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

As they headed west towards the waterfall and bridge that marked the boundary between the Barony of Tyr-Sog and the Duchy of Yabon, they passed a cemetary, and in a suspiciously named grave marked "Pul Dudding: No one knew when he came or when he went" they discovered another pair of the noise-muffling elven footwear that Gorath identified as Weedwalkers.

Not much further over the bridge and an hour down the road they found another of the moredhel wordlocks as well, and before long Owyn puzzled out the answer.




Owyn examined each of the scrolls eagerly, grinning as he cracked them open and studied their contents. The first was simple enough, a cantrip that would brighten the stars at night to give them light to see by, but the second...he sighed. Although he was fairly certain when he read the first few lines that he knew the spell, Flamecast, he read it to the end to see if there were any critical variations which might be helpful to him. Finding that it was exactly identical to the spell he already knew, he put the scroll aside.

"Oh well," he sighed. "Perhaps I can find a generous shopkeeper with more use for it than I."

Meanwhile, Gorath studied the small scrap of parchment that had been slipped between the scrolls. He frowned, reading it aloud for the others:

Nighthawks should be advised that the magical traps sent earlier are of an inferior grade and are often unreliable. We have staked out two sections of the Kingdom roads to the south of Zun and west of Tyr-Sog to test a new design engineered by the Six.

Locklear's head snapped up from where he'd been examining the blade of the lamprey. "Wait, read that again," he ordered, eyes locked on the parchment, and when Gorath did Locklear swore.

"What is it?" Owyn asked, looking concerned as he stood and moved towards the other two.

"Nighthawks are the Guild of Death. Paid killers. When Murmandamus returned there were moredhel among their number, and both human and moredhel guild-members were his servants in your Kingdom," Gorath answered for Locklear while the squire continued to swear.

"Not possible," Locklear said. "The Crown cooperated with the priesthood of Lims-Kragma to wipe out all their nests in the cities and their temples both."

"You evidently missed some," Gorath said. "I have heard of men and moredhel, garbed all in black and moving silently, who came to Sar-Sargoth."

"If there are nighthawks between here and Krondor," Locklear muttered, "We may have a problem."



The squire glanced down at the blade in his hand, then smiled grimly and made a few passes with it. "This should help. It's been blessed by a temple...see the mark near the crossguard? Feels more balanced and it should bite a bit deeper."

Gorath merely grunted, and soon they were forced to move on, stopping again only when they came to an isolated farmstead to beg for water.



Three hundred pounds of madman answered the door.

"Umhumh," the greasy looking farmer said to himself, sizing up Locklear in a single glance. "Shoulda known that some kind of stranger had to be responsible."

"For what?" Locklear prompted.

"Don't play stupid! You been keepin' me up for the last ten nights with those...rackets to the west!"

Locklear shook his head. "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. Really. We'll be leaving you alone now."

Back on the road, all three of them shared a look. "What do you think," Locklear asked quietly.

"I think there is another trap west of here," Gorath replied. "We should be careful."

They moved westward more slowly after that, and when Owyn spied yet another of the moredhel chests south of the road they approached it carefully.



Despite the lack of any apparent trickery or ambush, all three were nervous as Gorath once again read the note while Owyn began to study the spell scroll:

The Six have advised the field commander that Gorath of the Ardanien has now moved south. He may be accompanied by a Seigneur of the Krondorian Court. Be careful to monitor his activities and take measures where appropriate.

Locklear sighed, then glared at their dark elf companion. "Their intelligence network is too damn thorough for my liking. How long have your people been planning this, Gorath?"

The moredhel stared back impassively. "To take back the lands the humans took from us? Since before your great grandfather was born," he snapped before falling abruptly silent and staring into the distance. When he finally spoke again, his voice was both quieter and softer, and his eyes were dark. "But this latest plan? Not long. Perhaps five years."

Owyn stared at Gorath. "If you're so angry at us, at humans...if you think we took your land, why are you coming to Krondor?" He asked.

"If you come with us to Krondor, I will tell you," Gorath said. "Not before. And yes, Locklear, you are right. There are too many of Delekhan's eyes and ears in your Kingdom. But let us continue."

Owyn nodded slowly, then returned to the study of the scroll while Gorath and Locklear divided the precious vials of healing restorative. "Eyes of Ishap" seemed to be a sort of specialized scrying construction meant to detect any "containers" with something of value in them. While he doubted it would do him much good in the cities, it could be invaluable in helping them to discover hidden chests and caches while they moved through wilderness.

