[LP] DestinyQuest 2: The Heart of Fire

[Darth Rabbitt]

(Record the word raven on your hero sheet.)
The robbers clearly have no combat experience, their ragged clothing and crude weapons suggesting that this was not their primary choice of career. Your first blow sends the leader staggering back,, your second severs his rake in two. Twisting around, you parry an incoming strike from behind, swinging your knee up to hit your attacker in the groin. He gives a gasp of pain—time enough for you to slam your elbow into his back, sending him sprawling into the mud.
You turn to your remaining assailant—the youngest of the three, barely old enough to be sporting his fuzz of beard. He clutches the wooden club tightly, holding it out before him like some magical talisman to ward you away. You take a quick step forward—and the boy's resolve crumbles. He drops the club and backs away, arms held out wide.
'We thoughts you were a Wiccan,' he begs, his voice breaking on the words.
'Should that make a difference?' you growl angrily.
'They took everything from us,' says the leader, the eldest of the three. He throws the broken stumps of his weapon into the mud. 'They burnt our farmstead to the ground. My wife...' He shakes his head, his words sticking in his throat.
You sheathe your weapons, then walk over to the robber who is still lying on the ground, groaning with pain. 'I find it hard to sympathize with those who would prey on travelers,' you reply harshly, offering a hand. The robber takes it and stumbles onto his feet. He is a few years older than the boy, with broad shoulders and thick arms. This one, at least, might make a decent fighter—with some training.
'You're the first, honest,' says the youngest, looking around nervously. 'We've not had a decent meal for days. We got desperate...' He clutches his arms to his chest, shivering with cold. You notice that his clothes are torn and threadbare, caked in mud. It is a sorry sight—one that makes you marvel that they have managed to survive at all, out in this harsh wilderness.

Will you:
Ask them to tell you more about the Wiccans?
Ask about Raven's Rest?
Tell them to find charity someplace else?
Give them a gift of 5 gold crowns?
Leave and continue your journey?

Name: Mr. Patio
Speed: +4, Brawn: +4, Magic: +2, Armor: +2
Health: 30

Slot	Item	Speed	Brawn	Magic	Armor	Ability
Head	White Mane		+1	+1		Charm
Necklace	Blood Iron Knot				+1	Charm
Cloak	Saddle Blanket				+1
Main Hand	Rusted Knife	+1				Bleed
Left Hand	Falk's Firestarter	+1	+1			Headshot
Gloves
Chest	Rider's Jerkin	+1
Feet	Ghost Rider's Spurs	+1
Talisman	Wishing Well Coin					Charm
Ring 1	All Hallow's Ring		+1
Ring 2	Warded Wood		+1	+1

Backpack	Item
1	Pot of Healing
2	Pumpkin Squash (2 uses)
3	Holy Water (2 uses)
4	Angelica Wreath (ability: holy protector)
5

Safe House	Item
1	Cutthroat's Carver
2
3
4

Prophecy
bones
sure blade
calling
prevail
mixer
gatherer
meadowsweet, lemongrass, and white willow
raven
Map of Carvel
Handy Herbalist's Spotter's Guide
Money Pouch: 146 Crowns

[angelfromanotherpin]

Grab both exposition, then give money.

[Omegonthesane]

Agreed. Though I wouldn't expect their informative view of the Wiccans to be fair and balanced.

[SGamerz]

Grab both exposition, then give money.

This.

[Darth Rabbitt]

The Wiccans:
'We knows to mind our own business; not get involved.' The leader breathes a heavy sigh. 'There was some battle, off in the moorlands. A Wiccan—a woman—came to our farm, begging for succor. She had a child. I suppose she got lost, separated. We took 'em in. What else could yer do? They were poor, desperate things, tired and hungry.'
The broad-shouldered boy snorts. 'Yeah, no one listened to me. I knew she were a witch.'
'You helped them?' you ask, puzzled. 'But you said—'
The leader nods. 'We gave them food and rest. A few days, we thought they'd be gone. But then...the others came.' He trembles at the memory, both fear and anger in his hard stare. 'Because we helped one, they thought we'd help them all. Grain, livestock—they wanted it all. Everything I worked hard for.'
'And they offered nothing in return?' you ask.
The leader falls silent. You look to the boys instead, searching for an answer. It is the youngest who finally speaks. 'Mother was ill. The healers at the church couldn't do nothing. But the Wiccans said they could. They had a mage—one of them druid types. She said she could give her life again—make her walk like she used to.'
'Enough!' the leader, who you assume is the father, snaps angrily. 'I won't be listening to it! I won't!'
You turn back to him, frowning. 'So you agreed—you let the druid heal her?'
'Heal?' The leader glowers, almost choking on the word. 'It were a curse. She became something else—one of their demon kind. It was out of control, destroyed the farm. Destroyed everything. And those Wiccans let it happen. They just watched it all burn. That thing is still there now. It ain't my beloved Dags no more.' (Record the word duty on your hero sheet.)

