The Kingdom Mine - Let's Play Betrayal at Krondor!

As they carefully circled the hill, Gorath cursed quietly and motioned for them to halt. "Damn. It seems that Lucan has friends. I wonder if they were waiting here before we met him, or if he somehow summoned them after we left."

"Doesn't matter," Locklear said, gritting his teeth. "The slippery bastard's no doubt long gone by now. Let's take these three and see what's in that chest they have.

Charge into Battle



This time as the first of them saw Owyn's staff and robes and identified him, Gorath was ready. As the thug charged the Moredhel readied one of the flaming quarrels they'd retrieved from the grave in LaMut. Murmuring a brief impercation, he took aim and fired...and the advancing man's shoulders burst into flame as the naptha struck him, splashing and igniting in the same moment. Owyn shuddered at the sight of the screaming figure still moving towards him, but he knew what he had to do, and in another moment a ball of fire shot from the mage's fingertips to complete the bravo's incineration, lightly scoring his companions even as Gorath and Locklear each paired off. Gorath took several light blows, and suffered one shallow but lengthy gash along his shoulder before he dropped his opponent even as Locklear fenced rapidly with his, blades ringing even as the dark elf produced another firy quarrel...and ended the fight with another burst of flame and heat and light.



Owyn frowned as he helped his companions search the bodies of the toughs. Tucked into the sleeve of one was a crumpled slip of paper, and while Gorath and Locklear closed on the chest they'd been guarding he began to read.



Mates: It looks as if I may have opened my mouth a bit too wide. I think these funny talking Elves what live in the Northlands may have caught on to the fact I've nicked some of their booty. You best go and clear out our safe box near Hawk's Hollow, but remember I puts a lock on it so none else could get in it. -Lucan

Owyn's frown deepened...and then he gasped, quickly muttering the words to the Scent of Sarig and almost immediately getting a strong sense of danger from the chest. "Locklear!" He shouted even as the squire had slipped his picks into the lock. "Do-"

Locklear glanced up, fingers jerking, one of the slender implements in the lock snapping...but not before there was a *click*-*SNAP* from inside the chest. And then, the top of the chest exploded.

The blast was focused up and out, and later Locklear would noticed that inside the chest's hollow lid was a steel plate to prevent the box's contents from being destroyed by the trap, even as distillate of naptha drove a fireball and bits of iron through the space that Locklear would have been if Gorath hadn't already been moving as Owyn shouted, tackling Locklear and driving him back from the erupting chest.

Still, both were singed, exposed skin blistering in places from the heat of the blast, stray pieces of iron that must have come from some blacksmith's scrap heap plowing furrows in cheeks and shoulders and arms. one even punched into Locklear's flesh, and while Owyn carefully sought for it with a boot knife that Gorath had given him, the dark elf examined the chest's contents, hoping that it had been worth the price.



((LP-er's note: Because I'm an idiot and forgot to screencap the gem before I sold it, this is the one you can buy at Hawk's Hollow. The one in the chest was actually 15%, not 100%))

After Owyn saw to their burns as best they could and they limped back to the Dusty Dwarf for two days of careful recovery, they headed east along the valley's southern perimeter. "We won't go all the way to the Dimwood and Sethanon," Locklear said, "But I this valley's an excellent place for some of the infiltrators we've run into to set up camps. If we can clear them out before we move on it may make the rest of our journey easier."



It wasn't long before they had confirmation of the Squire's suspicions: a wordlock chest tucked in a copse between two hills...and three moredhel to guard it.

Fight to the Death




And this time, it was too much for Owyn. In no more than two week's time he'd seen more death than in rest of his life, and he'd taken life, taken it with the magic he was still learning to wield. So this time the fear and the disgust were too much for him, and as he cast his spell his hand shook, the flaming orb skitting off to the side of the advancing moredhel until it exploded against a distant hillside with a muted roar.

His second, however, did not, incinerating one of the three warriors while Gorath set another alight with those dreadfully effective quarrels with the naptha heads. As the fight went on and one of the moredhel attempted to flee, Owyn was even able to draw him back, reaching out with his magic to snare the retreating fighter and force his steps to bring him closer to the mage where Locklear's final blow spattered the young man with blood.

Perhaps it was the blood that did it. As Gorath and the last warrior traded blows Owyn readed a final Flamecast, but his hand trembled and he couldn't keep his eyes open, couldn't watch any more today. And so when the spell left his hand and lashed out it slipped past one moredhel to hit another, bathing Gorath in flame. The other dark elf was killed in the blast, but Owyn was sobbing as he rushed forward to tend Gorath's wounds, his fingers fumbling for the herbal wraps that would speed healing and ward off infection.

"I'll...be fine, boy..." Gorath managed to get out from between cracked lips. He was burned, but without Owyn's will to sustain it the damage was not as bad as it could've been, and was mostly superficial. "But you must learn better care...and better aim."

As they rested, Locklear studied the note they had retrieved from the chest after entering 'KEY' into the lock.

The Six indicate dissident activity centered near Inclindel region. Should any Moredhel not bearing the agreed upon hand tattoo pass into the Kingdom, you are to assassinate them summarily, and above all, PREVENT CONTACT WITH KRONDOR.

"They've been ahead of you the entire way, Gorath," spat the squire, tossing the note to the ground. "Unless we can find and silence whoever keeps these bands in communication I don't know that anything we do can shake our pursuers or prevent them from appearing ahead of us again and again."

"Agreed," Gorath said, then hissed as Owyn began to change his dressings. "But first, Loriel and the stolen ruby."

