Out of My Depth (Blood of Tyrants - Session 3)

The last time we left our character, he managed to flee a group of very aggressive hunters. It seems logical to Delve the Depths with Shadow this time (Weak Hit, 5+2=7 vs 7, 1, Mark Progress (+3) and Reveal a Danger). Progress goes to +3, but the game really doesn't give us a break.

The feature is a narrow path through a fetid bog. The danger is a disturbing evidence of a victim's fate.

Having evaded my pursuers, I should have been elated. But, instead, I couldn't help but think how close to dying I was. It could have taken one arrow or a thrown spear to kill me on the spot.

I didn't know why this group of people decided to hunt fellow travelers like animals. Of course, they may have recognized the armor and thought we had something to do with their companion's demise. But was that a good enough reason to attack us on sight, never giving us a chance to explain ourselves?

Finding a narrow path out the expanse of reeds several minutes ago was a mixed feeling. It certainly felt good to not have to wade through cold, murky water to be able to put on my boots again. But if I could reach this way that easily, the same could have been expected of my pursuers. As the overgrown lake made its way to a fetid swamp, sparsely covered by trees, I also felt more exposed.

Now entering the water looked like a horrible idea. On both sides, it was stagnant, partially covered with duckweed, nearly black where there were no plants. Occasionally, tiny air bubbles reached the surface. It was deathly silent here, save from the quiet buzzing of mosquitoes.

What was worse was the stench of rotting plant matter permeating the air. Carious wood and waterlogged grass mixed with the stench of rotten eggs, probably released from the mud. As I walked the path, I retched several times when a whiff of stink blew into my nostrils.

I was moving silently through the path, made of slippery tree roots, overgrown patches of land, and an occasional tree trunk. As I climbed a small mound, I looked for another raised surface where I could set my foot. Suddenly, a large number of bubbles disturbed the water on my right. Then, a dark, elongated shape broke the surface with a sudden splash.

To my horror, I saw a mummified corpse of a man. His skin and long hair were blackened, dirty with dark mud and green duckweed, but his face seemed familiar. I have found our village carpenter.

This is certainly scary and requires strength of character, so we roll Face Danger with Heart (Weak Hit, 5+2=7 vs 10, 3). We lose 1 point of Spirit and Endure Stress (Miss, 3+4=7 vs 10, 7). This also loses us a point of Momentum (+3).

For some time, I simply watched the body. How did it get here? Had the man gotten merely lost and drowned here, far away from anyone who could have helped him? Had someone killed him and dumped his corpse here? Should I have tried to bury him?

It was becoming increasingly clear I was out of my depth here. Not only I had to find a way to kill a wounded basilisk somehow, but I also had to get to its lair and not drown or get shot on my way there. I briefly thought about obeying Glain's request and getting back to the village. Getting some help.

But the entire reason I was here is that the overseer didn't want to send more people to help my mentor. Danger didn't change the reality of what needed to be done. First, the basilisk had to be killed; otherwise, we would lose more people when digging for bog iron. Second, Glain was sure to get back here at some point, this time making sure I can't follow him quickly. And I had to be the one to kill the beast, or I would have to forsake my vow and risk the wrath of the Iron Goddess when she escapes her confinement.

Again, we Delve the Depths with Shadow (Miss, 3+2=5 vs 10, 6). These rolls are really terrible. The danger is: You encounter a hostile Denizen.

Who will that be (01-50: the hunters, 51-100: something else)? Something else. We roll a wolf.

I felt like someone was watching me, which took me out of my thoughts. I almost laughed hysterically when I saw a grey, quadrupled figure following my steps. The wolf was clearly visible in the distance, repeatedly sniffing the ground and carefully stepping on the same path I traversed.

Wolves were intelligent animals. An entire pack could attack a human if he was a threat to them, or they were starving—but in the latter case, it wasn't usually worth the effort. It rarely, if ever, happened with lone specimens. This one must have been really desperate, or just really confident.

I put out my bow. If the wolf felt so good about itself, it was best to show confidence.

Compel with Iron (Weak Hit, 4+1=5 vs 7, 1). It wants something, most likely food—leaving some of our Supplies should pacify the animal. This requires some courage, so let's Face Danger with Heart (Miss, 5+1=6 vs 8, 6). Oh, well.

