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information on them, you decided to travel
together making your way around the Crispvale
Thicket. Encountering a number of indigenous,
insect-like creatures known as ankhegs near the
long-abandoned farmlands that were once built in
the outskirts of the forest. Camping inside, you
encountered a few members of a firbolg village
that had long existed, hidden from the world
within this thicket that had been assaulted by
these same slavers, known as the Iron Shepherds.
You encountered an elder protector of this tribe,
along with a boy who had survived this encounter,
and were sent off on your way. Traveling northward
on horseback, you managed to catch up and actually
make ground on the Iron Shepherds. Comparing your
intel, and through a few surprises as to what they
were carrying, a plan was hatched to set an
ambush, to halt them in their tracks, and assault
them. Upon the plan taking off, things were going
in your favor, but through a series of bad lucks–
A bad lucks, the plural, it’s an actual English phrase.
ASHLY: That’s how bad they were.
MATT: They were bad. A series of moments of bad
luck, and a too-late realization of the
overwhelming power of the foe you faced, one of
you fell. Mollymauk lies slain in the middle of
the road at the hands of Lorenzo, the leader of
the Iron Shepherds. Making an example, pushing Keg
onto the ground, leaving her with the knowledge of
what he perceives as her fault, to live with it;
and to spread their name and the terror of what
they do, and not to let anybody else get in their
way. You all watched quietly, unable to really
have a moment yet, to digest what has happened, as
you see the carts slowly, quietly, make their way
northward: out of sight beyond the hills, towards
your eventual destination. And that’s where we
begin. There’s a faint bit of snowfall that’s
still coming down from the clouds above you there
in the valley. The flurry, the storm that has been
encroaching is not that far off. You look down
past the somewhat-muddy tracks of the wheels of
the carts that had headed away from you, your
horses still stashed alongside the outer hills in
which you had set this ambush. You look down to
the bloodied, still body of Mollymauk, as the snow
slowly begins to fall and rest upon his form.
LIAM: Okay. I’m going to give us about ten minutes
to figure out what we want to do here, and then I
am sending Frumpkin out after them. We need to
decide something now, because I am going to be out
of it for a bit.
MARISHA: Yeah. We do need to decide something.
Beau walks over to Keg, and grabs Keg by the coif,
and tries to slam Keg into the ground.
MATT: Do you resist?
MARISHA: Did you think that maybe telling us that
Lorenzo was a high fucking magic user would have
been– Or are you still fucking working with
them?
ASHLY: I didn’t know! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I
didn’t know.
LIAM: Beauregard, she would have told us. She
wouldn’t have been able to hide it.
MARISHA: Where is his fucking stupid tapestry?