S01e05 - At The North Gate
About this series
This article is not the first episode in this series. If you’ve just arrived, you might want to start with The Discovery which explains what the campaign is about or the ‘session zero’ post. You can then work your way forwards from there.
A note about mechanics
I’ve decided to move to a different GM emulation system. I’m a bit prone to swapping tools in and out but I’m going to try to stick with my new choice. I’m using the d20 oracle from the Solo Chaos Engine with my own random event tables. I’m going to make scene tests a simple 50/50 oracle roll with a “Yes” (of any sort) meaning that something changes the scene - I’ll roll on my events tables to determine what happens. I’ll write up this homebrew oracle soon so there’s a reference document for it.
Introduction
Day: 1
Time of day: Mid-Afternoon
Weather: Sunny
Characters: Hadley, Tasha, Elena
Location: Near the North Gate, Kethryn
Questions
After the hectic events in the last episode I’m hoping this one is going to be a bit calmer! The scene I’m expecting (bit like the last episode!) is that Hadley, Tasha and Elena leave Kethryn through the north gate and set off along the old shrine road in search of the woman of the willow tree. I’ll test the scene to see if that’s what happens.
Scene test: Expected Scene
Great! We can finally be on our way!
The three of them leave the alley at a brisk pace. Hadley leads without seeming to think about the route, choosing one busy street after another, weaving through traders hauling carts, labourers finishing the day’s work, and children darting between market stalls. Within minutes the narrow lane has disappeared behind them, swallowed by Kethryn’s endless maze of timber houses and crowded thoroughfares.
No one follows but Hadley doesn’t relax. Only when the sounds of the Cottongate have faded far behind them does Tasha speak.
“You killed that man.”
Her voice is quiet, almost lost beneath the bustle around them. Hadley keeps walking.
“Yes.”
“He’d stopped fighting.”
“He stopped because I stopped him.”
Tasha stares at him, struggling to understand. She has always known of Hadley’s past, his life as a mercenary and this isn’t the first time he has fought to save their lives. But it is the first time he has fought and killed when it could have been avoided.
“He was beaten. You’d beaten him.”
“He was still dangerous.”
“He couldn’t even stand. You didn’t have to do it.” - Her voice is angry, aggrieved. She feels as though she has lost something precious, a belief in Hadley’s redemption, in his fundamentally good spirit. Hadley lets out a slow breath.
“Maybe not.”
She looks at him, surprised by the admission. “Then why…”
He interrupts her - “If I’d let him crawl away, he and Ketter would have come for us again. Next time they’d come with twice the numbers and sharper blades. Maybe they’d wait until I was asleep and knife me in the dark. Maybe they’d decide killing just me wasn’t enough to save face.”
His voice remains flat, almost conversational.
“Maybe they’d come for you. For Elena.”
Tasha says nothing. He glances ahead as another knot of pedestrians forces them to alter course.
“So I made a point. I gave them a reason to back off, at least long enough for us to get out of the city.”
“You don’t know that they will. You only know that man is dead.”
Hadley nods once.
“True.”
Tasha searches his face for some flicker of regret, some sign that the killing weighs on him. She finds none. There’s no pride, no satisfaction. His face looks weary, almost haggard, his expression blank and withdrawn.
“I’ve seen men like Ketter and Fen before,” Hadley says after a while. “That type travel in packs so that nobody fights back. You saw what they did to Berrin at the docks. They’re cowards, picking on the weak - they don’t expect resistance. The moment someone fights back…” He shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. “Most of that sort decide that it’s not worth the trouble and look for easier prey.”
“And if they don’t? If they decide to get revenge despite your ‘point’.”
“Then they were always coming and there’s one less to worry about. I have you and Elena to protect, as best I can leastways. Fen made his choices and I’ve made mine. I don’t expect he’d apologise for his and I won’t either.”
The answer lands like a stone. Tasha lowers her eyes to the crowded street.
“Shallya teaches that every life can be turned towards the light.”
Hadley smiles faintly, though there is little warmth in it.
“I hope she’s right. Truly. I hope she’s right.”
“You don’t believe she is.”