The spell was memorized soon enough, and so they proceded west once more. However, they'd barely made it another three miles before a moredhel wearing the yellow cloak of a magician slipped from the trees, drawing a sword with one hand while the other made a strange pulling gesture. Owyn gasped as once more strange rods tipped with colored crystal rose from the ground, barring forward progress.

The assassin was a mercenary. Locklear could tell by the hardened set of the moredhel mage's face that he hadn't hunted them down to avenge a wrong done him, hadn't chased them to collect a debt. He had come because the coin had been of the right color and in the right amount. And for that price, win or lose, he would fight them to the death...

Charge into Battle



Owyn's eyes widened at first, but then he noticed the way one of the trap's sets of rods was between them and the dark elf and his lips tightened. He raised his own hand then, and with a surge of will and a few spoken words it was the moredhel's eyes that were widening as his body moved without his volition. The other mage screamed something harsh and gutteral in his own language as his traitorous legs drew him closer to the space between the poles...and then he was between them.

The trap sprung in an instant, crackling arcs of energy connecting the two crystals and the moredhel between them, wrapping his body in light and then shutting off with a thunderclap that almost managed to drown out the choking scream of the mage as he collapsed in a twitching, smoking heap.



Owyn sighed as Locklear moved forward to place a hand on his shoulder and Gorath began to search their fallen opponent. "This is starting to come easier," the young man admitted, looking unhappy. "I don't really like that."

"Anything becomes bearable with enough exposure, Owyn," Locklear said quietly. "As long as you never come to actually enjoy using your power like that, I think you'll be alright.



They moved on then, and it wasn't long before they caught sight of another small cottage on a well-worn track just south of the main road. Investigating, they found that the face of the door was covered with a pattern; a strange semi-circle formed of oily black smudges that joined at the iron door latch. On closer examination, it seemed that the smudges were actually fingerprints of some kind.

"I really should have that cleaned, I suppose."

Locklear jerked upright at the sound of the gruff voice. Padding from around the corner of the house, a balding man stopped next to Owyn and held up a palm stained with black ink. "A scribe tends to make quite a mess. Occupational hazard."

"Scribe?" Locklear asked, glancing in puzzlement at the relatively isolated cottage a good three hours from the nearest town.

"Among other things," he said. "Currently I have accepted a commission on behalf of a travelling merchant to do a survey of all the mercantile boxes in the area. Perhaps you would be interested in helping..."

"And what would we profit from it?" Locklear asked quietly.

"Information," the scribe replied. "I've acquired a book I think you'll find very interesting. There's a box just west of Hawk's Hollow, on the southern side of a small hill. I suspect it has been trapped. Find out for me and I'll give you my book."

Locklear frowned. "As it turns out, we have already found that particular box. It was trapped," he said, eyes flickering towards Gorath in uneasy remembrance.

"Oh! Well, better that you discovered it than me," the scribe said, offering them all a rather wan smile. He walked to a small book shelf in the corner of his house and drew out a large volume. Returning he handed it to Locklear.

"Happy reading. Now, I really must be about my business."



Each of them tried the book when they stopped to rest that night. Many times each flipped back the cover of the book to reaffirm that the title had in some way been connected to the migration of birds. While the author had begun a discussion on winged wildlife, he had quickly meandered into a discussion of the famed battles of Midkemia, continued on to a reiteration of various battle songs, diverted to a rant about the prices of ale in the Kingdom's taverns, tangentially lamented about the plight of magicians and then ended on a humorous anecdote about his mother-in-law having consumed a vial of Fadamor's Formula to outslug a Tsurani warrior in a bar brawl.

"It's...interesting, I suppose," Locklear said finally, "perhaps we'll find a use for it before we come to a shopkeeper that would be interested."

((More Game Mechanics Discussion: In case it's not clear from what you just read, books raise skills the first time they're read. Thiful's Bird Migrations, as you might have guessed, raises every skill 5%, or every one 5% and one by 7% if you have one skill tagged, meaning that you're practicing it. I believe if you tag multiple skills you'll still get a bit more "xp" than you normally would, but it's not enough for you to actually increase them past the base 5%. Each time you read a book past the first time, there's a small chance that seems to vary depending on the book that you'll get a partial benefit again, but it's never as much as the first reading. Time can fast very fast using up a book, so in my actual playthrough I read it once I was at LaMut and could stock up on a bunch of rations.))

