all turn to look at the other unarmoured captain, a shorter, grey-haired man with spectacles.
“I cannot say exactly, but we are confident that our engines outrange the city’s defences. At the very least, we should be able to draw a bead on the curtain wall while still outside their capacity to strike at us.” – The siege engineer captain.
You should ask about what’s in the clay pots too.” – Dev, to Yohan.
“You’re here though, you could ask…” – Yohan, confused.
“Yeah, but… No, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” – Dev.
“Xander, ask about the pots. I am too regal to do so myself. Do it for me, slave.” – Yohan, in as posh an accent as he could muster.
“Dim the lights, Xander dear.” – LD, following suit. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you intend to launch from those trebuchets? We saw some clay pots of some kind as we came in…” – Harold, directing his question to the engineer captain.
The captain glances towards the king’s advisor before responding.
“Yes, many of those clay pots you would have seen are incendiaries, but we have a few other options too.” – Engineer captain.
“You would possibly be the man to talk to about this. Do you have some way of sending you a signal from within the city if need be?” – Xander, to the engineer captain.
“Ah, well, yes, I guess I do.” – The engineer captain who turns and sends a page out of the tent.
Moments later, the page returns with small device and a leather pouch. Essentially, the device is like a slingshot, and the pouch contains a handful of balls made of some alchemical substance which flares with a bright coloured flame when set alight.
“It isn’t military, it’s my personal device, but it should do the job.” – Engineer captain, inspecting the device before offering it to the Feartarbh.
“Tell you what, I may not return from this venture alive. I’d like to compensate you for your work.” – Xander, who takes his coin-pouch and hands it to the man, who gasps a little at the weight.
Xander just gave this captain all his money, which included five Crowns. A truly exorbitant figure. As you can imagine, the captain is astounded at this generosity, and so he should be, but it is let down a little by the fact that Xander himself has very little concept of the worth of money. He understands how it works, but has no real idea just how much he has given away. Xander then removes his vambrace and asks the man if it would be possible to have the device attached to the plate armour. The captain readily agrees and proceeds to leave the tent.
“So then, let us plan.” – The king’s advisor.
* * *
Back with Part 2 soon. :smallsmile: And we're back.The next few hours pass swiftly as the companions plan the assault with the aid of the Naillish commanders. At some stage in this, the king feels as if the discussions are starting to get into the real minutiae and approaches a visibly bored Breanna, asking her if she will supervise him while he meets the marcwolves. She does so, and is unable to restrain an excited Wolfgang from pouncing on the boy, knocking him to the ground and licking him furiously. At first, the king laughs, but Wolfgang’s claws are long and sharp and the marcwolf is heavy, and the king’s laughing quickly turns into slight cries of pain. After some time, Breanna and Xander are able to restrain the young wolf and the king rights himself, wiping the drool, tears and blood away as best he can. He gives them a somewhat weak smile and retreats back to his seat.
Discussion turns to what the companions must leave behind if they are to infiltrate the fortress. They determine they shall take only the weapons they absolutely need, and leave all their various animals behind. To best infiltrate the fortress, they decide to hide in the woodland to the south of the city, and they will leave their animals and all their belongings they will not carry behind at a campsite there.
Xander personally presents his own sword to the king, the Feartarbh’s claymore a fine example of the swordsmith’s art in its own right.
“Good king, please take this blade as a gift. I understand it cannot serve you as a blade should, but it is not something which will assist me greatly in the fight to come, and it deserves a finer home than I can give it.” – Xander, with the massive weapon, sheathed and held in two hands before him.
“This is a kingly gift. I accept it, but if one day you should seek its return, come to me and it is yours.” – The king, who reverently takes the weapon, and then grunts slightly at the weight as the hulking Feartarbh hands it over.
The king personally shakes the hand of each and every one of the companions, or attempts to anyway, as Xander’s massive grasp makes the assignment rather difficult. He wishes them well, as do all the captains, the engineer having returned with Xander’s bracer, now with the slingshot hastily riveted in place to a small bracket.
The companions make their way out of the encampment, as the afternoon sun starts to dip in the sky…
* * *
Back in the southern copse of woodland, at Xander’s suggestion, the companions pack their belongings together into their respective tents and, with Breanna’s help, sling the bundles in the trees with some lengths of rope.
