It's another round number, boys and girls. hopefully, nothing terrible happens. Minus the Bastards that burned down Hylsdal of course may all the terribleness happen to them.
The editing duo reports the following chapter fit for reading with only a mild chance of mental distress. Hopefully, this report is accurate. So let's get on with it.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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Chapter 80: Drawing Up Plans
Well, they hadn’t blown anything up yet, admittedly because they hadn’t managed to make anything even close to ready for testing. So they had packed up the three things that were sort of ready to show off. Dakota wasn’t entirely pleased that Tink hadn’t waited until they had proper prototypes ready. Not to mention they weren’t here to play at being inventors. It wasn’t hard to argue it was good for their schedule though. They hadn’t expected to have this meeting for days or possibly weeks.
It hadn’t been much more than 24 hours, yet they now found themselves standing outside a very impressive looking building. It was very tall, and had all kinds of strange things cluttering its exterior. There were windmills of different kinds, weather vanes, cranes, hoists, and a fair few things Sapphire had no clue what were.
Sapphire had left her bow at Tink’s workshop as it might provoke some questions around here.
It also begged the question: if this was where the engineering guild was located, why did Tink seem to live in his own workshop, a fair distance away?
“Oh this is going to be marvelous. Come along now,” the clearly excited Tink went as he approached the door guards. “Hello my fine fellow, I’m here for an appointment with Craftmaster Jakolev.”
“My my, got another brilliant idea have you?” One of the guards responded slightly sarcastically. It didn’t seem to faze Tink though, that was for sure.
“No, three,” He replied triumphantly. “And he is gonna love them.”
“Well, go on in. I’ll escort you since you're bringing friends today.” The guard turned to look at the trio, clearly slightly surprised as he gave them each a once over. Eyes lingering in certain places. “Where did you find those beauties?” He asked as he turned to open the door.
“They found me in fact,” Tink replied, completely unfazed by the guard's attitude as he slipped in the door. The inside was decently decorated and definitely well kept. It was a rather stark contrast to Tink’s cluttered up workshop, with its nice corridors and clean floors. Sapphire peeked in the few open doors they passed, which seemed to lead to offices or something of the like. There were certainly both parchment and tables in there.
“So how’s it going lately, Junior?” The guard questioned. the two of them bringing up the rear.
“Oh, you know, the usual… until those three showed up.”
“Am I allowed to know what it is our new huntress friends have come up with?”
“Oh, they aren't the designers they are messengers, and unfortunately no… not yet at least”
“Darn it, I’m guessing it’s quite something to get old Tink to stop chasing his own crazy ideas.”
‘Oh I’m sure you would like to know, also “sorry Tom” we definitely found a crazy one,’ Sapphire thought to herself, sending the mental apology to Tom.
They had arrived at a set of nice double doors. Two guards stood here as well. 'Well, whoever this guy is, he’s important, that’s for sure,’ Sapphire thought as the guards swung open the doors following them inside.
Inside was a very nice room with large glass windows on the far wall, looking around there was shelving all around, most of it filled with models of different kinds. There were model buildings, wagons, siege engines, and many other odd things that Sapphire had no clue what were. In front of them at a very large desk, a male dragonette of around Nunuk’s age was sitting. ‘He has spectacles!’ Sapphire thought to herself. She knew those cost a small fortune, and she hadn’t ever seen someone use them before. Usually, you would get a healer to fix any kind of eye problems.
“So Tink, what did you come up with this time?”
“Ohh, greetings crafts master. First off, on the insistence of my companions, I must have you sign this before we continue. Your guards too if they are to stay.” The old dragonette, who Sapphire assumed must be Craftmaster Jakolev, tilted his head downwards a little to peer over the top of his spectacles, sighing slightly.
“Bring it here. And yes, they are staying. You may go Werner.” Tink handed over a copy of the non-disclosure agreement, the guard who had escorted them leaving the way they came. The two other guards moved up to the desk.
“I see, quite unlike you to not want the world to know what you have been working on,” Jakolev replied, signing the document, the two guards doing the same. “So what you got?”
Tink gestured for them to bring forth the things, first presenting the drawings Tink had copied down and then the prototypes. It took a bit to explain what it all did, Jakolev didn’t say anything other than ask questions here and there.
“So it will not make your hand dirty when using it?”
“Oh gods no. This is just the core. I wrapped it up in a bit of leather for the time being, but it should just be wood. It would revolutionize design work, not to mention save a lot of parchment in the drawing departments. It’s cheap too, and can be carried wherever you go. Excellent for note-taking or possibly map work. Imagine not having to carry ink with you or relying on charcoal and chalk.”
“I’ll grant you it’s rather brilliant. But can you make it?”
“Certainly, it shouldn't be hard to do. It's just clay, that ghastly grey stuff, and cheap wood.”
“Very well, what of this self-lighting lamp. Why not just carry a flint and steel?”
“Oh we want to make it smaller, so it can fit in your pocket. And you can carry it at all times, it would become your flint and steel. Isn't it brilliant?!” Tink was clearly barely restraining himself. Jakolev though was a lot more calm and thoughtful.
“Agreed, but what of prices. This looks to be a rather complicated piece of kit.”
“We talked about perhaps making the first ones more like jewelry. You know, a status symbol for the rich.”
“That could work, I certainly want one if you can make it nice and clean, it would make lighting a pipe so much easier. The lamp might be easier to make for general use.”
“Excellent, so would you agree to produce these under license?” Dakota went, cutting to the bone of why they were here.
“If Tink here can come up with some proper designs for a finalized product I don't see why not. Except for the fact, the most complicated little things we make are locks. We will need some more jewelers too. I’ll see what I can do about that. What sort of licensing are we talking about?"
“Quarter of sales price,” Dakota answered calmly. Sapphire had been working that out. If a golden lighter ended up costing say 20 gold they would be getting five. That meant that if most of the people in the council bought one they would make hundreds of gold… from a drawing.
‘I can see why Tom was so damn well paid back home and that’s just the lighter,’ Sapphire thought.
“One-fifth.” Jakolev retorted leaning back in his chair.
“Uhh-uh, not happening, quarter on everything. Those are our terms as per the contract we brought. Remember, we’re just the messengers.”
“Then I want exclusive rights for no less than five years. With a clause for renegotiating the contract once it expires at my discretion,” That sounded like rights forever to Sapphire.
“With a twenty-five year maximum, only extendable upon agreement of both parties,” Dakota replied, seemingly very pleased. “Oh and before you consider breaking our agreement. Should this venture prove profitable for both sides, which I'm sure it will be, these will not be the last inventions you can expect from us.” Jakolev looked at Dakota quizzically at that, seemingly trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with here.
“Done. Tink, get yourself in gear. I want those things ready yesterday. We need to know if they could do any harm before we send them for approval.”
“Sir, yes, sir” Tink replied beaming with pride.
“Approval?” Sapphire questioned, that was a new one to her.
“Yes, of course, any such radical invention must be approved. We can’t have some craftsman who knows nothing of how to handle arcane inscriptions trying to sell them to the wider public. That would be disastrous. I can only imagine the harm done to our reputation if we started selling items that turn your hand black or grey.”
“How long would that take?” Dakota questioned.
“Normally that would take weeks, perhaps even months. Luckily I might be able to help speed that process up a bit. Not to mention, there is hardly anything dangerous here. There isn’t even a hint of magic in fact. It should be no problem.”
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“Now, now, don’t worry. You're safe here, I promise,” Lothal went as he rocked his little sister back and forth gently. The baby still hadn't stopped crying yet. Unkai had checked her over finding nothing wrong, incredibly. Tom guessed what had just happened wasn’t a pleasant experience in the least.
They had moved the 4-year-old girl over to try with her. Kalestine requested a minute before they continued, this was clearly not easy on her. Lothal moved away with the baby, going over to the other kids to stay clear of what was about to happen. Tom repeated the cut, drawing fresh blood in the same manner as before.
As with little baby Jinaro, when the blood hit Vibexa’s mouth it seemed to burn through, Kalestine’s breathing growing laboured as she strained greatly. The bright white light pouring forth from the young girl as she too let out an ear-piercing scream. Tom stood back this time as she thrashed around on the ground. It looked horrible. Just like with Jinaro, the light began to fade and eventually cut out. Then there was silence.
Jackalope leaned down to jostle the kid, to no effect. Jinaro had been screaming and crying right off the bat.
“Tom, she’s not breathing,” Jackalope went, looking at him with a horrified expression. Tom turned to look at Kalestine who was face down in the grass.
He quickly moved her head so he could hold a hand in front of a nostril.
“Well, she’s still breathing. Unkai get over here!” He replied, slightly relieved. He could guess at what the punishment was for killing a unicorn after all. “I think she fainted?” He went as Unkai arrived, sprinting over.
“Does that mean...” Jackalope trailed off, looking down at the girl, the spark of hope in her eyes fading.
Tom didn’t want to say it, but he knew. She was dead, very dead by now in fact. He didn’t know how long it had been, at least an hour though that was for sure. Short of some miracle magic, there was nothing to be done now.
He had believed this was all going to be fine… Why wasn’t it fine! He didn’t even know what god to curse for this. The old man from back home could hardly be held responsible. But why? Why give them hope. Twice even! Just to snatch it away like that. Most of All Tom just wanted to chuck his helmet for distance right now or go punch a tree. This wasn't fair, It was the excatch goddamn opposite of fair!
“Unkai do you think she could… you know later?” Jacky tried looking to Unkai.
“I know jack shit about unicorns other than ‘do as they say,’ and ‘be polite.’ ” His tone was hard, though there was clearly hurt in there. He would have expected it to work too, Tom guessed. Why wouldn't he have?
“Right,” Tom replied somberly, not quite sure what else to say right now. “I’ll... grab a blanket,” he continued, getting up.
Jackalope held out an arm to stop him for a second. “Tom, you're sure you can’t... You know?” she tried, clearly putting on a forced hopeful smile.
“We couldn’t save her now even if she was in a hospital bed in my home’s capital… I’m sorry,” Tom replied, looking down. “And I’m not even a doctor, healer, whatever… I can’t help her.” Jackalope’s smile faded as she looked back to the girl. Tom for one couldn’t stand to look at the girl anymore right now, so he walked away.
Jarix had laid down and curled up into a half-moon shape, with Zarko and the rest of the kids within the half-moon. Tom made his way over towards Zarko who was sitting with the twins. He almost felt sorry for Zarko as she was trying her best to comfort them. They weren't stupid; they knew they had just lost a sister, for the second time today.
The twins were damn near shaking with fear as they looked around despite Zarko’s efforts. Lothal was sitting with the crying Jinaro, Revo was lying on his back, head turned to stare at his dead sister.
Tom couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like down there. Not knowing how long it had been. He hadn’t seen any food either, they might have eaten it of course, but there was a good chance they were starving too. Tom sat down between Revo and Zarko. Gesturing for Lothal to come over.
He took his backpack off to get some rations out. Sugar probably wasn’t the right thing right now, but he did have a rather large bag of trail mix of the local variety, and they could use all the distractions they could get right now. “You hungry?” he tried, holding out a handful for the twins.
It took a bit before one of them reached out a hand to gingerly take some of it not saying a word. “No need to be shy, it’s yours. Would you mind Zarko?”
“Of course,” she replied, holding out her hand. Tom giving her the handful of trail mix to let her feed the two of them.
“How’s he doing?” Tom said, looking to Revo who was lying on his back.
“Unkai said his lungs are dirty, but he’ll be fine.”
“Somebody was brave protecting your little sister, hey?” Tom tried, in his most encouraging voice. The boy turned to look at him, giving a meek smile, which quickly vanished as he looked back to where Jackalope was sitting. Tom could hear her sobbing from here. “Lothal, do me a favor and hand this out, would you? Take as much as you want.” Tom went, giving the young man the bag and getting back up again.
“She’s not coming back is she?” Revo questioned, clearly on the verge of another breakdown.
“I’m sorry, but no I don’t think so.” Tom could feel the air vibrate with the growl that came from Jarix. The kids ducking for cover on instinct. “Welcome to war, Jarix. I hope you like it,” Tom went as he walked over to him to retrieve a blanket from his pack. The growl almost turned out a whimper at that. Maybe that was too rough, Jarix had done extremely well thus far. He needed to learn though, and he would hopefully never get a better lesson than this.
“But she’s dead, Tom. Why didn't she make it!?” Jarix protested. Clearly very distraught. Yeah okay, that was too rough, this wasn't his fault after all.
“Shs shs shhh, big guy. You did all you could. And we would never have found them without you. Hell, we wouldn’t even have made it here without you. And we didn’t lose a kid, okay?” Tom went, waiting until Jarix finally looked at him. “We saved five. You. Helped save, five kids. And you should be damn proud.”
“But I wanted to save six.”
“We all did, but that's another fact of war, Jarix. You don’t always win.” Tom grabbed a blanket from one of the bags low slung on Jarix’s harness, giving him a pat on the side. “And there is a big difference between losing a fight and losing a war.”
It would seem Jarix got what Tom was talking about, his head swiveling around to look at Tom. “We were told that if we find the enemy we are to return to the keep.”
“We haven't found them yet,” Tom replied in as hard a tone as he could muster right now. He mostly just wanted to scream for vengeance. That wouldn’t do though, not right now at least.
Tom moved over to the sobbing Jackalope, wrapping the kid up in the blanket before sitting down with her and giving her as much of a hug as he could manage. “They die for this!” she finally sneered out.
“What do you say we see about making that happen. Come over here, we have something to discuss,” he went, releasing her. She didn’t need to be told twice, shooting to her feet and turning to flank Tom as they walked over.
“Zarko, it was four hours to Deriva, right?”
“Yes, but it will be night by then… and what about the kids?”
“We leave them here with Unkai and Kalestine, we will give her some time to wake up. I don't want to get there before nightfall anyway. Are we sure we are dealing with Darklings here?”
“We shouldn't be talking about this here... We will be right back. Jarix, watch them. He is big and friendly so don’t be scared. No one hurts you while we are here. ” Tom had to agree with that assessment. Probably better to leave them be alone for a bit, rather than rub their noses in this. The three of them walked by the water's edge for a bit, until they were confident in being out of earshot. Well except for jarix.
“They took the bodies Tom, there must be darklings among them,” Zarko started. “That door was no darkling though.”
“Do they need to sleep?`”
“Yes, just like we do. They are essentially us… you know.” She sounded ashamed of that, it was just what Tom wanted to hear though.
“Excellent, can they see in the dark better than you can?” That took her a second to respond to.
“Don’t think so. I think I would have heard of that if they could.”
“Very good. I say we go to Deriva, you drop me off then you get some rest. I have some fun with them in the night.”
“You want to go in there alone?!” Jackalope questioned, clearly not happy with that idea.
“You people can’t hide at night, you're white and there will be moonlight. I can.”
“Tom, that is a stupid idea,” Zarko agreed. “And we would lose the element of surprise. If you insist on us trying to help them, then I say we dive in, take some shots at them and climb out. With luck, some of them will follow us and we can draw them off.”
Tom had to think on that for a second. “Can you hit them in the dark though?”
“Whatever broke down that door and did in Kalestine cannot be a small target. If we can handle that, the keep might have a chance. Or at least hold out for long enough to get help.”
“Think Jarix can outrun whatever it is they have?”
“He might be brash, but he’s fast. It’s not without reason he flies without a combat crew.”
“What if we do both?” Tom then asked, looking at the two women. “At night they won’t see you until you're right on top of them. Then when I start blowing shit up, you dive on the bastards. Then I slip away in the confusion.”
“Tom, Deriva lies on the edge of a canyon. There is not much to hide behind and you can only come from one side,” Jackalope protested. That would be a problem, with his cloak though he should be fine so long as he could maintain a decent range.
“Do they have sniffer dogs? Or anything like that?” The two of them just looked at him confusedly, clearly not having a clue what he was talking about. “Something that can find me using smell.”
“A vargulf can do that I’m fairly sure,” Jackalope replied, clearly thoughtful on the subject. Tom guessed it made sense if you hunted from the air that you wouldn't use smell much. From his understanding, though the Vargulfs were more like hyenas, they wouldn’t pass up a carcass. So it made sense they could find it.
“Zarko, will they be organized enough to search for me, or do I just have to not be seen?”
“Depends on who’s giving them orders. With beasts like whatever broke down the door present, I say there is a very good chance they have someone telling them what to do.”
“So it’s just one dude telling them what to do?”
“Maybe. There is no saying if there is more than one. Not to mention, they took the bodies from Hylsdal; they must have something with them which can corrupt. A regular darkling can't do that.”
“Another dark knight then?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Then I say this just turned into an assassination mission.”
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So then you win some you lose some, unacceptable as it sometimes is. What did you think, too rough to kill another kid? I know some of you were even rooting for a dead baby. If you think I'm an arsehole for my transgressions, then do let me know down below. I'm sure you can come up with some very colorful language.
Until next time have an awesome day. Hopefully more awesome than Tom and company at least.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
Wiki
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Hunter or Huntress Chapter 79: How Does That Even Work?