“No. I’ve spent too long watching men like Ketter and Fen prove otherwise.”
For a time they walk in silence, only the noise and bustle of the city around them. Cart wheels rattle across uneven cobbles. A woman haggles over onions with theatrical outrage. Somewhere a cooper hammers iron hoops onto a barrel. Children shriek, laugh and shout nearby.
Elena walks between them in thoughtful silence. “I don’t think either of you is wrong,” she says at last. They both look towards her.
“In my homeland, we would have tried to avoid bloodshed altogether. But once steel is drawn…” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “Mercy can sometimes be an unwise choice. It is a hard truth but a truth nonetheless.”
Tasha frowns - “And what would your people have done?”
Elena’s gaze drifts back towards the city behind them - “We would have made sure the quarrel ended. One way or another.”
None of them speaks after that. They simply continue north, letting Kethryn swallow them amongst its countless strangers, each carrying their own thoughts towards the old shrine road.
Questions
Phew… I hope that incident hasn’t driven a wedge between them. Tasha’s optimism and Hadley’s pessimism coming into direct conflict there, possibly for the first time.
I think they will eventually find their way to the north gate. I’m going to check to make sure they get through ok - there’s always a chance some bureaucratic guard or enthusiastic customs officer wants to delay them. Let’s see:
Are they challenged at the gate? Unlikely - 20 - Extreme Yes
Eep!! What?! Erm…
Is it just them being challenged? Unlikely - 4 - No
Ok - phew! Something serious is happening but it’s affecting everyone using the gate. For a minute I thought Ketter was going to raise his ugly head again!
By the time they reach the northern quarter, the streets have begun to quieten. Warehouses give way to workshops, then to clusters of modest cottages pressed against the city wall. Ahead, the gatehouse rises above the rooftops, its twin towers catching the last of the afternoon sun.
But something is wrong. The road leading to the gate is packed shoulder to shoulder with people. Farmers clutching the reins of overloaded carts. Travellers with packs on their backs. Herders struggling to keep nervous goats together. Everyone is facing the gate, shouting and yelling at the solid line of city guards who stand, spears planted across the roadway, forming an unbroken barrier beneath the gate’s heavy arch.
“No one leaves!” a guard bellows.
“We’ve been waiting an hour!”
“My wife is outside the walls!”
The protests overlap into an angry roar. One man tries to push through and is shoved backwards by the butt of a spear. He stumbles into the crowd, cursing, and several others begin shouting at the guards all at once.
Hadley slows immediately. His eyes move over the gatehouse, counting. Two dozen guards at least, crossbows on the wall above.
Questions
What the heck is going on!? Is the gate actually closed? 50/50 - 16 - Yes
The gates themselves stand firmly shut. Tasha steps alongside Hadley, her earlier anger momentarily forgotten.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Something serious it looks like.”
Elena studies the wall, her sharp eyes following the movements of the sentries above.
“They’re expecting trouble.”
Hadley frowns, his gaze lingering on the closed gates. “Trouble’s already happened I think.”
They edge closer to rest of the crowd, listening as rumours ripple through the waiting travellers. Bandits. Plague. Escaped prisoners. Orcs.
Each rumour is contradicted by the next before it has travelled more than a few yards. No one seems to know the truth but one thing is certain. Whatever lies beyond Kethryn’s northern gate, nobody is being allowed through.
Questions
Eeshk!! I think it’s very unlikely this is an attack of some sort. This is a peaceful part of the world and Kethryn isn’t a city used to wars. It is near the Marble Mountains which are home to fairly warlike orcs but even so…
Is it an attack? Very unlikely - 3 - No
Well… some sort of accident then? Likely - 13 - Yes, but…
Hmm… I’m going to interpret the “but” as meaning distance. This accident has happened beyond the gate.
Hadley shoulders a path through the crowd with quiet determination, offering a muttered apology here, a firm shove there. Elena slips after him with surprising ease, her hood pulled up to hide her face, while Tasha murmurs excuses and apologies to those they squeeze past.