Raven's Rest:
'It can be a rough place,' the leader grunts disparagingly. 'Never used to be the case, but now too many mercenary types around. The travelers need 'em, for the protection. The roads ain't...safe.' He falls to silence, looking down at his feet.
'Yes, I had noticed,' you add tersely. 'Perhaps Raven's Rest will be more agreeable.'
The leader scowls, bristling. 'Yer gotta understand,' he glares. 'We lost everything. I saws you was alone...I thought...' He shakes his head. 'It makes no matter, does it. We're just as bad as those Wiccans. Judge all you like.'

Paying them:
(Deduct 5 gold crowns from your hero sheet.)
You offer the gold to the leader. His first reaction is one of surprise, then his expression folds into a skeptical frown. 'Is this some game? A trick?'
'Father, please.' The youngest boy moves closer, greedily eying up the shining coins. 'We have to be more trusting.'
'Take it,' you insist. 'I can spare it—and perhaps the gold will get you some clothes and food. It'll certainly make the roads a little safer.' The last statement is accompanied by a wry grin.
The youngest looks to his father. 'Please?'
Reluctantly, the father nods, reaching out and taking the gold. He catches your eye and offers you a grudging smile. 'I'm sorry. Things have been...hard. Not often a stranger offers us charity these days. Not without something attached to it, anyways.'
You retrieve your pack from the mud. 'Are you headed for Raven's Rest?' you ask, hoisting the pack onto your shoulders. 'We could travel together.'
The leader looks to his boys, then nods in agreement. 'It's a deal—Raven's Rest it is.' (Record the word raven on your hero sheet.)

(The second raven prompt is rather strange since you can only get this conversation by not fighting them in the beginning, which automatically gives you the raven keyword anyways. Smells like poor editing.)

The Pilgrim's Road continues through the fenlands, taking you through dense thickets of mold-covered trees and over rickety bridges, to finally bring you to a clump of tumbledown buildings. They seem squat and ugly things, perched crookedly at the edges of the dirt track, their sloping roofs dripping with curtains of weed and fungus. If it wasn't for the bustling signs of life—solemn-clothed travelers for the most part—you would assume this place was a forgotten ghost town, left to rot away amidst the murk and gloom.
To your left is the only building of note in this ramshackle settlement, a coaching inn, which has evidently been extended over time to become a sprawling jumble of outbuildings and stables. The inn appears to be full to bursting point, and from the open doors of the main taproom you can hear an endless crescendo of boisterous laughter and song.
Across to your right, two armed men stand on sullen guard outside an equipment store. The sign above reads Edgar's Essentials—with a pair of deer antlers hanging lopsidedly over the faded lettering.
Further along the street, a farrier is shoeing a grey warhorse, while its rider—a tall man dressed in polished silver armor—holds onto the beast's reins to keep it steady. The knight catches your eye and nods his head in greeting.

Will you:
Enter the taproom of the coaching inn?
Talk to the knight and the farrier?
Investigate 'Edgar's Essentials'?
Leave and continue your journey? (back to map)

Name: Mr. Patio
Speed: +4, Brawn: +4, Magic: +2, Armor: +2
Health: 30

Slot	Item	Speed	Brawn	Magic	Armor	Ability
Head	White Mane		+1	+1		Charm
Necklace	Blood Iron Knot				+1	Charm
Cloak	Saddle Blanket				+1
Main Hand	Rusted Knife	+1				Bleed
Left Hand	Falk's Firestarter	+1	+1			Headshot
Gloves
Chest	Rider's Jerkin	+1
Feet	Ghost Rider's Spurs	+1
Talisman	Wishing Well Coin					Charm
Ring 1	All Hallow's Ring		+1
Ring 2	Warded Wood		+1	+1