As soon as I turned towards the beast, it stopped, watching me and the bow in my hands with care. It knew what it meant, so it didn't dare to attack yet. But I was aware that as soon as I loosened the bowstring, it would sprint towards me. I might not have time for another shot.

If the animal wanted to eat me so desperately, I would have to sweeten the pot. Still watching the animal, I reached for my bag for salted pork. In retrospect, this was stupid. The animal couldn't have understood my intention, but it clearly saw me distracted and chose this moment to pounce.

Enter the Fray (Miss, 2+1 vs 5, 7). Sigh. Pay the Price gives us "It is stressful" and seems fitting, Qamar is probably as dejected as I am. Endure Stress (Miss - Complication, 1+3=4 vs 6, 6). Momentum goes to +2.

At this point, everything goes against Qamar to the point where it seems almost ridiculous. It's not hard to imagine he's frustrated beyond belief. Enough to make him see red. We won't be shooting at all.

Instead we Clash with Iron (Miss, 1+1=2 vs 8, 5). Terrible. I don't want to take harm yet, so I'll Pay the Price another way: the bow is destroyed.

Had I maintained cold blood, I could probably shot the animal there and now. But, instead, something broke in me. The fear of dying, the anger at being constantly waylaid, it culminated in one reckless decision. I moved towards the attacking animal, swinging my bow at it as if it was a club.

The wolf caught the arc with its powerful jaw and bit. I heard a crack as the wood gave up and bent. Because of my stupidity, my best weapon became useless.

Let's Clash again (Weak Hit, 6+1=7 vs 1, 10). We get some Progress (+2), but also Pay the Price. Harm seems the most obvious consequence (Health goes to +2). Endure Harm (Strong Hit, 6+2=8 vs 3, 4) lets us get some of it back (+3) at the price of Momentum. It falls to +1.

Fortunately, it had to spit out the remains of my bow, which gave me just enough time to get my knife. I thrust at the animal's flank, feeling it sink into its flesh. It only angered the wolf, though. I felt its teeth on my calf, tearing apart the skin and almost pulling me down.

We can't afford to trade blows with the wolf. It's time to Turn the Tide. Securing an Advantage narratively seems more fitting, then we'll do just that, with Shadow (Strong Hit, 2+2+1=5 vs 2, 4). We get Momentum to +2, taking control.

At that moment, I realized something: we were fighting on a narrow path, with swamps on both sides. I couldn't dodge easily, but neither could the wolf. I just needed to trick it into making a mistake. Instead of jumping into its waiting jaws, I grabbed my ruined bow and raised it. As I expected, the animal didn't know it was too damaged to be used; it jumped left nervously. Its paws slid from the path, and it fell into the water, head first.

Let's Strike with Iron (Miss - Complication, 4+1+1 vs 7, 7). Way to waste getting the initiative. How do we Pay the Price? We roll 86, it wastes resources. Supplies go to +4.

I intended to jab the animal as it flopped in the water. Instead, I stabbed its surface. The weapon slipped from my hand, hit the surface, and disappeared. I briefly considered jumping in too and ending my miserable existence. The wolf already regained its bearing, climbing back on the path. I remained with a broken bow and several useless arrows.

Instead of fighting, I just ran blindly towards the path's end. Outrunning the wolf on the open space would have been impossible; on the winding path full of slippery roots, I had a chance. The animal pounced again, only to hit the ground as I jumped over it. I no longer cared about dispatching it, just ran away blindly, hoping not to get eaten.

At this point, Qamar has no chance to kill the wolf, let alone a basilisk. I'd rather cut my losses here, rather than get my character killed. First, we have to Face Danger with Edge (Strong Hit, 3+2=5 vs 1,3). This allows us to regain Momentum and get it to +3.

Now it's time to split. Let's Escape the Depths with Edge, as we're trying to find the fastest way out (Miss, 4+2=6 vs 6, 8). Of course. Well, I just have an idea for the Price.

I expected to hear the panting of the wolf behind my back and feel its teeth sinking in my back. But no such thing happened. Perhaps it didn't consider me a meal worth pursuing. Maybe the wound I gave it was more severe than it looked. But I managed to nearly get to the end of the path, and when I looked back, it was gone. I was safe. I couldn't believe it.