Maebh takes some time with Toirneach as the afternoon sun starts to set. There is a little sadness and trepidation at their parting, but the horse understands the reasons for which his master must leave. He nuzzles her and sends a mental pulse that he will not allow any harm to befall the two marcwolves or her mantikor.
As the afternoon draws on, the Naillish army starts to mobilise, wheeling towards the fortified city. Their artillery slowly draws into position, dragged by teams of leathery-skinned great beasts at first, then adjusted by hand by the crews. Arranged outside the city, the Elspeth legions start to adjust their positions too, setting themselves into something of a crescent, designed to envelope the smaller Naillish force.
The dusk glow of the sunset as it fades into the western ocean behind the city provides ample illumination as the Naillish artillery lets loose their opening salvo, at what seems at first to be a distance well beyond their range. A wave of projectiles sails forth, and they travel significantly beyond the walls of the city, and over the cliffs on the far side. The crews hastily begin to make adjustments to their engines, and the next volley is more effective, a good few projectiles smashing into the near curtain wall and others deeper in the city itself. Smoke and the tell-tale glow of fire begins to emanate from within the city walls, and outside the sound of bells, shouts and screaming can be heard. The incendiaries are proving effective. The Elspeth legions move forward at a swifter rate, and the Naillish army moves likewise to meet them on the field between the city and the siege engines, under a darkening, blood-red sky.
Upon the wall, relatively evenly interspersed and generally taking cover from the bombardment are what seems like uniformed soldiery, clad in steel helms and mail hauberks with liveried surcoats. Most carry crossbows, some carry spears and all seem to have a shield over their backs. Many of these well-trained soldiers have left their posts to assist in the firefighting efforts, particularly those on the southern stretch of wall, the section of the wall closest to the still-hidden companions.
“Remember, we don’t want to reveal our presence until we have no other choice.” – Maebh, rasping a whetstone over the blade of her spear.
“Very well, I’ll be with you every step of the way.” – Kel’Serrar, who then appears to blink out of existence.
There is silence for a few moments, with only the sounds of the conflict in and around the city to be heard.
“Also, perhaps we should hide the big one.” – Kel’Serrar’s disembodied voice as Xander feels a hand rest upon his upper arm.
Xander too, disappears.
* * *
As the shadows spread over the fields outside the city, the companions make their move. Xander and Breanna reach the wall first, and the hulking Feartarbh holds his hands out to the Leathe, boosting her up and over the crenellations. The black-furred assassin, a small bolt clenched between her teeth, sails over the wall, and can see three faces beneath her, upturned and looking directly at her, three guards watching this immediate section of the wall. As she glides through the air, the Leathe takes her hand-crossbow and looses the already loaded bolt, taking one of the startled Midlander guards in the eye. The man hasn’t even fallen before the Leathe’s hands move in a blur, taking the bolt she held in her teeth and loading her weapon, and she shoots again, the little steel projectile punching into another guard’s throat.
Without even touching the top of the wall, Breanna sails over, landing on the ground on the other side of the wall, rolling with the impact and immediately seeking shelter in the gathering shadows behind a nearby building.
“Go, go, go!” – Harold, exhorting the others over the wall, as Xander prepares to launch Maebh to the top of the wall.
One by one, Maebh, Harold and lastly an invisible Kel, are propelled up by Xander and swiftly drop down to the other side. The body of one of the slain guards slowly slumps to the ground and topples off the edge of the wall to the ground below. The surviving guard scrabbles at his belt, face panicked, his fingers tightening on a simple horn. He raises it to his lips and blows, three short, staccato notes, and a nearby troop of guards from a different section of the wall make their way over at a steady pace.
“By the way Dev, we have the name of Harold’s next ship. The Flying Dogman.” – Sins.A patrol of guards, at least twenty strong rounds a corner and moves down the street towards the hidden companions at a steady jog, intent on investigating the horn-call. At the fore, a bearded captain of the guard, an eagle etched onto his steel helm and a well-made sword in hand. He holds up his other hand, and orders the company to halt.
“Hold on, I’ve got this.” – Breanna, whose eyes gleam briefly red before she closes them.
The horn blast rings out in the night air once more, accompanied by the sounds of screaming, this time from a location closer to the main gate. The captain of the patrol raises his sword.