Backpack	Item
1	Pot of Healing
2	Pumpkin Squash (2 uses)
3	Holy Water (2 uses)
4	Angelica Wreath (ability: holy protector)
5

Safe House	Item
1	Cutthroat's Carver
2
3
4

Prophecy
bones
sure blade
calling
prevail
mixer
gatherer
meadowsweet, lemongrass, and white willow
raven
duty
Map of Carvel
Handy Herbalist's Spotter's Guide
Money Pouch: 141 Crowns

[SGamerz]

Talk to the knight

[Omegonthesane]

Talk to the knight. I'd give an itinerary after that but I expect talking to get us an exposition tree with enough detail as to make "just eat the tree from the first branch down" not the obvious option.

[Darth Rabbitt]

'I am Sir Bastion,' proclaims the knight with gusto. 'You must have heard of me. My deeds in these lands often precede my good name.' He flicks a hand through his golden mane of hair. You spot the farrier rolling his eyes.
'I must admit, I have not,' you reply honestly.
The knight glares at you for a moment, then drops his shoulders, visibly deflating. 'Humph. I should have guessed as much—it's not for want of trying, I tell you. Unless I lower myself to become some pilgrim's bodyguard, there's no glory to be found in this ignoble marsh. I am positively wasted here.'
The farrier snorts, coughing noisily into the back of his hand. 'Sorry, just some dust,' he grins in apology.
'Why did you come here?' you ask, looking around at the ramshackle settlement. 'Is this really the place to find heroic adventure?'
The knight grimaces at a passing group of mercenaries. 'Granted, it is not what I expected. Dear mama used to tell me such wonderful stories of Saint Allam and his knights. They came west to find adventure and spread the word of the One God. I thought perhaps...here, at least, I might finally make a name for myself. Do something to be remembered.'
'There's always time,' you smile encouragingly.
The knight pats the neck of his steed. 'I fear this is not a place for honorable heroes—is it, Wilma? Scoundrels and mercenaries, perhaps. That's all I see.' He suddenly catches himself, quickly putting a hand to your arm. 'Present company excepted, of course.'

Will you:
Ask the knight if he wishes to accompany you?
Enter the taproom of the coaching inn?
Investigate 'Edgar's Essentials?
Leave and continue your journey?

[angelfromanotherpin]

Ask him. It might even work, companions in these books are so trivially implemented (like, +1 damage) that we might get an actual sidekick for a while.

[Darth Rabbitt]

'An interesting offer,' replies Sir Bastian, nodding with approval. 'If you are willing to agree to my terms then you have yourself a dal.'
'Terms?' you ask in disbelief, trying to ignore the sniggers coming from the farrier.
'Well, there's my repair costs,' sniffs the knight. 'For my armor. Not to mention feed for Wilma here. Oh, and I want first choice of any treasures that come our way. A fair deal, don't you think?'
You find yourself struggling for words, mouth agape.
'Indeed, I see the honor renders you speechless! To share in my adventures—to have the bards sing of Sir Bastian and his faithful squire. Forty gold crowns up front.' He extends his hand, beaming a broad smile. 'For a legend such as myself, it's an outright steal!'
'Yer can say that again,' smirks the farrier, tapping home another nail. He looks up from his work, frowning when he sees that you are actually contemplating the offer. 'Blimey, there's one born every minute,' he sighs, shaking his head.
If you wish to hire Sir Bastian then the knight will provide you with the following for 40 gold crowns:

For glory: Sir Bastian will help you fight a legendary monster. If you are defeated then Sir Bastian will flee the combat and you will have to hire him again if you wish to receive further aid.
Man-at-arms: Sir Bastian adds 2 to your damage score for the duration of the combat.
Wilma's wallop: The knight's warhorse has a powerful kick. For each 6 you roll for your attack speed, Wilma hits an opponent with her hooves, doing 3 damage, ignoring armor.
A just reward: If you defeat the legendary monster, Sir Bastian gets first choice of the treasures. When you are offered a choice of rewards, roll 1 die. 1 or 2 the knight takes the first item, 3 or 4 the second item and 5 or 6 the third item. You must then choose from the remaining two items.

Remember that Sir Bastian will only stay with you for one encounter. If you wish to use his services again you must hire him for 40 gold crowns.

Once you have made your decision, will you:
Enter the taproom of the coaching inn?
Investigate 'Edgar's Essentials?
Leave and continue your journey?