As they continued southwest towards Yabon, Owyn practiced his new spell...and was rewarded. They could see the path leading to what appeared to be a low shack north of the road, but Owyn's sight revealed a chest tucked away behind it.

"I suppose we should investigate," Locklear said. "But let's be careful, this could be another of those hideouts, like that house near Hawk's Hollow."



The building creaked in a way that made Locklear nervous.

"You stay out here," he told Owyn and Gorath. "Something doesn't feel right about this place. I'm going in to have a look around." When he returned a minute later, he had a grim look on his face.




They moved north, and this time when they saw a moredhel wordlock Owyn paused to incant Scent of Sarig, checking the chest for the traps Locklear was almost certain were present. There were none, however, and once Gorath had suggested that the answer to the chest's riddle was 'Spider' they retrieved the sword, armor, moredhel brooch, and silver royals from the chest before turning south.

They passed Yabon without stopping, and as they approached LaMut they stopped each night they continued to study the odd book that the scribe had given them, each gleaning his own sets of insights from the rambling text. Then, on the morning of the fourth day since leaving Tyr-Sog, they re-entered LaMut and headed straight for the garrison.




A guard met them at the gate.

By the color of his skin and the musical way he spoke, the man seemed to have a Tsurani background, though it was also possible he was originally Keshian by nationality. Staring at them dispassionately, he barred their way.

"No entry," the guard said, shaking his head. "You may come back at daybreak."

"We were just looking to..." Owyn began, but the guard simply spoke over him. "No entry, no exceptions."

Locklear took one look at the sentry's wooden expression, then sighed. "Come on," he said, gesturing for the other two to join him as he turned back down the hill. "We'll see if Sumani has beds for us at the Blue Wheel."

The next morning they had better luck, and when they were escorted past the barbican Captain Belford met them in the garrison's inner yard. "What brings you back here?" he asked cordially.

Locklear drew out the ruby they had discovered. He held it out for Bedford to see, and as he twisted it slightly the gemstone caught a shaft of sunlight, splashing the walls with thousands of twinkling red spots.

"Ah! You found it. Are you returning Makala's ruby?" asked Belford, grinning.

Locklear simply nodded and handed the ruby to Captain Belford. "I'm glad you found this," he said, placing the gemstone into a small velvet lined box. "It will be good to get Makala off my back. I've sent so many men out looking for this blasted thing there's hardly anyone left in the garrison!"

He led them to his quarters where he retrieved a pouch from a locked chest in the corner of the room. "Here you are, 100 gold sovereigns. Thank you, Gents."

"Our pleasure, Captain," Locklear said, smiling back as he added the pouch to their supplies and, after a few more minutes quiet conversation, left the garrison and LaMut.




((So, here we are some time later, and we've explored about half of the area where you're expected to go in Chapter 1. Before us we have two "main" routes, plus a bit of connecting road to explore. The main route takes us south past Questor's View and the fortress-turned-library/monastery of Sarth, the repository of much arcane wisdom I mentioned earlier...while the eastern "back way" takes us to Tannerus and Eggley, where Isaac told us there's been a strange festival going on as well as a surprisingly canny gentleman named Devon. Which way do I take first? Do I skip one road entirely? Talk to me, Talking Time, and enjoy.))

((EDIT: I forgot to iterate two other options. As I mentioned earlier, we can also sequence break, the two main ways here being heading directly east from Hawk's Hollow into the Dimwood (where there are a shit-ton of spells for Owyn in various high-level locked/trapped or moredhel chests, as well as hard enemy encounters) or head east from Tyr-Sog along the northern border of the western Kingdom to find tougher and more numerous moredhel battles with much better equipment.). Any takers, or do we stick to taking things in order so as not to skip weapons, armor, and so on?))

((Game Mechanics Post, Part 3: Move your shit so I can put my stuff here, or Inventory Made Easy.

Alright, this one's very quick and painless, and also gives you an idea of what our party's gear looks like at this point in the game:



Locklear's got the lockpicks at the moment, and the whetstone because I've ground Gorath's weaponcraft skills sufficiently and it's time for him to get some practice. Your party is determined by the chapter, so once you've played through once you learn to anticipate and build skills more evenly lest you lose your designated lockpick or repair or haggling or barding person.