So then folks ready to get that cliffhanger from last time, resolved? Well, luckily for you chapter 78 is here and ready to read. hopefully with an accurate title this time.
The editing duo have collectively shaken their heads at the results of my labor and then made it into something fit for showing off to you guys. So I say we got on with it.

ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
Wiki
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Chapter 79: How Does That Even Work?
Tom’s head shot up. “Kalestine! We need to get them to Kalestine!” He shouted out at the others. Heads turning to face him.
“Tom, we can’t hurt a unicorn,” Zarko replied despairingly.
“I don’t care. I asked her, she said maybe. Maybes will do right now. Jarix, we’re moving. Jackalope, on your feet we ain’t done yet.” That last part was superfluous as she had already yanked the girl away from Unkai and started sprinting towards Jarix. Zarko and Unkai also snapped to it, Tom guessed the excuse of Kalestine having said so would do for them.
“Can you walk?” Tom questioned the boy who had come clambering out. He was clearly struggling to get to his feet, even if he had stopped crying. “Come now grab on, I'll carry you,” Tom went, kneeling down in front of the kid who latched on. He grabbed his helmet, slapping it on, then picked up the basket holding it tight, and made his way to where Jarix was getting clear of the buildings.
Unkai had grabbed the boy who had been clutching the basket, even if he was breathing he was clearly not in good shape either, Zarko carrying the twins. It was a mad scramble to get everyone on board and secure.
“Jacky, rifle,” Tom went, pointing to the hole where he had left it. Jackalope quickly half-ran half-flew over to grab it as Jarix set off at a gallop to get airborne. “Everyone hang on,” Zarko instructed as she held onto the dead girl. Tom made sure the basket wasn’t going anywhere as Jarix jumped into the air, wings driving down hard.
Jackalope made it back in no time as jarix was getting up to speed, setting down with the precious rifle. Tom quickly slung it over his shoulder. It was clear she had not fared much better than him, eyes red and wet. She was smiling though and there was hope in her eyes. Tom really hoped Kalestine wasn’t gonna rob her of that.
“Zarko, you know where she is?"
“That I do,” she replied. There was a hint of reluctance in her voice. As she looked at the kids currently strewn about Jarix's back, her face seemed to go from stern to pained and she started relaying instructions.
‘Kalestine better not be a bitch today, or I’m gonna end up a heretic,’ Tom thought to himself, looking at the kids. There were six in total; four boys and two girls, those being the two youngest. The oldest of them being the one who had come crawling out. Tom guessed he was around eleven, which would make him a young man by dragonette standards.
He was sitting next to Tom, shifting between looking at his little sister in the basket and at the others around him. Clearly overwhelmed by what was happening. The twins still hadn’t let go of each other and looked terrified as all hell.
“What’s your name?” Tom asked the young man, trying to divert his attention from the girl Jackalope was clutching tight. Poor Jacky, Tom thought to himself. Based on the story of her home, this was likely all too familiar for her, after all. She knew better than anyone what these kids were going through.
“Lothal,” the answer finally came, meekly as could be. Tom turned back to him, doing his best to smile.
“I’m Tom, don’t worry I’m less scary than I look,” Tom tried in the softest voice he could manage right now. “Who are your friends?” The kid sniffed a few times before turning to the others pointing.
“That’s Hulu and Hana,” he went, pointing at the twins. “That’s Revel,” he continued pointing to the boy Unkai was tending to. “That's Vibexa.” His voice started to quiver as he pointed to Jackalope, then looking down into the basket. “Jinaro,” he finished, holding back more crying.
“Now now, come here,” Tom went, holding him tight with his right arm.
“No one else made it, did they?”
“I don’t think so no.”
“I guess mother was right then… I’ll have to do,” Lothal continued, bringing out a golden huntress crown from under his clothes and clutching it tightly in his hands. ‘Oh buddy,’ Tom thought.
“Thank you… sir?”
“I’m no sir… well I'm a man if that is what you mean. And don’t worry about it, you've had it rough enough, you don't need to thank anyone.”
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“That crazy bastard really managed to get us in today?” Sapphire couldn’t quite believe that. Perhaps the engineering guild was a lot less busy than she thought, or Tink held more sway than she had guessed.
“Yup, come on now, better hurry up,” Tink Junior replied. They had barely finished breakfast yet, but Sapphire guessed that would have to wait.
“What about the prototypes?” Dakota questioned, not yet moving from her seat.
“The rudder was easy enough, membrane leather did the trick just fine. And he managed to light himself on fire only two hours ago so the lighter is coming along well I think.”
“He lit himself on fire… and that's a good thing?” Sapphire had to ask, thinking back to Tom's warning about not getting a crazy guy.
“Well it worked. Not that it was too hard.”
“Wait, two hours ago. He hasn’t slept yet, has he?” Dakota questioned. ‘Going to a meeting with a sleeping crazy inventor, marvelous,’ Sapphire thought to herself.
“Noo, I tried to get him to go to bed. I woke up, when he burned himself on the drawing thing."
“He made those too?”
“Only the inside bit, didn’t have time for the wood. It's proof of concept after all. The lighter is a little big too.”
“How big?” Dakota questioned intently.
“About uhmmm... I mean you could hang it on your belt.”
Dakota sighed a little. “When is this meeting?”
“Oh it’s not until late in the afternoon. We were hoping you would lend us a hand.”
“That sounds fun. We got anything more important to do?” Balethon questioned, all the while stuffing his face full of fried eggs.
“We still have more things to find. That won’t matter though if we can’t afford them.” Dakota put down her utensils. “Let’s go lend a hand then.”
Having a local guide did help quite a bit with navigating. Especially since Junior seemed to know just about where everything was, even pointing out a few of the things they needed as they glided over the city. It had been a while since Sapphire last had to deal with this much traffic, she wasn’t a silvered huntress and tonselra champion for nothing though.
Balethon, on the other hand, earned some rather rude remarks from passersby when he nearly hit a family with children. Not that Dakota was much easier on him after that. “Seriously, watch where you are going. You’ll make people think we don’t teach the kids properly”
“Geez I said I was sorry, okay?”
“Down here, try not to hit anything,” Junior went in a sarcastic tone as he descended. Sapphire had been expecting to land on the street but apparently Junior thought they deserved special treatment as he set down on the roof.
Going down the stairs they found a, very much so, sleeping Tink at a workbench.
“Wake up dad, I told you to go to bed,” Junior went, kicking the chair. Tink woke with a start, looking around a tad confused.
“Oh I see, it's morning. Right, I have things to show you. Come now,” he went, leaving the room and dragging Dakota by the arm into the drawing-room. “Look, it can draw just like he said it could. Just some clay powder and that ghastly grey dye.” He sounded very excited as he presented a small grey stick to Dakota. It wasn’t even the length of her thumb and it was rather fat. Not at all like the ones Tom had brought.
“Try it out,” he continued, gesturing to a piece of paper on the table. Dakota did as instructed, drawing a line on the parchment. It did leave a nice trail on the page even if it was more of a fat smudge than the elegant lines Tom’s pencils could draw. “Not bad for a day's work, hey?”
“Definitely not. Very impressive,” Dakota had to admit, putting the thing down again. She gasped when she saw what it had done to her hand. “What in the... I need to wash my hands. Do you have water?
“Oh, sure, follow me,” Junior went as the two left to solve the problem.
“Right… whoops. I can see why you would want to put some wood around it. Still haven't worked out how to do that though.”
“You also need to sharpen it,” Sapphire interjected. She had tried Tom’s pencils before, which was clearly important for good results.
“Oh, of course. I’ll get the grindstones.”
“Just use a knife, it’s easier.”
“Oh… well okay then.”
“What about making it go away again. The rudder?”
“Oh, I just used some strips of membrane leather glued together into a little block, nice and cheap. Here,” he tossed Sapphire the little thing. It looked a lot more like what she had been expecting.
“Is that the lighter?” Balethon asked, looking at what Sapphire would best describe as a nice lantern that had been ripped apart poorly.
“Oh yes, I didn't have time to make that tiny thing so I just made the little spark thing and put it on a lantern. Look.” True to his word, he flicked the wheel on the side and the thing lit up with a burst of sparks, burning with a nice clean flame. “Alternatively, we could just sell these as self-lighting lanterns.”
“Dakota is gonna like this,” Sapphire concluded. “You did all this since yesterday?”
“Sure, the Dencil was the most difficult. I need to make a proper mold for that. It didn’t get hot enough either. It likes to crumble so I made a few to show off.”
“Okay then. What was it you wanted us for then?”
“Oh, I need some help with this thing,” he went, this time grabbing Sapphire by the arm to drag her along. She entertained him for the time being; he had done one hell of a job for one night after all. He went to the big room where they had found him sleeping. “I just needed to know about those naggnet things, so I started putting this together.”
“Uh uh, not happening,” Sapphire protested as she looked at his very rushed-looking sketches, which to her dismay had a jar of blitz gel on them. With what she assumed were wires sticking out of it.
“Why not?! I mean I still haven't figured out how to make the thin copper strands it talked about in the instructions, but it was very clear that you needed lightning. What better way to get it than blitz gel?”
“That stuff explodes… regularly,” Sapphire tried in the voice usually reserved for when Jackalope had a bad idea. It was as effective as always.
“I ain’t gonna hit it with a hammer or anything!” Tink protested, much to Sapphire's dismay.
“Have you ever worked with electricity?” She asked very pointedly.
“No…”
“Then let me teach you a few lessons I have learned. One, that stuff can and will blow up even when you think you know what you are doing. Two, it’s fucking loud when it does so and it breaks things. Three, the man who designed this stuff originally also has this stuff blow up on him… regularly. So you stand no chance.”
Tink looked somewhere between offended and a kid who had his toy taken away. “Well then what?” he replied with an exasperated shrug.
“We do as the instructions say of course?”
“But this is what the instructions said...”
‘Fuck!’ Sapphire really should have read those before betting Tom hadn't been this reckless.
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Tom and Jackalope had sat down next to each other with their backs to the other kids so they didn’t have to look at their two dead sisters. Lothal was doing his best along with Zarko and Unkai to keep them distracted, but it was clear they still wanted to know what was going on.
“How many do you think they killed?”
“None, they're recruiting,” Jackalope replied darkly, staring back towards the keep as it got smaller in the distance. Tom leaned in to whisper into her ear, not wanting the kids to hear.
“Where do you think they're going next?”
“Knowing our luck they made it past us on the way here without us spotting them.”
“You don’t think that…
“I don't know, okay!” She replied angrily, head snapping to look at him. Of course she didn’t, how could she. She seemed to regret it though, turning to look down at the girl she was still clutching. “I was five… I guess she wins then.”
“Wins what?” Tom tried as delicately as he could.
“Most unlucky little girl.” Tom just put his head on her shoulder.
“If she will be half the badass as you are it can’t be all bad.”
“She will be even more badass. She will have unicorn’s blood.”
‘God I hope so,’ Tom thought to himself.
It was not much of a trip, Jarix was trying to go as fast as possible while being restrained by Zarko. They couldn’t have anyone falling off, and chances were good Jarix's job was far from done today. They had made the clearing in a matter of minutes, circling down to land by the edge of the waterhole.
‘Can you hear me?’ Tom tried to think as they were descending.
“Yes,” came the weary response. “Why have you brought the kids?” Jackalope seemed to react to that as well, so he guessed this was on the broad channel. He would rather spare the kids for now though. They didn’t need to have their faces rubbed in the fact they were likely all orphans now.
‘They’re all that's left.’ There was a fair bit of silence following that, coinciding with Jarix touching down and trotting over to the small shelter they had made for Kalestine.
“I take it you came here for blood, then?”
‘Please. We tried, we can’t help them.’ Tom and Jacky carried down the two girls, while the others handled the rest of the kids, trying to keep them away. Lothal was doing a remarkably good job of keeping calm, even if the same could not be said for the rest of them. The shock factor was clearly still in effect for them though.
Tom and Jackalope had sat down with Kalestine placing the two dead kids before her.
“You know the punishment for hurting a unicorn, you will be barred from heaven for doing that.” Jackalope didn’t seem to flinch at that, so Tom guessed that was common knowledge.
“Right away or at some point?” He had to ask. He reasoned that chances were pretty good he was going to hell anyway if he died. He could hardly be more of a heretic anyway around these parts.
“When you die, I think.”
“Good enough for me,” Tom replied, drawing his knife. Jackalope grabbed him by the hand, yanking him into an embrace. Nuzzling him closely and even giving him a boop, which he guessed was her way of trying a kiss. He returned the gesture as best he could. Then she released him, looking a bit coy.
“Just in case,” She went, looking down.
“Hey, I don’t think this will kill me. Besides, I don't even follow your gods,” Tom replied, turning back to Kalestine. “How much and where from?”
“I didn’t say I would let you,” Kalestine responded; Tom’s grip on the knife tightened. “I will let you try, for a price.”
“Name it,” Tom responded. ‘Bartering with the lives of a fucking baby.’ He tried not to think about how much that made him hate her right now.
“Find and kill the one who broke my horn,” Kalestine replied, switching into a vicious tone. “And make them suffer for it.”
“With pleasure,” Jackalope responded coldly. Tom had to admit he didn’t have a problem with that either. He was guessing that would fall under hunting down child murderers.
“Deal. Now, where and how much?”
“Do try and put it where it can’t be seen. I’m looking like a whipped draft horse already.” Tom had to admit, the glamour of when he had first seen her had sort of vanished. Magic life horse though, so he was sure that would return eventually. “You won’t need much, a few drops will do.”
That wasn’t too hard to manage, as he moved to her side. “Thank you,” he went as he nicked her by her cloven hoof. He had expected a horse’s hoof, but what the hell, it was hardly the strangest thing about her.
The small nick didn't bleed much but it did the trick as he scooped up some of the strange silvery liquid in the fuller of his knife. Jackalope brought the basket over, setting it down next to Tom and held the little girl's mouth open.
“When you run out of science, use magic I guess,” Tom went, tilting the knife to let the blood run into the little girl's mouth.
The effect was immediate as the liquid seemed to burn its way through the tongue and sides of the little girl's mouth, bright white light beaming out from where Tom was expecting a wound to be. There was just a quick flash then it was gone, with no evidence remaining.
He flinched back at the sight, it was a violent reaction. Jackalope was clearly not expecting that either, turning away from the flash of light for a split second. Kalestine let out a pained sound as the blood hit. Tom guessed she was paying for this somehow then. In fact, she appeared to be paying quite a lot.
Then the little girl convulsed, almost like she had been hit with an electric shock, eyes, and mouth shooting open, with the same blinding white light pouring from them. It looked more like something out of a horror film as the scream came, an agonizing desperate scream of a baby in great pain. She thrashed around, the light beaming from her. Tom felt he needed to do something, but Jackalope hit him in the chest with enough force to drive out his breath when he leaned forward.
“Don't touch her.”
The light slowly began to fade from blinding to bright to none as eventually the clear green of the kid’s eyes could be seen. The scream turning to the sweetest sound Tom could hope for. Crying.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The baby lives! Now be honest how many of you thought I was gonna kill the little baby? Ahh don't worry there is still a kid left and who knows baby might be a Hodor now. And Tink has been very productive it would seem, hopefully, his rushing nature doesn't lead to any horrible situations, we have enough of those at the moment.
As always let me know what you thought good and bad down below and may you all have an awesome day.

ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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[Prose - in-text] A shot of whatever

[Prose - in-text]
I hear the barstool sputter out a stuttered creak as I sit down after washing my hands and running some water through my hair and over my patch. The clock on the wall tells me that I was in there for 10 minutes. It only felt like one, but the clock doesn’t lie. I must’ve nodded off when I saw that old holo-paper sitting in the corner near the toilet. Might want to go for another round to bring me back into the now. It might kill me... but shit, Liquor’s liquor. Even the industrial-grade piss I had before; Strong like a bull, and just as fine. I put two fingers up as I see the apron-clad lady cross my view as she steps back behind the counter, setting a thin aluminum tray down on the edge.
“Thought you might’ve fell in when you flushed!” The bartender walks to my end, sporting a damp rag and simple grin. The old content “country life” smile that I’m so used to seeing out in these parts. “Same thing?” I simply nod and slide a grey pearlshell her way. A quick glance before she puts it into her apron while filling up my glass once more, almost hesitantly. The liquid flows into the cup smoothly, but it smells industrial. Like arsenic, or ammonia. I lift it to my lips and take a sip instead of trying to down it in one go for a change. A bitter blaze treks down my throat as it goes down, only a bit weaker that the one before. Then it’s sweet aftertaste quickly overcomes the bitterness in almost a split second, like cherry-flavored cough syrup for a bad cold. It’s like you never know what to expect even if you’ve had it before.
“Just how does he do it?" She asks to herself aloud, almost sounding surprised.
“Pardon?” My eyes meet her thinning raised brows, and I raise mine confused.
“Most ranchers that come down ‘ere can’t stand that stuff, but you go at it like it’s water." She then abruptly shrugs it off to be less then she put it out to be. “Bah, it’s nothin’, sweetheart. Don’t mind me a bit.”
“Is that why it’s so cheap? Nobody’ll drink it for whole price?” I exhale from my nostrils with a smile and peer at the brown bottle next to her. It reflects a dull shine, showing off its neckless and girthy form in all of its cheap and trashy glory.
“When you pay just a hundred for it, then yeah.” She peers at it with me, more with frustration than humor. “Nobody wants to pay twenty units for a shot of that, so it sits on the shelf till you throw the price down into the dirt.” She paid a hundred for a bottle of *this***? That’s a lot for a drink this primal. I didn’t expect or want fine wine, but even this “cheap option” is a scam to serve; and a sin to brew.
“Now that’s quite a bit for something you’d be better cleaning the counter with.” The girl crosses her arms and leans them against the counter, losing her smile. She seems more comfortable around me as we get to talking, and it’s clear that she's just putting on a show to seem nice to her customers.
“Yeah. I swear, it might just be the last time I’m buying from them." She grabs the bottle and slouches over further my way while she continues to gaze at it. Like an inner war has now broken out about why she even bought it. A feeling of regret, rising as she stares on at the musty, ugly bottle. “Damn Salla Sisters…” Salla; The surname that brought me out here. From my cush bed with hired company aside me to sitting in a bar likely as old as the generation before my own.
“Jean and Jena?" My hand goes from my glass to the countertop. The girl simply nods and looks at the rag before putting it to use on the counter’s edge.
“Yeah, that's them. Two girls run a bootlegging operation outta town, and NeR jurisdiction. Shouldn't have let myself get conned by em’." She sets the bottle down and shakes her head. “I bet there's a reason you're asking?”
“You could say that I’m looking for them.” I begin, knowing that the who and why isn’t all that important.
“Y’kin?” Her beady eyes look to me and widen. She seems tired, left huskish in appearance from far more than just age. The small smudges of dirt on her reddish cheeks and untamed frills in her greying blonde ponytail spells fatigue to me, but I keep going.
“Far from it. I’m a hired gun.” I lean in and let slip, downing my glass right after. “If this is their quality of booze, then I’m gonna be doing her buyers a favor down the line.” In almost an instant her posture straightens up and now she seems more focused on the topic at hand. I’ve gotten her attention.
“Now, you don’t say. Why they hunted? Is all their booze that bad?” She forces her eyes open more and yawns, having the decency to cover her mouth.
“Why else for somebody wanting them or their bodies at their feet? They wronged somebody, and I’m here on their dime.” I swivel my glass around, sloshing the odious spirit from one end to the other. I swear that I can see a shadow in it, but it must be the trick of the light. It’s that, or the drink is doing it’s damndest to fuck with me.
“Now I see. Sure, they might be rough around the edges and a cut scummy-” She goes on, but it’s best if I use the opportunity of her being interested to find out where twins are. She lending her attention to me for a reason, and I should stay shrewd to that fact.
“You seem knowledgeable, ma’am-” I toss my hand up as I speak and she stops herself. “-So I’ll ask you this: Where might I find those two?” While she thinks of what to say, I take the time to draw in the questionably pure air around me with a deep, long-winded breath that reeks more than the drink.
“What’s in it for me telling you?" She breaks the silence after a moment of thinking, maybe ten seconds long at most. “I just don’t tell bounty hunters where people are for nothing, especially if they’re one of my own suppliers. They might be selling bad liquor, and it’s still better than none.” Typical ... but understandable. She has a business to run, and her wanting something out of it makes it seem that she’s not taking me on a goose chase for laughs. I pull out a couple of bronze pearlshells from my coat’s pocket and set them onto the counter.
“Plenty of Tribals live around here to the southeast, and this is a small fortune to them. Booze might be pricey, but there’s still a snug profit to be made. That sound fair?”
“It does.” She throws her head to the right and pockets the pearlshells discreetly. “To the west, up towards the old highway. Old nomad shelter, you won’t mistake it. If you’re not too sure, just take a big whiff. Can’t take the smell of cheap liquor brewing as anything else." She finishes and swings the rag back onto the table. Got a place to go, at least.
“Three miles? Five?” I push the glass back her way and she dips her rag in to scrub away the vile liquid that now settles in my stomach. Her eyes wander to the glass before she finally answers.
“The latter and a half.” I smile surprised to hear that word. ‘Latter’. Not tedious, but technical.
“Smart girl, with that first word." I compliment her. A smirk curls onto her face, showing pride in the moment.
“Auntie and Pa didn’t may-ka dummy outta me.”
“Thank em’ for me then, will ya? And here. A little something to seal your lips in case any NeR boys come in here asking about any ‘unlicensed bounty hunters’, and wanting a sketch of their face.” I top her with a few silver quarters; It’s just enough to blind an eye from my experience.
“Who’s face?” Her eyes glisten in an attempt to assure me. Like an old friend sticking their neck out for you, just because. For old time’s sake, I hear spoken from her exhausted, grassy green eyes. I’m skeptical about her sudden attempts to assure me, but it might just be my cynical nature overthinking it.
“Good answer.”

Does it fly?

Simple as it sounds: Rate it 1-10, what you like, what you don't, what needs work, etc. Any criticism is welcome.
I hear the barstool sputter out a stuttered creak as I sit down after washing my hands and running some water through my hair and over my patch. The clock on the wall tells me that I was in there for 10 minutes. It only felt like one, but the clock doesn’t lie. I must’ve nodded off when I saw that old holo-paper sitting in the corner near the toilet. Might want to go for another round to bring me back into the now. It might kill me... but shit, Liquor’s liquor. Even the industrial-grade piss I had before; Strong like a bull, and just as fine. I put two fingers up as I see the apron-clad lady cross my view as she steps back behind the counter, setting a thin aluminum tray down on the edge.
“Thought you might’ve fell in when you flushed!” The bartender walks to my end, sporting a damp rag and simple grin. The old content “country life” smile that I’m so used to seeing out in these parts. “Same thing?” I simply nod and slide a grey pearlshell her way. A quick glance before she puts it into her apron while filling up my glass once more, almost hesitantly. The liquid flows into the cup smoothly, but it smells industrial. Like arsenic, or ammonia. I lift it to my lips and take a sip instead of trying to down it in one go for a change. A bitter blaze treks down my throat as it goes down, only a bit weaker that the one before. Then it’s sweet aftertaste quickly overcomes the bitterness in almost a split second, like cherry-flavored cough syrup for a bad cold. It’s like you never know what to expect even if you’ve had it before.
“Just how does he do it?" She asks to herself aloud, almost sounding surprised.
“Pardon?” My eyes meet her thinning raised brows, and I raise mine confused.
“Most ranchers that come down ‘ere can’t stand that stuff, but you go at it like it’s water." She then abruptly shrugs it off to be less then she put it out to be. “Bah, it’s nothin’, sweetheart. Don’t mind me a bit.”
“Is that why it’s so cheap? Nobody’ll drink it for whole price?” I exhale from my nostrils with a smile and peer at the brown bottle next to her. It reflects a dull shine, showing off its neckless and girthy form in all of its cheap and trashy glory.
“When you pay just a hundred for it, then yeah.” She peers at it with me, more with frustration than humor. “Nobody wants to pay twenty units for a shot of that, so it sits on the shelf till you throw the price down into the dirt.” She paid a hundred for a bottle of *this***? That’s a lot for a drink this primal. I didn’t expect or want fine wine, but even this “cheap option” is a scam to serve; and a sin to brew.
“Now that’s quite a bit for something you’d be better cleaning the counter with.” The girl crosses her arms and leans them against the counter, losing her smile. She seems more comfortable around me as we get to talking, and it’s clear that she's just putting on a show to seem nice to her customers.
“Yeah. I swear, it might just be the last time I’m buying from them." She grabs the bottle and slouches over further my way while she continues to gaze at it. Like an inner war has now broken out about why she even bought it. A feeling of regret, rising as she stares on at the musty, ugly bottle. “Damn Salla Sisters…” Salla; The surname that brought me out here. From my cush bed with hired company aside me to sitting in a bar likely as old as the generation before my own.
“Jean and Jena?" My hand goes from my glass to the countertop. The girl simply nods and looks at the rag before putting it to use on the counter’s edge.
“Yeah, that's them. Two girls run a bootlegging operation outta town, and NeR jurisdiction. Shouldn't have let myself get conned by em’." She sets the bottle down and shakes her head. “I bet there's a reason you're asking?”
“You could say that I’m looking for them.” I begin, knowing that the who and why isn’t all that important.
“Y’kin?” Her beady eyes look to me and widen. She seems tired, left huskish in appearance from far more than just age. The small smudges of dirt on her reddish cheeks and untamed frills in her greying blonde ponytail spells fatigue to me, but I keep going.
“Far from it. I’m a hired gun.” I lean in and let slip, downing my glass right after. “If this is their quality of booze, then I’m gonna be doing her buyers a favor down the line.” In almost an instant her posture straightens up and now she seems more focused on the topic at hand. I’ve gotten her attention.
“Now, you don’t say. Why they hunted? Is all their booze that bad?” She forces her eyes open more and yawns, having the decency to cover her mouth.
“Why else for somebody wanting them or their bodies at their feet? They wronged somebody, and I’m here on their dime.” I swivel my glass around, sloshing the odious spirit from one end to the other. I swear that I can see a shadow in it, but it must be the trick of the light. It’s that, or the drink is doing it’s damndest to fuck with me.
“Now I see. Sure, they might be rough around the edges and a cut scummy-” She goes on, but it’s best if I use the opportunity of her being interested to find out where twins are. She lending her attention to me for a reason, and I should stay shrewd to that fact.
“You seem knowledgeable, ma’am-” I toss my hand up as I speak and she stops herself. “-So I’ll ask you this: Where might I find those two?” While she thinks of what to say, I take the time to draw in the questionably pure air around me with a deep, long-winded breath that reeks more than the drink.
“What’s in it for me telling you?" She breaks the silence after a moment of thinking, maybe ten seconds long at most. “I just don’t tell bounty hunters where people are for nothing, especially if they’re one of my own suppliers. They might be selling bad liquor, and it’s still better than none.” Typical ... but understandable. She has a business to run, and her wanting something out of it makes it seem that she’s not taking me on a goose chase for laughs. I pull out a couple of bronze pearlshells from my coat’s pocket and set them onto the counter.
“Plenty of Tribals live around here to the southeast, and this is a small fortune to them. Booze might be pricey, but there’s still a snug profit to be made. That sound fair?”
“It does.” She throws her head to the right and pockets the pearlshells discreetly. “To the west, up towards the old highway. Old nomad shelter, you won’t mistake it. If you’re not too sure, just take a big whiff. Can’t take the smell of cheap liquor brewing as anything else." She finishes and swings the rag back onto the table. Got a place to go, at least.
“Three miles? Five?” I push the glass back her way and she dips her rag in to scrub away the vile liquid that now settles in my stomach. Her eyes wander to the glass before she finally answers.
“The latter and a half.” I smile surprised to hear that word. ‘Latter’. Not tedious, but technical.
“Smart girl, with that first word." I compliment her. A smirk curls onto her face, showing pride in the moment.
“Auntie and Pa didn’t may-ka dummy outta me.”
“Thank em’ for me then, will ya? And here. A little something to seal your lips in case any NeR boys come in here asking about any ‘unlicensed bounty hunters’, and wanting a sketch of their face.” I top her with a few silver quarters; It’s just enough to blind an eye from my experience.
“Who’s face?” Her eyes glisten in an attempt to assure me. Like an old friend sticking their neck out for you, just because. For old time’s sake, I hear spoken from her exhausted, grassy green eyes. I’m skeptical about her sudden attempts to assure me, but it might just be my cynical nature overthinking it.
“Good answer.”