“That’s the signal lads, go, go, go!” – The captain, breaking into a run and leading the patrol away from the hidden party.
Breanna’s eyes open and she grins, her phantom noise successful.
“Very good Bree. Now what?” – Maebh.
“We wait for Xander, no?” – Harold, looking furtively for further guard movement.
They do not have to wait long before a horrible clanking sound, that of iron or steel being smashed heavily into worked stone, can be heard echoing up from the outside of the wall. The surviving guard on the top of the wall, looks down, but can see nothing. An arrow flashes through the night air, catching the guard in the back of the neck and sending him tumbling over the wall, to land on the grass outside the city.
The clanking ceases as the invisible Xander heaves himself to the top of the wall. The Feartarbh looks for a way down, but is convinced that dropping down from the top of the wall would be too loud, and he himself may be too heavy to do so without injury. He turns to his left, towards the closed door of a tower, trusting that there will be a flight of stairs he can take. Just as he reaches out towards the door, it opens outwards into him, and there is a surprised yelp and a solid thud.
Down on the ground, the companions see the gigantic Feartarbh blink back into existence as the impact of the door breaks Kel’Serrar’s illusion upon Xander.
“Who is that?” – Elspeth guard, trying to open the door enough to see who would be blocking his way. Unsurprisingly, the door does not budge, as Xander’s formidable weight is far too great for the guard to shift.
“****, can someone take him out? If I do, the whole city will know about it.” – Maebh, in a quiet hiss to the rest of the party.
“Yeah, we’re not at that point yet. We might be soon, but not quite yet.” – Yohan, laughing.Breanna takes up her crossbow and looses another bolt, aiming for the sliver of the guard’s face she can barely see. The bolt sails wide, over the wall, missing completely. She gives the small contraption a swift rap against her thigh.
“Seriously? How could you miss that badly?” – Breanna, quietly blaming her weapon.
Xander listens carefully, and he thinks he can pick out the voices of three separate individuals in the tower.
“Well, I could try to lie to them, but my Charisma is god-awful. So then we go to my next idea, which is violence.” – Yohan.
“I thought we were keeping quiet?” – Ladyhawk.
“I’m thinking loud violence for like a split second and then I can try to disappear into the streets. Definitely more likely to work than trying to lie to them. Full strength cow-kick the door in, hopefully distract them and dive off the wall while they’re not looking.” – Yohan.
“That could just decapitate the first bloke with the door.” – Dev.
“That’s fine. Just collateral damage. Proceeding with the plan. Hmm, only one degree of success on the Strength Check. Can I spend a Luck Point to re-roll?” – Yohan.
“Absolutely. One degree wouldn’t do much.”
“That’s better. 04 under 105. Ten degrees of success.” – Yohan.The wooden door is pulverised by the impact, as a giant, cloven hoof blasts through the wood, catching the guard in the chest. His ribs are shattered as he is propelled backwards, through the opposite door of the tower, over the wall and then off the cliff, too surprised to even scream on the way down. For a split second, Xander can see the horrified expressions on the faces of the other two guards in the tower before he takes his shield and dives shoulder-first into the ground beneath the wall. The impact is loud and bone-rattling as Xander’s shield and then his shoulder absorbs the dive, before noisily picking himself up, left arm hanging loosely at his side, to attempt to disappear into the darkened streets.
From their hiding place, the other companions can hear a swiftly approaching patrol, and they round the corner, approaching the source of the commotion. Seven guards, Midlanders all, three armed with crossbows, the others with spears and shields at the ready, a captain at their forefront, the only one amongst them with a sword at his belt, a mustard yellow-dyed leather covering over his left shoulder. They approach cautiously, weapons trained on the strange sight ahead of them.
Back against the stone wall, Xander stands, entirely covered by two gigantic tower shields held together before him, concealed by them, save for his huge, curving horns, which jut out and above the upper-most rim of the shields. The patrol edges forward, and the captain directs the crossbowmen to advance. The crossbowmen raise their weapons to shoot.
“In my defence, I was left unsupervised.” – Yohan.In the split second before they loose, a grizzled Invarrian breaks cover, sword and sabre in hand, cleaving into the small phalanx of spearmen. The first blow opens a gaping wound in the captain’s chest before the return swing comes back and practically bisects the man. Turning, the Invarrian jams a sword through the chest of a second victim and lashes out at a third before facing down the last two spearmen, putting himself in between them and the crossbowmen.