Locklear nodded and joined the dark elf in gazing at the young man from Tiburn. "Are you going to be alright, Owyn? I know you're no trained warrior, or even a full-fledged wizard-"

Owyn winced.

"-but this sort of journey where we're harried on all sides by enemies that seem to know our every move, outnumbered and outmaneuvered, it would be hard even for some of the veteran campaigners I've met. You've adjusted quickly and learned quickly...and I'm glad to have you along."

Owyn was quiet for a long time, and then he looked to gorath. The dark elf's face was stiff with healing skin, but he managed a very, very slight smile, "You have helped us many times. I will not begrudge you the occasional accident," he said.

((Soooo, obvious that I didn't take enough screenshots this round? Or rather, that it's hard to get good screencaps of just grinding combat? I'll try to get the next post up sometime saturday night, but it may take me a few days to catch up to where I can play a bit more. I'm headed from CO to the Upper Peninsula of MI to do the "Family X-mas" thing. Hope you're all still enjoying so far, and please provide comments, feedback, suggestions, and constructive criticism.))

A one-off post that covers the actual mechanics of combat might be an interesting diversion. (By which I mean, I like it, and can only hope I'm not the only one.) The stamina/HP mechanism is a little unusual. Drawback: can't be done without breaking kayfabe.

Personally, I'm finding your narratives top notch. I can easily see you getting burnt out quicky, so if you feel at any time that it's too much please feel free to cut down on it. Even though it's awesome. And quite possibly the best part, to me. I like how you couch the game mechanics into the story.

I agree with this. I definitely wouldn't mind out-of-character updates that explain the game mechanics.

Yeah, as much as I love your narration, I also love mechanics talk. Must be my nascent programmer self or growing up in a machine shop.

So noted. I'll take time out every now and then to add more parenthetical (()) comments explaining mechanics, and I'll use the next fight worth covering in depth to go over the combat system.

That said, it's nearly 5AM here, which means its time for me to hit the road and head east. It's 1,383 miles to Sault Ste. Marie. I've got a full tank of gas, a passenger seat full of books on CD, tape, and MP3, it's snowing, and I'm wearing glasses.

See you all sometime this weekend!

Hit it.

Safe driving...i drove east on Thursday to miss the 10 inches of snow in Madison, WI.

On the game: can you remind us of how the inventory works? Is it space (Diablo-like) as well as weight? Are the %'s on armor/weapons how effective they are vs. the theoretical maximum of that type of item? Are spells permanently learned by Owen, because I recall in the books the 'lower' magic schools had to rememorize spells after each use (yet he blinds multiple enemies per fight?!)?

Basically, what's under the hood?

I'm really enjoying the writing, even if it's of battles.

Man, remember when digitized people was all the rage in games? I'm so glad we learned our lesson!

While Brer's away, I remember a few of these....

The percentage is the remaining durability of that item; once it hits 0%, it breaks. Partial repairs in the field are possible with the right tools (whetstones for swords, for example), based on the weaponcraft and armorcraft skill ratings of that character. It's also a measure of effectiveness, but I can't remember if it's strictly linear - I think armor at 1% is still better than 0.01 normal protection. Brer?

Yep.

Inventory: everything occupies one space, and characters have a finite carrying capacity (20, not counting equipped gear). However, not everything stacks - you can carry a bunch of crossbow bolts in one space, but potions go in one by one. Strict management is necessary, especially since you usually need to haul around a big stack of rations - there's always more worth carrying than you can.

Dark times, indeed. I must find my copy of the manual - you should see the character photos in there. Clearly done on a budget of at least $3.

Actually, I believe it IS linear. What you may be remembering is that most items cannot break: that is, they have a min. %-age they'll get to before stopping degrading. Kingdom Armor bottoms out at 10% durability, for example.


Not quite. I'll try to illustrate this tomorrow, but while you're right that it's about 20 slots, different items do take up different amounts of space. Most items take up 1 slot, most swords/crossbows take up 2, armor takes up 4. Because there's no fixed grid, this may not be immediately apparent to people looking at a single screen, but once you start moving things around it becomes clear.


The manual's available online at replacementdocs, as pimped in one of the first threads. Honestly I wonder if the devs didn't pose for the pics. That said, I actually think that photographed actors->sprites can work nicely as an artistic style...but you have to have good actors/costumes to begin with unless you're going down in resolution significantly (everyone looked quite good for 1993 in combat, I always thought.)

Anyway, obviously I'm back. Family comes first for obvious reasons but I'm going to try and start posting again tomorrow, time permitting.

Clearly my memories are failing me more than I thought.

As they retreated to Hawk's Hollow to allow Gorath to rest and recover, the moredhel looked troubled. "We need to clear the valley," he said.

"What? Why?" Owyn asked, blinking as he glanced up from where he was replacing the dark elf's dressings.

"Because, Owyn, Locklear's right, this area is a crossroads for this part of the kingdom, and if we do not clear it now we will be unable to go to Loriel and return without facing ambushes there and back again, not to mention possibly allowing Delekhan's agents to determine our goal and be there before us. Kiefer Alescook cannot tell us much if he has a moredhel sword in his gut."

Locklear sighed, nodding. "He's right," the squire said after a long moment. "We'll have to scour the valley before we head north to Loriel. If nothing else it will give you a chance to practice your aim, Owyn."

The young man flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, pricked by Locklear's words, and he was twisting to snap at the other man he realized that the other two were smiling at him, and that the squire's tone had not been accusatory. He flushed again and subsided, only muttering "alright" as he finished tying off the fresh bandages.

