Ill Fortune's Gambit
Twenty First Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
There is a very particular sort of fear that comes with
understanding. You have seen it time and again in the eyes of those facing fiends and monsters, the otherworldly fey, and the unhallowed dead, or even the light of an angel's gaze. Even after more than four years, you still remember what it was like for you that first time looking at the fiend of crackling flame, and if you live to your five thousandth year, you do not think you will forget. Knowing this, you could have shielded Lord Lolliston from some of the worst of the blow, you could have handed him a book to read, you could have shown him Sorcerer's Deep before having to confront the physical reality of a fiend. You do none of that because you remember another fear also, the fear of children under the hangman's noose.
Although you do not soften the blow, you answer all his questions one by one, and somewhere in the midst of those many, many answers, he gives you one of his own. House Loliston will stand with you against the Baratheons, so long as you stand with his against the deeper evils of the world. You take his pledge, of course, already considering how the needs of his House and its people might be met, but for now you turn to face the Famine Fiend and learn from it how it had come to be here in the Riverlands, and of what other plots and horrors it might know.
The news is thankfully as good as any one might pick from the mind of a daemon. Limaes does not know of any other daemons, indeed she does not know of any other fiends abroad in the world besides the ones you had already captured nor any secrets or treasures, fair or foul. As for how she had come to Oakbarrel, it appears daemons are as inclined to plot and intrigue against their fellows as demons and devils, for in the midst of a cult of death, the Servants of Famine gathered, knowing and unknowing alike, in a strange reversal of the calamities they represent.
Further, the means by which the influence of the Horseman of Famine escaped Tyrosh was ingenious certainly, but also fragile. Talismans like the ones you had seen around the necks of those now languishing in Lord Luthor's dungeon, not true magic that would call the diviner's attention, but tokens with an affinity for the Powers of Abandon. Enough to reach the dreams of mortals, and enough to tempt those already haunted by misfortune to sow the seeds of yet more misery. Devils scheme and demons sunder, but it seems daemons are content to slowly gnaw at the souls of men, biding their time until chance should deliver onto them a vessel for their plans. Such a vessel was Roderick the Scarred, the mage whom the Golden Shields did indeed face and slay, though not before he had the chance to summon the sorcerer daemon who in turn called out to the greater Famine Fiend before you.
So at last you come to the purpose of the curse and its nature. Having realized it lacked the strength to face any of the more powerful sorcerers of the land, the maledaemon masquerading as a stranger with skills as a healer, concocted a subtler plan, to craft through layered complex ritual, a self-perpetuating drought and then to test it upon the Lolliston lands. Somewhat to your surprise, the daemon understood the implications of the fertility rituals that were growing ever more prevalent in the Seven Kingdom. She knew that the price of grain would plummet to the point of being near worthless.
Let them burn their granaries in rage, then the drought will come. A few rumors that it had been the arcane rituals responsible for the cursed weather and thousands perhaps tens of thousands would die, not all to starvation, of course, but Limaes was a practical sort of monster.
By the end of the account, Lord Luthor is white as a sheet fear of fiends and the unknown subsumed in the more comprehensible terror of mass revolt. "Your Grace, what is there to do?"
"Thankfully, the Maledaemon herself is the center of her ritual. With her on hand, it should be possible to shatter it," you reply, briefly considering if it would be worth your time to extract the ritual lore from the fiend's mind.
If you want a house, you build a house. You don't start with a burrow in the nearest dung heap, Varys offers, almost making you smile ruefully at her point. More likely than not, it would take more time to remove the influence of the archdaemons from any ritual lore than it would take to build an equivalent conceptual structure from the ground up.
It seems this particular cabal of fiends has left you with nothing but a few more sacrifices to offer the Old Gods or Yss, though on the other hand, at least it could be tied off with some confidence so long as you can deal with the rest of the jackal-headed amulets.
What do you do with the Maledaemon and the last of the problems facing House Loliston?
Daemon
[] Sacrifice her before Lord Luther's Heart Tree to empower it
[] Keep her for now try to break the curse by using miracle
[] Write in
Grain Thieves
[] Try to convince Lord Luther not to kill the children but allow the rest to the hanged
[] All of them were to an extent under the influence of the curse that touched much more than the weather, seek clemency though ensuring that any 'good luck charms' are destroyed
[] Write in
Grain Trade
[] Bid the loyalist lords to trade with House Lolliston
[] Try to arrange an indirect trade in the east
[] Write in
OOC: These fiends were not really in your weight class so having them spin off to who knows how many clean-up operations just did not seem fun to me. Not yet edited.