After several minutes of pushing and shoving they reach the front. The guards stand in a solid rank beneath the gatehouse arch, shields slung over their backs, spears levelled across the road. Their faces are slick with sweat despite the cooling afternoon. One of them, a broad-shouldered sergeant with silver threaded into his beard, looks as though he has answered the same question a hundred times already.
“Back with the rest of them.” His voice is harsh, frustrated and tense.
“We’re trying to leave the city,” Tasha says politely.
“So is everyone else.”
“Can you tell us what’s happened?”
The sergeant hesitates before answering.
“Coach overturned just beyond the gate. Took a couple more with it.”
Tasha blinks.
“A coach?”
“Heavy one. Tipped down the embankment.” His jaw tightens. “Horses are dead. Passengers trapped - several injured it seems.”
Tasha’s expression changes at once.
“I’m a healer.”
The sergeant studies her plain travelling clothes, then her youthful face.
“So they all say.”
“No.” She reaches beneath her cloak and draws out the white pewter pendant of Shallya that hangs at her neck. The polished metal catches the evening light. “I serve the Lady of Mercy.”
His eyes flick briefly to the symbol before returning to her face.
“You’re young.”
“I’ve treated broken bones, fevers, arrow wounds, burns—”
“So has every barber in Kethryn.”
“I am an ordained cleric.”
The sergeant folds his arms.
“If you were one of the temple sisters, you’d already be out there.”
“I’ve only just arrived in the city.”
He remains unconvinced. Behind him another shout rises from beyond the gate. Men are calling to one another, though the words are lost in the distance. Tasha takes a step closer.
“If people are trapped, every pair of hands matters.”
“We’ve got physicians.”
Tasha softens her voice.
“We are serving no one arguing while people are in need. If someone is injured I have sworn to the Lady of Mercy to aid them as best I can.”
The guard exhales through his nose, irritation giving way to reluctant thought. He glances towards the gate, then back at the young woman standing before him, her eyes fixed steadily on his.
Questions
Persuasion roll! She made a good case but is it enough? Let’s see:
Tasha - Charisma (12) - 6
Yes!
The sergeant frowns and for a long moment he simply studies Tasha, staring at the pewter dove at her throat. Then he swears under his breath.
“Oh, to the Abyss with it.” He turns sharply.
“You!” he barks at one of the guards further along the line. “Temple healer here. Take them through the postern.”
The younger guard blinks.
“Sir?”
“You heard me. Get them out to the accident.”
He lifts the butt of his spear, creating a narrow gap in the barrier.
“Move. Quickly.”
Tasha offers a grateful smile.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the sergeant mutters. “You’ve not seen what’s out there.”
The younger guard waves them through and the gap closes behind them once more.
“This way.”
He leads them into the gatehouse. The noise of the crowd fades as the heavy oak door swings shut behind them, replaced by the familiar sounds of a working garrison. Guards hurry through the broad chamber carrying bundles of rope and lanterns. Crossbows lean against whitewashed walls. A pair of soldiers struggle into mail shirts while another fills leather water skins from a barrel. No one gives the newcomers more than a passing glance.
Their escort marches on through a narrow doorway into a maze of stone corridors threading through the thickness of the city wall. Torchlight flickers across damp masonry. Boots echo against worn flagstones as they descend one short flight of steps before climbing another.
Ahead, daylight spills through a tiny window in a small iron-bound door. The guard throws it open and a rush of cool evening air greets them. They step out onto the broad concourse beyond the walls.
Even from a distance it is obvious how bad the accident is. A large travelling coach has left the road entirely, tumbling down the shallow embankment before coming to rest on its side. One corner of the carriage has shattered against a boulder, splintering heavy timbers and tearing away an entire section of its roof. Luggage, broken wheels and scattered baggage litter the grass around it. The four horses that had drawn it lie where they fell, still tangled in twisted traces and snapped harness. One has broken its neck. Another bears a deep wound across its flank, its dark coat stained almost black with drying blood.
But the coach has not fallen alone. A merchant’s wagon, caught as the carriage overturned, sits skewed across the road with one axle snapped clean through. Crates have burst open, spilling flour across the dirt like pale snow. A third wagon has fared worse. It is locked fast against the wreckage, its shafts twisted beneath the coach and its pair of oxen trapped helplessly in the confusion of broken timber, harness and wheels. The great beasts bellow and struggle in frightened misery. Everywhere people are moving, hurrying, shouting. Guards haul at ropes attempting to pull parts of the debris clear. Labourers strain to lift shattered beams.