Behind him, the three crossbowmen loose at Xander. Three bolts flash across the intervening distance, punching into the shields, and one skids up and over the rim of the right-most shield, tearing a bloody groove into the Feartarbh’s cheek.
Breanna darts into the midst of the crossbowmen, silvery dagger in hand. She has never used this particular weapon before, since obtaining it in the ancient, submerged temple of Werencha, and therefore what it does next surprises her. She punches the blade through the knee of one of the crossbowmen, withdrawing it swiftly with a spurt of blood. The guard screams, and moves to clutch at his knee. The spurting blood coalesces in the air, forming into a blade of sorts, almost a shard of magically hardened blood, which shoots into the neck of wounded guard, neatly severing the man’s head. It carries through, punching through the chest of another crossbowman, who sinks to his knees, desperately trying to control the blood pouring from a gaping wound in his torso.
An arrow flashes across the street, punching through the back of the final crossbowman’s head, as Kel’Serrar flickers back into view, lowering his bow after loosing the arrow.
Seeing his companions assault the guards, Xander drops both shields and draws the Corpsewalker Blade from over his shoulder, crossing the handful of paces between himself and the patrol with frightening speed and literally cutting the uninjured spearman in half with a single powerful strike, cleaving through the shield the man hastily tried to raise in protection.
“How about you lay down that spear, go home, and try to forget everything that’s happened to you so far tonight?” – Harold, to the final guard, himself bleeding profusely from a wound in his side.
The spearman looks from Harold to the spear in his hand, and then back to Harold, whereupon the Invarrian punches him straight in the face, knocking the man unconscious in a single blow.
“Just wouldn’t be a Charm Check without someone getting punched.” – Dev.* * *
Having hidden the bodies and taken a few moments to patch up Xander and Harold, the companions gather not far from the wall of the inner keep. A sharp horn blast carries through the night air from the field outside the city, a charge signal, and significant numbers of Elspeth troops held in reserve within the city begin to move out the gates.
“They’re moving out.” – Breanna, from her vantage point clinging to the chimney of a house.
“If we go quickly, we might be able use this to our advantage. If they’re heading out into the field, they won’t be looking for insurgents within the city.” – Maebh, to the others as Breanna drops down to the city street.
Swiftly and silently, the party moves through the streets towards the closest stretch of the high, white marble wall of the inner keep. They have to dodge a few patrols along the way, but luckily are able to do so with little difficulty. Finally they find themselves huddled behind the corner of a house, looking up at the high wall, and the crossbow armed guards upon it.
This battalion of keep-guard looks to be more heavily armoured than the general guard of the city, with chainmail veils riveted to their steel helms, obscuring their features below their eyes. Crews nervously wait near tower-mounted trebuchets, awaiting the order to loose.
One guard leans over the wall to spit, and for a moment, sees a tall, slender, spear-armed figure standing next to a house. He spits, and starts to continue on his patrol along the wall, but turns and looks back out. The tall figure is gone, and the streets appear empty.
“Did anyone see anything?” – The startled guard, peering into the darkness below, to the rest of the patrol. The other guards give answers in the negative, and the patrol moves on.
Below, huddled against the house, Maebh breathes heavily. She’d been a little careless, and it had nearly brought them to ruin.
“Okay, how do we want to do this? We’ve been standing here wasting time for a while now, but we’re no closer to getting in.” – Kel’Serrar, peering up at the top of the wall from around the corner of the house.
“Who is in favour of me going to the front gate and lying my arse off?” – Harold, visibly frustrated.
“Honestly, no worse a plan than many others we might have.” – Kel’Serrar, nodding.
“If we can just get the patrols cleared off the top of the walls for a bit, we can get a grappling hook up there and we can climb over.” – Xander, patting the gigantic iron contraption at his belt.
“Okay, Bree and I can do that then. We’ll get to the top and try to clear it, then Xander throws the hook and the rest of you come up to join us.” – Kel, who pulls two steel claw-like devices out of his pack, and affixes them to his wrists.
