One: Aryn

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Spoilers Ahead!

This entire page is meant as DM information. If you're not the DM, you should probably not be reading this!

Okay, just this once. Show, and don't ask again!

Though he had walked through the night, when the sun rose above the pine trees, Aryn felt as mentally fresh as when he set out from his campsite ten hours before. His feet hurt, and his waterskin was empty, but the end was in sight as he crested the final hilltop and looked down into the valley before him. A river cut through the landscape and emptied into the sprawling lake that stretched beyond the horizon. On its surface, he could make out the red and white striped sails of fishing vessels setting out with the break of dawn. The straps of his backpack cut into his shoulders, but as he spotted the rooftops of the town of Leikon on the lake shore, he knew he would soon be resting at the warm hearth of the Potted Pike Inn.

The forest ended abruptly as he passed the logging camps that would soon be swarmed with local loggers once the sun climbed higher. Branches lay strewn about in the artificial clearing, still littered with wood shavings and pine needles from trees systematically cut up and hauled off. Pines grew tall in Korbantir, and the old growth of the Leikon Valley proved an irresistible prize to the locals. The logs would be fed across the lake and down the river towards the capital city of Donitar, where they'd be dried, sawn, and transformed into ships, furniture, or the robust skeletons of upper-class homes.

For the fifth time this hour, Aryn reached into his pocket, where his fingers landed on the copper token he'd received in Cauldin's Point two days earlier. It was still there. "Good," he whispered to himself and smiled as he gently bounced the heavy token in the palm of his hand. With the tip of his index finger, he traced the outlines of the swirling dragon figure embossed on one of its faces. It was a shame, he thought, that he'd have to trade such a pretty thing, but his fortune depended on it. He squeezed the metal disk in his fist and dropped it to the bottom of his pocket as he hailed the stout guard at the wooden wall surrounding the town.

"Primani blesses us with another fine morning," Aryn called out to the guard, whose eyes were red with either exhaustion or the side effect of a substance meant to stave off sleep or solitude. A faint scent of Fish Valley Rum greeted Aryn as he approached and spotted a few empty bottles poking out from under a bush.

"What's your business?" The guard asked in a bored and practiced tone. He strolled over, blocking the gated entrance to the best of his abilities.

"I'm meeting a friend at the Potted Pike, sir," Aryn said and felt the soles of his feet tingle now that he'd stopped walking for the first time in hours. Maybe he wasn't as fresh as he thought. "Then off to Kleftmon in a day or two, back on the road."

"Passing through then?"

"Yes, passing through, sir," he said and smiled, trying to look as unintimidating as he could for a person his size. Aryn was only a quarter Orc but retained his ancestor's imposing stature and rough features. Not the best look in a country dominated by snooty Elves and Humans, he thought while the tingling in his feet slowly turned into needles.

"Well," the guard said and stepped forward while leaning on his halberd. "I've got some bad news for you. We've had to close the town to visitors."

"Why?" Aryn asked and heard the volume of his voice rising. Control yourself, he thought and squeezed the copper token in his pocket. "I've got nowhere else to go, and I'm out of food."

"Not my problem, bud," the guard said and tightened his grip around the halberd.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble," Aryn said as he observed the guard tensing up. Only one-quarter Orc, but still regarded as an instant danger almost everywhere he went. "Is there nothing I can do?"

"You'll just have to keep going," the guard said but didn't loosen his grip. "There's a town eastward called Cauldin's Point. I'm sure you'll be able to find lodging there."

"But that's where I just came from," Aryn yelled and didn't realize until after. Shit. Lower your voice. "Sir, it's two days away, and I'm meeting someone at the Potted Pike tonight."

"Calm down, sir," the guard said calmly, yet lowered his weapon towards Aryn. "I understand your frustration, but that's how it is. Now, get going before things get out of hand."

Shit. One last thing to try, he thought and closed his eyes. It could be stupid. Very stupid. Aryn sighed as he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a leather coin pouch. "Kind sir, I don't suppose you--"

"--Are you trying to bribe me?"

"N-no, of course not, I am just--"

"--Callum," the guard yelled towards the town's gate. "I need backup."

Shit. Yes, very stupid.

Three sleepy guards appeared from the gate carrying swords and pikes. "Look at this," the red-eyed guard called out to his colleagues and laughed. "He's bribing me!"

The guards pointed their weapons at Arryn.

"Sir, you are under arrest."

Shit.