In which gender is discussed, mothers are remembered, and sleep is finally found.
The pair enters the wasteland. Goat cheese is eaten. Names are exchanged.
In which a slave is sold to an unpleasant customer.
When photons bounce off your subs and into my retinas, this is how my headmeats give me numerals.
So you’ve finally done it. With the best of intentions all around the table, your PCs have finally blundered into the blender like curious gerbils, and now they are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. They are doomed, unless you unleash Secret GM Gambit #4 on them.
(Apologies to GRRM and HBO)
A group of northerners want to bring the Old Gods back to the south. They grow cuttings from the white trees seeking the blessings of the Old Gods on the project, and when the saplings are big enough, they carve faces in them and secretly plant them in forests all over the south, to extend the 'reach' of the Old Gods.
The plan works of course, but the trees are *baby gods*, and behave as such when invoked.