Questions
This is an awful accident. Presumably nothing has caught fire? Unlikely I think.
Any fire? Unlikely - 7 - No, but…
Ok - there’s no fire but there is a risk of fire.
Is anyone injured? Likely - 15 - Yes + an event Event - 4/1 - Structure or Habitation/Ruinous
Ok - it sounds like a fire is imminent and possibly threatening the gatehouse.
Tasha doesn’t hesitate. Before the guard can say another word, she is already hurrying down the slope towards the stricken coach, her hand closed tightly around the pendant of Shallya at her throat.
She picks her way through the confusion with surprising speed, dropping to her knees beside the first injured traveller she finds. Within moments she is issuing calm instructions to those around her, directing hands to hold pressure on wounds and helping a dazed man sit upright.
Hadley scans the scene. He is used to disaster, to chaos, and he knows that disasters have a way of breeding more disasters. His eyes move over the wreckage, searching for the next thing about to go wrong.
A small oak barrel lies on its side beside the shattered merchant’s wagon. One of its hoops has split and a jagged stave has sprung loose. Thick, amber lamp oil trickles steadily from the gap. The spill has already spread across the packed earth in a broad, glistening ribbon. Hadley follows it with his eyes.
It winds downhill through the chaos, unnoticed beneath trampling boots and wagon wheels, until it nearly reaches a squat iron brazier standing beside the road. Its bed of charcoal burns with a steady orange glow, set there to heat water and boil bandages for the physicians.
The oil is only a few feet away - another minute, perhaps less before it reaches the legs of the brazier and no one is looking, no one has noticed. The guards are wrestling with the trapped wagons. Wagoneers are trying to calm the terrified oxen. Everyone is fixed on helping the wounded or clearing the wreckage.
Hadley’s stomach tightens and his voice is tight, hoarse - “Elena.”
He points and Elena’s breath catches - “…Oh… gods, no!”
Neither of them wastes another word. Even as Elena speaks, Hadley is already running towards the brazier as Elena sprints towards the barrel.
Questions
Hadley and Elena are going to have to be quick to stop a disaster. I think they need to make a Dexterity roll to make it in time.
Hadley - Dex (14) - 12
Elena - Dex(12) - 3
Thank goodness - both succeed although Hadley was a little close!?!
Elena reaches the barrel. She grips the slick timber, oil continuing to pour from the split stave, splashing over her boots. Then the barrel rolls with a wet scrape before lurching upright and the steady stream dwindles to a slow drip.
Hadley runs as fast as he can.
“The brazier!” he shouts as he sprints past a knot of labourers. “Move that brazier! Oil!”
Heads turn in confusion. “Oil!” he bellows again. “Get back!”
The warning comes too late to organise anyone. People stare, trying to understand what he means, their eyes darting between the brazier and the wreckage. Hadley doesn’t wait. Beside the firepit lies a broad iron shovel, abandoned where someone had been clearing earth for the physicians’ campfire. He snatches it up and drives the blade into the roadside. The packed soil resists and he stamps on the shovel with his boot, forcing it deeper before wrenching free a heavy load of dirt. It lands with a dull thump across the shining ribbon of oil.
Another shovelful, then another until black soil blankets the spill, soaking up the oil before it can creep any further.
He risks a glance. Just two feet. Two feet of clear earth separates the leading edge of the slick from the brazier’s iron legs. The charcoal within crackles loudly and a knot of resin in one of the logs bursts with a sharp pop showering tiny sparks onto the ground. One lands barely a yard from Hadley’s boot and another falls into the oil-darkened soil he has just thrown down.
His heart clenches and he stamps hard, the sparks vanishing beneath his heel. He digs again, tearing up more earth and throwing it across the glistening trail until the oily sheen disappears beneath a rough blanket of fresh soil.