[Omegonthesane]

Let's not commit to buying the help that is only interested in fighting leg monsters.

Enter the taproom.

[angelfromanotherpin]

I concur.

[SGamerz]

Save this for when we encounter a quest that's too tough for Patio alone.

Taproom for the booze.

[Darth Rabbitt]

As you approach the taproom, there is a commotion from inside. Suddenly two bodies come flying out of the open doors, tumbling and rolling through the mud. A large woman, wearing a dirt-stained apron, appears at the doorway, a skillet held menacingly in one hand.
'And that's the last time I'll tell you soaks,' she shouts, her chubby face flushed with anger. 'I'll have no fighting in my establishment.' She turns and re-enters the smoke-filled interior. Warily you follow her in, ignoring the drunken curses of the two men as they try and pick themselves up out of the dirt.
The common room of the inn is long and narrow, and full to bursting point. The noise is almost deafening—a discordant blend of laughter, shouting and bawdy singing. Between the crowded tables you spy a number of serving girls running back and forth, carrying platters of steaming food and clay mugs filled with ale.
Behind the bar, a giant of a man is rolling fresh barrels out of the cellar. Even stooped over, he is at least seven feet tall, his chest as wide as the barrels he is handling. The woman with the skillet pushes past him and disappears into a smoky kitchen, where the succulent aroma of meat and spices waft out into the common room—a welcome respite from the stench of sweat and and unwashed bodies.

Will you:
Approach the bar?
Take a wander around the common room?
Leave the inn? (and where to if we leave the inn?)

[Omegonthesane]

Hit the bar.

[angelfromanotherpin]

The bar is where they keep the booze.

[Darth Rabbitt]

You push through the smoky crowds, making towards the counter. As you near, your attention becomes fixated on the half-giant barman who is serving ale to the patrons. You wonder how one of his kind ended up working behind a bar in a backwater place such as this. Giants are renowned for their strength and endurance—and clearly this half-giant is missing none of those traits. He would be prized stock for the king's army or some mercenary outfit.
Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted as one of the patrons knocks straight into you, slopping ale down your front. It is a burly, middle-aged man dressed in brown tanned leathers. He shrugs his shoulders as way of apology, grinning through his thatch of beard. (Mr. Patio does not have the word tower on his hero sheet.)

'Ah, excuse me clumsiness,' says the bearded man. 'Not used to the confines of civilization. I prefer more...open spaces, if you know what I mean.' He quickly adjusts his balance as someone else nudges past him, nearly upsetting his mugs once again. 'Ugh, would yer look at me. Could shoot a marsh rat at a thousand paces, but here I am struggling to hold a few cups of beer.'
You try and move past—only to find the burly man in your way again, his eyes fondly appraising your gear.
'Say, would you be looking for some work?' he asks hopefully. 'It'd help me out of a real pickle. Here, follow me—we've got a private booth away from the crowd.' He raises a mug, gesturing towards the far wall where a tattered velvet curtain is drawn across an alcove.

Will you:
Follow the man? (this starts a red quest)
Decline the man's offer?

[Omegonthesane]

Can we get back to him on that? Let's not start clearing red quests before we've cleared the orange and blue ones. And possibly start whacking legendary monsters before red quests from what I remember of Trellis' adventures.

[angelfromanotherpin]

Given how these books work, I am certain that this guy will be here when we come back, ready to repeat his spiel. Decline, and wander the common room.

[SGamerz]

I'm a little worried about that codeword, which might be a way to make sure this encounter won't be repeated.

But yeah, we're not likely to succeed a red quest yet, even if we did hire that knight's help. Decline.

[Darth Rabbitt]

'Ah, that's a real shame,' he sighs. 'I could have used you. Say, my name's Polk. If you come back this way and change your mind, then come find me. Chances are, I might still need you to make up the numbers. Always the bloomin' numbers.'
The man moves away, muttering through his beard as he struggles back across the crowded taproom. (Make a note of the number 277. You can turn to that number at anytime during Act 1 to start the red quest.)
Turning back to the bar, you raise your hand for service.

The half-giant plants his massive hands on top of the counter, his steely eyes glinting from beneath his protruding brow. 'So, what'll it be?' he grunts, cracking his neck muscles. 'Ma patience ain't as big as ma good looks now.' His subsequent smile presents an unsettling array of jagged metal teeth.