NEW STORY: Breastfeeding is for babies [Subreddit Exclusive]

On Spells and Society, or how 5e spells completely change everyone's lives.

Today i have a confession to make: i'm a little bit of a minmaxer. And honestly, i think that's a pretty desirable trait in a DM. The minmaxer knows the rules, and exploits them to maximum efficiency.
"But wait, what does that have to do with spell use in society?" - someone, probably.
Well, the thing is that humans are absolutely all about minmaxing. There's a rule in the universe that reads "gas expands when hot", and suddenly we have steam engines (or something like that, i'm a political scientist not an engineer). A rule says 1+1 = 2, and suddenly we have calculus, computers and all kinds of digital stuff that runs on math. Sound is energy? Let's convert that shit into electricity, run it through a wire and turn it back into sound on the other side.
Bruh. Science is just minmaxing the laws of nature. Humanity in real life is just a big bunch of munchkins, and it should be no different in your setting.
And that is why minmaxing magic usage is something societies as a whole would do, specially with some notable spells. Today i will go in depth on how and why each of these notable mentions has a huge impact on a fantasy society.
We'll go from lowest level to highest, keeping in mind that the lower level a spell the more common it should be to find someone who has it, so often a level 2-3 spell will have more impact than a level 9 spell.

Mending (cantrip).
Repair anything in one minute. Your axe lost its edge? Tore your shirt? Just have someone Mend it.
Someone out there is crying "but wait! Not every village has a wizard!" and while that is true, keep in mind any High Elf knows a cantrip, as can any Variant Human.
A single "mender" could replace a lot of the work a smith, woodworker or seamstress does, freeing their time to only work on making new things rather than repair old ones.

Prestidigitation (cantrip).
Clean anything in six seconds. Committed axe murders until the axe got blunt, and now there's blood everywhere? Dog shit on your pillow out of spite? Someone walked all over the living room with muddy boots? Just Prestidigitate it away.
This may look like a small thing, but its actually huge when you apply it to laundry. Before washing machines were a thing housewives had to spend several hours a week washing them manually, and with Prestidigitation you can just hire someone to get it done in a few minutes.
A single "magic cleaner" can attend to several dozen homes, if not hundreds, thus freeing several hours of the time of dozens of women.
Fun fact: there's an interesting theory that says feminism only existed because of laundry machines and similar devices. Women found themselves having more free time, which they used to read and socialize. Educated women with more contacts made for easy organization of political movements, and the fact men were now able to do "the women's work" by pushing a button meant men were less opposed to losing their housewives' labor. Having specialized menders and magic cleaners could cause a comparable revolution in a fantasy setting, and help explain why women have a similar standing to men even in combat occupations such as adventuring.

Healing in general (1st-2nd level).
This one is fairly obvious. A commoner has 4 hit points, that means just about any spell is a full heal to the average person. That means most cuts, stab wounds, etc. can be solved by the resident cleric. Even broken bones that would leave you in bed for months can be solved in a matter of seconds as soon as the holy man arrives.
But that's nothing compared to the ability to cure diseases. While the only spell that can cure diseases is Lesser Restoration, which is second level, a paladin can do it much more easily with just a Lay on Hands. This means if one or two people catch a disease it can just be eradicated with a touch.
However doing that comes with a cost. If everyone is instantly expunged of illness, the populace does not build up their immune systems. Regular disease becomes less common, sure, but whenever it is reintroduced (by, say, immigrants or contact with less civilized humanoids) it can spread like wildfire, afflicting people so fast that no amount of healers will have the magic juice to deal with it.
Diseases become rare, plagues become common.

Continual Flame (2nd).
Ok, this one is a topic i love and could easily be its own post.
There's an article called "Why the Falling Cost of Light Matters", which goes in detail about how man went from chopping wood for fire, to using animal fat for candles, then other oils, whale oil, kerosene, then finally incandescent light bulbs, and more recently LED lights. Each of these leaps is orders of grandeur more efficient than the previous one, to the point that the cost of light today is about 500,000 times cheaper than it was for for a caveman. And until the early 1900s the only way mankind knew of making light was to set things on fire.
Continual Flame on the other hand allows you to turn 50gp worth of rubies and a 2nd level spell slot into a torch that burns forever. In a society that spends 60 hours of labor to be able to generate 140 minutes of light, this is a huge game changer.
This single spell, which i am 99% sure was just created as an excuse for why the dungeon is lit despite going for centuries without maintenance, allows you to have things like public lighting. Even if you only add a new "torchpost" every other week or month sooner or later you'll be left with a neatly lit city, specially if the city has had thousands of years in which to gather the rubies and light them up.
And because the demand of rubies becomes so important, consider how governments would react. Lighting the streets is a public service, if its strategically relevant to make the city safer at night, would that not warrant some restrictions on ruby sales? Perhaps even banning the use of rubies in jewelry?
Trivia: John D. Rockefeller, the richest man in history, gained his wealth selling kerosene. Kerosene at the time was used to light lamps. Gasoline was invented much later, when Rockefeller tasked a bunch of scientists to come up with a use for some byproducts of the kerosene production. This illustrates how much money is to be had in the lighting industry, and you could even have your own Rockefeller ruby baron in your game. I shall call him... Dohn J. Stonebreaker. Perfect name for a mining entrepreneur.
Whether the ruby trade ends up a monopoly under the direct supervision of the king or a free market, do keep in mind that Continual Flame is by far the most efficient way of creating light.

Gentle Repose (2nd).
Cast it on a corpse, and it stays preserved for 10 days.
This has many potential uses, from preserving foodstuffs (hey, some rare meats are expensive enough to warrant it) to keeping the bodies of old rulers preserved. Even if a ruler died of old age and cannot be resurrected, the body could be kept "fresh" out of respect/ceremony. Besides, it keeps the corpse from becoming undead.

Skywrite (2nd).
Ok, this one is mostly a gag. While the spell can be used by officials to make official announcements to the populace, such as new laws or important news, i like to just use it for spam. I mean, its a ritual spell that writes a message on the sky; what else would people use it for?
Imagine you show up in a city, and there's half a dozen clouds reading "buy at X, we have what you need", "get your farming supplies over at Joe's store" or "vote Y for the city council".
The possibilities are endless, and there's no way the players can expect it. Just keep in mind that by RAW the spell can only do words, meaning no images. No Patrick, "8===D" is not a word.

Zone of Truth (2nd).
This one is too obvious. Put all suspects of a crime into a ZoT, wait a couple minutes to make sure they fail the save, then ask each one if he did it. Sure its not a perfect system, things like the Ring of Mind Shielding still exist, but it's got a better chance of getting the right guy than most medieval justice systems. And probably more than a few contemporary ones. All while taking only a fraction of the time.
More importantly, with all the average crimes being handled instantly, the guards and investigators have more time to properly investigate the more unusual crimes that might actually involve a Thought Shield, Ring of Mind Shielding or a level 17 Mastermind.
There is a human rights argument against messing with people's minds in any way, which is why this may not be practiced in every kingdom. But there are definitely some more lawful societies that would use ZoT on just about every crime.
Why swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth when you can just stand in a zone of truth?
Another interesting use for ZoT is oaths. When someone is appointed into an office, gets to a high rank in the military or a guild, just put them in a ZoT while they make their oath to stand for the organization's values and yadda yadda. Of course they can be corrupted later on, but at least you make sure they're honest when they are sworn in.

Sending (3rd).
Sending is busted in so many ways.
The more "vanilla" use of it is to just communicate over long distances. We all know that information is important, and that sometimes getting information a whole day ahead can lead to a 40% return on a massive two-year investment. Being able to know of invasions, monsters, disasters, etc. without waiting days or weeks for a courier can be vital for the survival of a nation. Another notable example is that one dude who ran super fast for a while to be the first to tell his side of a recent event.
But the real broken thing here is... Sending can Send to any creature, on any plane; the only restriction being "with which you are familiar". In D&D dead people just get sent to one of the afterlife planes, meaning that talking to your dead grandfather would be as simple as Sending to him. Settling inheritance disputes was never easier!
Before moving on to the next point let me ask you something: Is a cleric familiar with his god? Is a warlock familiar with his patron?

Speak With Dead (3rd).
Much like Sending, this lets you easily settle disputes. Is the senate/council arguing over a controversial topic? Just ask the beloved hero or ruler from 200 years ago what he thinks on the subject. As long his skeleton still has a jaw (or if he has been kept in Gentle Repose), he can answer.
This can also be used to ask people who killed them, except murderers also know this. Plan on killing someone? Accidentally killed someone? Make sure to inutilize the jaw. Its either that, being so stealthy the victim can't identify you, or being caught.

Note on spell availability.
Oh boy. No world-altering 4th level spells for some reason, and suddenly we're playing with the big boys now.
Spells up to 3rd level are what I'd consider "somewhat accessible", and can be arranged for a fee even for regular citizens. For instance the vanilla Priest statblock (MM348) is a 5th level cleric, and the standard vanilla Druid (MM346) a 4th level druid.
Spells of 5th level onward will be considered something only the top 1% is able to afford, or large organizations such as guilds, temples or government.

Dream (5th).
I was originally going to put Dream along with Sending and Telepathy as "long range communication", but decided against it due to each of them having unique uses.
And when it comes to Dream, it has the unique ability of allowing you to put your 8 hours of sleep to good use. A tutor could hire someone to cast Dream on him, thus allowing him to teach his student for 8 hours at any distance. This is a way you could even access hermits that live in the middle of nowhere or in secluded monasteries. Very wealthy families or rulers would be willing to pay a good amount of money to make sure their heirs get that extra bit of education.
Its like online classes, but while you sleep!
Another interesting use is for cheating. Know a princess or queen you like? She likes you back? Her dad put 400 trained soldiers between you? No problemo! Just find a 9th level Bard, Warlock or Wizard, but who am i kidding, of course it'll be a bard. And that bard is probably you. Now you have 8 hours to do whatever you want, and no physical evidence will be left.

Raise Dead (5th).
Few things matter more in life than death. And the ability to resurrect people has a huge impact on society. The impact is so huge that this topic needs topics of its own.
First, diamond monopoly. Remember what i said about how Continual Flame would lead to controlled ruby sales due to its strategic value? This is the same principle, but a hundred times stronger. Resurrection is a huge strategic resource. It makes assassinations harder, can be used to bring back your officials or highest level soldiers over and over during a war, etc. This means more authoritarian regimes would do everything within their power to control the supply and stock of diamonds. Which in turn means if anyone wants to have someone resurrected, even in times of peace, they'll need to call in a favor, do a quest, grease some hands...
Second, resurrection insurance. People hate risks. That's why insurance is such a huge industry, taking up about 15% of the US GDP. People insure their cars, houses... even their lives. Resurrection just means "life insurance" is taken more literally. This makes even more sense when you consider how expensive resurrection is: nobody can afford it in one go, but if you pay a little every month or year you can save up enough to have it done when the need arises.
This is generally incompatible with the idea of a State-run monopoly over diamonds, but that just means different countries within a setting can take different approaches.
To make things easier, i even used some microeconomics to make a sheet in my personal random generators to calculate the price of such a service. Just head to the "Insurance" tab and fill in the information relative to your setting.
With actual life insurance resurrection can cost as little as 5gp a year for humans or 8sp a year for elves, making resurrection way more affordable than it looks.
Also, do you know why pirates wore a single gold earring? It was so that if your body washes up on the shore whoever finds it can use the money to arrange a proper burial. Sure there's a risk of the finder taking it and walking away, but the pirates did it anyway. With resurrection in play, might as well just wear a diamond earring instead and hope the finder is nice enough to bring you back.
I got so carried away with the whole insurance thing i almost forgot: the possibility of resurrection also changes how murders are committed.
If you want someone dead but resurrection exists, you have to remove the vital organs. Decapitation would be far more common. Sure resurrection is still possible, but it requires higher level spells or Reincarnate, which has... quirks.
As a result it should be very obvious when someone was killed by accident or an overreaction, and when someone was specifically out to kill the victim.

Scrying (5th).
This one is somewhat obvious, in that everyone and their mother knows it helps finding people. But who needs finding? Well, that would be those who are hiding.
The main use i see for this spell, by far, is locating escaped criminals. Just collect a sample of hair or blood when arresting someone (or shipping them to hard labor which is way smarter), and if they escape you'll be almost guaranteed to successfully scry on them.
A similar concept to this is seen in the Dragon Age series. If you're a mage the paladins keep a sample of your blood in something called a phylactery, and that can be used to track you down. There's even a quest or two about mages trying to destroy their phylacteries before escaping.
Similarly, if you plan a jailbreak it would be highly beneficial to destroy the blood/hair sample first. As a matter of fact i can even see a thieves guild hiring a low level party to take out the sample while the professional infiltrators get the prisoner out. Keep in mind both events must be done at the same time, otherwise the guards will just collect a new sample or would have already taken it to the wizard.
But guards aren't the only ones with resources. A loan shark could keep blood samples of his debtors, a mobster can keep one of those who owe him favors, etc. And the blood is ceremoniously returned only when the debt is fully paid.

Teleportation Circle (5th), Transport Via Plants (6th).
In other words, long range teleportation. This is such a huge thing that it is hard to properly explain how important it is.
Teleportation Circle creates a 10ft. circle, and everyone has one round to get in and appear on the target location. Assuming 30ft. movement that means you can get 192 people through, which is a lot of potential merchants going across any distance. Or 672 people dashing.
Math note: A 30ft radius square around a 10ft. diameter square, minus the 4 original squares. Or [(6*2+2)^2]-4 squares of 5ft. each. Hence 192 people.
Getting hundreds of merchants, workers, soldiers, etc. across any distance is nothing to scoff at. In fact, it could help explain why PHB item prices are so standardized: Arbitrage is so easy and cheap that price differences across multiple markets become negligible. Unless of course countries start setting up tax collectors outside of the permanent teleportation circles in order to charge tariffs.
Transport Via Plants does something very similar but it requires 5ft of movement to go through, which means less people can be teleported. On the other hand it doesn't burn 50gp and can take you to any tree the druid is familiar with, making it nearly impossible for tax collectors to be waiting on the other side. Unfortunately druids tend to be a lot less willing to aid smugglers, so your best bet might be a bard using spells that don't belong to his list.
With these methods of long range teleportation not only does trade get easier, but it also becomes possible to colonize or inhabit far away places. For instance if someone finds a gold mine in the antarctic you could set up a mine and bring food and other supplies via teleportation.