"Well, well. Who do we have here."

The entire group of hunters, six people in total, waited near the end of the path. Among them, a woman I escaped stood, smiling triumphantly. Some of them wielded bows, others—spears. There was no hope I could fight them and survive. Nor I had any hope to flee.

I could only hope they was in magnanimous mood and wouldn't hurt me too much.

 

Hunters Hunted (Blood of Tyrants – Session 2)

Previously, we left Qamar as he promised to help his mentor kill a wounded basilisk. The beast, however, has to be found. We try to Secure an Advantage with Wits (Weak Hit, 6+3=9 vs 7,9), which only raises our Momentum to +6. Not as well as I hoped, but it must do.

The basilisk's lair is... somewhere in this swamp and we need getting there. I could just make it a Journey, but a Delve fits better. I create a Wild Shadowfen and populate if with monsters. It's hard to decide on its Difficulty, but Formidable seems fine.

Let's Delve the Depths with Wits (Miss, 2+3=5 vs 8,9). Not good. We roll for the Danger: Deep water blocks the path.

"All right. You said it was bleeding?". I muttered. "It shouldn't be hard to track it to its lair then."

It didn't look easy though. To be honest, I had no idea where to start. It didn't help that Gain cocked his nearly bald head, as if deeply confused.

"You... want to find its blood trail?" He asked. "In the swamp?"

"Um, well..." I felt myself blush. "That doesn't sound like a great idea, but... how do you know it's bleeding then?"

"Because I saw it! Why, did you think I just randomly stepped into a pool of blood and decided the basilisk must have left it?"

I stomped on the muddy ground and my right foot sank ankle-deep. I jerked my leg and it let go with a sucking sound.

"It's getting wetter." I commented. "We didn't do any bridges there, did we?"

"Look for yourself." Glain pointed behind the copse of trees we were approaching. "Does it look like there was a bridge there?"

I groaned. Behind the trees there was a wide floodplain. Stagnant water was everywhere where the eye could see. Birches and white oaks grew here and there, but most of the surface was devoid of plants, suggesting significant depth.

"Tell me you hid a boat somewhere here." I looked around.

"What does your heart tell you?"

"That we have to wade through."

"Well, yes."

I thought about a scene challenge, but this doesn't look interesting enough, so a single Face Danger with Edge (Strong Hit - Opportunity, 3+2=5 vs 1, 1) has to do. Momentum goes up to +7. The Oracle suggests Advance Wealth.

Is found wealth something natural, or man-made? Man-made. Is there a body nearby (likely)? Yes.

We didn't want to get our boots wet, so we took them off, tied them together and hanged them on our necks. Slowly and reluctantly, we entered the cold, murky water, hoping there aren't that many leeches there. My foot touched something cold, slick and pliable, which made me shudder and I almost considered turning back.

"We should have gotten exiled somewhere drier." I said, when my knees got already submerged and the water got deeper.

"Hopefully the Tyrant covets Stilthouse so much he's going to come here and banish us back to the Havens." The old man was already hip-deep. "Try not to get the bowstring wet."

"It's in the boot." The footwear was already dangling dangerously close to the surface of water, but I couldn't do much about it besides hoping it didn't get much deeper. Unfortunately, it didn't seem so—my chest was already wet.

"The trees are close." Glain said. "It should be shallower there."

He paused for a moment.

"What's that? A trunk?"

"Where?" I asked.

"Under that tree."

I looked there. It definitely wasn't a trunk—the shape lying next to an oak was definitely human-like. As we came closer, it turned out to be a corpse of a man. His skin already had a greenish tint, so he must have been lying there for some time. He wore a byrnie, which seemed to be heavily damaged at his chest. A jagged, blackened wound under the armor suggested the man died violently.

"I think we know why the basilisk was wounded." My mentor took off his shirt and now tried to wring it with his only hand. He gave up after several unsuccessful tries.

"Maybe there's no basilisk anymore?"

"There better be, because you swore." Glain looked at me with a serious expression. He squatted next to the body, checking the belt for pouches and purses. He took one off, looked inside and winced.

"Mouldy bread." He explained. "But there's some nuts too and they seem good. Help me get that byrnie off."