Gorath's carrying the blessed lamprey because he can use the (marginal) accuracy bonus given his lower weapon skill at the moment, and a few more quarrels since he has superior crossbow skill. The delatail milk (the purple stuff that raises defense) is more something Owyn would use, but I'm saving that for later, and for now I want to keep things as even as possible.



And finally Owyn, designated random shit carrier because your repairers want the limited space for looted armor and swords they're going to repair. I can't remember if you need Lorgan's journal for something much later in the game, so I'm saving it, and he has both the scroll and the book so I can sell them at Sarth.

This brings us to inventory space. As you can see, most items take up only one space. Swords and crossbows:



Take up two spaces as you can see, while Armor:



Takes up four. You have a total of 20 spaces per character, and money (we have 969 sovereigns and 5 royals) and keys (we have 3 guilder's passkeys and 2 peasant's keys) don't count. Any other questions? ))

So the weedwalkers make you more sneaky? Or more fey?

A bit of both, but mainly more sneaky. 30% to stealth if I remember correctly (I'll check next time I'm playing). Right now I'm trying to anticipate the way people will vote by starting a save down each of the possible routes and preparing the list of Moredhel Wordlocks and so on.

So, mmm, I'll take that as a collective vote for just "do everything as you see fit and finish the chapter" then? I'll post the wordlock chests tomorrow and start working on the rest.

I like books. Let's go visit Brother Marc.

I also like character photos. Let's watch, shall we? Here's Locklear's shot from the manual:

"Yes, that is my real mustache. Why are you laughing?"

Likewise, the game may conceal it, but the manual reveals Gorath's Vulcan heritage.


Now let's discuss a few characters that haven't shown up in the game yet, but that readers of the books will remember well. Obviously, the list must start with Pug, protagonist of Magician, major character in subsequent books, and one of the two most powerful wizards alive. Here he is returning from a conference of top-tier mages, which was inexplicably held in San Francisco in 1971.


On to the supporting cast. Here's Duke Martin, stoic badass; and Aglaranna, ethereally beautiful Queen of the Elves.

Credit where credit is due: Martin's got the right look, no question. Aggie, well....

And, finally: BRAK NURR!

Yeah, that Martin is kind of scrawny, but otherwise pretty good. The rest? No. No, nonono.

I'll never look at Pug the same way ever again. I really can't wait to see what Arutha and James look like.

While I'm working on the next section of the update, here's a few riddles for you all to puzzle out.

"Face" for number 4?

1 - DAY NIGHT
2 - RING
3 - SMOKE

5) Gloves

And for four? I'm gonna say wang. That's right, you tubby bastard!

2 should obviously be DONUT. What's this four-letter nonsense?

I'd guess EYES for 4.

I thought the same as your answer, but wasn't sure that would apply because it used that word in the riddle.

That's what makes it tricky. Besides, the riddle uses plurals, so I'm with Mazian.

/votes for Tannerus and Eggley.

So far I have one vote for a run straight towards Tannerus and Eggley, and one vote for heading to Sarth. Anyone want to be the tie-breaker? Order matters mainly in terms of how I'll write the story, and to some extent difficulty.

Besides generally liking Sarth, my thinking was... well, let's look at the map.



When last seen, the gang was heading south from Zun. Eventually you've got to get them down to Krondor so they can get their betrayal on - but in the meantime, it's a given that you get to tackle both sets of towns on the way, because everyone loves side quests. Heading to Sarth first requires less backtracking later.

Good thinking, although the backtracking is relatively easy since A) you guys don't see it and B) enemy encounters don't respawn. So, where's that tiebreaker so I can figure out which save to load up?

Sarth sounds like an alien seasoning. I'm all for alien seasonings.

Sarth it is, then. I'll try to get the next chunk of updates mostly up by tomorrow night. Aside from the wordlock chests, that's basically it for the audience input into this chapter. The last stretch is linear. That said, I'm curious about two things.

-A) how's the music going over?
-B) Should I let you guys decide when you want me to purchase weapons/armor? Because I'm experienced, I actually have enough money to get everyone either A) the 2nd best swords in the game right now, B) the second best armor in the game, or C) a mix of lower tier upgrades for everything, or to buy spells, crossbows, magical bolts, etc. Normally I'm all stingy and limit myself to looted and found gear until a few chapters in, but I could leave that to you guys if you'd like to see the new stuff faster.

The pass was empty. "It's a five day journey if the sign is to be believed," Locklear remarked. "It would also be an excellent place to stage an ambush. Think we should take the chance?"