Major Image (6th level slot).
Major Image is a 3rd level spell that creates an illusion over a 20ft cube, complete with image, sound, smell and temperature. When cast with a 6th level slot or higher, it lasts indefinitely.
That my friends, is a huge spell. Why get the world's best painter to decorate the ceiling of your cathedral when you can just get an illusion made in six seconds?
The uses for decorating large buildings is already good, but remember: we're not restricted to sight.
Cast this on a room and it'll always be cool and smell nice. Inns would love that, as would anyone who always sleeps or works in the same room. Desert cities have never been so chill.
You can even use an illusion to make the front of your shop seem flashier, while hollering on loop to bring customers in.
The only limit to this spell is your imagination, though I'm pretty sure it was originally made just to hide secret passages.
Trivia: the ki-rin (VGM163) can cast Major Image as a 6th level spell, at will. It's probably meant to give them fabulous lairs yet all it takes is someone doing the holy horsey a big favor, and it could enchant the whole city in a few hours. Shiniest city on the planet, always at a nice temperature and with a fragrance of lilac, gooseberries or whatever you want.

Simulacrum (7th).
Spend 12 hours and 1500gp worth of ruby dust, and get a clone of yourself. Notably, each caster can only have one simulacrum, regardless of who the person he cloned is.
How this changes the world? By allowing the rich and powerful to be in two places at once. Kings now have a perfect impersonator who thinks just like them. A wealthy banker can run two branches of his company. Etc.
This makes life much easier, but also competes with Continual Flame over resources.
It also gives "go fuck yourself" a whole new meaning, making the sentence a valid Suggestion.

Clone (8th).
If there's one spell i despise, its Clone.
Wizard-only preemptive resurrection. Touch spell, costs 1.000gp worth of diamonds each time, takes 120 days to come into effect, and creates a copy of the creature that the soul occupies if the original dies. Oh, and the copy can be made younger.
Why is it so despicable? Because it makes people effectively immortal. Accidents and assassinations just get you sent to the clone, and old age can be forever delayed because you keep going back to younger versions of yourself. Being a touch spell means the wizard can cast it on anyone he wants.
In other words: high level wizards, and only wizards, get to make anyone immortal.
That means wizards will inevitably rule any world in which this spell exists.
Think about it. Rulers want to live forever. Wizards can make you live forever. Wizards want other stuff, which you must give them if you want to continue being Cloned. Rulers who refuse this deal eventually die, rulers who accept stick around forever. Natural selection makes it so that eventually the only rulers left are those who sold their soul to wizards. Figuratively, i hope.
The fact that there are only a handful of wizards out there who are high enough level to cast the spell means its easier for them organize and/or form a cartel or union (cartels/unions are easier to maintain the fewer suppliers are involved).
This leads to a dystopian scenario where mages rule, kings are authoritarian pawns and nobody else has a say in anything. Honestly it would make for a fun campaign in and of itself, but unless that's specifically what you're going for it'll just derail everything else.
Oh, and Clone also means any and all liches are absolute idiots. Liches are people who turned themselves into undead abominations in order to gain eternal life at the cost of having to feed on souls. They're all able to cast 9th level wizard spells, so why not just cast an 8th level one and keep undeath away? Saves you the trouble of going after souls, and you keep the ability to enjoy food or a day in the sun.

Demiplane (8th).
Your own 30ft. room of nothingness. Perfect place for storage and a DM's nightmare given how once players have access to it they'll just start looting furniture and such. Oh the horror.
But alas, infinite storage is not the reason this is a broken spell. No sir.
Remember: you can access someone else's demiplane. That means a caster in city 1 can put things into a demiplane, and a caster in city 2 can pull them out of any surface.
But wait, there's more! There's nothing anywhere saying you can't have two doors to the same demiplane open at once. Now you're effectively opening a portal between two places, which stays open for a whole hour.
But wait, there's even more! Anyone from any plane can open a door to your neat little demiplane. Now we can get multiple casters from multiple planes connecting all of those places, for one hour. Sure this is a very expensive thing to do since you're having to coordinate multiple high level individuals in different planes, but the payoff is just as high. We're talking about potential integration between the most varied markets imaginable, few things in the multiverse are more valuable or profitable. Its a do-it-yourself Sigil.
One little plot hook i like about demiplanes is abandoned/inactive ones. Old wizard/warlock died, and nobody knows how to access his demiplanes. Because he's at least level 15 you just know there's some good stuff in there, but nobody can get to it. Now the players have to find a journal, diary, stored memory or any other way of knowing enough about the demiplane to access it.

True Polymorph (9th).
True Polymorph. The spell that can turn any race into any other race, or object. And vice-versa. You can go full fairy godmother and turn mice into horses. For a spell that can change anything about one's body it would not be an unusual ruling to say it can change one's sex. At the very least it can turn a man into a chair, and the chair into a woman (or vice-versa of course).
But honestly, that's just the tip of the True Polymorph iceberg. Just read this more carefully:
> You transform the creature into a different creature, the creature into a nonmagical object, or the object into a creature
This means you can turn a rock or twig into a human. A fully functional human with, as far as the rules go, a soul. You can create life.
But wait, there's more! Nothing there says you have to turn the target into a known creature on an existing creature. The narcissist bard wants to create a whole race of people who look like him? True Polymorph. A player wants to play a weird ass homebrew race and you have no idea how it would fit into the setting? True Polymorph. Wizard needs a way to quickly populate a kingdom and doesn't want to wait decades for the subjects to grow up? True Polymorph. Warlock must provide his patron 100 souls in order to free his own? True Polymorph. The sorcerer wants to do something cool? Fuck that guy, sorcerers don't get any of the fun high level spells; True Poly is available to literally every arcane caster but the sorcerer.
Note: what good is Twinned Spell if all the high level twinnable spells have been specifically made unavailable to sorcerers?
Do keep in mind however that this brings a whole new discussion on human rights. Does a table have rights? Does it have rights after being turned into a living thing? If it had an owner, is it now a slave? Your country will need so many new laws, just to deal with this one spell.
People often say that high level wizards are deities for all intents and purposes. This is the utmost proof of that. Clerics don't get to create life out of thin air, wizards do. The cleric worships a deity, the wizard is the deity.

Conclusion.
Intelligent creatures not only can game the system, but it is entirely in character for them to do so. I'll even argue that if humanoids don't use magic to improve their lives when it's available, you're pushing the suspension of disbelief.
With this post i hope to have helped you make more complex and realistic societies, as well as provide a few interesting and unusual plot hooks
Lastly, as much as i hate comment begging i must admit i am eager to see what spells other players think can completely change the world. Because at the end of the day we all know that extra d6 damage is not what causes empires to rise and fall, its the utility spells that make the best stories.

Edit: Added spell level to all spells, and would like to thank u/kaul_field for helping with finishing touches and being overall a great mod.

Does it fly?

Simple as it sounds: Rate it 1-10, what you like, what you don't, what needs work, etc. Any criticism is welcome.

I hear the barstool sputter out a stuttered creak as I sit down after washing my hands and running some water through my hair and over my patch. The clock on the wall tells me that I was in there for 10 minutes. It only felt like one, but the clock doesn’t lie. I must’ve nodded off when I saw that old holo-paper sitting in the corner near the toilet. Might want to go for another round to bring me back into the now. It might kill me... but shit, Liquor’s liquor. Even the industrial-grade piss I had before; Strong like a bull, and just as fine. I put two fingers up as I see the apron-clad lady cross my view as she steps back behind the counter, setting a thin aluminum tray down on the edge.
“Thought you might’ve fell in when you flushed!” The bartender walks to my end, sporting a damp rag and simple grin. The old content “country life” smile that I’m so used to seeing out in these parts. “Same thing?” I simply nod and slide a grey pearlshell her way. A quick glance before she puts it into her apron while filling up my glass once more, almost hesitantly. The liquid flows into the cup smoothly, but it smells industrial. Like arsenic, or ammonia. I lift it to my lips and take a sip instead of trying to down it in one go for a change. A bitter blaze treks down my throat as it goes down, only a bit weaker that the one before. Then it’s sweet aftertaste quickly overcomes the bitterness in almost a split second, like cherry-flavored cough syrup for a bad cold. It’s like you never know what to expect even if you’ve had it before.
“Just how does he do it?" She asks to herself aloud, almost sounding surprised.
“Pardon?” My eyes meet her thinning raised brows, and I raise mine confused.
“Most ranchers that come down ‘ere can’t stand that stuff, but you go at it like it’s water." She then abruptly shrugs it off to be less then she put it out to be. “Bah, it’s nothin’, sweetheart. Don’t mind me a bit.”
“Is that why it’s so cheap? Nobody’ll drink it for whole price?” I exhale from my nostrils with a smile and peer at the brown bottle next to her. It reflects a dull shine, showing off its neckless and girthy form in all of its cheap and trashy glory.
“When you pay just a hundred for it, then yeah.” She peers at it with me, more with frustration than humor. “Nobody wants to pay twenty units for a shot of that, so it sits on the shelf till you throw the price down into the dirt.” She paid a hundred for a bottle of *this\*? That’s a lot for a drink this primal. I didn’t expect or want fine wine, but even this “cheap option” is a scam to serve; and a sin to brew.
“Now that’s quite a bit for something you’d be better cleaning the counter with.” The girl crosses her arms and leans them against the counter, losing her smile. She seems more comfortable around me as we get to talking, and it’s clear that she's just putting on a show to seem nice to her customers.
“Yeah. I swear, it might just be the last time I’m buying from them." She grabs the bottle and slouches over further my way while she continues to gaze at it. Like an inner war has now broken out about why she even bought it. A feeling of regret, rising as she stares on at the musty, ugly bottle. “Damn Salla Sisters…” Salla; The surname that brought me out here. From my cush bed with hired company aside me to sitting in a bar likely as old as the generation before my own.
“Jean and Jena?" My hand goes from my glass to the countertop. The girl simply nods and looks at the rag before putting it to use on the counter’s edge.
“Yeah, that's them. Two girls run a bootlegging operation outta town, and NeR jurisdiction. Shouldn't have let myself get conned by em’." She sets the bottle down and shakes her head. “I bet there's a reason you're asking?”
“You could say that I’m looking for them.” I begin, knowing that the who and why isn’t all that important.
“Y’kin?” Her beady eyes look to me and widen. She seems tired, left huskish in appearance from far more than just age. The small smudges of dirt on her reddish cheeks and untamed frills in her greying blonde ponytail spells fatigue to me, but I keep going.
“Far from it. I’m a hired gun.” I lean in and let slip, downing my glass right after. “If this is their quality of booze, then I’m gonna be doing her buyers a favor down the line.” In almost an instant her posture straightens up and now she seems more focused on the topic at hand. I’ve gotten her attention.
“Now, you don’t say. Why they hunted? Is all their booze that bad?” She forces her eyes open more and yawns, having the decency to cover her mouth.
“Why else for somebody wanting them or their bodies at their feet? They wronged somebody, and I’m here on their dime.” I swivel my glass around, sloshing the odious spirit from one end to the other. I swear that I can see a shadow in it, but it must be the trick of the light. It’s that, or the drink is doing it’s damndest to fuck with me.
“Now I see. Sure, they might be rough around the edges and a cut scummy-” She goes on, but it’s best if I use the opportunity of her being interested to find out where twins are. She lending her attention to me for a reason, and I should stay shrewd to that fact.
“You seem knowledgeable, ma’am-” I toss my hand up as I speak and she stops herself. “-So I’ll ask you this: Where might I find those two?” While she thinks of what to say, I take the time to draw in the questionably pure air around me with a deep, long-winded breath that reeks more than the drink.
“What’s in it for me telling you?" She breaks the silence after a moment of thinking, maybe ten seconds long at most. “I just don’t tell bounty hunters where people are for nothing, especially if they’re one of my own suppliers. They might be selling bad liquor, and it’s still better than none.” Typical ... but understandable. She has a business to run, and her wanting something out of it makes it seem that she’s not taking me on a goose chase for laughs. I pull out a couple of bronze pearlshells from my coat’s pocket and set them onto the counter.
“Plenty of Tribals live around here to the southeast, and this is a small fortune to them. Booze might be pricey, but there’s still a snug profit to be made. That sound fair?”
“It does.” She throws her head to the right and pockets the pearlshells discreetly. “To the west, up towards the old highway. Old nomad shelter, you won’t mistake it. If you’re not too sure, just take a big whiff. Can’t take the smell of cheap liquor brewing as anything else." She finishes and swings the rag back onto the table. Got a place to go, at least.
“Three miles? Five?” I push the glass back her way and she dips her rag in to scrub away the vile liquid that now settles in my stomach. Her eyes wander to the glass before she finally answers.
“The latter and a half.” I smile surprised to hear that word. ‘Latter’. Not tedious, but technical.
“Smart girl, with that first word." I compliment her. A smirk curls onto her face, showing pride in the moment.
“Auntie and Pa didn’t may-ka dummy outta me.”
“Thank em’ for me then, will ya? And here. A little something to seal your lips in case any NeR boys come in here asking about any ‘unlicensed bounty hunters’, and wanting a sketch of their face.” I top her with a few silver quarters; It’s just enough to blind an eye from my experience.
“Who’s face?” Her eyes glisten in an attempt to assure me. Like an old friend sticking their neck out for you, just because. For old time’s sake, I hear spoken from her exhausted, grassy green eyes. I’m skeptical about her sudden attempts to assure me, but it might just be my cynical nature overthinking it.
“Good answer.”

The Red Wedding 2.0: Foreshadowing, Theories, and Parallels (Spoilers Extended)

While not canon, I am a firm believer that there is plenty of evidence for an upcoming Red Wedding 2.0. In this post my goal is/was to gather and research as much as I could about what could "potentially" happen. So I plan to list out several options for location, causalities, etc. and look into them (obviously some are a little more likely than others).

"She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead," said the big man. "She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We'll give her those, as many as she likes. All she asks from you is Jaime Lannister." -AFFC, Brienne VIII

Looking into potential options for the details of the upcoming Red Wedding 2.0
NOTE: I think I’m good at gathering quotes/info together, not so good at presenting it in the easiest manner or in a way that ties together super great. I am not trying to argue for much (I will usually note where its something I think or link a post) just present things that could possibly allude to something upcoming in the aforementioned Red Wedding. Some of the things I am noting will contradict each other, but again just presenting options for discussion. Thanks.

Background

GRRM started hinting about the Red Wedding while talking with fans the year before ASOS was released. And while not a direct comparison he has said this about TWOW:

We have more deaths, and we have more betrayals. We have more marriages. EW Interview, TWOW Tease: 26 June 2014

Daven is to wed a Frey girl:

The price was cheap by any measure. The crown shall grant Riverrun to Ser Emmon Frey once the Blackfish yields. Lancel and Daven must marry Frey girls, Joy is to wed one of Lord Walder's natural sons when she's old enough, and Roose Bolton becomes Warden of the North and takes home Arya Stark." -ASOS, Tyrion VI

and:

"You were speaking of the Freys you wanted dead. Ryman, Edwyn, Emmon . . ."
"And Walder Rivers," Daven said, "that whoreson. Hates that he's a bastard, and hates everyone who's not. Ser Perwyn seems a decent fellow, though, might as well spare him. The women too. I'm to marry one, I hear. Your father might have seen fit to consult with me about this marriage, by the bye. My own father was treating with Paxter Redwyne before Oxcross, did you know? Redwyne has a nicely dowered daughter . . ." -AFFC, Jaime V

But keep in mind that Lancel has had has unconsumed marriage to Gatehouse Ami dissolved:

When Jaime had taken his leave of Lady Amerei, she had been weeping softly at the dissolution of her marriage whilst letting Lyle Crakehall console her. Her tears had not troubled him half so much as the hard looks on the faces of her kin as they stood about the yard. "I hope you do not intend to take vows as well, coz," he said to Daven. "The Freys are prickly where marriage contracts are concerned. I would hate to disappoint them again." -AFFC, Jaime V

So the fact that Daven is "Warden of the West** and the Lannisters already messed up one marriage, could make it extremely important to the Freys that the wedding not only happen but be consummated immediately.

