Folgen
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Before the campaign started, the new cast of JRWI sat down to talk about the new world they’d be adventuring in. As we step back from producing this podcast, we’d like to leave you with this final “episode” of the project.
Thank you for joining us on this journey. There are no endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time, but this is an ending.
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The mysteries deepen as the Heroes of Dal Sherandu venture further into what seems to be the tomb of (or memorial to?) a bygone Age. Pimur demonstrates for Quercus, repeatedly, that there are in fact still hazards he has not yet had a chance to run headlong into.
Still wheezing on the toxic air, the party holds itself together by a thread as they dodge traps and secure treasure, all with no idea what is happening in the battle above, or if enemies will be arriving shortly. The group forms and splits, exploring with varying degrees of caution and bravery. Whoever built this place had a twisted sense of humor, and knowledge of mysteries unknown even in the 3rd Age.
Amena quickly heals Lance again before chasing after Pimur to save him from himself, then returns to scold the Ogier quite thoroughly for performing unprofessional and unsafe medical studies. Even the occasional score of a ter’angreal might not be enough to save them from this maze.
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Fehlende Folgen?
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Continuing to explore the mysteriously soggy and caustic ruins, the party finds no end of mysteries, while our player-heroes find endless opportunities to overthink simple puzzles.
Pimur and Amena wrestle with an electric eel for a waterlogged box of prizes, while Lance goes looking for Quercus, who was last seen being dragged down a hallway by a wave of water. He finds the Ogier standing at the far side of the large pool found previously. The two of them explore the flooded room more thoroughly, but it isn’t until the novices join them that the lever to drain the pool is found, revealing a macabre twist on the as-yet-undetermined purpose of this underground complex.
Shivering half in anticipation and half in response to the damp environment, Pimur runs ahead as the party continues on. Fortunately for him, Amena is calm enough to work through the puzzles he finds.
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Coughing on toxic air, the party ventures deeper into the strange dungeon underneath the old fortress of Dal Sherandu. Lessons in marine biology are administered, along with applied physics. Where is all this water coming from?
Amena pockets anything shiny, Pimur leaps before he looks, Quercus really gets crabs at a personal level, and Lance fearlessly leads the way.
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There are few things as beautiful as an Ogier barreling out of the smoke of battle to save your dying friend, but watching him then casually decapitate the enemy threatening your party is certainly one of those things.
Reunited, the Heroes of Dal Sherandu patch themselves up as best they can (aided tremendously by Amena’s newly discovered Healing weaves), and resume their trek to the ruined fortress on the east side of town. Behind them, the town burns and shudders under continuing bombardment, but Quercus assures the party that most of the inhabitants are sheltering in the Church of the Dragon.
Careful to avoid enemy eyes, the party attempts to sneak up to the ruins around the side. This may or may not have been a wise idea, as the next shell that falls crumbles the ground under their feet, dropping them into an underground chamber. Now they are inside what might be considered a vault, but the air is foul. Lance investigates the room for traps as Pimur and Amena consider the mysterious objects in niches along the walls. The party makes the process of unlocking the door far more complicated than it needs to be, and ventures deeper into the maze.
Twitter: @just_role
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In a suspended instant of deafening thunder, the quiet sanctity of The Eighth Tower is destroyed as battle arrives in Dal Sherandu. Keira Sedai reminds everyone that she is still a Green sister, and then the party splits up.
Quercus, his long legs carrying him quickly away from the smoke and confusion of the bar, heads to the defensive positions at the north edge of town. He gathers what information he can, observing without engaging the battle on the west side, and is not encouraged. Moving back into town, he is just in time to spot people in need of rescue inside a burning building.
Amena, Pimur, and Lance attempt to move east through the town, hoping to reach the fortress and its mysterious vault that the enemy seeks. Almost immediately they fail to avoid the eye of an enemy group, and engage in combat. The novices show off some new weaves they’ve learned since leaving Dal Sherandu, and Lance dances more dexterously than ever, but they appear to be outmatched!
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The party carefully conceals themselves in the underbrush to spy on a supposed meeting of the leaders of the enemy they’ve faced over the last few days. They are richly rewarded with unsettling sights and valuable information. Afterwards, the party is faced with a choice, and splits up to follow multiple leads.
Quercus and Lance follow the head bad guys deeper into the woods. Alternating between boldness and caution, they make perplexing observations of the mysterious enemy forces. Quercus fails to appreciate Lance’s sarcasm, while Lance underestimates Quercus’ literalism.
Pimur and Amena follow Tedric back to Dal Sherandu. A trembling Pimur is led to the soothing interior of The Eighth Tower, with a concerned Amena shepherding him into the embrace of a stout brew or two. As the buzz in his head subsides, Keira Sedai brings the novices up to speed on preparations made in Dal Sherandu since the enemy was sighted.
