S01E03 - The Hunting Heron

Introduction

Day: 1

Time of day: Mid afternoon

Weather: Sunny

Characters: Hadley, Tasha, Elena

Location: Kethryn

The Hunting Heron is warm and close after the salt air of the docks. Lantern light catches in the rafters and throws a steady glow over well used tables and worn floorboards. The noise here is more muted than on the quay - oddly domestic, the murmur of idle chat and quiet drinking rather than the clamour of the docks.

Berrin, with many shakes of Hadley’s hand and promises of help if they need anything while they’re in Kethryn, left them in the care of the landlord, a rotund, ruddy faced man with a wide moustache and a cloth constantly moving from hand to hand. His name is Garrick Mallow - he has the air of someone who’s seen the best and worst of Kethryn and made his peace with it.

Hadley has washed, the worst of the lake water rinsed from him, and changed into dry clothes. His damp coat hangs steaming a little near the hearth. He sits heavily at the table, sleeves rolled, steam rising from a bowl of thick stew set before him. He takes a long pull from his tankard and lets out a quiet breath of satisfaction. Tasha eats more slowly, her brow furrowed in thought.

Elena has barely touched her stew. Her hood is pushed back now, but she keeps her voice low, instinctively unwilling to draw attention to herself.

“It troubles me,” she says. “A woman we do not know, who knows we are coming. Who pays children to watch the boats. Who seems to know us.” Her fingers rest lightly against the rim of her bowl. “That is not chance - it is design.”

Hadley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aye,” he says. “It is.”

“And design,” Elena continues, “is rarely innocent when it shrouds itself in mystery.”

Questions

I think they’re going to try to find out a bit more about this lady. Hadley is going to chat with the landlord, Garrick Mallow, to see if he knows anything about her or about the shrine road.

Hadley drains the last of his ale and sets the tankard down with a solid thud against the wood.

“I’ll fetch another,” he says, pushing back his chair. “And have a word with the landlord while I’m at it.”

He reaches for the empty tankard. “Men like him hear everything. Sailors brag, merchants complain. Someone’s always had too much and spills out more than they meant to.” He glances between Tasha and Elena. “If there’s talk of a willow house on the shrine road, I’d not be surprised to find he’s caught wind of it.”

He rises and makes his way toward the bar, empty tankard in hand.

Questions

Right! I think Hadley needs a Charisma roll here. I’d like to give him a bonus on it - his Charisma isn’t great at 9. Let’s see…

Hadley weaves through the crowd to the bar and leans on the oak top, plonking his tankard down with a thud. Garrick Mallow, at the other end of the bar drying glasses, looks towards him, nods and placing the glass he’s holding on the wooden counter, walks down to Hadley.

“Now I’ll wager that ale went down a treat - am I right?” His voice is warm, his tone genial.

“Indeed it did landlord and I’ll have another to keep it company if you’ll be so kind.” Hadley grins broadly at him. Mallow picks up the tankard and turns to fill it from one of the barrels resting on a wooden frame behind him.

“You staying long in Kethryn?” Mallow’s tone is friendly, conversational and Hadley answers in the same vein.

“Looks like we’re leaving tomorrow morning”. Hadley grimaces, “Only just got here and we’re called out of town again. Seems the gods have forgotten all the nice things I’ve said about them and have decided to deny me the pleasure of your good ale past today.”

Mallow smiles - “Where are you headed?”

Hadley shrugs - “To be honest landlord, I’m not entirely sure. We’re heading north, up the ‘old shrine road’ I think they call it. One of my companions is a Shallyan - she’s keen on visiting the shrine. Tell me - have you heard tell of another Shallyan in these parts? A woman? Lives out that way somewhere?”

Questions

He did quite well there - managed to be civil and chatty. I think that warrants a modifier. I’ll give him -1 on this roll.

I should say - bonuses are slightly strange in a roll under system like OSE. A helpful bonus is negative while a hindrance is positive. Confusing!

Here we go. Hadley, Charisma roll. He needs to get less than a 9 and can subtract 1 from his roll since he did well with the patter.

Hadley Charisma: 19-1 = 18 vs 9

Damn.

Mallow cocks his head as if thinking hard but as he does so there’s a shout from the door at the back of the bar. He suddenly looks worried - “Gods alive! It’s that damn cook again! Excuse me friend…”

He turns and hurries along the bar, disappearing through the doorway. Hadley curses quietly under his breath and turns back towards his companions. He shakes his head as Tasha raises her eyebrows in a mute question.

Questions

That seemed like a rather sudden exit… I’m going to give Hadley a Wisdom roll to see if he gets any insight from the landlord’s manner.

Hadley Wisdom: 8+0 = 8 Vs 10

So Hadley gets something, some hint of insight as the landlord hurries away. What is it? I’m going to use a “Mood” oracle that I recently found. It’s a d10 roll.