"Kevan should be the Warden of the West. Or you. It's not that I'm not grateful for the honor, mind you, but our uncle's twice my age and has more experience of command. I hope he knows I never asked for this."
"He knows." -AFFC, Jaime V

Daven Lannister’s “Frey Girl”

"I hope you do not intend to take vows as well, coz," he said to Daven. "The Freys are prickly where marriage contracts are concerned. I would hate to disappoint them again."
Ser Daven snorted. "I'll wed and bed my stoat, never fear. I know what happened to Robb Stark. From what Edwyn tells me, though, I'd best pick one who hasn't flowered yet, or I'm like to find that Black Walder has been there first. I'll wager he's had Gatehouse Ami, and more than thrice. Maybe that explains Lancel's godliness, and his father's mood." -AFFC, Jaime V

Daven has his choice of numerous Frey girls it seems (while the passage gives names for certain marriages, it just gives "Frey girl" for Daven/Lancel.
Marriage Options

Walda Frey (Ryman’s daughter, ~10 years old and second in line, possibly BW’s daughter)
Fair Walda (~20 years old, considered attractive, but has slept with BW)
Marianne Vance (~10-40, thought to be a maid so probably on the younger end)
White Walda (~12 years old, orphaned daughter of Rhaegar from Frey Pie)
Zia (~15 years old, daughter of Tytos/granddaughter of Jared from Frey Pie)
Perra ~6 (possibly BW’s), Jeyne Goodbrook ~7, Ryella Frey ~6, Hostella Frey (newborn), Cynthea Frey ~10, Walda ~6, Emberlei ~4, Leanna (infant), Della ~4, Shirei ~5 (possibly BW’s), Cersei aka Little Bee ~9 [each of these girls are possible but quite young)
Alyx Frey (~18 years old, considered attractive, daughter of Symond from Frey Pie)
Gatehouse Ami (~18 years old, married twice and daughter of Merrett, has slept with BW)
Marissa Frey (~18 years old, shaved head but could grow back, daughter of Merrett)
Serra and Sarra (~15 twins, pimply)
Merry (~12 years old, daughter of Whalen)
Tyta the Maid (~31 years old, daughter of Lord Walder)
Arwyn (~15 years old, possible daughter of BW or Lord Walder)
Joyeuse Erenford is pregnant

Lord Walder jabbed a bony finger at her face. "Save your sweet words, my lady. Sweet words I get from my wife. Did you see her? Sixteen she is, a little flower, and her honey's only for me. I wager she gives me a son by this time next year. Perhaps I'll make him heir, wouldn't that boil the rest of them?" -AGOT, Catelyn IX

There are numerous options available for Daven and I could see it going numerous different ways on who Daven could end up marrying. You can get into some interesting theorization when looking at which factions would ally where depending who Daven marries.

Location

While the Red Wedding 2.0 could take place at The Twins (Lord Walder’s health) or even Harrenhal (current seat of the Lord Paramount of the Trident), I think that we have so many named characters (Freys and Lannisters) at Riverrun, coupled with Tom of Sevenstreams infiltration makes Riverrun the likely choice.
Riverrun Layout
The fact that you can get inside Riverrun using a boat is always interesting to note:

Below the Wheel Tower, they made a wide turn and knifed through the churning water. The men put their backs into it. The wide arch of the Water Gate came into view, and she heard the creak of heavy chains as the great iron portcullis was winched upward. It rose slowly as they approached, and Catelyn saw that the lower half of it was red with rust. The bottom foot dripped brown mud on them as they passed underneath, the barbed spikes mere inches above their heads. Catelyn gazed up at the bars and wondered how deep the rust went and how well the portcullis would stand up to a ram and whether it ought to be replaced.
They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Boats large and small were tied up all around them, secured to iron rings set in the stone. Her father's guards waited on the water stair with her brother. -AGOT, Catelyn XI

And:

"We raised the portcullis on the Water Gate. Not all the way, just three feet or so. Enough to leave a gap under the water, though the gate still appeared to be closed. My uncle is a strong swimmer. After dark, he pulled himself beneath the spikes."
And he slipped under our boom the same way, no doubt. A moonless night, bored guards, a black fish in a black river floating quietly downstream. If Ruttiger or Yew or any of their men heard a splash, they would put it down to a turtle or a trout. Edmure had waited most of the day before hauling down the direwolf of Stark in token of surrender. In the confusion of the castle changing hands, it had been the next morning before Jaime had been informed that the Blackfish was not amongst the prisoners. -AFFC, Jaime VII

The Riverrun Dungeons
Not sure if necessary, but included just in case:

"The dungeons are windowless. -ACOK, Catelyn VII

and:

"They'd do better looking in Riverrun. Down in the deepest dungeons, where it's nice and damp." -ASOS, Arya III

And:

Catelyn shouldered aside the heavy wood-and-iron door and stepped into foul darkness. This was the bowels of Riverrun, and smelled the part. Old straw crackled underfoot. The walls were discolored with patches of nitre. Through the stone, she could hear the faint rush of the Tumblestone. -ACOK, Catelyn II In addition to LSH (who saw them when she freed Jaime), Jaime and Brienne, Jack-Be-Lucky has also seen the dungeons: "I'll not believe it," said the one-eyed man in the rusty pothelm. The other outlaws called him Jack-Be-Lucky, though losing an eye didn't seem very lucky to Arya. "I've had me a taste o' them dungeons. How could he escape?" -ASOS, Arya III

Plot to Free Jaime

"False envoys," Edmure declared. "They pledged me their peace and surrendered their weapons, so I allowed them freedom of the castle, and for three nights they ate my meat and drank my mead whilst I talked with Ser Cleos. On the fourth night, they tried to free the Kingslayer." He pointed up. "That big brute killed two guards with naught but those ham hands of his, caught them by the throats and smashed their skulls together while that skinny lad beside him was opening Lannister's cell with a bit of wire, gods curse him. The one on the end was some sort of damned mummer. He used my own voice to command that the River Gate be opened. The guardsmen swear to it, Enger and Delp and Long Lew, all three. If you ask me, the man sounded nothing like me, and yet the oafs were raising the portcullis all the same." -ACOK, Catelyn V

Could this same type of ploy be reused in order to get the brotherhood into Riverrun?
Riverrun Occupants

Daven LannisteBride
Emmon Frey/Genna Lannister
Tom of Sevenstreams
Maester Vyman
Utherydes Wayn (Steward)
EngeLong Lew (guards)

It should also be noted that the current Riverrun garrison (the Freys would obviously bring more for the wedding) is only 200 men:

"You have a garrison of two hundred." Too large a garrison, in truth, but Lord Emmon had an anxious disposition. At least he would have no trouble feeding them; the Blackfish had left Riverrun amply provisioned, just as he had claimed. "After the trouble Ser Brynden took to leave us, I doubt that he'll come skulking back." Unless it is at the head of a band of outlaws. He did not doubt that the Blackfish meant to continue the fight. -AFFC, Jaime VII

Which is actually less than the number of men (400 men including at least 20 and up to 80 knights) in Ser Forley Prester’s party that is headed to the Westerlands with Edmure and Jeyne Westerling.

Lord Emmon rubbed his mouth. His hand came away red and slimy from the sourleaf. "To be sure. Riverrun is mine, and no man shall ever take it from me." He gave Edmure Tully one last suspicious look, as Lady Genna drew him from the solar. -AFFC, Jaime VII

Could Edmure’s sister (LSH) take Riverrun from Emmon? Meh, maybe. I’d settle for a slaughter.
Possible Hostages
It is possible that the Freys bring some of their hostages that are required by the crown to the wedding (I mentioned the Riverrun dungeons earlier, but these are highborn characters):

He did not go straight back to the castle but crossed the Tumblestone once more to call on Edwyn Frey and discuss the transfer of his great-grandfather's prisoners. The Frey host had begun to break up within hours of Riverrun's surrender, as Lord Walder's bannermen and freeriders pulled up stakes to make for home. The Freys who still remained were striking camp, but he found Edwyn with his bastard uncle in the latter's pavilion. -AFFC, Jaime VII
…
When you return to the Twins, please inform Lord Walder that King Tommen requires all the captives you took at the Red Wedding." -AFFC, Jaime VII

Patrek/Jason Mallister (imprisoned at Seaguard)
Marq Piper (at the Twins)
GreatJon Umber (Twins)
Other unnamed characters:

"Five knights and twenty men-at-arms went with Marq to the Twins," said Piper. "Are they your guests as well, Frey?" "Some of the knights, perhaps. The others were served no more than they deserved. You'd do well to guard your traitor's tongue, Piper, unless you want your heir returned in pieces." -AFFC, Jaime VI

List of Highborn Hostages/Prisoners

Lord Walder’s Attendance

He travels in a covered litter:

"When you are one-and-ninety, Brother, see how eager you are to go riding in the rain." Yet she wondered if that was the whole truth of it. Lord Walder normally went about in a covered litter, which would have kept the worst of the rain off him. -AGOT, Catelyn VI

Someone needs to push him into the water:

Lord Frey's son was so taken by their antics that he joined in, pummeling the wedding guests with a bladder borrowed from a dwarf. The child had the most irritating laugh Dunk had ever heard, a high shrill hiccup of a laugh that made him want to take the boy over a knee or throw him down a well. If he hits me with that bladder, I may do it. -The Mystery Knight

And he sees it as an insult not to attend a wedding:

His head bobbed up and down. "Your lord father did not come to the wedding. An insult, as I see it. Even if he is dying. He never came to my last wedding either. He calls me the Late Lord Frey, you know. Does he think I'm dead? I'm not dead, and I promise you, I'll outlive him as I outlived his father. Your family has always pissed on me, don't deny it, don't lie, you know it's true. Years ago, I went to your father and suggested a match between his son and my daughter. Why not? I had a daughter in mind, sweet girl, only a few years older than Edmure, but if your brother didn't warm to her, I had others he might have had, young ones, old ones, virgins, widows, whatever he wanted. No, Lord Hoster would not hear of it. Sweet words he gave me, excuses, but what I wanted was to get rid of a daughter.

He recently traveled as far as King's Landing and Riverrun is much closer:

"And your sister, that one, she's full as bad. It was, oh, a year ago, no more, Jon Arryn was still the King's Hand, and I went to the city to see my sons ride in the tourney. Stevron and Jared are too old for the lists now, but Danwell and Hosteen rode, Perwyn as well, and a couple of my bastards tried the melee. If I'd known how they'd shame me, I would never have troubled myself to make the journey. Why did I need to ride all that way to see Hosteen knocked off his horse by that Tyrell whelp? I ask you. The boy's half his age, Ser Daisy they call him, something like that. And Danwell was unhorsed by a hedge knight! Some days I wonder if those two are truly mine. My third wife was a Crakehall, all of the Crakehall women are sluts. Well, never mind about that, she died before you were born, what do you care? -AGOT, Catelyn IX

While not a direct comparison, his attendance would be a throwback to the Tourney of Harrenhal where a feeble king/lord attends something he wasn't expected to:

Old Lord Whent had announced the tourney shortly after a visit from his brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent's tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together. Aerys had not set foot outside the Red Keep since Duskendale, yet suddenly he announced that he would accompany Prince Rhaegar to Harrenhal, and everything had gone awry from there. -ADWD, The Kingbreaker
Lord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though . . . -ASOS, Epilogue
"To be sure," Lord Emmon said. "Ser Jaime, your lord father's faith in me was well placed, you shall see. I mean to be firm but fair with my new vassals. Blackwood and Bracken, Jason Mallister, Vance and Piper, they shall learn that they have a just overlord in Emmon Frey. My father as well, yes. He is the Lord of the Crossing, but I am the Lord of Riverrun. A son has a duty to obey his father, true, but a bannerman must obey his overlord."
Oh, gods be good. "You are not his overlord, ser. Read your parchment. You were granted Riverrun with its lands and incomes, no more. Petyr Baelish is the Lord Paramount of the Trident. Riverrun will be subject to the rule of Harrenhal." -AFFC, Jaime V

Other Frey Attendees
In addition to Lord Walder the other Freys I would hope attend (that are at least in the area, Hosteen is in the North, etc.) would probably be Black WaldeLame LothaEdwyn

The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps ... -ASOS, Epilogue

And depending on just who Daven weds creates a very interesting dynamic on just who would attend. For instance if he wed’s Edwyn’s daughter Walda (who could also possibly be Black Walder’s daughter) they might both attend the wedding.

When Ser Stevron had been heir, that was one thing. The old man had been grooming Stevron for sixty years, and had pounded it into his head that blood was blood. But Stevron had died whilst campaigning with the Young Wolf in the west—"of waiting, no doubt," Lame Lothar had quipped when the raven brought them the news—and his sons and grandsons were a different sort of Frey. Stevron's son Ser Ryman stood to inherit now; a thick-witted, stubborn, greedy man. And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. "Fortunately," Lame Lothar once said, "they hate each other even more than they hate us." -ASOS, Epilogue

Black Walder seems to be have had his hand some possible deaths (Stevron, etc.)
Perwyn
Perwyn is present at the siege and seems a well liked guy in general:

"And Walder Rivers," Daven said, "that whoreson. Hates that he's a bastard, and hates everyone who's not. Ser Perwyn seems a decent fellow, though, might as well spare him. The women too. I'm to marry one, I hear. Your father might have seen fit to consult with me about this marriage, by the bye. My own father was treating with Paxter Redwyne before Oxcross, did you know? Redwyne has a nicely dowered daughter . . ." -AFFC, Jaime V

It should be noted that Perwyn/OlyvaAlesander are not present at the Red Wedding.