Lance and Quercus return to Dal Sherandu to rejoin their novice friends, right as they are firmly rejecting a scheme to send them out of danger with the other civilians. As the team’s resolve hardens into a level-up, the whistle of incoming artillery lends a level of urgency to their quest to thwart the enemy.
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Tedric arrives on a scene of bloody chaos as the party wraps up their fight with the berserkers. Pimur wakes up with an ear-splitting roar as he is stabilized by the warder’s experienced field care, nearly drowning out the tongue-lashing being administered simultaneously to the entire party.
Quercus rebuilds the campfire and prepares tea, Amena attempts to keep Pimur from exerting himself back into unconsciousness, and Lance fills Tedric in on (the majority of) the party’s activities since leaving Dal Sherandu. In return, the party is informed that the strange army of faux-Trollocs has arrived in the vicinity of the town, and that the most elite units of the Children are out patrolling that very moment.
Guarded by Tedric, the party gratefully collapses into the deep sleep of recovery. When they wake, Amena and Quercus interrogate the one berserker prisoner left over from the fight, while Pimur and Lance search the other corpses. They learn of a meeting scheduled for tonight, not far away, so of course they have to go stake it out. But other questions remain; who are these people, and what do they want? Are the asha’man involved, or the Kandori nobility, or both, or neither???
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Facing a quartet of menacing Borderlander warriors, Lance and Quercus are as startled as anyone when four fiery explosions shatter the quiet of the night behind them. Quickly taking advantage of the confusion, Quercus makes very efficient use of the campfire, while one of the warriors gets so confused he spends half the fight attacking random bushes.
Lance draws blood as fast as he loses it, Amena struggles to maintain her composure, while Pimur is torn between disparate strategic impulses. Using teamwork, grit, and desperation, the party manages to overcome the odds and avoid a Total Party Kill. Barely.
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In the aftermath of the battle, the Heroes of Dal Sherandu meet their first band of Aiel, and learn that an army of false-Trollocs has been making their way west through New Malkier towards their home. Despite their enthusiasm to join forces with the Aiel and continue the chase, they recognize that they need a few hours rest before going on. They wake to find themselves alone again, and take off after their new friends.
A day and a half later, the party is exhausted and still hasn’t seen signs of those they pursue, when the flare of fire reaches them through the trees. Sneaking forward, they spot some Borderlanders, but warily hold back half their strength. Lance and Quercus move forward to see what the hunters know, while Pimur and Amena hang back and keep an eye out.
While uneasy conversation occupies the campfire, the novices discover proof that they have stumbled across foe rather than friends, and signal for the others to rejoin them. Before they can retreat, the jig is up, and all hangs on the point of a blade.
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When the red light of attack flares in the southern sky, Pimur and Quercus have no restraint. Tearing through the woods in the predawn light, they find a party of Aiel tangled with the previously-encountered false-Trollocs. Wasting no time, they engage the clear choice of enemy. Following quickly behind, Lance dances with his swords while Amena grimly wields death.
Firebolts, metal bolts, bullets, blades, and all-around bravery shine through the blistering minute or so of combat that encompasses this entire episode.
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Standing by the side of the road with a dead bandit in the wagon and clouds dropping a drenching rainfall, the party considers their next move. They know an army is marching on Dal Sherandu, but not much else.
Amena and Quercus explore the woods parallel to the road while Lance and Pimur continue taking the cart down the road towards home. The tracks in the trees merge with more groups, picking up speed and changing direction. The fog of rain begins to be laced with the smell of smoke and cooking meat.
The party gathers on the road again, and Pimur goes to find the source of the smoke. When he returns, he is carrying a fragment of a burnt Tinker wagon and is nearly incoherent with horror. Lance plies him with numbing doses of alcohol while Amena huddles with Ashendari and tries to plan their next move. Quercus also visits the source of the smoke to gather details that Pimur may have missed.
As Pimur is disinclined to ever sleep again, Quercus stays up to play Stones with him into the night, which is why they both spot the eerie red light flaring to life from the direction of Dal Sherandu.
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Fleeing from a burning watchpost leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of the novices, but what else can they do? A small altercation in the forest to their right proves too intriguing to ignore.
Leaving a sleeping Lance in the cart to be guarded by Quercus, Pimur and Amena sneak into the woods to seek the source of the gunshot. They find a man bleeding from a musket wound, and no gunman in sight. Between Amena’s charming personality and Pimur’s flask of low-grade whisky, he spills far more of the enemy’s secrets than he probably would have if he wasn’t already dying.
Loathe to leave the man to an unknown fate, the novices figure out how to use saidar collaboratively to move him back to the wagon. Proud of their achievement, they are mildly dismayed when Quercus suggests that a five day wagon ride to Dal Sherandu might not be the most… humane… treatment the party would be able to administer. Death takes the choice from their hands as technical difficulties bring the game session to an early end.