It took another day, but at its end Gorath was entirely recovered save for a little stiffness in the skin at one side of his cheek and neck. They moved east once more, spreading out and moving as quietly as they could through the scattered trees and over the rolling terrain of the broad valley, until they scented the reek of old smoke and burning things.




A low, dingy shack was tucked away in the far southeastern part of the valley, and when no one answered their knock they peered into the hut through an ash stained window pane. Inside they could see bones strewn across the dirt floor like forgotten toys, playthings of a death-god long gone mad. Against the far wall eyeless skulls were heaped one atop another with no particular sense of order or orientation.





Gorath emerged some time later with a surprisingly new-looking shovel. "I left our old one in there," he said as he started to stow the tool. "This one will last us longer."

Let's Play Betrayal At Krondor: Special X-Mas Edition

Also known as the special "Brer is an idiot and didn't bring either a bunch of the screenshots he needs to finish the next segment, OR an old save." So, since starting over to quickly recapture those turns out not to be practical (I just don't have enough time on the computer here) I'm going to be taking this...opportunity...to focus on the various game mechanic and storyline/setting questions people have. So, if you have any beyond what we've already gone over, by all means bring them up!

I'm prepping a post on inventory and combat mechanics tonight and hope to have it up sometime tomorrow.

EDIT: Nope, not going to happen. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but I'm just not getting sufficient time with this computer. 30 minutes here and there is enough to post a bit on here but not to prepare a dissertation on game mechanics or advance the LP. I'll try again once I get home to CO, which will hopefulyl be sometime Saturday Afternoon/Evening.

I just caught up on the thread, and as someone who hasn't read any Feist, nor played this game, I just wanted to say "Woo! Go thread! Yay!"

Alright, I'm back, and I have all my resources back at my fingertips! Sorry about that brief de-railment, ladies and gentlemen, and the Let's Play will resume with a continuation of the plot AND a more in-depth treatment of the combat system as soon as I feel recovered from my road-trip (I make good time on these things, but at the usual price). Possibly tonight, more probably sunday/monday. Watch this space!

They headed north again, skirting the eastern edge of the valley and following what appeared to be an old hunting track. Several hours north of the charnel hut they caught sight of what might have been an old cottage through the trees and turned east into a small draw.



Owyn frowned, gesturing to the windows. "The place looks run down from the outside, but the windows still have glass in them, and it looks like someone hung canvas or something similar on the other side," he said as he moved towards the door.

"Careful, Owyn," Gorath said, eying the house and shifting one hand to his sword hilt. "Remember what we discussed about Delekhan's rats having a nest in this area..."

The young mage never had a chance to knock. Without warning a moredhel warrior charged at them from the other side of the small house, prepared to kill or be killed. “Look out!” screamed Locklear, readying himself as two more dark elves emerged from around the house's other side. “Ambush!”

((Begin OOC Stuff:And for the rest of this post, I'm going OOC or breaking kayfabe as Mazian put it, though as I haven't worn spandex or broken a chair over anyone's head in months I'm not sure the term applies...

...anyway, I'll be using the following battle to go over how the combat system works. The battle will still be compressed, as at this stage in the game I'm still missing 33-50% of the time.

Now, first things first: Initiative. I've never figured out if individual initiative is determined by the speed stat (which is also how many squares a character can move), randomly for each battle, or some combination of the two. However, I am fairly certain that your speed stat (which you cannot increase through the game) plays a defining role, as Owyn almost always goes first in my party, and Gorath last.

Side initiative is determined based on whether or not there was an ambush. Some encounters are normal and you can see the enemy milling around before you get to them, allowing you to click on them to try and ambush -them- (you've seen me try that in earlier posts), while others like this one are ambushes that only trigger when you click on a building or pass through a certain space. There's no way to detect this one in advance, but for the ones on the road can be spotted with a successful scouting check, allowing you to try and sneak past without triggering the battle at all.




The moredhel start off by closing in and taking thrusts at Gorath and Locklear, missing both times. Before the third one can move, Owyn gets his turn.



At the moment, my combat spells are limited to Despair Thy Eyes (2 round blindness on one enemy which lowers their attack skills and makes them likely to just stand there), Invitation (drag the target one square towards Owyn for every stamina or health point spent), The Gift of Sung (1-1 transfer of health/stamina from Owyn to someone else, which I almost never use. If you see blue numbers over a character's head, that's healing.), and finally Flamecast, your classic fireball spell.

I'm using Flamecast even if it's not always the smartest tactical decision at this point in the game because I want to grind Owyn's Accuracy: Casting ability to 100% as soon as possible. Flamecast does cost x 3 damage to the target if it hits, and about 20-25% splash damage to anyone within 2 squares. Other spellcasters and certain critters tend to be resistant to damage from the spell, but that's not an issue here, so I'll be casting it at max cost.



As you can see, Owyn has 45 Health and 50 Stamina at this point. This takes him down to 45 health, 30 stamina as stamina is depleted first. The main reason this is important is that losing stamina doesn't affect you in any way, but losing health will impact all your skills.

For example, if Owyn was to get knocked down to 30 health (2/3rds of his health total), all his skills would ALSO be at 2/3rds, including his casting accuracy, melee accuracy, and defensive ability. In short, once you start losing health you are in serious danger of getting into a negative feedback loop. This is accentuated for spellcasters who use health and stamina to cast magic spells.