"It's damaged." I protested. "And didn't seem to help its owner much."

"It's free armor, boy. We'll be fighting a basilisk and every single bit of metal can save our lives. And we can melt it back for iron later."

He was right.

We Resupply (Strong Hit, 6+3=9 vs 6, 2), getting our Supplies back to +5.

**

We Delve again (Miss, 2+3=5 vs 5, 8). Uhhhhh. I'm going to burn Momentum, resetting us to +2,  and get a Weak Hit. Mark Progress Twice (getting us to +2) and Reveal a Danger... which is an overzealous hunter. How fitting. Let's also roll for a Feature for a good measure ("Tall reeds").

Let's also Face Danger with Shadow (Miss, 2+2=4 vs 10, 9). We're not very stealthy, which means the hunters spot us.

"Who do you think this man was?", I asked, as we moved towards a clump of reeds. At this point, I'd kill for a warm fire and some hot soup. My clothes were soaked and I still had to wade in a knee-deep lake, so I was shooting my mouth off to take my mind off this. It didn't help that I already saw a large black leech attached to Glain's calf. I hated leeches.

"No idea, to be honest. No one from Fool's Fall, for sure." He meant another settlement, a day away from hours. "I don't think he was from anywhere in the Flooded Plains."

"Why not?"

"You saw his scabbard. Who needs a sword here? How would you keep it from rusting away in a few years? A spear is a much better... Ah, crap!"

We almost bumped into the woman, as we were forcing our way through the reeds. She was middle-aged, with her red hair cropped short and wore leather and furs. She wielded a hatchet, which she raised immediately as she saw us.

Does she recognize the byrnie (almost certain)? Yes.

"Peace!" Glain said. "We are just hunters!"

For a moment, it looked like she relaxed. Then her eyes went to the byrnie which Glain was wearing and her eyes flashed with recognition. She cursed, raised her fingers to the mouth, then blew a loud whistle.

We looked at each other and started to run.

This looks like a scene challenge. If we miss, we'll probably have to fight a bunch of angry hunters. Our first move is Face Danger with Edge (Weak Hit, 4+2=6 vs 8, 1), Marking both Progress (+2) and Countdown (+1).

"No! Get back here!" We heard her angry shout. Around us, we heard more whistles. It wasn't a single hunter, it was an entire party. They whistled to coordinate their hunt, which was a pretty useful trick, but also revealed their position.

Let's try to Secure an Advantage with Wits (Strong Hit, 5+3=8 vs 4, 3). We immediately use it to make a Face Danger (Shadow) roll (Weak Hit, 1+2+1 vs 2, 4). Progress goes to +4, Countdown to +2.

I pointed at the direction where I didn't hear anyone whistling. Instead of rushing blindly in that direction, we slowed down, trying to move silently. It was hard to wade through water covered by reeds and not make a single noise, but we tried. For a minute, it went well. Then something trashed around in the reeds and a duck flew away, quacking madly and betraying our position.

This time, there were much fewer whistles than before. Some of them must have realized it hinders them more than it helps. This meant there were at least a few pursuers we couldn't hear anymore.

Now we try to gain some momentum by Securing an Advantage with Edge (Weak Hit, 6+2=8 vs 10, 3). We only get +1 Momentum, bringing us to +3. A subsequent roll on Face Danger with Shadow (Miss, 3+2=5 vs 6, 5) goes even worse. Not only does this bring the countdown to +3, but we also have to Pay the Price. The Oracle says "It is hurtful", so we get our Health down to +3 and have to Endure Harm...

Which goes swimmingly well (Strong Hit, 5+3=8 vs 6, 6). Not only does this mean we get to sacrifice our Momentum (+2) to regain a point of Health (+4), but also we get an opportunity out of this. Oracle says "Seize Prize". I think at this point the prize is most obviously Glain—what happens will finally convince him to get back to the village. Let's mark Progress on his vow, bringing it to +9. Maybe it's not the letter of our vow, but almost certainly the spirit.

With shaking hands, I pulled off my bow and started putting the bowstring back. I had to be ready to fight when it came. The delay, however, cost us dearly.

