SoloDark: Pelor's Quest ep75

-/-- Welcome to SoloBickering! It's a solo rpg, which means I roll dice generate a story and decide outcomes, and lose arguments with myself as I portray the exploits of my adventurers. 

--/-- Join me on a journey into the game world I play face to face in, and it may sound vaguely familiar to you. Like many another DM I stitch my world together from any bits and pieces I fancy, adding them into a standard setting, Faerun's Sword Coast.  

--/-- AI and NSFW: For this adventure the stars are young and moderately hot, and I'll be using CoPilot AI to buff my romance bar, because I'm useless at romance, and for side situations that need social interactions. Some of the situations the young protagonists find themselves in may turn out to be NSFW. I won't be deliberately aiming for that, but oracles are what they are. So if on either account you take an ethical stand against those, skip this episode and listen in to Rollohi, my other SoloBickering output. 

--/-- And having said that, let's get the game started. 

https://larrymannplayssolobickering.blogspot.com

Transcript

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Hi, I'm John from Tale of the Mandicore. Robin from Stories from the First Watch. PJ from a Wasteland Story in the Solo Roleplayers Podcast. Simon from Legend of the Bones. Brian Rydo from Swords Against Madness. Carl from the Lone Adventurer. And I'm Trevor from Your Story Will Be Different. And with our solo roleplaying audio. Narrative. Actual play. Drama powers combined. We are the Solo Roleplayers Podcast Network. Usually accustomed to delving the depths. Scouring the desert. Surviving the wasteland. Or facing the dragon alone. This time, we have teamed up to bring you a created collection of the best, highest quality, most dramatic, and diceyest solo roleplay podcasts in the world. So if you're looking for your next solo roleplaying adventure, roll over to solo roleplayersnetwork.com and subscribe to something that takes your fancy. And discover your new favorite solo roleplaying podcast. See you there. Now the somber hills. You crossed wild country before. But the sombers in winter, that's a different kind of trial. Trails vanish, landmarks shift. A clear sky can turn to a white wall in the time it takes to draw breath. You've all done well, more than well. Red Larch is safe because of yours. But this ride, this is the hardest thing you've faced yet. The world itself, cold and uncaring. Stay close. Listen when I speak. And trust that I'll get you to polyard in one piece. After that, well. The sombers ain't waiting. Welcome back to season two of Paylor's Quest, a solo dark adventure. For this venture, the stars are young and moderately hot, and I'll be using Copilot AI here and there to buff my romance bar, because I'm useless at romance, and beside situations that don't really need tools. Some of the situations the young protagons find themselves in may turn out to be NSFW. And if you're uncomfortable on either of those two scores, skip this and head over to the world of Rollohy. Otherwise, having said that, let's get on with this show. Last episode saw a touch of nameless horror as a chance visitor to the camp turned out to be something much more menacing. It was in fact the demon lord Grest, who previously had interacted with our plot in the guise of the southern mage Luce. He's been keeping an eye as best he can on the doings of this particular group of adventurers. And their mission into the portal beneath Red Larch triggered his earnest desire to find out a little more about what they were doing. But now, having endured that night, our heroes can look forward to a more prosperous day. And there are a couple of things which must be the first order of business. Some better explanation from Garak, their guide, as to exactly who they're visiting in Balai, and a short walk for Sakeb to lay his sword, which appears to have become more permanently magical, against the standing stone not far off their camp. Night has passed, the storm breaks just before dawn. Dawn is a pale smear over the summer hills. The world outside the den is white, silent, and still. Garrick listens carefully, breathes in the air, adjusting to the new terrang that the snowfall has made. And the new reality of the chill. Only when he was certain, certain that nothing moves in the hills, nothing watches from the storm's remnants, nothing lingers of the old prospector's presence. Only then does he speak. Alright, we talk now, quietly. The youngsters gather close. Gark kneels in the snow, drawing a rough map of the gloved finger. You ask for who waits for a symbol iron. I should have told you sooner. I'll barely mention it. That's on me. He draws a small circle on the map, a town symbol. Her name is Aberon or Star Toucher. She's a sage. A plain arch skull. Sharp as a frost-tracked stone and twice as stubborn. You know that? I do. She taught me how to listen when the world goes thin. How to feel when the plane's press too close. He taps the map, such as it is, again, the direction