“Now, hold on a minute, look at this grappling hook here. I’m strong, but I don’t think I can throw this fifty yards straight up in the air.” – Xander, gesturing to the hook, which began life as a small ship’s anchor.
“Okay, give it here, I’ll climb up with it, set it and throw the rope down to you.” – Breanna, her small frame belying her insane strength.
“I’ll set my own hook up on the other side so we have a direct path down too. See you at the top, maybe.” – Kel’Serrar, who grins and then blinks out of sight.
* * *
The invisible Leathe and Danann make swift process up the stone wall, almost silently other than the slight metallic rasp of Kel’s climbing claws. Breanna makes it to the top first, and is startled by the presence of a guard, mere feet away. He passes by, and together, silently, Breanna and Kel’Serrar step onto the top of the wall.
The invisible Danann takes his own grappling hook off his belt, and silently affixes it to the wall, gently lowering a rope down on the far side. Behind him, Breanna hefts the gigantic grappling hook Xander gave her, and her strength fails her. The steel anchor rasps on the stone crenellation and the guard which had passed their point turns, and spots a small figure shrouded in darkness, guiltily adjusting the position of a gigantic grappling hook.
“Who goes there? Halt!” – The guard, swiftly marching towards the disturbance, torch in one hand and spear in the other. He is a tall man, for a Midlander, his face masked by a veil of chainmail. He is also clearly confused by what he is seeing.
“****!” – Maebh, who then mutters an incantation under her breath.
The guard stops, a slight golden frost riming him. He is held entirely in place by Maebh’s power. Unbeknownst to all, an invisible Kel slowly sidles up to the helpless guard, concentrating on maintaining his spell and lays his fingertips on the man’s back, the chill of Maebh’s spell quite uncomfortable. Slowly, using only the most minimal effort, Kel slides the guard towards the crenellations and tips him over the wall.
“I don’t even question the weird **** that happens around me anymore. What’s happened to me?” – Breanna, muttering to herself.
“I can catch him right? I’d be the only one that could, yes?” – Yohan.
“Yes, this is a fully armoured man falling approximately 50 metres. I’d say that Maebh or Harold would definitely be crushed, but Xander might be able to.”
“Okay, what would I roll against?” – Yohan.
“Hand eye coordination is normally Dexterity man.”
“Okay, but, like, I use Combat Skill to block incoming attacks. In a way, that’s kind of what I’m doing.” – Yohan.
“You want to, Parry him?” – Dev.
“Yeah, use that Guardian ability to parry an attack on an ally. The ground is the ally, the guard is my projectile weapon.” – Sins, who is very good at finding loopholes. an ass-hat.
“Yohan, what’s your Dex?”
“28.” – Yohan, dejected, to the disappointed sighs of the rest of the table.
“Yeah sorry man, roll away.”
He rolled a 06.A faint golden glowing statue of a guard slowly tips over the side of the wall, to be safely caught in the gigantic arms of Xander Rothgar, who honestly looks surprised. One gigantic hand rests on the captive man’s chest, the other supports his head. The Feartarbh, holding the guard
“Hurry, there’s more guards coming.” – Breanna, in a quiet, hissing whisper down to her companions at the base of the wall. She then hugs the now affixed anchor, hoping that the shroud of her daemonic magic will hide the massive steel object from any approaching guards.
Below, Xander looks at the guard in his hands, unsure if the cold, statue-like figure is still alive after such a fall.
“I take no pleasure in this, but we can’t have you raising the alarm. I am sorry.” – Xander, who attempts to break the man’s neck, but is perhaps a little too strong for his own good, and twists the guard’s head entirely off, ripping through flesh and bone. The Feartarbh retches a little, drops the two pieces of the guard, and follows Harold and Maebh up the thick rope, as quietly as he can manage.
“I guess, I tried to pull a little more because of the armour, but, well, too much pull. Way, way too much pull.” – Yohan.“Bree, quiet now. I’m going to try something. You’re going to look like that guard. Just don’t try any speaking or anything, cause it won’t be right.” – Kel, still invisible, who lays a hand on the shrouded figure of Breanna. To anyone watching, Breanna is now the mirror image of the now deceased guard.
“What do you mean it won’t be right?” – Breanna, in a confused whisper.
“Your voice is basically coming out of his sternum Bree, and you still sound like a little girl. Now quiet!” – Kel, his disembodied voice whispering back.