One final note on Health/Stamina. "How do you increase them?" I hear you cry. You get one point of each for every month or so of game time that passes. For obvious reasons, this means that this is one of those games where fighting conservatively and resting a LOT (which in turn speeds the passage of time) helps. It was my tendency to just sleep the entire (12 hour) "night" while travelling rather than popping out torches or lighting spells that gave me a much needed health boost the first time I beat this game.



Huh. You'll note above that Owyn has a casting accuracy of 73%, but only a 50% chance to-hit that Moredhel he's incinerating. This is actually pretty simple, because for all ranged combat (spells and crossbows), the skill is your unmodified chance to hit at point blank range (1 square between you and the enemy. You can't use magic or crossbows at melee range), and the number drops from there. I'll go into crossbows in another combat when everyone has crossbows, is decent with them, and they're actually a practical combat option.



In the meantime, Owyn managed to hit this time, and this early in the game a maxed-out Flamecast is enough to kill (or cripple, because the health-skills link works for enemies too) most enemies with one shot. The moredhel goes down while Locklear gears up to attack the moredhel.



Melee gets a little more complicated because you have two attack options: Thrust and Swing. Thrusts are the basic attack, while swings usually do more damage (except with certain weapons like rapiers) and usually hit less often, while costing a little stamina. If you're down to health with no stamina left, you can't swing.

The basic formula for accuracy: Melee skill +/- Weapon Accuracy. If the enemy's defending, I believe (though I'm not sure) that it subtracts the enemy's defensive skill from your to-hit without telling you.

EDIT: As I was. Damn my desire to get this thread rolling again. The enemy's defensive skill has a small effect on your to-hit at all times (which you see). It just does it for the full value as well when you or the enemy is defending (which you don't see).

Base weapon damage is strength + weapon damage. Finally, weapon accuracy and damage are modified directly by a weapon's condition, so a 50% weapon only adds 50% of its damage and accuracy mods to those formulae.

It may sound sort of complex, but from what I've seen of the actual formulae used in a lot of JRPGs or other PC RPGs that didn't start out as tabletop games, it's actually pretty simple. No worse than some of the more complicated and less user-friendly pen and paper RPGs out there. Not that I think it's directly translatable, mind you, but it's interesting that if you really wanted you COULD do almost all of this game's number crunching in your head as long as you're good at %-ages/fractions.

Anyway, since I didn't save a screencap of locklear's respective to-hits for this battle (I reproduced these shots by re-splitting one of my animated .gifs after everyone asked for a mechanics discussion), I'll demonstrate by figuring out what his to-hit and damage would've been:

Thrust: The to-hit is Locklear's skill (75%) + Moredhel Lamprey's thrust accuracy mod (+5) = 80%, because I'm not going to do the fractions of 95+% of that 5% mod. Damage is strength (18) + the sword's thrust damage mod (+3) = 21 damage.

Swing:The to-hit once more is Locklear's skill (75%) + sword's swing accuracy mod (-5) = 70%. The damage would be strength (18) + the sword's swing damage mod (+15) = 33.

EDIT, part 2: As noted in the upper edit, these accuracy figures are before the defense skill modification.

I decided to thrust, both to conserve stamina and because you gain skill more quickly for successful uses of a skill than failed ones, and...



Hey! That's not 21 damage! Brer, you fail math forever!

Except I don't (I hope), because there are two defensive factors at play here: the moredhel's armor, and the moredhel's defense skill. Both reduce damage by a fixed %-age (modded in the case of the armor by it's condition). Kingdom Armor (which I know he's wearing) absorbed 10% of the blow, and his defensive skill absorbed about another 15% (I don't know how that works because it's definately less than the full value of your defense skill). The best armor in the game actually has a rating of about 70% if I remember correctly, turning 100 damage deathblows into 30 damage taps even before your defense skill comes into play.

((OOC Battle Part 2:



I debated having Owyn fire off another Flamecast here, but in the end I decided to avoid having to rest too long after the battle (and to avoid the risk of friendly fire incidents like the one you may remember from an earlier combat in this Let's play) and cast Despair Thy Eyes again, blinding and effectively nullifying Gorath's opponent...



While Locklear swings and connects for a nice chunk of damage to his opponent. Again, note how that theoretical max of 33 becomes 30 from the armor, then 26 from the moredhel's defensive ability (although again, I don't know the ins and outs of the calculations for defense and may have that order of operations wrong).




This time even though Gorath whiffed you can see the rough relationship between strength, accuracy: melee skill, and swing and thrust accuracy and damage. You don't have the other moredhel's stats, but you can infer them to an extent.



Blinding the other defender, just to ensure that Locklear and Gorath have a clear field. This becomes habit rapidly, re-casting Despair Thy Eyes every few rounds on each moredhel in the fray.





And that's all she wrote. At this point in the game, it only takes 2-3 good hits to kill your average moredhel. Of course, it only takes 5-6 good hits to kill your guys as well, so it's entirely possible for a relatively short run of bad luck (or a friendly fire incident with a Flamecast) to turn the battle around very quickly. For similar reasons, enemy spellcasters are very, very dangerous, as we'll see before the end of the week I hope.

Starting with the next post we're back in character and meeting an old acquaintance of Locklear's. Hope you're all still following this, and that you'll bring up any further questions/criticisms/thoughts about the game's mechanics or my coverage of them. I know I promised an inventory treatment, but that's not worth its own post, so I'll work that in as we go.

End OOC Stuff.))

Locklear blinked. For a long moment he stared at his dead opponent, pulse pounding in his veins as he waited for yet another enemy to come on, teeth bared or blade flashing, but instinctively he knew they had won this fight. They were safe for the moment.

