NA-13: Everybody Loves A Hero

The Black Griffon Rides

To either flank keep close his chosen:

• To the right, a tall Aerdi, copper of skin, cropped of hair and beard, whose mirror-bright mace catches the light and breaks it into shards. Upon his breast, the holy sign of Heironeous a silver lightning-bolt—gleams without mercy.
• To the left, a bald, powerfully-set captain in plate and chain, voice like a drum; men move when he speaks.

Behind them ride a dozen retainers in chain, shields and tabards all marked with the black griffon, crossbows already to shoulder.

Heraldry (Int DC 5): The device is that of Lord Milinous.

The column parts with parade precision, twos abreast, sliding round your wagon to ring you in. Hooves stamp; leather creaks; the circle tightens. A rider eyes your wizard’s little companion and tsks softly.
“Hands where I can see them, mage.”

The Black Griffon Rides by 3orcs

Lord Milinous Speaks

Lord Milinous draws up, fifteen feet distant, reins slack in one gauntlet. His gaze does not so much settle as seize.

“So. Triumphant, are we? You think to toss Lady Elinor a handful of coins and baubles, then abscond with the lion’s share—spoils ripped from households pillaged by Temple scum. By my warrant, you will turn over all you have found. I shall see it weighed and returned to rightful owners. Lady Elinor will receive her portion—as law and custom require.”

The captain leans in, voice flat, expectant.
“Sir Milinous, your order? Shall we charge?”

Milinous gives the smallest shake of the head.
“Company—canter! Twos! Close quarters on the move. Draw swords.”

Steel whispers as twenty blades come bare in a shining ring.

The Mace-Bearer of Heironeous

The Aerdi cleric’s eyes knife to your cart, then to you. His words fall like coins on a tomb-lid—bright and cold.
“Lord Milinous… caught with hand in the cookie-jar, as the commoners would bleat. Red-handed, if you will.”

Should the PC's gainsay the lord, he flushes a disciplined crimson and thunders:

“How dare you mouth impudence! In a lord’s presence, you will kneel. Heironeous has weighed you and found you wanting. A servant of the Archpaladin is sworn to valour; his heart knows virtue; his blade defends the helpless; his might upholds the weak; his word speaks only truth; his wrath undoes the wicked. Test me, and I shall correct you.”

Pressure Tightens (standoff)

You are outnumbered and surrounded by mounted warriors whose horses are hungry for the bit. Crossbows probe for a reason; the captain needs only a word. Hooves scrape. A circle of iron breathes in.

Social Pressure: Intimidation or Persuasion checks made against Milinous or his captain suffer disadvantage while encircled by mounted retainers—unless the party produces a recognized writ or seal from Lady Elinor, Burne, or Verbobonc (then roll normally).

Lady Elinor Arrives

Before steel finds meat, the road throws back fresh hoofbeats. Lady Elinor Asbury crests the rise with her mounted escort—fewer in number, less drilled, but grim in face, and their eyes never leave their lady’s hand.

Her voice rings like a bell cut from winter.

“By what right do you accost my sworn upon my lands? You go too far, Lord Milinous. Take your escort and withdraw immediately.”

For a heartbeat the world narrows to three points: Milinous, Elinor, you. He reads her line—green perhaps, but unyielding—and the measure of you beside her.

A muscle jumps in his cheek. He lifts his chin.

Lady Elinor holds the silence a count, then turns in the saddle, the flint in her gaze melting to something warmer.

“I take it, from that little pageant, that you have been successful?”

Aftermath

Rain-silver light runs along Lady Elinor’s gauntlet as she reins in before you; her courser tosses its mane and settles, gentle as a ship at berth. The sting of Milinous’s departure still pricks your skin; dust drifts; your heart hammers the last of the war-drum beat.

She studies you—mud, scrapes, the stubborn glint that would not bend—and the flint in her gaze softens to warmth.

“Thou hast done bravely,” she says, voice low but sure. “By my troth, such steel of spirit I have longed to see upon these roads. Look thee—” Her smile kindles like lampfire cupped in the hand. “—my house stands not empty to such friends.”

“Whole—and made the stronger.” She leans in, conspirator’s close. “I would set aside quarrel and grim reckonings till the morrow. Come thou with me to Asbury Manor. Take rest beneath my roof, and let my hall ring with good cheer. There shall be meat and bread, bright wine, and songs to shame sorrow. Wilt thou come? Nay—thou shalt come, and make my honor the greater.”

If the PC's agree

“Then ‘tis sealed.” She sits straighter, turning to her escort. “Form the bower-guard! Two by two, close upon the cart. Riders fore and aft. Let none trouble my guests.” She inclines her head to you again, softer: “Thou shalt have hot water for the road’s ache, and a hearth-seat near mine. I would hear all—every peril faced, every cunning turn, every foe cast down.”

Sir Armount Andalarian edges his mare near, visor lifted. “My lady?”

“Sir Armount,” she says, “these adventurers ride in my safekeeping. Whoso lays a rough hand upon them shall answer to me. The banner goes high; the pace, kindly. We make Asbury by nightfall.”

“Aye, my lady,” the knight answers, and the order runs down the line like quicksilver.

Lady Elinor’s voice lowers once more for you alone. “Thou hast stood for me in the field, and I shall stand for thee in the hall. Come—let the wild griffon gnash his teeth in the dark; we shall give him no supper but envy.”

The column stirs: hooves thud, harness chimes, your wagon creaks into motion. Wheat hills lean gold in the lowering sun; swallows stitch the air above the hedgerows. As you fall into place beneath Asbury colors, you feel the day’s dread unlace by inches.

Lady Elinor looks back once, riding just ahead so her words carry to you alone. “Tell me, friend—what first clue led thee into the skull-temple’s throat? And which peril wouldst thou not cross again, save for love of thy companions?”

Combat (if it breaks)

• Opening Volley: 6–8 bolts at high-value targets; mounted ride-through threatens prone PCs.
• Morale: If Lady Elinor arrives mid-round, Milinous aborts the charge unless he’s already taken HP loss (then he withdraws under protest, swearing redress).
• Terrain: Horses claim the outer lane; going prone under the wagon grants half cover from crossbows; moving under hooves risks STR/DEX save DC 13 or be knocked prone.

Arrival Cue for Lady Elinor

• Signal: Trumpet call from the rise; dust ribbon; Elinor with 6–8 riders, less drilled but resolute.
• Line to read: “By what right do you accost my men upon my lands? Withdraw.”

Outcomes & Flags

• Compliant PCs: Milinous inventories openly; Elinor arrives; he retreats with a cold promise. Flag: Inspections, tolls, and delays in NA-14+.
• Defiant but Controlled: Hold the ring with writs/words until Elinor; earn Milinous’ enmity and the cleric’s watchful eye.
• Steel Drawn: Brief clash, then Elinor’s call halts it; wounds remembered.
• Catastrophe: If a retainer dies by PC action before Elinor, Milinous declares blood debt; expect legal pressure and retaliatory patrols.