"There they are!" I heard behind my back. Something whooshed next to me and I felt my right ear explode with pain. Pain gave me strength, however, and we started running madly. More arrows whizzed, but we were at the safe distance. For now.

"You'll only slow me down, old man." I pounced on the occasion, as we started walking again. "Run to the village and get help. I'll distract them."

"How about I distract them and you run to get help?" Glain asked.

"You're wearing armor and can't draw a bow. You're dead as soon as they find you again."

He thought about it for a moment, but from his pained expression I knew that I convinced him.

"All right, but as soon as you ditch them, you come back too, you hear me?" He said. "No looking for the basilisk by yourself!"

I didn't respond, just dashed madly as loud and fast as possible.

Secure an Advantage with Iron (Strong Hit, 4+1=5 vs 1, 2) goes well and I use it to get some Momentum (+4). Now we Face Danger with Edge... and only get a Weak Hit (3+2=5 vs 8, 2). Tough luck. This gives us Progress +6, but the Countdown goes to +4, forcing us to Resolve the Encounter...

...and we get a Strong Hit, with 6 vs 3, 5. We've won! Outrunning the basilisk hunters advanced our "Kill the Basilisk" vow. What Qamar doesn't know, however, is that the group works for the Tyrant—which also progresses the vow related to him...

I was afraid they wouldn't take the bait, but it seems that I overestimated their skill. As soon as they heard the splashing of water, they all moved towards me. I even briefly saw one of them in the reeds, nicking his bow. They barely cared about stealth right now, didn't even whistle. They just shouted to each other whenever they saw me, or thought that they saw me. At this point I cared nothing about being quiet too, I just ran as fast as I could, trampling weeds and splattering water everywhere.

Suddenly I saw a movement on my right and I realized I made a grave error. There weren't supposed to be anyone on the right! I only had a moment to think this, before a heard a swish and I swear something skimmed my neck as it flied. I saw a spear falling into the water, then heard a curse on my right, closer to me than I would have wished.

I don't have an explanation of what happened. I think I just got lost and at some point started to run towards them. Before I realized, I was in the middle of their group , their shouts surrounding me from every side. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, except I knew I would have no chance to escape them if I stopped for even one moment. At some point I saw a silhouette before me, the same woman I met just before this pursuit started, her bow half-raised and an arrow already on the bowstring.

The time didn't slow for me. At one moment I was rushing at her, then I heard her cursing behind my back. I didn't stop or even try to ditch her, just ran like a frightened animal where my feet took me.

I stopped. I didn't hear any pursuit. No shouts, no whistles, no splashes of water. Only the reeds gently rustling in the wind and a duck quacking somewhere. I was alone.

I had incredible luck. But this was only the very first step towards fulfilling my vow. Did I really have what it takes to kill the basilisk?

**

Edge +2. Heart +1, Iron +1, Shadow +2, Wits +3

Health +4, Spirit +5, Supplies +5, Momentum +4 (+10), Bonds +2

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 0.25/10)

Vows:

• Get Glain safely back to the village (Troublesome, 9/10)
• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 2/10)
  

Assets: 

Archer

• When you Secure an Advantage by taking a moment to aim, choose your approach and add +1.
  • Trust your instincts: Roll +wits, and take +2 momentum on a strong hit.
  • Line up your shot: Roll +edge, and take +1 momentum on a hit.
  

Fletcher

• When you Secure an Advantage by crafting arrows of fine quality, add +1. Then, take +1 supply or +1 momentum on a hit.

Outcast 

• When your supply is reduced to 0, suffer any remaining -supply as -momentum. Then, roll +wits. On a strong hit, you manage to scrape by and take +1 supply. On a weak hit, you may suffer -2 momentum in exchange for +1 supply. On a miss, you are Out of Supply.
  

Bonds:

• Glain, vilage hunter, Escape from something, Timid, Cautious, Wary
• Stilthouse, settlement in the Flooded Lands

Tracking the Tracker (Blood of Tyrants - Session 1)

 "You sent him where?!" I couldn't believe what I heard.

Mira looked at me, resigned. Five years ago she was an energetic, muscular woman, but the time spent in the swamp didn't age her well. Her sunken cheeks, pale skin and thinning brown hair made her look at least ten years older than she was. Even her iron circlet had rusty spots here and there—she used to polish it regularly, but recently gave up.