It took some time to get everyone on their feet again. “Let's see if they left anything behind in the house,” Locklear said.

Unfortunately, while there were signs that the assassins had been living at the abandoned house for several weeks, it appeared that the only things of value were their equipment and a pair of lockpick probes that Locklear pocketed. No maps, no notes, no signs what the trio had been doing in this part of the valley.

"Well, it was a thought," Locklear sighed as Gorath and Owyn finished looting the bodies.

"Interesting that they were apparently here with only limited external support," Gorath said, lifting a cracked and stringless crossbow that one of the three had had slung across his back. "No warrior would allow his weapon to degrade so if he had had any way of securing a new string or a bit of adventurine."

The squire nodded, then shrugged. "However long Delekhan's been seeding the western realm with scouts, spies, and assassins, now that he's lost you I suspect they'll all be getting renewed support unless Arutha can get word to tighten up the patrols along the Teeth of the World..." He replied, trailing off as his lips tightened at another thought. "And if you're right about his pet magicians even that may not stop them from reinforcing. In any case, we'll sweep back west to finish clearing this valley, then push north to Loriel and have a chat with this Alescook about that ruby."

They set off, and the sun was nearly setting before they returned to one of the main roads that passed through the area. They turned northeast then, stopping only to retrieve a few more picklocks, several handfuls of silver royals, and a pearlescent shell from two roadside caches. They were nearing the northwestern corner of the valley, where the road turned east to meet the road to Loriel, when Owyn gestured ahead towards a brightly-clad figure approaching them down the road.

Jimmy The Hand ((no, it's not actually Jimmy, yet. Again, I didn't name these tracks))

Locklear smiled. Although the approaching man seemed half a hand shorter for the passage of eleven years, his halting stride was still as personal to him as his signature. Ages past Isaac had suffered his limp proudly, worn it like an injury sustained on a field of battle and for that he had gained the respect and admiration of Krondor's young squires, Locklear among them. His tragic expulsion from Arutha's court had been a blow to them all.

“I thought I recognized you,” Isaac said, grinning as he looked the squire over.





"It has, yes," Isaac chuckled, lifting one hand to brush a few stray strands of hair back over an ear, "and the years haven't exactly been easy ones, but I've been getting by. What are you doing up here in Hawk's Hollow, though? Tell me, and perhaps I can help."

“I've just returned from a military assignment and it's imperative that I get south as soon and as inconspicuously as possible," Locklear said, pursing his lips. "I don't think I can say more at the moment. Are there any places you think we should avoid?”

"Well then," Isaac said, eying all three of them with a new interest, "at all costs, you'll want to avoid the road from Eggley to Tannerus. There is a festival to be held in Eggley and it's likely your elven companion would be spotted right away."

Locklear restrained the urge to glance at Gorath before he replied, attempting to keep the lightness in his voice. "What makes you think we're off to Krondor?"

"Elves don't come much out of Elvandar and they are even less likely to travel in the company of a boy and seigneur when they do take to voyaging," Isaac replied, and Locklear tried not to sigh in relief at the former squire's assumption. "Whatever you three are about, I assumed it must involve the good of the Kingdom. Krondor would be the only logical place for you to go."

There was a moment's silence, and then the squire shrugged. "Wherever we're bound, someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to be certain we stay clear of the eastern side of the Orseinnes. We found traps on the road leading east.”

“You assume those traps were laid for you,” Isaac pointed out, brow furrowing as he glanced down the trail. “Perhaps they were laid there to prevent someone in the east from slipping west. I can't see any real advantage in keeping someone out of Hawk's Hollow or Loriel, but I can see a very definite advantage in keeping someone out of LaMut. I think you would be better advised to move south and west, away from whatever is laying them out.”

Locklear nodded slowly before replying. "Yes, well, we've other problems as well. These roads seem littered with those anxious to anticipate our movements. Do you know of anyone in this area that seems to have unusual skills? Some one who seems like they know your thoughts?"

"No..." Isaac said, his eyebrows going back up as he eyed Locklear once more. "I can't say that I have, but a certain pokiir player that I lost a great deal of money to in Eggley comes to mind. Name of Devon, I believe. It took me quite a while to make up the funds I lost during a single night playing against him. He very nearly took every sovereign I'd made in a month's time."

Locklear nodded again, weighing the rather tenuous lead against Isaac's other comments about the festival in that area. "I'll bear that in mind, thank you...but as much as I would like to stand about gossiping, I suppose we three need to hie back to the road before Prince Arutha sends out a search party for us."

Isaac grinned, brows lifting even higher for a moment. "Ah, then the Prince is expecting you...Please send his highness my regards."

"I shall," Locklear said, smiling as he reached to clasp the other man's hand one last time. "Take care of yourself, Isaac!"

Owyn frowned slightly as they moved east, glancing back towards where Isaac had stopped them. "You said he had to flee the court at Krondor," the young man finally said to Locklear, "can we trust him?"

Locklear's expression mirrored Owyn's for a moment before twisting into a wry smile. "Not completely," he said. "Mind you, I don't think Isaac would lie to me outright. But I wouldn't put it past him to...shade things...or to leave inconvenient details out of his explanations if it suited him."

"I see," Owyn said, falling silent as they approached the bend north towards Loriel. And then he stopped, reaching out to grab Gorath's sleeve with his free hand. "Look there," he said. "I think there's a moredhel hiding just over the crest of that hill, watching the road."

Gorath squinted, then cursed as he caught the glint where the setting sun flashed from something near the crest of a low hill just east of the road. "Damn. A lone scout, watching the road no doubt, and he's seen us. Come on!"

