The wayhouse door opens against the rain. Eddard Eddard Stewheart stands outside, a broad adult dragonborn man with wet red scales, a travel-stained brown cloak, and an empty weapon belt. Water streams from his blunt horns as he freezes at the sight of the party.
Eddard Stewheart
I came to warn you that the roots once marked travelers who carried an old covenant sign, and that warning now names Illith Storm before the joke can escape me.
His unfinished grin collapses. He steps over the threshold only when the wind shoves rain across the floor, keeping both clawed hands visible and empty.
Bubblegum
Eddard Stewheart! Three weeks of terrible jokes, one locked gate, and now you arrive looking like a drowned beetroot.
Eddard Stewheart
The beetroot is new. The roots are not. I will say more when I know whether you mean to answer their warning or flee from it.
Windsteel
That is a remarkably careful way to avoid saying anything useful. Come inside, Stewheart, before the rain finishes your argument.
Windsteel remains beneath the narrow window, one hand near his healing wound. Lord Edran stays by the cold hearth, while Bubblegum watches Eddard with her axe within easy reach. The room waits on Illith.
“*I see the rain and lightning and I’m hiding crouched in the corner with a large pot over my head. My eyes peek out under the pot to stare back at everyone.* “What?””
FAILURE (Good Stealth, rolled -2)
Thunder rolls over the wayhouse. Illith crouches hard into the corner, dragging a large iron pot over her head as rain flashes white beyond the window.
The pot’s rim catches against the stone wall and slips sideways with a booming clang. It hides her face poorly, leaving one sapphire eye peering beneath it at the room.
Illith Storm
What?
Bubblegum
You are under a pot. I can see your entire arm, snow mountain.
Eddard Stewheart
I have seen braver shelters, but never one with such impressive cookware. The storm has your attention, then.
As Illith shifts, the pot rolls from her head and strikes the floor upside down. Its blackened base bears a faint green mark, matching the shrine’s covenant fire.
Windsteel
There. The mark is not decoration. If the roots recognize covenant signs, that pot may show us what they expect you to answer.
“Really? I was just using it to hide from the lightning..”
SUCCESS (Superb Willpower, rolled +1)
Illith Storm
Really? I was just using it to hide from the lightning.
Illith gathers the overturned pot and pulls it close against her granite knees as another pale flash whitens the window. The green mark remains visible on its blackened base.
Bubblegum
A perfectly sensible plan, if the lightning is frightened by cookware. Keep it close, snow mountain.
Eddard Stewheart
I cannot mock a shelter that works. Besides, the pot has chosen an inconvenient moment to reveal its mysterious history.
Windsteel
The mark may still matter, even if you found it by hiding. We can study it after the storm passes, without asking you to stand near the window.
Lord Edran kneels beside the pot without touching it, comparing the green mark with the cracked crest’s remembered shape. Rain drums overhead, but no roots stir.
Lord Edran Vale
It is not House Vale’s crest. It resembles the shrine’s witness mark, placed here long before this wayhouse became shelter.
+ New Item Acquired
Marked iron pot
“I’m not standing by the window with a pot”
Illith Storm
I’m not standing by the window with a pot. I’m hiding from the lightning, and this is a guaranteed, risk-free shelter.
Illith shifts farther from the window, keeping the pot close while the rain and thunder remain outside. The green witness mark stays visible on its blackened base.
Bubblegum
Of course. A strategic retreat into cookware. I warmly approve, snow mountain.
Eddard Stewheart
Then let the record show that the pot is shelter, not a challenge to the storm. I find that distinction entirely reasonable.
Windsteel gives the window a cautious glance, then turns back to the table. He keeps his voice gentle and makes no request that Illith approach the flashing glass.
Windsteel
Understood. Stay where the storm cannot reach you. We can examine the mark from here, when the thunder gives us room.
Lord Edran Vale
And the mark can wait. Whatever covenant placed it here, it has not demanded an answer tonight.
“Just point me at things I can hit with my sword. Until then in right here.”
SUCCESS (Great Melee Combat, rolled +1)
Illith Storm
Just point me at things I can hit with my sword. Until then, I’m staying right here.
Illith remains tucked beneath the shelter of the wayhouse, pot held close and flaming sword within reach. Thunder mutters beyond the walls, safely distant for now.
Windsteel
Then stay here. The woodpile by the hearth is dry, and the stacked practice posts beside it are sturdy enough for your blade.
Windsteel points across the room without asking her to approach the window. Beyond the cold hearth, three scarred wooden posts lean against the stone wall.
Eddard Stewheart
There are your targets, snow mountain. They are silent, stationary, and unlikely to invoke an ancient covenant.
Bubblegum
And if the posts complain, you can hit the firewood next. I will supervise from a very safe distance.
Lord Edran Vale
The room is yours to defend or train within, Illith. Nothing outside demands your attention tonight.