Breathing hard, shovel still clenched in both hands, he looks from the buried spill to the brazier where the fire continues to burn. A labourer who has finally grasped what almost happened stares at the blackened strip of earth, then at the overturned barrel Elena still steadies with both hands.
“Gods…” - his voice is hoarse. Another follows his gaze and pales.
“We were standing right there.”
Hadley lets the shovel fall to the ground with a dull clang.
“You almost weren’t.”
He wipes his hands on his breeches, brushing off the dirt and looks across to Elena. She is pale, but she smiles grimly and nods to him.
Questions
It’s a pretty awful accident. I wonder how many people are injured? I’m going to use my scale oracle to check.
Are there 5 people hurt? - 4/Expected
So 5 people are seriously hurt.
Are any really badly injured? 50/50 - 4 - No
Ok - 5 serious injuries but none life threatening.
With the danger of the fire averted, Hadley and Elena waste no time - they head straight for the shattered coach. There’s a pair of guards struggling to lift a splintered beam pinning an elderly man beneath it. Hadley shoulders in beside them without a word.
“On three.”
The beam rises. The trapped man cries out as the weight comes free, but moments later he is being eased clear and carried over towards Tasha.
Elsewhere Elena is already at work. Though slight beside the labourers, she moves with quiet efficiency, slipping into gaps where others cannot fit. She crawls beneath the wrecked wagon to cut away twisted harness, helping free one of the trapped oxen before turning her attention to a merchant whose leg has become wedged between broken spokes. Calmly directing those around her, she helps organise the lift before guiding the injured man clear.
Tasha moves constantly between the wounded, her satchel open at her side. She cleans grit from cuts, binds broken fingers, splints an arm with strips of timber and linen, and reassures frightened children while checking each casualty in turn.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Does this hurt?”
“Keep pressure there.”
“You—tear another strip from that blanket.”
Her voice never rises - she is calm, confident and reassuring, even as sweat darkens her brow. There are injuries enough to keep every healer occupied. A coach passenger has suffered several cracked ribs. A wagoneer’s shoulder has been dislocated. One guard bears a deep gash across his thigh where shattered wood tore through his trousers. Another traveller has broken his wrist trying to leap clear of the tumbling carriage. An elderly woman remains dazed after striking her head against the side of the coach.
But, by Shallya’s grace, none appear likely to prove fatal and as the afternoon gives way to evening, the wreck slowly disappears. Broken timbers are dragged aside, the dead horses are cut free from their ruined harness, the wagons are separated and hauled clear of the roadway, inch by laborious inch.
One by one the injured are helped onto makeshift stretchers or supported between friends and guards. Those able to walk do so carefully, leaning on shoulders and staffs as they make the slow climb back towards Kethryn’s northern gate.
Only when the road is finally clear does the sergeant give the order. The great gate creaks, chains rattle overhead and with a groan of ancient hinges, the heavy oak doors begin to swing open.
A cheer rises from the crowd still waiting within the city - at last the road north is open once more. The waiting line begins to flow through the gateway, spreading around the last of the wreckage before continuing on its various journeys, as though the interruption had been no more than an inconvenient delay.
Hadley watches them pass in silence. Beside him, Tasha washes the last traces of blood from her hands with water from a bucket, exhaustion evident in every movement.
The sergeant who had let them through the gate catches her eye as he passes.
“Our thanks,” he says simply.
“I am sorry I doubted you.”
Tasha offers him a tired smile.
“No harm done. Shallya’s blessing on you sergeant.”
He gives a respectful nod before turning back to his duties, leaving the three companions standing together once more beneath the lengthening evening shadows.
Questions
I think the group are going to be keen to ask a few questions of the people they’ve been working with. Tasha is keen to know if anyone knows of the woman by the willow tree, to see if they can find out where her cottage might be. Given that our group have helped sort out the mess of the accident, I don’t think any persuasion rolls are needed. Let’s ask some oracle questions.
Does anyone know the woman of the willow tree? 50/50 - 10 - Extreme No.
Oh! Not only have they not heard of her, the whole idea of someone living near a willow tree is wrong.
I assume the old shrine road is passable though?