Fight to the Death



The fight went poorly. The moredhel was quicker than most they'd fought so far, rolling clear of Owyn's first spell, then deftly deflecting both Gorath and Locklear's blades. He stepped upslope , forcing the companions into each other for a moment and allowing him to dive away once more as Owyn cast again, this time winging Locklear with the fiery orb.

Owyn gasped with effort, throwing his blinding spell at the nimble dark elf before leaning heavily on his staff to rest. Locklear swore, rolling to extinguish the flames that licked along one side of his tunic while Gorath took advantage of the scout's blindness to strike, swinging a mighty overhanded blow that sliced deep into the moredhel's shoulder.

The moredhel grunted rather than screaming, his sword thudding to the hillside, but still he remained upright and turned to run, outpacing Gorath quickly despite his wound. Gorath swore with Locklear, first when he was forced to hastily ready his crossbow, then louder as the bolt flew wide, a sudden gust of wind directing the ungainly naptha-tipped missile to set Locklear alight once more!

Locklear screamed this time, and it was all that Owyn could do to a final spell. His desperate incantation quenched the flames around Locklear and smoothed his reddening and blistering flesh even as the agony of the wounds filled the young mage's body in turn, driving him to his knees.

Gorath fired a second bolt, and a third, but by then the scout was gone into the copse on the far side of the hill, and the moredhel turned to see to his companions. "I think that the way north from here will not be free of interference," he murmured as he examined the squire's injuries. "That one will warn his superiors of our presence."

It's a Trap

Gorath was right.



Again and again they were attacked as they moved north.





Harried at night when they made camp. Leapt upon from hilltops and from ditches by the roadside, moredhel blades and moredhel faces emerging from the shadow of trees or out from under dirt-covered cloaks to confront them.





And though each time the force that came against them was small, and though each time they beat them back or killed them outright, by the time they came to the magician and his trap they were truly tired.



Still, they fought, and fought well. The three had learned each other's styles and ways of thinking as they moved north, and while the harrying had fatigued them it had also hardened them, Owyn most of all. The young mage didn't give his opposite the opportunity to cast, summoning up his magic to wreathe the moredhel caster in flames even as Locklear readied his crossbow for the coup de grace, the bolt hissing wickedly as it buried itself in the mage's chest, opening the way between the trap's magical tripwires.

With the death of the mage, it seemed as if the moredhel in this part of the west had decided that the party was too dangerous to oppose, for the next day passed without a single skirmish or even a spotting of blue cloaks in the woods. As they rested that night, the first quiet night for several days, Owyn mentioned it to Gorath.

"He might have been the mouthpiece for the Six in this area," Gorath suggested as he carefully passed his whetstone along his blade, scowling at a place where the edge had been notched by the crossguard of an opponent.

"So we may have bought ourselves a few days or even a few weeks of quiet along this stretch before they can move in a replacement."

((That's all for tonight as I'm still recovering from my trip. Tomorrow I'll try to get us through the last of the unfinished business in this area and leave you with the choice of tackling the Tannerus/Eggley stretch or the Sarth stretch for the next section. I hope you can see why I chose a sort of "montage" style for these fights. Most weren't that distinctive, and doing them all in detail would've bogged down the pacing something fierce. Anyway, see you all tomorrow.))

They were a half-day's travel south of Loriel now, and it seemed that Gorath was right once again because they had still seen no more sign of their pursuers. The way was clear now, and they made good time until they reached a large house that squatted just south of Loriel's outskirts.

Locklear glanced at his companions and then back at the house, his brows furrowed. "We might do with a bed for the night outside of town. I'd prefer not to give Alescook warning, and if his business is as shady as it sounds he may have eyes and ears in the local inn ready to bring him word of armed strangers."



A piece of paper dangled from the doorknob. "At all costs, travellers should avoid contact with Orno, known widely as Orno the Pale" Owyn read aloud. "A contagion of unknown proportions has already lead to the illness of three people. Avoid any contact with..." The door swung open. "...him."

Owyn straightened himself as a haggard looking man in his mid twenties appeared in the doorway, his face covered with a bloody handkerchief. "You are Orno?"

"Yessss," he wheezed through his handkerchief. "And you're...on...my dohstep. Get away afore you get yourselves in-fec-ted."

"What is wrong with you?"

The man shook his head. "Don't know, doctor's don't know, priests don't know. Nobody knows. Only persons that's survived is Michele the Healer, but she's a ways off in Loriel."

"I see," Locklear said. "Well, we'll be off now. Sorry to have bothered you."

Again the man nodded. "I'z sure you will be. I'z sure of it."



No one wished to speak about it. Seeing the glazed look in each other's eyes and sickly pallor each had begun to exhibit, it was more than obvious they had fallen prey to some virulent disease. Silently, Locklear hoped they would reach a temple soon before they all died of it.

They'd travelled only an hour or two up the road before the symptoms presented themselves, forcing them to camp early while Owyn inspected each of them in turn. The young man hacked, then coughed twice before giving his diagnosis. "I don't know...this hit us fast...but I think we can make it through without a temple healer...I've got some herbs that should help, and with them and a day or two's rest I think this will pass."

((You can get plagued from several sources, and it's basically like a DoT poison, but one that gets worse if you don't treat it. After 4 hours it'd be 25% instead of 21% for example, and you lose health faster. Using Herbal Packs puts you in a healing state at 100% that steadily drains away as time passes. You heal faster and recover from "sick" or "plagued" that way. So, 3 herbal packs and rest will fix this problem for far less gold than Michele in Loriel or a temple healer.))