Will you:
Ask about his 'good looks?'
Ask about local rumors?
Explore the rest of the taproom?

Name: Mr. Patio
Speed: +4, Brawn: +4, Magic: +2, Armor: +2
Health: 30

Slot	Item	Speed	Brawn	Magic	Armor	Ability
Head	White Mane		+1	+1		Charm
Necklace	Blood Iron Knot				+1	Charm
Cloak	Saddle Blanket				+1
Main Hand	Rusted Knife	+1				Bleed
Left Hand	Falk's Firestarter	+1	+1			Headshot
Gloves
Chest	Rider's Jerkin	+1
Feet	Ghost Rider's Spurs	+1
Talisman	Wishing Well Coin					Charm
Ring 1	All Hallow's Ring		+1
Ring 2	Warded Wood		+1	+1

Backpack	Item
1	Pot of Healing
2	Pumpkin Squash (2 uses)
3	Holy Water (2 uses)
4	Angelica Wreath (ability: holy protector)
5

Safe House	Item
1	Cutthroat's Carver
2
3
4

Prophecy
bones
sure blade
calling
prevail
mixer
gatherer
meadowsweet, lemongrass, and white willow
raven
duty
Map of Carvel
Handy Herbalist's Spotter's Guide
Red quest at 277
Money Pouch: 141 Crowns

[Omegonthesane]

Local rumours, then good looks.

[SGamerz]

Local rumours.

I'm not sure about the good looks. It might sound like we're picking a fight, depending on how the book interprets that choice.

[angelfromanotherpin]

Local rumors, then pick fight.

[Darth Rabbitt]

Local rumors:
'Stories, eh? I like stories and got a good head for 'em too.' He furrows his brow, tapping his chin as he thinks. 'Let's see—the latest one I got was from a ranger, stopped off here for feed for 'is horse. He said that there had been a battle west of here, out on the Witch's Wild. Two of them inquisitors went at it against a 'ole band of wild men. It didn't end good. And now the place is haunted—very bad from the sounds of things.' He taps the wood of the counter with his knuckles. 'I can handle what's real and solid—that makes sense to me—but when we talkin' ghosts...' His metal teeth scrape together as they form a scowl. 'I prefer 'em to just stay in the stories, where they belong.'

Good looks:
'Ma height I owe to me father, but these lovelies...' He gnashes his teeth, the metal sparking as they grate together, 'I owe to a Skardland runt who 'ad me well and good in the pit. Knocked me out with a club the size of me head.'
'You were a gladiator?' you ask in awe.
The half-giant jerks a finger over his shoulder, to a magnificent broadsword hanging on the bar wall. Its blade is tempered black steel, inlaid with gold runes. 'I done the whole circuit and won the capital games. Got that off the king 'imself.' He sniffs dismissively. 'Not much of a man if yer asking me.'
'And you gave it all up for...' You stammer over your words, worried you may cause offense.
The half-giant flashes a metal grin. 'I get yer. This ain't much, I know, but I do it for the missus. The ol' ball and chain.' He glances over his shoulder towards the kitchen, where you can hear a woman squawking orders over the rattle of pots and hissing steam. 'She's a good 'un—stands taller than anyone in my eyes.'
As you gaze at his sparkling teeth, you are reminded of the gold-toothed witchfinder who visited you in your cell at Durnhollow. Virgil Elland.
'Have you seen anyone else in these parts with...' You nod towards his gleaming dentures.
'Wife said we 'ad one of them witchfinders in tuther day,' he replies, folding his arms. 'Was looking for someone but never gave much of a description. Think he was after one of them escaped loons from that dungeon up north.' His eyes suddenly narrow, suspiciously. 'Why yer ask?'
You quickly offer a non-committal shrug. 'Ah, old friend of mine—it's nothing.'
The half-giant nods slowly, not looking entirely convinced. 'Good. I don't want any trouble on ma doorstep, yer understand?'

Exploring the taproom:
As you pass through the tightly-packed crowds, you see that most of the tables and benches are taken, filled with an odd mix of travelers, from pilgrims and young families to gruff-looking mercenaries and sell-swords.
(Mr. Patio does not have the word Joseph written on his hero sheet.)
(Mr. Patio does not have Dagona's locket.)
Your brief scan of the room turns up little interest.

(No options left but to leave the bar.)

Will you:
Investigate 'Edgar's Essentials?'
Leave and continue your journey?