Is it? Likely - 18 - Yes
With the last of the injured safely inside the city, the frantic urgency begins to ebb away.
The remaining labourers gather their tools. Teamsters inspect damaged axles and replace broken traces. Guards confer quietly over how the wrecked coach is to be recovered before darkness falls.
Tasha finishes packing away her bandages, rubbing the stiffness from her fingers.
“I suppose we’d better ask some questions while everyone’s still here.”
Hadley nods and the three of them begin making discreet enquiries amongst those still lingering near the roadside.
“A woman?” repeats one of the labourers, scratching at the dust on his beard. “Lives by herself?”
“Near a willow tree,” Tasha says. “Along the old shrine road.”
The man shakes his head - “Doesn’t ring any bells I’m afraid.”
A merchant loading salvaged crates back onto his wagon pauses to think - “There’s old Marta keeps goats a mile or two north. No willows there though.”
The answer is always the same. Shrugs, frowns and no recognition. Eventually they find themselves speaking to one of the wagoneers whose cart had been caught in the collision. He is an older fellow with broad hands stained black from grease and axle tar. He listens patiently before chuckling.
“A cottage near a willow tree?”
Tasha nods earnestly - “Yes.”
He scratches his chin and exchanges an amused glance with another driver.
“There aren’t any willows north of Kethryn.”
Hadley raises an eyebrow - “None?”
“Not unless someone’s planted one in a garden, and I can’t say I’ve ever seen that done.” The wagoneer gestures towards the dark line of forest beyond the road. “Those woods are beech, ash and oak. Bit of pine on the higher ground.”
He shakes his head - “Willows need wet ground - marshes, riverbanks. The country north is too high. The start of the mountains.”
“So you’ve never heard of a house marked by a willow?”
“No.” - He gives a thoughtful shrug - " no willows that way and precious few houses too. None with anyone living in them. A handful of ruins maybe. If you’d said a great oak… or an ash split by lightning… Folk use trees as landmarks all the time. But not a willow - not around here.”
Questions
Is the shrine itself accessible? Likely - 19 - Yes
And there are other Shallyans there? Likely - 11 - Yes but…
Oh - does that mean there aren’t many there?
As the last wagon is made ready to leave, one of the labourers ambles over to Hadley - “Heard you asking about the old shrine - that right?”
Hadley nods - “We’re heading that way. Do you know it?”
“Oh aye - it’s still there.” The man jerks a thumb towards the north road. “Bit of a sorry sight, mind.”
“Oh?” - Hadley raises an eyebrow and Tasha’s brow furrows.
“Used to be an important place. Pilgrims, clerics… always busy, or so my father used to say.” He shrugs. “These days it’s half falling down. Roofs patched, walls crumbling - a sorry sight, as I said.”
Tasha leans forward - “But there are still Shallyans there?”
“Aye. A handful.” He smiles. “Enough to keep the place going, not enough to bring it back to what it was. Maybe three of them left now.”
“Are there any women among the Shallyans?” - Hadley is worried by the conversation with the wagoneer, the discovery that half of their clues to finding this woman seem to be nonsense.
The man shrugs - “Women? No - an old cleric and two trainees I think, both youngish lads. Not seen a sister cleric up there for years.”
He shoulders his tools. “If you’re visiting the Shallyans, they’ll likely welcome you as is their way. Just don’t expect much grandeur.”
The three companions step away from the wagons and look north. They can see the start of the old shrine road disappearing into the gathering dusk, winding upwards towards the dark edge of the forest. Tasha folds her arms.
“Either she gave us a landmark that no one else knows…”
“…or,” Hadley finishes, “we’ve misunderstood it. Somehow.”
Elena gazes towards the trees for a long moment.
“Whatever she meant, assuming she exists at all,” she says quietly, “I don’t think it will be as simple as finding a house beside a tree.”
Questions
Well - that’s an intriguing place to end the scene. So our main clue seems to be completely false! What the heck is going on there!? We’ll have to find out in the next episode. Meanwhile I think it’s too late for our group to be heading out into the wilds so I suspect they’ll have to find a bed for the night and set off bright and early. Fates have conspired against them today - what will tomorrow bring I wonder?