of red large. When something is pressing close, your whole felt the earth. Things crawling out of it. And that prospector. Ah, him most of all. His fingers trace the remaining trail between where they are now and Beliard. I reckon we'll get at least as far as the fork here. There's a good campsite. Then we got one more day after that to Beliard. Our supplies will be a little low. The ponies might have to begin foraging. Garrick reaches into his pack and withdraws the scroll case. The one he's kept wrapped since Tribor's delivery service so painfully brought it to Red Larch. He doesn't open it, he just holds it. This scroll. I don't know exactly what it does. Alberana should be able to tell us how Yo Al can use it or I can use it. But that prospector, or whatever he was, that's a problem. Makes me scared for Albarana. Sooner we can get to Beliard the better. I I told him about it. I'm sorry. No, you're scared. And he was he is built to make you talk, I reckon. When he shivers, Natalie squeezes her hand. Listen to me now. That that thing, or whatever name it was, wasn't after you, not really. It wanted the scroll, Sakeg guesses. Ah, or the one that can read it. His finger marks back to Beliat. She's the only one I trust to tell us what the scroll truly is. Whether it closes the rift or opens something worse. And if it gets to her first, Drum says cautiously. And the valley's lost. Maybe more than the whole gasarin. Garrick looks at each of them in turn. Drum, Lucinda, Natalie, Sakeb, and even Winnie. His voice softens. But from here on, we move quiet, we move fast, we trust each other. He stands, brushing snow from his gloves. Back up, booch, but live by night for tomorrow. God willing, we get there before he does. Footsteps crunching through the snow. The wind rises briefly. As Sakeb traces his steps to the standing stone. It was just a shadow yesterday evening. A weather worn monolith jutting from the snow like a broken tooth. Now it stands plain and bare, although hip deep in snow. Sakeb steps forward alone. Goblin grief hums in his hand. Lady look, if this is your doing? Or paler, if this is yours, guide my hand. He presses the blade flat against the stone. There's a low resonant throne a coin spinning on granite. The glow flares, then softens, then settles into a steady sheen. The storm may have passed. But they have a long, long way to go before they're in the clear, before they're down on the north side of the Sumbers and on the road to Beliat. A simple wide junction between windswept trenches carved out by gigantic hands among the hill peaks. He turns to face the youngsters with a half-smile on his grim old face and says for the first time what he's been thinking all day. I gotta give me some thanks to time more. We've been riding our luck all day. Can't believe it. Yeah, there was that cash of goods. And the skin. But I'm telling you, gal. Here she swings on Winnie, calling across to the girl where she's clinging to the pony. Tied swaying in the saddle. Lie down with strange fur, wake up with pleasure or worse. Yeah. I could smoke out some ticks tonight, Drum agrees hoarsely. But you know, if you're cold you're cold, right? Winnie shrugs. The mantle of chance found thick fur has really helped her get through the day. Next comes animal care. She's determined to show us good as she did last night. And then those mountain goats, Trump continues, his voice rising in interest and activity. Natural interest for a ranger. It was like they wanted to show us the best trail. That's right. Garrick agrees. Reckon we gained clear hour there. Guess I just figures we ain't hunting them. It was after the game that Garrick permitted the ponies and horses to stop in Forage. The horses, bred for this region, showed the ponies how best to kick away the snow and get to the edible mosses. The ponies, all natives of a much further north climb, easily got the idea. And all nine of them seemed to be in reasonable condition at this stage, given their cold exposure last night. Ascender Marvel. Thought we might be hunting our campsite here in the dark, but uh as it is, we got plenty of time. See if we can find some barwood left by the last two people here and get us a decent campfire going. Did you consider? I know you said tomorrow's the day for Belayev, but did you consider moving further north? Sucky wonders. Darn right at it, son. Garrett confirms. I'm still thinking it. But we gotta get us a hot meal ourselves first. Pony's the best kind of grain that we can manage, what there is left of it. Then we'll think about making a bit of a night march while I go through my memory and picture campsites that might make it in the rain and snow. I don't think the weather's gonna hold. I don't know, Drum says, looking at the sky, sniffing it. I mean not from these parts, but I'd say this is kind of a holding pattern, wouldn't you? Yeah, maybe. Just don't want to look a gift goddess in the mouth. Garrick snorts with laughter as he pictures Timora opening her mouth for him to look at her teeth. Once we have our subeta grub, I'll