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Bemused and bloodied, the party reluctantly scurries away from the corpse of a man with the words “Chosen of the Shadow” branded into his forehead, just ahead of a horde of his fellows. They make their way to the Children’s signal beacon, and Pimur manages to focus his saidar talent for his favorite element to light the beacon fire with perhaps a bit more flair than is strictly necessary.
Quercus considers the wisdom of sneaking into the enemy camp (it’s the last thing they’ll expect, obviously) while Amena fusses with her new ter’angreal and keeps Ashendari out of trouble. With Lance hovering at the edge of consciousness and the watchpost of the Children up in flames, the party decides to flee for Dal Sherandu. More giant dogs block their way, while gunshots behind them speed their steps.
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Upon arriving at the waystation of the Children of the Light, the party is dismayed to see evidence of hostile forces that should not exist in this day and Age. Lance is disturbed to learn that the waystation was expecting more reinforcements than their lone wagon of basic supplies.
Rather than sticking around to gather information or reinforce the fortifications, the eager novices promptly take off into the woods to look for a lost patrol of Children. Quercus is skeptical that the enemy can possibly be the fabled “trollocs” of the Third Age.
In the woods, Amena and Pimur (and Ashandari the Best Dog) find evidence of a struggle. Continuing on, the party stumbles across a valley full of people with unknown but certainly nefarious plans for the waystation. Surprising a guard at the edge of the camp, they engage with an enemy that is not all he seems.
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Seeing the suspicious balance of power in the Tinker caravan, Pimur is unpleasantly reminded of the time he was pulled into someone else’s world against his will. However all his efforts to change their far less binding circumstances go for nothing, as human nature and the One Power are equally fickle creatures.
Amena persists in her quest to acquire a furry companion. Quercus provides ample quantities of creative ideas and a bit of help, and eventually she succeeds in “liberating” a Tinker dog. Lance looks askance at this behavior, but is diverted from the dubious morality of starting a one-dog cult of personality by the far more important question of if his new blade can split bullets shot from Pimur’s guns. Quercus retreats to the woods to ponder if human stupidity is quantifiable. Amena ponders the perfect name for her new pupperz.
For once, the night passes quietly. (Too quietly?) In the morning, a leisurely arrival at the watchpost of the Children of the Light is abruptly shattered by unwelcome news.
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Back on the road with shiny new toys granted by the mysterious couple in the hidden thicket, the party continues their quest to deliver a wagonload of supplies to a Children of the Light camp before worse weather arrives. Along the way, they come across a caravan of the Traveling People.
Despite Pimur fumbling the ritual greeting, they welcome the group to stay the night and have a bite to eat. A surprisingly heated debate erupts between Quercus and the group’s leader. Amena makes new friends, and a secret deal. Lance keeps watch, and spots oddities on the horizon.
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Torn between deep misgivings and burning curiosity about their hosts, the party manages to keep their cool. Pimur and Quercus offer to help Brechin around the farm, and reach an unexpected mutual understanding laced with more questions. Amena uneasily sits with Saine as the latter chatters like any neighborhood granny about the state of her flowerbeds, and insists that visitors need muffins.
A mysterious storage shed beckons, as does the waft of fresh baking. The party considers and discards several plans of action, as well as devouring a pile of perhaps the most delicious muffins in history. Lance demonstrates supreme courtesy and caution, no matter the situation.
They wait the night out uneasily, sheltered from the storm and perplexed by their circumstances. In the end, discretion appears to indeed be the better part of valor. Or at least, the more profitable part.
Twitter: @just_role
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Emerging from the cave complex as wiser and more experienced heroes, the party returns the lost child to a grateful mother. They are promptly “honored” with extra responsibilities that, by pure coincidence, require they leave the festivities promptly to guard a wagon train from inclement weather. The three who are obligated to fulfill these responsibilities persuade Quercus to accompany them, for reasons that are not completely clear, even to them. Maybe there is luck in keeping the party together?
As the promised storm drives the party to seek immediate shelter, a protected thicket beckons. Inside, they find a dome of pure Power blocking the storm, and a man engaged in normal farming activities. Inside the farmhouse, the mystery deepens, until a stunning revelation floors the novices.
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As the Festival of Lights reaches its climax, a panicked mother calls on the crowd for help. Quercus helpfully points out a botanical clue in the child's disappearance, while failing to distinguish between the footprints of small children and squirrels.
Amena uses her cool head to lead the party to a small cave nearby, and Lance bravely volunteers to explore inside first. Pimur is simultaneously excited at the adventure and infuriated by the slippery nature of the One Power in times of need.
Inside the cave, the worst fears of the party are realized as giant spiders defend a silk-wrapped bundle. Quercus anxiously looks for an Ogier-sized entrance into the cave complex.
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