Night falls…
We make camp and gather by the fire. In the murky heart of the Mire, the flames blaze like a protest to the sky. Far above, the moon drifts, healthy and round. It is full tonight.
As we gaze up at its pearlescent majesty, we are enveloped by a deep sense of peace. A question springs unbidden to our minds — a soft voice, feminine and loving. Comforting.
“Mortals live but one life. It is their way. I wonder… Were you to live another life, what life would you choose?”
Spurred by the questioning of the full moon, the party has a special discussion.
Clockwise starting with the Reader, without discussion or comment, each traveller takes it in turns to describe the life their character would choose, were they to be reborn into another body.
When all travellers have spoken, continue below.
————
⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖
————
The party takes a vote.
Counting down together, each traveller points simultaneously at the traveller who gave their personal favourite answer. Travellers cannot vote for themselves.
————
⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖
————
HELP FROM AN ITEM
If any traveller carries a LANTERN, they gain two votes.
Counting for the lantern rule, whoever won a majority of the votes wins the Bargain of the Moon. Any split votes are decided by the Reader.
When the Moon’s Bargain has been bestowed, continue below.
————
⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖
————
Finished with our talking, we prepare to bed down for the night. But even as we settle, the moon slips from behind a cloud, bathing our companions in a strange and silver light. It is a light of revelation. For suddenly, in the moon’s faint glow, we realise that we recognise one of our companions.
Travellers may not speak. Instead, look silently around the table at your fellows.
Secretly, each traveller picks another.
Though it wasn’t apparent to you before, suddenly you seem to recognise this companion. Are they a long lost family member? Or did you once hear a tale about them from a wandering minstrel? Keep this information to yourself… for now.
When you are finished thinking, place your two fists on the table in front of you.
When everyone has their two fists on the table, continue below.
————
⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖ ⧖
————
The moon passes back behind its cloud, stealing our sudden conviction with it. But as we drift to sleep, our realisations gnaw at us. Perhaps we are not such strangers here as we first believed…
The new day dawns. Shouldering our packs, we walk on.
⇐ 📖