PRELUDE
A crisp, predawn mountain wind strengthened by the speed of your stallion stings your copper scaled face as you ride, but that's not why your jaw clenches so tightly. Two soldiers you once trained and haven't seen in nearly a decade ride before you, but your reunion is far beyond your mind. The hooves of three horses on a dirt road strewn with frost echo across the expanse of the Klybbenmyr plains around you, but the sharp, uneasy fear in your stomach isn't from being out in the open. Your eyes are fixed to the sky. Beneath a pearlescent gibbous moon and above the cathedral ridge line of the Spyremist mountains ahead, a deep, dark sky grows the faintest shade of blue and silhouettes what all three of you had hoped was just your imaginations – smoke.
The others speed up, you follow suit, and only the Divines know what's faster: the horses or your mind. "How could it be? Maybe it's a coincidence? There's no way someone else could have known… right?" You don't even register entering the woods until the soft white trunks of silver birch bark all around you begin to reflect an orange glow. The sound of flittering leaves in the morning wind is joined by a fanfare of flame, announcing welcome to your unfortunate destination and an end for the horses efforts. But if this was a race, it was never a fair one. For while the blazing homestead before you is a finish line for the horses; for you, it's just the beginning.
"Dra'tesh! To the door!" A cloaked figure dismounts her steed and runs to join another, both silhouetted in orange against a bonfire of a large, 2 story cabin. You dismount Porridge, your trusted and somewhat out of shape equine companion, land in a crunch of frosted leaves and soil, and run over to your two fellow travelers standing by the cabin entrance, yet to be engulfed in flame.
"On it," the second figure says in a quick monotone as they briefly turn your way. A tan skinned male appearing in his late 20's with high cheekbones and short, dark, messy hair shaved down clean on both sides of his head away from pointed ears, and clad in the worn gambeson of a Reachman of Ophanheim prepares to shoulder check the door.
"No, Terri.” The first figure turns slightly towards you as you arrive while still talking to Terri, revealing the face of a tan skinned female appearing in her mid-late 30's with similarly high cheekbones and pointed ears; her hair pulled back in a dark braid and her face stern with focus.
"Gear check," she commands.
Terri quickly glances over to you with a look of recognition. Immediately all three of you turn away from each other to begin inspecting your own equipment, or more accurately, imitating the inspection of your own equipment. You reach down to untie your brown weathered boots, aged from soil and sun, and retie them, taking great care not to look at the others, especially while they speak.
"Dra'tesh and I will handle this," she continues.
"You sure?" Terri's voice responds.
"I need you to ride to get help."
"No way a fire brigade'll get here in time."
"That's why you'll ride to North Shillings Nullpriest outpost down the road and inform whoever's on duty that Lieutenant General of the Reach, Aeryna Silvanus, requests immediate assistance at the homestead of the First Blade of Ophanheim".
You sense Terri stop.
"Please," Aeryna continues; "whatever Mars found, if it's in there, if he's in there... we need all the help we can get. Now."
After a short pause, Terri responds, "And when they read our minds, what then?"
"That’s what we’ve been using gear check for – as long as they can’t read our lips, they can’t prove anything."
"And if they dig deeper than an eye read?"
“I’ll request to postpone.”
“And if you’re denied?”
“I won’t.”
“Willing to bet your life on that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Willing to bet his life on that?” Terri says, nodding in your direction.
“He doesn’t know anything”, Aeryna says as she looks to you. “He’s safe for now.”
“For how long? He slips once and sees our lips talking about the wrong thing and we’re all done the instant they peek into his mind, which is exactly what they’ll do if they come here. I won’t be the one to paint targets on our back.”
“Without them, we can't afford to look for Mars in there”, Aeryna says matter of factly.
A crash from within the home signals the beginning of its collapse.
"We don’t have time”, she continues. “Jail is better than dead. Ride on – that’s an order.”
There's a pause as you pretend to inspect the buckles on your left gauntlet, then the sound of boots impacting the forest frost around you takes your attention. "Pulling rank? That's rich," you hear Terri say as the sound of footsteps trails off. "Out of the frying pan and into the stockades it is!" he yells in sarcastic frustration as a horse snorts against the chorus of flames before becoming a gallop of hoof-falls into the night.
Aeryna exhales deeply. "You take downstairs, I'll take upstairs. Anything looks important, don't look close, but grab if possible. If Mars is-" she falters, "down, don't look close, either. Call me first. Gear checked?"
"Gear checked," you reply flatly.
You stand to face Aeryna as she turns around with a grin. "Any last words, general captain?"
[YOUR RESPONSE: PICK ONE]
[A] “This” *Lift your leg to kick in the door*
[B] “Here we go again”
[C] “I just hope we’re not too late”
[D] “I'm too old for this”
You almost smile. You almost remind her its been a decade since you were a reachman of status, but you know the time for memories is not now. Time is of the essence, and you’ve already borrowed too much. You bust down the door.
DEXTERITY CHALLENGE!
[5-20] go to 2
[1-4] go to 3