Mood: 8 - Determination, work, focus

Hadley walks back over to the table and heavily slumps down in his chair.

“He’s too busy to talk - seemed like he might but it’s probably not a great time to catch him for a chat.” He looks around. “Best we can do is put our feet up for the afternoon and get a good night’s sleep.”

He looks at Tasha, a slight frown on his face. “You’re quiet. Not like you.”

Questions

What’s Tasha thinking about? I suspect she’d be still thinking she wants to set off now. I wonder if she says that?

Does she? - Likely - 80 - Yes

Tasha hesitates for a moment, then sets her spoon down as if she’s suddenly forgotten the stew is there.

“We shouldn’t be sitting here,” she says, low but firm. Her eyes keep sliding toward the door, toward the road beyond. “That boy didn’t just bring a message. It was a warning. ‘Don’t delay.’”

Hadley leans back, tired muscles and warm ale weighing him down. “A warning from a stranger who pays children to spy on boats…”

“A warning all the same!” Tasha insists. She draws her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders, as if the tavern’s warmth can’t quite reach whatever chill is under her skin. “If someone is waiting by the shrine - if someone is hurt, or… if it’s something Shallya would have me answer - then every hour we linger here is an hour we’re choosing comfort over duty.”

Elena watches her over the rim of her bowl. “Duty can be used as a hook,” she says quietly.

Tasha turns to her, frustration flashing. “And caution can become an excuse that lets harm happen while we congratulate ourselves on being careful.” She lowers her voice again, forcing herself to breathe evenly. “I don’t like this any more than either of you. I feel it too - the wrongness of being expected. But that’s exactly why I don’t want to wait until night. If it is a trap, darkness favours it. If it is not a trap, then delay may mean we are too late.”

She looks to Hadley, searching his face. “Please. You said yourself we don’t know what’s waiting on that road. Then let’s meet it on our terms - now, while there’s still light. We can buy supplies quickly, take the north gate, and be past the farms before dusk. Or at least get clear of the city.”

Hadley’s jaw works. He glances toward the bar - toward the doorway Garrick vanished through - and there’s a flicker of annoyance that the questions that might have given them some insight have stalled.

Tasha presses on, softer now. “I keep thinking about the way the boy said it. Like he was repeating words he didn’t understand. Like he’d been told to make sure we heard that part. ‘Important you didn’t delay.’” She swallows. “I don’t know why, but it sits in me like a stone. I can’t shake it.”

For a moment, the table is quiet except for the low murmur of the tavern around them - laughing somewhere near the hearth, a chair scraping, the clink of a mug on wood.

Tasha holds Hadley’s gaze, steadying herself, then looks at Elena. “I’m asking you both. Let’s go now.”

Questions

Well! An impassioned plea indeed! And pretty convincing. I have a strong suspicion that Hadley at least will be swayed - he has a soft spot for Tasha. Elena isn’t quite so pliable but she is loyal to her friends.

I think I’ll decide this first as an oracle roll as I think it’s likely her words convince them. If that says no, I’ll let Tasha have a normal roll to persuade them. The oracle roll then:

Does she convince them? Surely - Yes

Hadley exhales through his nose, long and slow, and pushes his bowl away like it’s offended him personally. “Fine, fine. We’ll go.” he grumbles.

He casts a sour look around the tavern - warmth, stew, a cushioned seat - and for a moment it’s clear he hates leaving it behind. Then his expression changes - resigned, a little weary maybe.

“You’re right, of course.” he adds, quietly. “I just don’t like it.”

Elena’s gaze lingers on Tasha. “There is no necessity,” she says flatly. “We owe this stranger nothing. If they truly needed help, they would not send riddles through children.” But when Tasha doesn’t look away, Elena gives a small, resigned nod. “Still - if you go, I go.”

Hadley reaches for his coat, still faintly damp, and hauls himself up with a muttered complaint that’s half performance. “Then we go now,” he says. “Before I come to my senses.” He looks to Tasha, gruff but steady. “Whatever it is that’s waiting for us better have damn good reason for pulling me away from a hot dinner and a bed.”

Elena pulls her hood back into place, already slipping into the habit of not being noticed. “Daylight or no,” she murmurs, “we should assume we are expected.”

Tasha smiles at them both, her eyes bright. “Truly, Shallya’s greatest blessing to me has been our friendship.”

They gather their belongings, Tasha’s face alight with excitement. As they leave the tavern, Hadley pauses and casting a last glance back at his empty tankard on the table, gives a deep sigh and then follows his friends.

Questions

End of scene. I think they made the right decision. Who knows what’s waiting for them but delaying when pressed not to always seems like a mistake. We’ll see…