Tom of Sevenstreams

Tom (and by default the BWB) has infiltrated Riverrun and what do you know Tom knows a certain song:

Thoros himself struck the spark, and Lem fanned the flames with his big yellow cloak until they roared and swirled. Soon it grew almost hot inside the stable. Thoros sat before it crosslegged, devouring the flames with his eyes just as he had atop High Heart. Arya watched him closely, and once his lips moved, and she thought she heard him mutter, "Riverrun." Lem paced back and forth, coughing, a long shadow matching him stride for stride, while Tom o' Sevens pulled off his boots and rubbed his feet. "I must be mad, to be going back to Riverrun," the singer complained. "The Tullys have never been lucky for old Tom. It was that Lysa sent me up the high road, when the moon men took my gold and my horse and all my clothes as well. There's knights in the Vale still telling how I came walking up to the Bloody Gate with only my harp to keep me modest. They made me sing 'The Name Day Boy' and 'The King Without Courage' before they opened that gate. My only solace was that three of them died laughing. I haven't been back to the Eyrie since, and I won't sing 'The King Without Courage' either, not for all the gold in Casterly—" -ASOS, Arya VIII

The Rains of Castamere
Tom plays the song after the brotherhood wins the battle of the burning septry:

Tom Sevenstrings replaced a string on his woodharp, and sang "The Mother's Tears," "When Willum's Wife Was Wet," "Lord Harte Rode Out on a Rainy Day," and then "The Rains of Castamere -ASOS, Arya VII

and it is played again during the Red Wedding:

For once the same song was coming from both castles. I know this song, Arya realized suddenly. Tom o' Sevens had sung it for them, that rainy night the outlaws had sheltered in the brewhouse with the brothers. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? -ASOS, Arya XI

Jaime then has Tom then plays it again for Edmure:

Edmure Tully finally found his voice. "I could climb out of this tub and kill you where you stand, Kingslayer."
"You could try." Jaime waited. When Edmure made no move to rise, he said, "I'll leave you to enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest whilst he eats. You know the song, I trust."
*"The one about the rain? Aye, my lord. I know it." *
Edmure seemed to see the man for the first time. "No. Not him. Get him away from me."-AFFC, Jaime VI

Edmure doesn't like Tom due to Tom's song about him (floppy fish).
Tom decides to stay at Riverrun

More days passed. Lord Emmon assembled all of Riverrun in the yard, Lord Edmure's people and his own, and spoke to them for close on three hours about what would be expected of them now that he was their lord and master. From time to time he waved his parchment, as stableboys and serving girls and smiths listened in a sullen silence and a light rain fell down upon them all.
The singer was listening too, the one that Jaime had taken from Ser Ryman Frey. Jaime came upon him standing inside an open door, where it was dry. "His lordship should have been a singer," the man said. "This speech is longer than a marcher ballad, and I don't think he's stopped for breath." Jaime had to laugh. "Lord Emmon does not need to breathe, so long as he can chew. Are you going to make a song of it?"
"A funny one. I'll call it 'Talking to the Fish.'" - AFFC, Jaime VII

and:

"Just don't play it where my aunt can hear." Jaime had never paid the man much mind before. He was a small fellow, garbed in ragged green breeches and a frayed tunic of a lighter shade of green, with brown leather patches covering the holes. His nose was long and sharp, his smile big and loose. Thin brown hair fell to his collar, snaggled and unwashed. Fifty if he's a day, thought Jaime, a hedge harp, and hard used by life. "Weren't you Ser Ryman's man when I found you?" he asked.
"Only for a fortnight."
"I would have expected you to depart with the Freys."
"That one up there's a Frey," the singer said, nodding at Lord Emmon, "and this castle seems a nice snug place to pass the winter. Whitesmile Wat went home with Ser Forley, so I thought I'd see if I could win his place. Wat's got that high sweet voice that the likes o' me can't hope to match. But I know twice as many bawdy songs as he does. Begging my lord's pardon."
"You should get on famously with my aunt," said Jaime. "If you hope to winter here, see that your playing pleases Lady Genna. She's the one that matters."
"I'm sorry to hear that, my lord. I know better songs than 'The Rains of Castamere.' I could have played you . . . oh, all sorts o' things."
"Some other time," said Jaime. "Do you have a name?"
"Tom of Sevenstreams, if it please my lord." The singer doffed his hat. "Most call me Tom o' Sevens, though."
"Sing sweetly, Tom o' Sevens." -AFFC, Jaime VII

It should be noted that after this conversation and before he leaves Riverrun, Jaime has his second major "dream" of the series. In this "dream" he encounters someone (supposedly) his mother and only has one hand. He later wakes up to snow.
It should also be noted that Tom played at Gatehouse Ami/Pate's wedding:

"No." Merrett frowned. "Why would I?"
"I sang at your daughter's wedding. And passing well, I thought. That Pate she married was a cousin. We're all cousins in Sevenstreams. Didn't stop him from turning niggard when it was time to pay me." He shrugged. "Why is it your lord father never has me play at the Twins? Don't I make enough noise for his lordship? He likes it loud, I have been hearing." -ASOS, Epilogue

As well as the some of the lyrics to The Rains of Castamere:

And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, But now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.

If you are interested here are some thoughts on Tom’s bastards throughout the Riverlands

The Brotherhood’s Position

"Look at the sun," she said. "We're going south!" Arya rummaged in her saddlebag for the map, so she could show them. "We should never have left the Trident. See." She unrolled the map on her leg. All of them were looking at her now. "See, there's Riverrun, between the rivers."
"As it happens," said Jack-Be-Lucky, "we know where Riverrun is. Every man o' us." -ASOS, Arya III

and:

"Your lightning lord's not the only man who knows how to tie a noose. Don't get me started on Lord Beric. He's here, he's there, he's everywhere, but when you send men after him, he melts away like dew. The river lords are helping him, never doubt it. A bloody marcher lord, if you can believe it. One day you hear the man is dead, the next they're saying how he can't be killed." Ser Daven put his wine cup down. "My scouts report fires in the high places at night. Signal fires, they think . . . as if there were a ring of watchers all around us. And there are fires in the villages as well. Some new god . . ."
No, an old one. "Thoros is with Dondarrion, the fat Myrish priest who used to drink with Robert." His golden hand was on the table. Jaime touched it and watched the gold glimmer in the sullen light of the braziers. "We'll deal with Dondarrion if we have to, but the Blackfish must come first. He has to know his cause is hopeless. Have you tried to treat with him?" -AFFC, Jaime V

Keep in mind all the support there is for the BWB
In addition to the smallfolk it seems that the riverlords and the crannogmen are supporting them:

"His hounds picked up their scent again north of Hag's Mire," the older woman told him. "He swears that he was no more than half a day behind them when they vanished into the Neck."
"Let them rot there," declared Ser Kennos cheerfully. "If the gods are good, they'll be swallowed up in quicksand or gobbled down by lizard-lions."
"Or taken in by frogeaters," said Ser Danwell Frey. "I would not put it past the crannogmen to shelter outlaws."
"Would that it were only them," said Lady Mariya. "Some of the river lords are hand in glove with Lord Beric's men as well." -AFFC, Jaime IV

and:

"It might have been outlaws," Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, "or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still . . . wolfish."
Jaime glanced at his two younger squires, who … were both the sons of river lords. He had grown fond of both of them and would hate to have to give them to Ser Ilyn. "The ropes suggest Dondarrion to me." -AFFC, Jaime V

And:

The Tully garrison departed the next morning, stripped of all their arms and armor. Each man was allowed three days' food and the clothing on his back, after he swore a solemn oath never to take up arms against Lord Emmon or House Lannister. "If you're fortunate, one man in ten may keep that vow," Lady Genna said. -AFFC, Jaime VII

And:

Jaime frowned. Ryman Frey had been a fool, a craven, and a sot, and no one was like to miss him much, least of all his fellow Freys. If Edwyn's dry eyes were any clue, even his own sons would not mourn him long. Still . . . these outlaws are growing bold, if they dare hang Lord Walder's heir not a day's ride from the Twins. "How many men did Ser Ryman have with him?" he asked.
"Three knights and a dozen men-at-arms," said Rivers. "It is almost as if they knew that he would be returning to the Twins, and with a small escort."
Edwyn's mouth twisted. "My brother had a hand in this, I'll wager. He allowed the outlaws to escape after they murdered Merrett and Petyr, and this is why. With our father dead, there's only me left between Black Walder and the Twins."
"You have no proof of this," said Walder Rivers.
"I do not need proof. I know my brother."
"Your brother is at Seagard," Rivers insisted. "How could he have known that Ser Ryman was returning to the Twins?" "Someone told him," said Edwyn in a bitter tone. "He has his spies in our camp, you can be sure."
And you have yours at Seagard. Jaime knew that the enmity between Edwyn and Black Walder ran deep, but cared not a fig which of them succeeded their great-grandfather as Lord of the Crossing.
"A ring of fires round your camp might keep them off," said Jaime, though he wondered. Could Ser Dermot's direwolf be the same beast that had mauled Joffrey near the crossroads? -AFFC, Jaime VII

Attack

Riverrun has never fallen by storm so I think its likely the BWB will use some trickery mentioned above (Tom/Jaime/etc.) to get inside, that said some other things should be mentioned as well:
Nymeria's Wolfpack
They are close:

The next day Ser Dermot of the Rainwood returned to the castle, empty-handed. When asked what he'd found, he answered, "Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars." He'd lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. "Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay." -AFFC, Jaime VII

I think its interesting how the Frey's blame the original Red Wedding on "wolves":

The Red Wedding was the Young Wolf's work. He changed into a beast before our eyes and tore out the throat of my cousin Jinglebell, a harmless simpleton. He would have slain my lord father too, if Ser Wendel had not put himself in the way.
Is it your claim that Robb Stark killed Wendel Manderly?
And many more. Mine own son Tytos was amongst them, and my daughter's husband. When Stark changed into a wolf, his northmen did the same. The mark of the beast was on them all. Wargs birth other wargs with a bite, it is well-known. It was all my brothers and I could do to put them down before they slew us all. -ADWD, Davos III

If they do, the kennels should erupt:

Robb, she knew, the moment she heard the kennels erupt.
Her son had returned to Riverrun, and Grey Wind with him. Only the scent of the great grey direwolf could send the hounds into such a frenzy of baying and barking. -ASOS, Catelyn II

And its possible Arya does remember it:

Except in dreams. She took a breath to quiet the howling in her heart, trying to remember more of what she'd dreamt, but most of it had gone already. There had been blood in it, though, and a full moon overhead, and a tree that watched her as she ran. -TWOW, Mercy I

Wolf in the Night
The song about Robb’s victories in the West, could be played instead of the Reyne’s of Castamere

And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolf, and the wind itself was their song

Using Jaime Lannister
This is probably one of my favorite theory as to how Brienne/Jaime get out of their situation with Lady Stoneheart. The BWB dresses up like Lannister men and using Jaime Lannister “attend” the wedding and massacre the Frey’s/Lannisters inside. The biggest problem is obviously Jaime's willingness to be a part of that.
The best theory I’ve read has them using Lem in the hound’s helm as a captive. Similar to how the Hound is capture previously:

Down in the square, a thrown stone caught the captive on the cheek, turning his head. Not the Kingslayer, Arya thought, when she saw his face. The gods had heard her prayers after all. -ASOS, Arya V
…
The dogs caught the scent. He was sleeping off a drunk under a willow tree, if you believe it." "Betrayed by his own kind." Thoros turned to the prisoner and yanked his hood off. "Welcome to our humble hall, dog. It is not so grand as Robert's throne room, but the company is better."
The shifting flames painted Sandor Clegane's burned face with orange shadows, so he looked even more terrible than he did in daylight. When he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists, flakes of dry blood fell off. The Hound's mouth twitched. "I know you," he said to Thoros. -ASOS, Arya VI

If Brienne attends the wedding its possible she could encounter Raymund Nyland (one of her tormentors)

The Godswood
I am not sure how it would tie in exactly, but Arya does remember seeing a weirwood that watched her in her dream, and there are very few weirwoods currently in the Riverlands:

The shortest way to the central keep where her father lay dying was through the godswood, with its grass and wildflowers and thick stands of elm and redwood. A wealth of rustling leaves still clung to the branches of the trees, all ignorant of the word the white raven had brought to Riverrun a fortnight past. Autumn had come, the Conclave had declared, but the gods had not seen fit to tell the winds and woods as yet. For that Catelyn was duly grateful. Autumn was always a fearful time, with the specter of winter looming ahead. Even the wisest man never knew whether his next harvest would be the last. -ACOK, Catelyn I

Riverlords who lost men in the RW

"It might have been outlaws," Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, "or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still . . . wolfish."

In addition to the captive Mallisters/Pipers we also know about the following houses losing men in the Red Wedding:

Blackwood (Lucas Blackwood)
Vance (Unknown)
Men in service to House Darry/Bracken

House Paege banners are absent from siege (Jaime’s squire is Garret Paege)

The nearest ford across the Red Fork was upstream of the castle. To reach Ser Daven's camp they had to ride through Emmon Frey's, past the pavilions of the river lords who had bent their knees and been accepted back into the king's peace. Jaime noted the banners of Lychester and Vance, of Roote and Goodbrook, the acorns of House Smallford and Lord Piper's dancing maiden, but the banners he did not see gave him pause. The silver eagle of Mallister was nowhere in evidence; nor the red horse of Bracken, the willow of the Rygers, the twining snakes of Paege. Though all had renewed their fealty to the Iron Throne, none had come to join the siege. The Brackens were fighting the Blackwoods, Jaime knew, which accounted for their absence, but as for the rest . . .
Our new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins. Riverrun had to be taken, and soon. The longer the siege dragged on, the more it would hearten other recalcitrants, like Tytos Blackwood. – AFFC, Jaime V

I hope you enjoyed this somewhat disjointed attempt at establishing some background/possible foreshadowing on what could happen at the Red Wedding 2.0. Obviously not even close to everything listed will happen, but I thought there was a good amount of things that could potentially tie in.
If you are interested in a somewhat similar post, I attempted here to argue that Whitesmile Wat will be the POV character for Ser Forley Prester’s trek to the Westerlands.
TLDR: Anything and everything that could possible relate to the upcoming potential Red Wedding 2.0.