“We do not have a choice except to return to Hawk's Hollow and attempt to slip south along the eastern road to Krondor,” Gorath pointed out. “Do you really think that there will not be forces arrayed against us on that route as well?”

Locklear shrugged, reaching up to brush his moustache lightly. “We'll see, I suppose. We can always turn back north and east at Questor's View,” he said, gesturing for them to move on south.

Days passed. Disliking the exposed feeling created by the defile, they moved quickly during the nights and left the days to resting under rocky overhangs and listening for assassin's footsteps. At last, footsore and road weary, they emerged near the coast of the Bitter Sea.



Winter might be lingering in the northern reaches of the western realm, but here by the sea the bite had already left the air, and Locklear's mood seemed to lift with each step they took along the king's highway.

Every few hours they would stop and rest while Owyn prepared to cast Eyes of Ishap. He couldn't scry out ambushes, but he could at least keep an eye out for caches of equipment and places more likely to be guarded by the moredhel infiltrators.

Sure enough, they had paralleled the coast for only an hour or two before his spell detected a moredhel wordlock to the east of the road.




The riddle solved and the heavy locks clunking open, Owyn inspected the contents of the chest carefully.



Owyn inspected the scroll, and finding it familiar tucked it into his pack. "The annex of Stardock at Sarth buys scrolls like this, doesn't it?" He asked Locklear, frowning as the other supplies were distributed.

"I believe so, but the fact that we've found so many scattered in these chests bothers me," the squire replied, frowning. "I have a bad feeling that there are more mages than just these "Six" following Delekhan's banner."

((Sorry guys, I screwed up and missed a fairly key dialogue tree. It's been a while, and I forgot that if you hit a certain encounter before talking to a certain NPC, you don't get that dialogue tree and the resultant training opportunity and relevant backstory information. As a result I had to replay most of the last section. Fun for me, but it's delayed the LP a little. I should still have some posts up tonight, though.))

After travelling a bit further south, Locklear guided them onto a path that paralleled the beach. The rockier beaches gave way to stretches of sand this far south, but the coastline was still rugged in places, with water-weathered crags and hollowed out tidal pools catching the boom and rush of the waves against them.





As the meandering trail headed back towards the King's highway, Locklear let out a contented sigh. "It's good to be back in the south and closer to the sea," he said, smiling and glancing back at Gorath and Owyn...just as two moredel moved into view from around one of the seaside crags and closed fast.

Fight to the Death



The two warriors closed fast, too fast for Owyn to cast a single spell, turning the fight into a messy and confusing melee. The young mage struck again and again, blocked again and again as he flanked one of the two dark elves with Gorath. He fought until the his wrists ached and his hands were numb from the vibration of the unpadded wood in his hands. Gorath moved with surprising speed for his bulk, sword slicing into any opening Owyn's less skilled attacks could open for him, until finally a pair of heavy blows opened the other moredhel's head and sent him spinning onto the dusty roadside.

Locklear, meanwhile, fought with speed and subtlety, almost fencing despite the weight of his blade. Again and again he'd twist wrist and hip to send his opponent's sword slicing just past his body before slicing in at some vital spot. It took time, but when Gorath moved to join Locklear, the end was certain, and soon the second moredhel crashed to the ground by his companion.

The three rested, and when they were ready they continued southeast, staying further from the beach and further towards the hills and the treeline after that first attack in this part of the Kingdom. Soon enough they came to an isolated cabin that looked as if it had been built at least half from driftwood.

"We should see if the locals have word of Delekhan's agents," Gorath said, pushing Owyn forward. "Knock. You do not look threatening."




The man who greeted them at the door smelled of fish. "Folks call me Chanty," he said after Owyn introduced himself. After a few more minutes of friendly conversation he revealed he was a fisherman, but he hadn't been out on his boat for several days due to his health. As he spoke he threw dark looks at an unseen thing over Owyn's shoulder. Owyn was about to ask him another question when Chanty suddenly mumbled something angrily and slammed the door closed. No amount of coaxing could convince him to open it again.



As the party continued east, they passed another house, this one seemingly abandoned, before all signs of human presence beyond the road disappeared. Hours passed, and even as the road turned east and cut inland away from the shore of the Bitter sea, another small band of Moredhel warriors came into view. Locklear cursed and quickly gestured his companions off the road.

