Wind claws over the Dragon Scale landing. Below, the lowlands fade under slate mist. Slaan keeps watch at the rim while Dravin spreads the Sun-Eater papers across the stone.
Dravin
Two still answer my route. One near the low road, one by the old toll cairn. If they are alive, we can still move before the Chapel seals the pass.
Lord Markul
Names are cheap. Proof is not. If your threads are cut, Dravin, then we are bait for nothing.
A harsh shout drifts up from the trail. Far off, pale banners flicker between rocks, Inquisitors moving fast. At the same time, a second tremor runs through the stone underfoot, as if something deeper in the mountain answers the bane stone's call.
Slaan
The banners are closing the window.
Dravin
Then choose. Trust the route and strike the lowlands now, or wait and let the Church and the thing beneath the pass find us first.
Lord Markul folds the records shut. Slaan has the shape of the answer in front of her now, the alliance survives only if they move before both threats meet here.
✓ Quest Accepted
Reach the lowlands before the Inquisitors and the Chaos node converge
“I toss the phylactery to Mutual like a hot potato " here I have a feeling this is yours anyway" I shove the scrolls in the pack. Never expected the holy inquisition.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +0)
Slaan flicks the phylactery at Dravin, and it lands against his chest with a hard little thud. He catches it by reflex while she shoves the folded scrolls into her pack, fingers moving fast against the stone wind.
Dravin
So it is mine. That confirms too much, and not enough.
Lord Markul’s gaze sharpens at the exchange. The records disappear under Slaan’s hand, packed away before the mountain can shake them loose.
Lord Markul
If that token belongs to you, then speak plainly. Who answers the route now?
Dravin
The low road still has one voice. The old toll cairn has another, if the stone has not taken them already.
Far below, pale banners press closer between the rocks. A second tremor ripples through Dragon Scale, jostling loose grit at their boots and making the hidden seam in the stone give a low, answering shudder.
Dravin
Choose quickly. Move now, or let both threats meet us here.
✓ Quest Accepted
Learn the old toll cairn contact
Quest Complete
Learn who still answers Dravin's route
Skill Upgrade: Thievery Good→Great
“" not yours Bram, your still breathing right. it's Markul's. " Now hand it to him”
SUCCESS (Legendary Persuasion, rolled +1)
Slaan answers with a flat, quiet demand, and Dravin’s grip tightens around the phylactery. He looks once at Lord Markul, then extends it across the stone between them.
Slaan
Not yours, Bram. You are still breathing, right? It is Markul’s. Now hand it to him.
Dravin gives a short, humorless breath and places the token into Lord Markul’s waiting palm. The mountain tremor rolls under their boots, but nobody reaches for a weapon.
Dravin
Then let it speak for itself.
Lord Markul
Good. That is the first honest thing said on this landing.
Lord Markul closes his fingers around the phylactery, studying Slaan over it. Dravin keeps his hand open a moment longer, as if measuring the cost of letting go.
Dravin
The low road gives us one voice. The toll cairn gives us another, if it still stands.
Lord Markul
Then we have our answer, and a choice worth making together.
“" who we taken the papers to, I'm tired of taking these all over hell and back”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +1)
Slaan
Who do we take these papers to? I am tired of carrying them all over the world.
Dravin
To the low road first. If the route holds, it points us to the old toll cairn, and from there to the one who answers there.
Lord Markul
Not the Church. Not the dead route. The destination is a living hand that still remembers the code.
The tremor runs through the landing again, but this time nobody flinches from the answer. Dravin’s shoulders ease by a fraction, as if naming the path finally gives the burden a shape.
Dravin
The toll cairn is where the ash marks are read. If someone still keeps watch, they will know the name that matters.
Lord Markul
Then we go to the toll cairn, and we go as one. If the papers are to mean anything, they end there, in plain sight.
Lord Markul lowers the phylactery toward the folded records, gathering the route into a single decision. The distant Inquisitor banners keep edging closer, while grit hisses across the stone under their boots.
“" are we still taking council from the man that just tryed to kill us all off in one way or another?" I ask sardonically”
SUCCESS (Legendary Persuasion, rolled +0)
Slaan
Are we still taking council from the man who tried to kill us in one way or another?
Slaan’s tone lands dry and sharp across the stone spread. Dravin stills, then lets out a slow breath as if the question deserves it.
Dravin
No. You are right to ask it.
Dravin
I brought poison to the route and called it usefulness. If you stop trusting me here, that is earned.
Lord Markul
He answers because the answer is costly. That is worth more than comfort.
Dravin glances to the ash-stamped scroll, then back to Slaan, his jaw tight with shame rather than defiance.
Dravin
Keep me on a short leash, then. Use what I know. Discard me the moment I turn vague again.
Lord Markul lowers his hand from the phylactery and folds the records inward, sealing the choice into one stack. The tremor shivers grit over their boots, but the three of them remain in place, united for the moment by suspicion spoken out loud.
“"you turn on us and I'll have Bram here light you up like a yule tree," I say coldly”
SUCCESS (Good Intimidation, rolled -2)
Slaan
You turn on us and I have Bram light you up like a yule tree.
The words cut cleanly across the landing. Dravin’s eyes flick to Bram, then away, and his mouth tightens as if the threat lands exactly where it should.
Dravin
Understood. If I stray, you do not warn me twice.
Bram shifts his grip on the bow, saying nothing, but the movement is answer enough. Lord Markul’s hand closes over the folded records, and the ash map gives a dull creak under his fingers.
Lord Markul
Good. A leash is honest. Silence is not.
A tremor runs through the stone. Grit hisses over Slaan’s boots, and the old scroll case taps once against Dravin’s palm before he steadies it.
Dravin
Then take the toll cairn first. The one who answers there knows the low road, and knows who has been feeding the route.
For a beat, nobody speaks. The trust does not heal, but it holds, hard and visible, while the banners outside stay far enough away to be ignored for one more breath.
“" let's go"”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +0)