put it to the vote. How's that? After we see how the ponies and horses are. I can definitely help with that, Winnie proclaims. And Ned nods her own head. I am used to stable duty, but I wasn't any good at it, of course. Yeah, I gotta say that. I thought you had some kind of knowledge, but uh you've got better, Linda says encouragingly. Drum simply nods. He rates his own farm bound animal handling quite well. The six of them set to caring for the animals as a first duty. Although Garrick, soon aware that Licinda and Drum are less than interested, soon directs them to a particular sheltered spot to dig under the snow to find a cache of firewood. A few minutes of digging, and one of them waves confirmation that the cache is there, and they begin building a good campfire. For the other four, it's not really good news. Five of the six ponies are run down, and two of the horses are showing wear and tear as well. As the reports come in, he also reads the posture of his companions. He already noticed that Lucinda and Drum were flagging. By the time the campfire is lit, Natalie is simply sagging, practically asleep. Oddly enough, Winnie with her extra wrapping of mantle and bedroll and wolf skin, has done as well as Sakeb, who, perhaps because of his experience as a hard-bitten refugee for a time, seems to have fared quite well. He judges that none of them will easily survive a forced march during the night. My judgment is he ponders, almost as though talking aloud to himself. The mounts all need, or practically all of them need, a good night's bait and rest. He glances around as though including some of the riders in the word mounts. Decent sleep. I think Winnie, you might stand a watch tonight. I can too. Matt, you've done well, but I've got no excuse watch duty tonight. Natalie is so tired that she can barely acknowledge her name, and she doesn't have the energy to argue. Even though her ear tips burn pink with shame. During the second watch of night, there's a distinct popping kind of explosion. Garrick, who's been reading the falling temperature, nods to himself. Over breakfast he seems unusually cheerful. Someone continues to smile on us. He pronounces. Temperatures fell. This northern reach would be expecting fog. But now it's gonna be a clear day. Good travel. Reckon my plan to get through nice and steady and make a forced march along the road. Still holds good. Let's ride. But then, realizing he might have said too much, turns again. Take the first ten miles slow. No heroics, no rushing. The hills will try to trick you into thinking the worst is behind us. Don't believe it. Once we're out on the flats, a coat will harden the snow. That's when we'll move. A night march? Yep, I'm looking at it. We'll get us across the bridge before the river fog wakes up. We do this right. Ponies stay sound. We each belied before dawn. If we do it wrong, well, let's not. It as Garrick says, the temperature is far below zero. The weight of snow causes tree branches to become extremely brittle, and from time to time, their sharp crack echoes around the still sloping northern hills. There's just the suggestion of a little fog over to the east. They're all seasoned enough travellers, except Ratswinnie, that they know that's the river that Garrick had spoken of. The mighty Desarin smashing right through the Sumber Hills on its way to the plains and fertile fields of the Desarin Valley. As night falls, they reach the road, recognizable mostly by its fairly flat direction east-west, rather than by any strip of mud or gravel. It's just a hard flat plain of snow and ice. Don't worry, it's good riding, Garrick asserts. They dismount, and once again should over the mounts. Three of the ponies are in good shape, and these are assigned the job of covering the heavier lads for the last stretch. Natalie gets a smaller, weaker pony. Or at least Natalie gets a pony in slightly weaker condition. She's a good deal lighter than the other three. Garrick sets himself on the strongest horse and sets Winnie upon the other one that he deems in the best condition. The third horse has had some heavy riding over the miles and is not in great condition. Just remember, if you do need to ride for it, these mounts are expandable. Yep, I know, I know. We'd all love to save everything, but sometimes when the all there set you back, it's a matter of not kind of outrun the wild there. It's can my mount ride a little faster than the weaker mount? Got me? As though Garrett's words had called down trouble on their heads. As they reach the land near the river, a pack of giant weasels comes hunting. Thank you so much for listening. Your rating or review will be much appreciated, and if you really want to help the channel, share the link. As well as being able to contact me through the SRPN website, you can contact me on Mastodon where my handle is at Larryman Place. Or by email, we're on LarrymanPlace at gmail.com. That's two R's in Larry, two N'sovember in Mann. Larryman Place, all one word at gmail.com. Thanks, and let's go adventuring together again.