Notes in The Dark

Monday 28 December 18:00
I'm not sure how long humans are supposed to stay sane without human interaction but I've been doing alright so far I think. The silence is much worse anyway.
The initial shock of it all was extremely unnerving though. After the panic attack and near mental breakdown I sat down determinedly, pen in hand and started writing down what I knew about this whole situation.
Observation 01: Almost all living organisms in this city have vanished overnight.
People, animals and insects are all gone. I'm not sure about microscopic organisms yet. The only other living things left behind are trees, grass and most other plant life. I'm not sure how flowers and such will survive without other living organisms aiding them in pollination and such. I'll watch and see.
Observation 02: Everything else seems to be as everyone left it.
Cars are still in their driveways and some doors to houses are open as if someone just stepped through the doorway.
Observation 03: Electricity is not running, phone lines and the internet are not working.
Street lamps are dead, phone lines just beep and browsers greet me with dead webpages. None of my contacts are responding and my phone won't charge. It's practically useless now.
Observation 04: The sun did not rise this morning.
Does this even count as a morning? It's been at least nine hours since I've woken up and it's remained pitch dark outside. The sky is still completely covered with clouds so no stars and moon can be seen.
Observation 05: The wind is gone.
I haven't felt a breeze kiss my face or heard the rustling of a gust through branches since I woke up. The weather is showing no signs of changing.
Observation 06: There is no sound.
No birds or crickets chirping, no engines rumbling, nothing. The only sounds are the ones made by me. It all sounds much louder than it should. My footsteps on gravel, my breathing, the sound of this pen scratching on this paper, ringing in my ears; and the drumming of my own heartbeat. I can feel it in my head.
It all seems so wrong. I want to shrivel up inside myself and just disappear. The only thing keeping me sane is this watch. Thank God that it's digital. I would lose my mind from analogue ticking.
And I can never forget my trusty flashlight making this all possible. I would be stumbling in the dark if not for it. I'll look for some batteries later, I can't risk it dying.
I think I'll spend the rest of this 'night' gathering my things so I can explore outside the city limits tomorrow. I don't know if this is some sick prank, emergency evacuation, or mass alien abduction but I will get to the bottom of this.
Tuesday 29 December 07:33
Last night I went to bed at ten-ish. Or tried to anyway. My heartbeat was unbearably loud and I was hyper aware of my bodily functions. The sound of swallowing saliva, my breathing, snoring, and worst of all my heartbeat. The constant drumming in my head.
All my things are packed. I filled my car with various foodstuffs from the local supermarket as well as batteries; lots of batteries, some portable lamps and more flashlights. I don't think that counts as stealing.
Normally my conscience would bother me but right now I'm actually feeling good about this, excited even. It feels good being prepared. I have this all planned out. I've got some spare tires in the back, some jumper cables and first aid. And I could always hop into someone else's car if need be. That dread of yesterday seems to be gone for now.
The nearest town is about 58km from here. If I drive at a safe speed of 30 km/h I should arrive in two hours, more or less.
19:00
So it turned out that this town is empty as well. No light, no sound, no wind; nada. The sky hasn't cleared yet either. I'm starting to wonder if that's even cloud cover up there. It's impossible to make out. Anyways I found a place to stay for the night, a little three bedroom house.
My heart sank as I walked by their empty dog kennel. It reminded me of Lady. Waking up yesterday without her sleeping at my feet was bad enough. But when she didn't respond to my calls it filled me with dread. It wasn't long before I realised she was truly gone. Her and everyone else. It broke my heart to leave home.
All I have left of her are my memories and her squeaky bone. I'll keep it in my pocket from now on.
I spent some time searching this place. Not really for supplies but to learn more about the family. The framed photos around the house lead me to believe that a family of three once lived here. Brings back memories. I should have spent more time with them.
On this very desk sits a small photo of them together, all three dressed in white shirts and grinning at the camera. It made me smile. It's not human interaction but it's better than nothing. I put the photo in my pocket.
Earlier I went out looking for a loudspeaker. It's no use searching every single dark house so I drove through the town and called out for people through the loudspeaker. I should have worn earplugs or something, my ears were not prepared for the sudden noise. Now my ears are ringing even louder than before and It was all for nothing, there were no signs of life.
During my search of this bedroom I found a handgun under the bed. I haven't identified any danger out there but it's better being prepared anyway. I don't know much about guns but I know enough to be able shoot and load one.
My dad showed me once when I was younger. Funny how the memories flood back to you after you lose the people you shared them with. The gun is fully loaded. I hope I won't have to use it.
Wednesday 30 December 09:26
I'm no stranger to sleep paralysis. It's creepy waking up in the dead of night with a paralyzed body, what was always worse for me though is the shadow man who would watch me as I lay there helplessly.
It's a sleep phenomenon. The shadow men aren't really there, it's all in your head and generated by your subconscious mind while you're asleep. I learned that the best thing to
do is stay calm and keep my breathing even, while reminding myself that the man can't hurt me.
I was still quite young when I last had sleep paralysis and at that time I didn't know all this about sleep and that it was all normal. My parents would wake up to little me screeching in the dead of night and rush into my bedroom expecting to find a burglar or at least an actual threat.
But they would always find me shaking like a leaf beneath the covers and bawling about the shadow man watching me.
They would try to calm me down, stroking my forehead and reciting Psalm 23:4. They told me it was all in my head, that none of it was real. It was real. I would scream back at them. I would tell them I saw him with my own eyes and that he stood right there at the foot of my bed.
They were worried so they did some research to prove to me it was all a natural phenomenon. They took me to a nice grey haired doctor explained it to me one day with some cartoons and infographics I could understand. He told me it was perfectly normal and happened to other people as well.
He said that we all have sleep paralysis every night to stop out bodies from thrashing around and getting hurt during dreams; and that the shadow man was nothing but a figment of my imagination. He gave me a red lollipop and sent me on my way.
My parents got me some new lava lamps and that was it. I had a few more experiences with the phenomenon but after a few months it stopped. I can't remember if little me bought the doctor's explanation but I remember just being glad when the sleep paralysis stopped soon after.
The thing about having sleep paralysis in a dark new world, is that it's hard to tell dreams from reality. It's so dark that when I lie down I can't even tell if my eyes are open or not, whether it's all a dream or not. Last night I had a reunion with my old friend. He was even darker than this eternal night.
11:59
I'm aware that this food will expire sooner or later so I've been eating only fresh foods like fruit and vegetables, while stocking up on canned goods and honey which will last longer.
I haven't found any vegetable gardens or fruit trees yet but I'm interested to see If fruit is and vegetables are still able to grow. It shouldn't be possible without sunlight and rain right?
As long as I can find a grocery store I'll be good I think. I've heard that honey doesn't expire at all. Let's hope so.
20:00
I'm not sure what to do next so I've been sitting around and thinking about the old days. It's painful to think about it all. All I wanted was to be alone and now I finally got what I wanted, so why am I crying?
I've been staring at this photograph for an hour. These strangers I've never met, they make me feel more human.
I miss the simple things in life. Swimming on hot summer days, stargazing, watching the sun set. It hasn't even been that long and it already feels like I'm losing it.
This is so messed up. It feels so wrong. I can feel every cell in my body protesting against this new world. Humans aren't made to deal with life like this. This isn't life. Is this the afterlife? My parents taught me that hell is a lake of fire, so even this can't be it. If this is heaven I would rather die.
21:00
I've spent some time walking around outside. The darkness is like a heavy and oppressive blanket. My shoulders hunch over as I walk. I feel like I'm carrying the world on my shoulders.
If I were claustrophobic I would have died a long time ago. The air is thick. It's hard to breathe
The silence is mocking me. Sometimes the silence is unbearable and sometimes the ringing in my ears is deafening. I've been starting to click my teeth together habitually to create some sound and drown out the ringing. And the heartbeat. I can feel my heartbeat in my head. I feel like God's plaything.
23:00
I've been sitting in my car with the engine on. The rumbling is comforting.
Thursday 31 December 05:02
I think I know what to do now. I'm quite certain that this darkness must be affecting the whole country and maybe even the world. I think the next step is to find out for sure.
Even if this darkness won't end I need to find out the reason why. I need to know if the sun and moon are still up there at least. I need to get to the beach and see if there are waves. If so then there is still hope.
If not, this world has changed forever and chances are I'll never see the sun and moon again.
The ocean is 1900km from here. With rest stops for sleep the entire trip will take over 80 hours. I need to drive slowly and cautiously, I can't risk missing something important on the way or crashing on the long road. It will be a challenge but I need to keep moving.
The preparations are complete and I'm ready to leave.
I need to find people. I'll keep the photograph on the inside of my windshield. To remember what I'm fighting for.
10:22
I've been driving with the car's interiors lights on, as well as the MP3 player which I completely forgot about.
I've been playing Mister Sandman on loop for the past few hours. It reminds me of home and of my mother. She would always sing it to me at night to calm me down after my late night panic attacks. They were so good to me. I didn't deserve them.
I can't turn this music off, it's yet another thing keeping me going. And Lord knows I need all the motivation I can get.
17:00
I hold the squeaky toy as often as I can. Lady was a good dog. It was us two versus the world. She was always sweet and gentle. She would bite this bone softly, just enough to make it squeak.
Evident by the very few bite marks on the bone. There are three scratches on the bone to be exact. Now I know it like the back of my hand.
This bone, the CD in the player, and this photograph are my symbols of hope. They keep me going. I'll hold on to them as long as I can.
Friday 1 January 09:00
My friend, the shadow man, decided to visit me again last night. I saw him in my rear view mirror, he sat watching me on the back seat.
The light of the lamp seemed to curve around him, evading him. He disappeared after a moment and I was left unsure of how to feel.
At least I'm not a scared little kid anymore.
15:00
The drive has been uneventful. I've made a few stops along the way to use a toilet and restock on fresh foods.
Other than that my mind has been cloudy. I feel like I'm half asleep, I really shouldn't be driving with this state of mind. But I'm running on fumes, I don't want to lose my momentum. I feel like my sanity is draining away with every passing moment.
I need to keep moving, if I stop now I may not be able to start again.
Saturday 2 January 01:02
My worst fear has been realized. My car broke down. I'm such an idiot. I should have saved the battery. I've been keeping the engine on to help me fall asleep. I needed that MP3 player on.
I'll admit it, I'm scared. And staying sane should be my own top priority right? I have food and water; this trip is just a side quest right?
It doesn't matter. I'll walk. If I stay in this car I'll eventually starve to death or lose my mind. I need to keep moving.
06:00
I've been walking non stop for hours. I was so afraid to stop. But my body is about to give up. All I took with me is my backpack filled with food and water. I realized a minute ago that I forgot the photograph behind in the car.
06:50
I found a car on the road. A white Volkswagen CITI Golf. It brings back memories. It was the first car I had ever stolen and hotwired. The memories are flooding back, I was so young.
I had everything a child would ever wish for. A loving family, the newest toys, love and attention. They were so good to me, and I traded them off for cheap thrills and delinquency.
I've been able to start the car, I've never been able to forget the sound of this engine.
My watch is broken so I don't know the time and I have no other way to separate these diary entries. I think it smashed against one of the rocks.
I crashed. I thought I saw someone on the road. I drove into a pond or something. All I could salvage was this flashlight, a pen, a pack of dried fruit, and this diary which somehow survived. The pages are wet but it's still usable. Almost forgot the gun, I still have that. Saved by the belt.
I'm going to follow this road and see where it leads me. This road cuts through a mountain, they go so high that I can't see the top. I don't know how far the next town is but I'll keep moving forward.
I've lost everything. I start out with everything and I lose it all. The reality of the situation is that I can't blame this world for what I've lost. I lost it all before any of this even started, and I only have myself to blame.
It's been a long while since my last entry. I can't tell how long for sure but it feels like forever.
I've started seeing hallucinations. Abstract colours and shapes float around my vision.
At least my footsteps on the road have been drowning out the ringing. I've been trying hard not to stop but my feet hurt, at least it's an opportunity to write an entry.
I woke up face down. I don't know how long I've been laying here for. I can't stop.
I'm gripping Lady's squeaky bone tightly. I'm holding on to hope.
I've started hearing voices. I keep thinking Lady is following me not too far behind.
Same old road.
I keep thinking of home.
I miss the bible stories they would tell me. I was such an ungrateful child.
I'm breathless but I keep singing Mister Sandman. The sky feels heavy.
I just noticed I have a deep gash in my right calf. It must have been a sharp rock. Explains the numbness in my leg.
I'm so tired.
I feel like I'm locked in a dark, musty closet.
I keep getting the urge to drop my flashlight but I know I can't.
The hallucinations are getting worse. I'm starting to lose it.
I keep drifting into the past. Actually it feels more like the past is drifting around me.
I keep forgetting I'm not seven years old anymore.
I keep waking up face first in the dirt. My lips are swollen and bleeding.
It's hard to eat this fruit.
I told you I'm not a kid anymore.
It's hard singing with swollen lips.
Time is not real.
I keep forgetting who I am.
I don't know where I was headed, but straight seems like the right choice.
How on Earth am I still alive?
I've passed out so many times already. I want to lay down and die. The sky is dead.
The walls are closing in, the mountain wants to eat me.
The air is so thick.
My cuticles are bleeding from gripping this diary. Why am I carrying a squeaky bone?
Time is not real.
What happened to the sun? My shoes are messed up.
It's hard to breathe.
It's my first day of school today!
I'm so tired. But I need to keep walking. And writing when I'm not. How many days has it been?
What are those voices? I feel like I've been walking forever.
I called out for Lady but she isn't coming. I think my lips are swollen. I am so confused.
Who is Lady?
I threw away the squeaky bone. I don't even know why I have it.
I feel like I lost a piece of myself and I don't know why.
Mom makes the best hot chocolate.
Time is not real.
I think someone is following me.
I can see Dad working on his car. He taught me all I know.
I stole my first car today, a CITI Golf. I think I'm in.
I told you all I'm not a mama's boy. I'm the best in this crew. It feels good having brothers. What would Steven think?
It must be the hardest thing in the world for them. Having to explain to their son that his twin brother died in a car accident.
That's all in the past now. I have other brothers. And they need to be taken care of.
Seven cars, I'm on a roll.
If only I protected Steven.
I can't bear that look of disappointment on their faces.
I can't be near them.
They've been so good to me. I blamed them to their faces but deep down I always blamed myself.
I can't be near them.
Mister Sandman, bring me a dream.
How long have I been walking for?
My stomach is aching for food.
How did I get here?
Every muscle in my body hurts.
I'm holding on to hope.
Why am I still walking?
When did I learn to walk?
The doctor gave me a cherry flavoured lollipop. I don't buy his explanation.
I woke up screaming.
I abandoned my parents when they needed me the most. I should have visited them. I should have said sorry. But I was ashamed. I wasn't worthy of their love and forgiveness. I can see Steven in front of me right now.
This is the end of the road. I can't walk straight anymore. I can't even walk. The shadow man stands before me and I'm not afraid. He's been waiting all this time to welcome me home.
The parents from the photograph stand on either side of him, smiling their toothy smiles. I hear a dog barking. Mister Sandman plays from someplace distant.
The air is vibrating and the couple's faces have changed into my parents'. They are both chanting the fourth verse of Psalm 23. Mr Sandman is playing louder now.
The shadow man is gone now. I see Steven standing between them. He's smiling. I should join them. They've all been waiting all this time. And I've been stubborn as usual and kept them waiting. This song keeps getting louder.
That's where all the trouble started. My stubborn nature. It's time to give in. It's time to repent. The air is shaking. The ground is moving. The chanting is in my head. The fear is gone. They are waiting with open arms. The song is playing in my head. I feel like my head will explode.
I don't know if this gun can still fire. But I'm going to try anyway. I'm going to join them. I need to leave this dark place. I've heard when you go to heaven you see a bright light. I'm not sure if I'll make it in, I don't think I'm worthy. But even the flames of hell will produce some light. I'm ready. If this is the last entry, the gun fired.

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Hunter or Huntress Chapter 80: Drawing Up Plans

Hunter or Huntress Chapter 79: How Does That Even Work?

[Prose - in-text] A shot of whatever

Does it fly?

NEW STORY: Breastfeeding is for babies [Subreddit Exclusive]

On Spells and Society, or how 5e spells completely change everyone's lives.

Does it fly?

The Red Wedding 2.0: Foreshadowing, Theories, and Parallels (Spoilers Extended)

Background

Daven Lannister’s “Frey Girl”

Location

Lord Walder’s Attendance

Tom of Sevenstreams

The Brotherhood’s Position

Attack

Notes in The Dark

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