Owyn was right, and it took only a few hours of rest by the roadside for them to feel the worst of the fever and its aches leave their bodies. They were left a bit dizzy and light-headed, but after a full night's sleep all three felt fully recovered, and the only stop they made before reaching the outskirts of Loriel was to slip east into a meadow to investigate a wordlocked chest.





"Stranger" opened the lock, and they stowed the money, armor, and another whetstone before they entered Loriel and headed straight for Kiefer Alescook's business.




They arrived at Kiefer's door after asking at the local dry goods store for his whereabouts. There was no sign or shingle out front, no sign that the house was any sort of place of business. "It seems that Kiefer prefers to keep a low profile," Locklear murmured as he knocked soundly on the front door. They were greeted by a thin little man, his brown hair slicked back from a high forehead, perpetually squinting eyes peering shrewdly at his three visitors.

"I'm Keifer Alescook. Have you come to buy or sell some gems?" he questioned in a frail voice.

Locklear moved closer to the door. "We're looking for a ruby that may have been stolen by a group of Grey Warriors. Have you purchased any gemstones from such men?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man said quickly. "I don't buy stolen merchandise. You might try talking to a fellow I ran into north of Hawk's Hollow about it. Name's Isaac if I recall." The man looked about nervously. "I'm...er...not open for business right now. You'll have to come back later."

Before Locklear could say another word Keifer had closed the door. "Now, that was interesting," Owyn murmured, glancing at Locklear. "I guess you were right about your friend Isaac leaving things out."

Locklear nodded abruptly. "Yes. But when I press him on the matter he'll talk to me. He was headed north as well, I believe. We'll wait here for him to pass this way, and have a few words with him."

They waited, passing the time by acquiring the supplies needed to repair their scavenged equipment before selling it back to the local shop.



While Gorath and Locklear took turns honing their repair skills, Owyn kept watch on the road. On the second day, Isaac came into view, and Locklear was ready.

Jimmy




"'Just luck', was it?" Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, perhaps not 'just' luck, old friend," Locklear admitted even as he stepped closer. "It seems we may have some business together. Did you by any chance purchase a ruby from Keifer Alescook in Loriel? He told us he sold it to someone named Isaac and the description he gave us sounded like you."

"Why?" the other man replied, taking a half-step back. "You want to buy it from me? It's not like it's the only ruby in the world you know..."

"The ruby he sold you was stolen from a Tsurani magician who was passing through LaMut. The Garrison would like the stone back. We were hoping we could talk you into at least returning it to Keifer to get your money back."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dilemma, but I had no idea the stone was stolen when I paid Keifer's price and I have my own little problem. I need the stone so I can pay off a sword crafter and get my blade repaired."

Locklear blinked, not expecting the respnse. "Can't you pay him with gold?"

Isaac grimaced. "He specifically barters in gems and the ruby will cover my costs plus a little more. I should have enough left over to eat for a month or more."

"What if we can repair your sword for you?" Locklear suggested, already reaching for his whetstone.

"What, here? In the middle of the road?" Isaac asked, shooting the squire a skeptical look.

"Since I don't have a workshop, I don't see that we can do it anywhere else."

"Well...I suppose. My blade is fairly expensive and I'd hate to see it further damaged. It's conceivable you could do more harm than good, so unless you're really skilled at weaponcraft...well... Do you really think you're that good?"

"Good enough. Your blade?"

Isaac looked torn for a moment, but finally handed over a finely crafted rapier. "Please be careful, I paid quite a bit for it." He said, not quite hiding a wince as Locklear inspected the weapon. His pained expression faded, however, as the squire went to work, using the technique Naddur had taught them back in the Mac Mordain Cadal.

"Well, I have to say this, you appear to know what you're doing," Isaac said as he took back the weapon, inspecting point and edge carefully. "It looks much better than it did. And it will hold the edge?"

"You could cut up the whole of Delekhan's moss-rangers and it'd still be sharp for a month after," Locklear promised, grinning. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. He hadn't been quite sure that he could do it.

"Well...it looks as if you've come through on your end of the bargain. Remind me to give you the ruby before you leave," Isaac said, resheathing his blade and relaxing.

"So where is this miracle working weaponsmith you were talking about?" Locklear asked, glancing down towards the blade at Isaac's hip. "It might be worthwhile to go and have our own weapons repaired."

"There's a shop in Highcastle called The Battleworks. It's a long way to go, but their work is impressive," Isaac said, smiling wryly. "That's one reason I was headed north. Now that you've the ruby I'll still need a bit of money, so I'll probably be sticking around this area looking for work."

Locklear nodded, and while they chatted a bit more, it soon became clear that there was nothing more to discuss for the time being. Isaac took his leave and headed for the inn, while Gorath and Owyn joined Locklear by the roadside.



"Well," Locklear murmured, eying the ruby. "I'm thinking we should circle around. We'll pass Tyr-Sog and the southern entrance to the Inclindel Gap, then back down past Yabon to LaMut to return this to the garrison. From there, we can decide whether to head south down the King's Highway to Sarth and Krondor, or take the back way past Tannerus and Eggley."

They travelled north, and soon Locklear spotted a temple nestled into the hills west of the road and north of Loriel. After a few minutes' discussion they decided to stop and speak to the high priest and to memorize the mandala, should they need to return here quickly in the future.




Temple




While Owyn chatted with one of the acolytes and Gorath leaned silently against one of the chamber's walls, Locklear took a moment to speak with the priest in charge of the translocation mandala. It was tempting to save themselves days of travel, but the squire decided to conserve their funds for now. Perhaps if they had more to spare it would become a viable means of accomplishing their mission, but for now he suspected they needed the money more.