"Once again, the best way out is through," Gorath murmurs, gesturing to the way the three were arrayed along the roadside.

Owyn slowly nodded, already beginning to gather his will for the spell he knew would be needed, while Locklear considered their situation. "We'll move up slow on the other side of the road, then rush across it to take them," he finally said. "With a little luck we'll have the level ground of the road and they'll have to fight from the bad footing of the verge. Let's go."

They moved quickly and as quietly as they could, and in another few minutes they leaned against trees. Owyn continued to marshal his will, and winced as he felt the pungent pine sap sinking into the weave of his robe. Locklear held up a hand, silently mouthed "get ready"...and then snapped his hand down in the moment before he led them in their charge towards a startled enemy.

Charge into Battle




The moredhel were startled, and in that moment while they stood stock still and stared at Locklear and Gorath, Owyn acted. He cast twice, each time sending a roiling ball of sooty fire to strike the center moredhel in his chest, wreathing his body in flames while the blasts of superheated air scorched his allies. One charged at Gorath, perhaps hoping that once he closed with the spellcaster's allies that he would be safe from the effects of the spells, but the second blast-wave caught him in the back and when he stumbled forward Gorath's outstretched sword was there to meet him. The dark elf shuddered as he was impaled, and as gorath twisted to dump the twitching warrior from his sword Locklear's crossbow sent a bolt into the base of the dark elf's skull. The body on Gorath's blade went limp, sliding free while the furthest moredhel made his crossbow ready and sent a bolt hissing past Gorath's side and out to sea.

The last remaining moredhel spat out a string of what were probably curses as he attempted to reload, but Gorath was faster. The larger dark elf swung his own crossbow down into place, and grunted as the weapon kicked slightly, sending the quarrel into his opponent's thigh. Gorath's target shuddered, his face paling as he dropped the crossbow and clutched at the thick shaft emerging from just above his knee.

And then Owyn was ready again, a sharp pain starting behind his eyes as he lifted his hand again and sent a final twisting ball of fire to strike their final enemy, sending him stumbling back against a tree so that even after he crashed to the ground dead little streamers of smoke rose from the bark where the touch of the magical flames had set small pieces alight.

((BTW, for future reference, how gory is too gory in these combat descriptions? Also, trying to write an accompanying narrative that fits with the actual in-game combat system is starting to feel very confining. Would you guys mind if I started to only do Animated .gifs for notable combats, new enemies, traps, and so on, and so free myself up to write somewhat more original text for the rest and perhaps even cut out some of the more boring ones?))




Owyn frowned, breathing hard and dropping to a knee while Locklear and Gorath began to strip the corpses. "Look there," he said, lifting a hand that shook slightly to point north of the road. "I think these three were guarding something.

Gorath nodded shortly as he carefully strapped a spare set of armor to his pack, and Locklear moved slowly north.

"Damn me," he murmured, squinting through the trees. "There are at least three chests back there. Come on!"

All three moved north as quickly as they were able...only to be brought up short when Owyn was struck with an increasingly familiar sensation.

"Stop!" he called out, then sighed as the magical trap slipped up from its carefully concealed position.

It's a Trap



They looked at the trap carefully...and then Owyn began to move forward carefully. "I think we can just-" he started to say, and then the strange angular device pointed towards the space between the familiar poles belched fire, a spinning ball of fire much like Owyn's own flamecast spell that streaked towards him while the mage flinched away....

...and then straightened and stared as the twisting arcs of energy intercepted the fireball, seeming to absorb its energy as the energy snapped back into the crystals that topped the two polls. Owyn blinked once, twice, and then slowly moved forward until he was several feet past the strangely assembled set of magical devices.

"I think we're safe," he said, "but we should be on our guard in case we run into any other traps, especially those ones that produce fireballs."

Oh good, the blaster rifles finally made an appearance. Never quite figured out how those fit into the mythos.

There were three chests, and once their riddles had been solved by entering "ring", "smoke", and "eyes", Owyn and Locklear began to distribute the supplies among themselves. Owyn raised an eyebrow as he lifted four of the familiar pearlescent shells from the chests.

Locklear nodded slowly. "The children of the villages along the Bitter Sea and the occasional shiftless type collect those and sell them to gem merchants, who shell them to anyone who needs a bit of shiny stuff for decoration. These bastards are probably using it as a quick way to acquire a bit of kingdom currency, or just bartering with it directly."