As an aside, and fittingly for our last real adventure together, Dev rolled a 99 on his Climb Check for Harold here. He re-rolled it with a Luck Point, but we got to crack out the good old, ‘Which one’s the tens?’ again, one last time.“Wait a minute, I don’t think that worked properly…” – Kel, muttering to himself.
Before him, there’s a shadowy figure still clinging to the anchor, but protruding from the top of it, the illusory shape of the top half of the guard, from approximately the bottom of his ribcage up. It looks unnatural, and that is what Harold, Maebh and Xander see as they reach the top of the wall.
“Oh gods, Bree, what are you doing?” – Harold, disturbed.
“Shhh, just get over the wall. Kel’s set up the hook on the other side, go, go, go.” – Breanna, whispering back.
Harold darts over the wall and begins his descent, and Maebh begins to clamber her way up onto the wall.
“Stop, Maebh, stop! Stay still, someone’s coming.” – The disembodied voice of Kel, in a hissed whisper as a guard, torch in hand, approaches along the wall from the east.
The guard spots Breanna, or rather, can see a bit of another guard in the darkness, leaning out over the wall, and calls out.
“Harry, is that you?” – The guard.
Mindful of Kel’s advice, Breanna does not speak, but merely waves in response.
“Are you… Are you drunk on duty Harry? We’re at war, there’s literally a battle outside the gates, you can’t be drinking on duty!” – The guard.
Breanna, sweating profusely, just waves at the guard, in a somewhat non-committal fashion.
“Look, Harry, are you okay?” – The guard, clearly concerned. He starts to move closer to Breanna, but she just waves her hand again, and nods.
“Okay LD, I’ll get you to roll Deception please, with some pretty hefty negatives.”
“But you do get a bonus +20 from Mislead.” – Sins.
“Sweet, means a +40 bonus all up.” – LD, who proceeds to roll a 03.
“I cannot believe this is working.”“Well, alright Harry, if you say so. Stay out of trouble, and keep your eyes peeled.” – The guard, who turns around and heads back the way he came.
Maebh alights on the top of the wall and immediately begins her climb down on the other side, joining Harold in the shadows at the base of the wall inside the keep. Following her, Xander finally clambers to the top and huddles next to the shaky Breanna.
“Well done. I can’t believe that worked. You look like an abomination.” – Xander, quietly.
“I can’t believe it either. This is a hot mess.” – Breanna, to a confused expression from Xander, who doesn’t understand what the young people say these days, or something like that.
As they sit there together, they can see the faint, almost golden glimmer of the Harvest Moon rising out over the ocean.
“It won’t be long now then. The queen’s probably starting her ritual.” – Xander, quietly.
“I don’t think my grappling hook is going to hold you Xander.” – The still invisible Kel’Serrar, who is keeping watch in both directions for more guards.
“No, it won’t. This thing barely did. I’m going to shift it over. Xander, wait here, don’t move.” – Breanna, who awkwardly takes the massive grappling hook, taking it over to the other side of the wall and tries to set it in place there. The sight is bizarre, as the upper half of a crouched Elspeth Queensguard appears to be projected from a vague shadowy shape hauling a small anchor.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” – Kel’Serrar, who slides down the rope of his own grappling hook and joins Maebh and Harold at the base of the wall. The three huddle in the shadows at the base of the wall, looking out over an empty, wide, stone courtyard.
Breanna tries to affix the hook again, and yet again it scrapes on the stone, and the noise rings out in the night air. It draws the attention of the inquisitive guard from before, who turns and starts making his way back. Seeing this, Xander immediately drops down from the top of the wall, holding onto the edge of the crenellations by his fingertips, hoping that he wasn’t seen.
“Harry! We need to talk!” – The guard, returning.
Breanna sighs, and releases the hold on her own magic, allowing the shadowy shroud around her to fall away, relying entirely on the Kel’Serrar’s arcane workings. She straightens, leaving the anchor unsecured, and stands in front of it, hoping to hide it with her illusory body.
“Harry, are you okay? I know we’ve had this talk already, and it has only been a week, but we really need to see you making some changes, yeah?” – The guard, who comes entirely too close to Breanna, the light emanating from the torch he holds down in his hand, just about blinding the Leathe, who is about a foot shorter in height than the man she’s impersonating.