When they were done, Acolytes escorted them deeper into the temple. After passing through a maddening series of arches, they finally were let into a large chamber upon whose floor a seven rayed star was formed in mosaic by dark blue tiles. A small priest stood in the symbol's center, his back turned towards them.

"We are looking for the high priest of this Temple," Locklear said. "Would you know where we could find him?"

"I am he." As the man half-turned, Locklear suppressed a gasp at the priest's hideous visage. Stuck to the left side of his face was a dark brown strip of cloth, a ragged hole torn in it to allow a pinkish looking eye to peer out at them.

"What is it that you want?" he wheezed, his frame shuddering with each breath. "Are you new acolytes?"

"No." Locklear swallowed with some difficulty. "We are...travellers."

"As all under the heavens are," the man said, making a feeble gesture at the vaulted ceiling above them. All travellers. Please, let us talk a while."

When at last many of the candles in the chamber had burned low, the priest nodded his head. "I have enjoyed this," he said quietly.

"As have we," Locklear replied graciously, rising to leave. "Oh, before I forget, where was the interesting statue again that you mentioned?"

"The oracle? In the hills to the east of Malac's Cross," the priest replied. "Perhaps your journeys will take you there soon."

They pressed north, crossing a small stream, and arriving at Tyr-Sog early the next day. The town was small, cold, and isolated, sitting in the Yabon foothills close to the Inclindel.



"You two settle in here," Locklear suggested once they reached the town. "I'm going to take a quick trip up the Inclindel to see what the route looks like."

Though both Gorath and Owyn were reluctant to allow Locklear to press north alone, they eventually agreed, and within two days the squire had slipped to the southern entrance to the pass.

Inclindel Gap

A horn sounded in the Inclindel. Immediately several additional notes echoed the first, passed on down the bend of the canyon while shadows began to appear along the length of the defile. Rising up from behind rocks and out of ditches, a dozen scattered men responded to the call to arms. Appearing at the mouth of a previously unnoticed cave, a fortyish looking gentleman lumbered down from his hiding and seeing that his guards weren't needed, he whistled for their dismissal before eying Locklear.

"You don't want to be here," he said, frowning.




"With all due respect, Seigneur, we're digging ourselves out of a pretty mess presently," said the Lieutenant, scowling back up the pass. "Not long after you and the moredhel trounced through here, a white screamer came up out of nowhere, worst snow storm I've seen in sixteen years. Ten miles on down the dell, the pass is buried under five feet of snow. I sent out guards to help our forward positions but I'm not positive they can do much. Kind of like lighting your pipe under the Bitter Sea."

"There's no way to get through the Inclindel at all?" Locklear asked, his eyes following Finn's.

"Not unless you're a snow burrowing mole or a firedrake, no sir. Whoever may be in the Northlands or in the Kingdom, they've got a long wait on their hands if they need to get down this road."

"Well, that's it then. We'll have to turn back. Take care, Lieutenant."

Finn nodded and turned to his men, sending them back to their hides with a few curt hand gestures while Locklear turned back towards Tyr-Sog, wondering how Owyn and Gorath had been spending the time...

In the meantime, Owyn had found one way for them to keep their funds from depreciating too sharply while Locklear scouted north. The largest shop in the town, an old ramshackle pawnbroker's, had had a battered but servicable lute tucked away near the back.




A bit of quick haggling, and the lute was Owyn's, and as the days wore on the young noble plucked the strings of the practice lute carefully, aware his smallest mistakes were the cause of great grief to others. He could at least say he was learning, however minutely, every time he played the single tune he knew.

The Lute

((Game Mechanics explanation contains narrative spoilers. Be warned: So, what's actually happened here is I popped north to the Inclindel Gap to get the Finn Dialogue, then sat at the Three Hillmen Pawn grinding everyone's Haggling skill and buying 4-5 Practice lutes, then using them all up with Owyn to grind his Barding skill to 90+ %, which took several days. Since in the actual setting the Inclindel Gap is several days' journey from Tyr-Sog, I figured to have Locklear make the trip, and Owyn take up the lute to keep himself entertained as a decent explanation. What this also means is that it's now worth my time to start singing for our supper in inns. You can (and should) play the game yourself to hear all the different levels of skill with which you can play the tune above, and to see the responses which range from "oh my god that was beautiful" for maximum income to actually getting thrown out of the inn.))

By the time Locklear returned, Owyn was quite good, and had even managed to make a little money at the tavern. "We had a stroke of luck," Locklear said as he settled by their fire. "It looks like the weather's on our side. The Inclindel's been closed tight by snow since we passed through. Delekhan may be able to slip small bands over the mountains, but without the pass itself it will be quite hard to replace all the spies we've been removing from the Kingdom."

"That is good news," Gorath murmured, "but we should not become careless. There will still be other assassins between here and Krondor, and even if this gives us time I do not think it is time we can afford to waste. These side errands are useful, but we should not overindulge."

"Yes, yes," Locklear said, his spirits still buoyed by what he had learned. "In any case, you're right and we should head west to LaMut first thing tomorrow."

I used to watch a friend of mine play this game over at his house back in the day. While I own quite a few computer RPGs, I've always preferred the much more linear experience of Japanese-style ones; something about the wealth of options you're given in a game like this makes the OCD bits of my brain go into an infinite loop and lock up. So it's delightful to watch someone else play through it. Thank you, Brer.