Leaving the chests behind, they continued southeast, heading for the town of Questor's View.



"Who was Questor?" Gorath asked as they approached the small community, beginning to pass by its outskirts.

"An explorer. He first saw the Bitter Sea from the high point there," Locklear explained, gesturing towards the bluff that held the largest houses of the small town. “Not much more here now than when he was here but the only other real garrison on the King's Highway between LaMut and Krondor."

Owyn frowned. "What about Hawk's Hollow, Loriel, Eggley, and Tanneurs?" he asked while they drew closer to the town proper.

"The eastern sides of the Orseinnes and the Calastius mountains don't get nearly as much merchant traffic during peacetime, and there are fewer people. If there ever is..." Locklear paused, glancing towards Gorath for a moment. "If the Lord of the West ever has to move troops to cover the Dimwood or the eastern slopes, there are enough roads and passes crossing the mountains to allow the garrisons at LaMut and Questor's View to march east."

Owyn looked thoughtful, his eyes moving north to south along the eastern skyline. "I see," he said, and his cheeks colored. "I...well, I was never a very good student when it came to politics or military matters, and even when I was studying it the West didn't come up much."

Locklear's lips twisted in an expression that wasn't quite a smile. "Ten years of war with the Tsurani along our northwestern frontier and a Moredhel invasion that reached all the way to Sethanon, and half the Eastern nobles still need to be reminded that there IS a Western Realm." he said, and Owyn winced at the bitterness in his tone.

Locklear shook his head, cutting himself off and gesturing towards an inn. "Let's get a room for the night," he said, sighing. "And I'm sorry, Owyn. It's just a sensitive point with me."

Owyn managed a smile and nodded, moving to the inn's common room once they entered. "While you pay for our rooms, I think I'll see if I can't get a little money for our stay," he said.

Inn



Owyn coughed as he made his way towards the lute that was hung on a peg at one wall. "You should see a priest about that," a woman said. "How long have you been afflicted with it?"

"Only just now. I have a small problem with smoke." Owyn replied, gesturing to the corner of the tavern where a wood fire was burning in the hearth. "I doubt the brothers of Sung would be much interested."

She nodded, staring down into the dregs of her winecup. "Unless you've a mortal wound or a plague or you've been stupid enough to fall prey to poison, I've never found that priests are of much use other than to babble on about the trivial," she muttered.

Owyn nodded, murmuring something he hoped sounded sympathetic as he slipped around the woman and gathered up the lute, a gesture that momentarily hushed the common room as all eyes turned to him. The young noble swallowed hard, but he hadn't spent his time at Tyr-Sog in vain, and when he began to play the noise fell from a lull in conversation to actual silence.

Lute

His fingers slid easily over the lute's finger board as he moved between the chords of This Kingdom Mine, the notes filling him up as well as guiding him forward. Then, quietly, he began to sing the refrain in a clear tenor, never noticing that Locklear had stopped in his negotiations with the inn's nightmaster and was watching his performance with a strange expression...

"This kingdom mine,
with my blood I've paid,
to guard against all who oppose her..."

And when he finished, Owyn found his audience still sitting in stunned silence, their gazes all fixed on him. "That...that was beautiful," the tavernkeeper said. Reaching into his pouch, he removed 60 sovereigns and placed them in Owyn's hand. "Thank you."

The Inn

Owyn gaped at the amount, then just nodded, mumbling a reply as he made his way back towards Locklear and Gorath. Gorath was silent, simply nodding to Owyn as he approached, but Locklear gave the young man a genuine smile and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Now I'm doubly sorry I snapped about the ignorance of Eastern nobles," the squire said, shaking his head slowly. "If you had the experience and the repertoire you could give Laurie a run for his money. If you can understand those words well enough to sing them like that..." he trailed off, and just shrugged. "In any case I've paid up for the night. Tomorrow we can ask around for news before we move on."

A.) music gets two thumbs up
B.) you seem to be playing it in a 'role-playing' style. what would these guys really do if they had all the cash you have? I vote that locklear would kit himself right out since he ends up soloing enemies (like in that last encounter), and let the other two fend for themselves a while longer.

I personally prefer the "reasonable for the chapter" level of gear - maintains a certain level of verisimilitude, and it just wouldn't feel like a Rip-Roarin' Adventure if the good guys weren't faced with long odds.

In the specific, though, there's [going to be a new face next chapter]... though for this one the change isn't too dramatic in terms of equipment.