“Can I just say, this has been our most successful mission by a ****ing mile. I mean, for starters, we haven’t resorted to nuking the city yet.” – Yohan.
“You’re just saying that to distract everyone from the fact that you murdered Harry.” – Dev.
“Xander’s a monster.” – LD.
“Xander’s a beast. He’d kill at cross-fit.” – Yohan.
“I think most cross-fit classes frown upon in-class murder.”“Look, Harry, are you back on the crash again?” – The guard, concerned.
Breanna just shakes her head.
“No, don’t give me that rubbish, look at you. You’re falling asleep on the job, falling over, you’re always unsteady, hurting yourself. You’re breaking our hearts Harry!” – The guard, starting to become rather animated.
Crash is a colloquial term for a relatively common narcotic in the Midlands. It goes a by a few other names, but it is relatively inexpensive, highly addictive and considered an illicit substance in most lands. While not directly dangerous to the user’s health, the effects it has on the user can lead to one getting into all sorts of trouble as they become lethargic, unsteady and, after extensive periods of use, they start to suffer hallucinations.
“Sounds like you might have performed a mercy killing.” – Sins, to Yohan.
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“Look, Laurel told me if you don’t give it up, she’ll take the kids and go. You need to stop.” – The guard, voice starting to choke up.
Breanna nods, and holds a hand up to her throat as if she too is choking up.
“Why won’t you talk to me Harry!?” – The guard, clearly distraught.
Bree can’t think of anything, so she just shrugs. She can see that, while the guard is still buying it, none of this is making sense to him. He’s starting to get suspicious.
“Harry, we just want what’s best for you. We’re your friends, your family.” – The guard, trying to get closer to Breanna / Harry, but the disguised Leathe subtly, imperceptibly, backs away. Slowly but surely, she’s getting closer and closer to where Xander is still hanging, muscles straining to stay on the wall, as still and silent as possible.
“Bree, offer him a hug.” – Xander, under his breath, as quietly as he can, hoping that Breanna is able to hear him.
Thankfully, the Leathe’s hearing is keen. She holds out her arms to the guard, as if to embrace him. The guard accepts, stepping forward to take ‘Harry’ in his arms, but the hug goes awry as his arms pass through the illusion, completely clearing the Leathe’s head. The illusion fades, leaving only a crouching, black-furred Leathe where ‘Harry’ once stood.
“Wait, what?” – The guard, who immediately reaches for the horn at his belt. As he does so, a massive, horned, black-furred shape rushes up onto the top of the wall.
Xander’s massive fist punches the man in the head and he goes flying.
“You crushed his head like a tomato can.” – In my best Texan accent. Together, Breanna and Xander climb down the other side of the wall, joining their companions in the courtyard of the keep. Ahead lies the Eagle Palace, and presumably, somewhere within it, the Queen Esmerelda of Elspeth. So close now, to achieving their goal, the five companions steal away into the shadows, seeking a back entrance into the palace.
Out on the fields outside the city, the battle has been joined in earnest, as formations of troops from Elspeth and Naille meet on the grassy fields. Siege engines whip flaming projectiles through the otherwise still air, many of which crash into the city itself. The cries of panic, the roar of flames and the clamour of alarms has overtaken the night, and out in the city proper, chaos reigns. Within the confines of the keep however, everything is quiet, still, like the calm before the storm, or perhaps, the pocket of calm in the centre of the storm.
Overhead, beholding it all, the Harvest Moon continues its inexorable rise into the night-sky.
And we left it there…
The Wrap-Up:
My apologies again for how long this took to write up. I have been extraordinarily busy trying to organise everything in my life at the moment. I suppose in addition to that, there’s the sadness that comes with telling the end of a story. I’ve never been very good at finishing things, but this is one thing that I have. Or at least, I have for those who played it, and lived it with me for the last seven years.
With that out of the way, I think this might have been one of my favourite sessions we have ever played. It was tense, with moments of light-heartedness and some very touching scenes at times. There was also some really good teamwork, as they worked together to ensure that everyone got through. I believe we saved one of the best to the very end.
So, with that, we’re very close now to the end.
See you soon, hopefully, with the next instalment.
Thank you for reading,
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