"I sent him nowhere." She clarified. "I asked him if he wanted to kill a basilisk. He agreed."

"He's not fit to fight a basilisk. You know it!"

"He agreed." Mira repeated.

"You sent him there to die." I pressed.

"He can die, that's true." She admitted. "But we need that basilisk out of our best iron deposit or we won't have anything to trade. And he's the only one I could risk."

"Is that because he can't hunt anymore?" Despite my efforts, my eyes started to get wet. "He loses his arm and that's it, we throw him out like a rusted tool?"

Mira sighed. She gestured at the room: walls made of carious planks, holey floor, leaking reed roof, the pitiful hearth in the center giving off more smoke than fire. Her throne was a simple wooden stool with two badly nailed arm-rests and a moth-eaten goat skin. A pile of reed and patchwork fur signified the place where she slept

"Do we look like a circle that can afford to throw anything or anyone out?" She asked sarcastically. "We can't afford to let anyone sit idly and eat our food. Even someone as distinguished as Glain."

"What if he dies?" I couldn't let go.

"Then he'll be dead. He's an old man, Qamar. He'd still have more luck than those who died last winter. Remember Wynne? She was twelve."

I didn't have a good retort. Wynne was Mira's own daughter. She survived until the spring snow-melt, until the combined strain of malnourishment and some lingering sickness turned out to be too much for her body. She just fell asleep one evening and would never wake up.

"I'm sorry." I said. "But I can't just let him die his way. He's like a father to me."

"Don't do something stupid." She protested, but I was already pulling out my knife. I touched its blade with the tips of my fingers.

"I swear on my knife I will get Glain safely back to the village." I said. Mira looked like she wanted to hit me.

"And here I thought you were smart, boy." She hissed. "If you die, I will find your corpse and piss on it."

We create a new Troublesome vow, then use Swear an Iron Vow (Strong Hit, 2+1+1=4 vs 2, 2, Momentum +4). Not only does it go swimmingly, it's also an Opportunity. The most obvious one is that the villagers help somehow—but given how poor and pitiful this settlement is, I have no idea how they could help. Let's ask the Oracle.

Oracle: Affect Opportunity. Not very helpful. The opportunity is probably the basilisk and our chance to become the hero who slays it. Perhaps it's already wounded?

Nevertheless, our plan currently is pretty simple. First, we go to the place where the basilisk dwells, which will probably require a  short journey, find Glain before the monster finds him, convince him to go back and escort him to the village. Easy peasy.

**

I gave the village a glancing look. It was easy, because the whole village was only a bunch of buildings. The foundry, as we called the shed where we kept iron and our only anvil, was at the center of the settlement, on the grassy mound. There was also a small bloomery there. Around it, wooden houses on stilts were rising from the omnipresent mud. Planks were placed on the most traversed path to let the villagers pass without getting their legs wet, but it was a losing fight. It didn't take them long to become wet and slippery, or completely rotted and useless.

Water was the only thing we did have in abundance, although it had to be boiled before drinking—as we learned during our first year here. Firewood was relatively easy to come by. Everything else had to be scavenged. It was impossible to grow anything here, so we had to get by with berries, roots, mushrooms and fish. Wild game was a rarity, provided mostly by Glain and me.

Fortunately, the outlying area had an abundance of  bog iron. When we didn't have to forage for food, we tried to get as much of it as possible. We stabbed the ground with sticks. Finding a pea-sized nodule meant having to cut and pull back layers of peat that concealed it. We used a small amount, mostly to make arrows and spearheads. We traded away the most for cabbage, carrots, beets and salted pork.

The one thing we didn't have to fear were raiders. Not only were we too poor to be robbed, but anyone trying to raid the village would have a bad time. There were only a few safe paths through the treacherous swamp that surrounded Stilthouse. I just traversed one of them, hoping that would get me to my goal.

We Undertake a (Troublesome) Journey (Strong Hit, 4+3+1=8 vs 7, 3). We mark progress, getting us to 3/10. As I feel adventurous, let's ask the oracle what's our first milestone. I get a Defended River.

Who defends it? At this point, it makes sense the area is patrolled by inhabitants of Stilthouse.

Let's also make the guard. We get Setara, who wants to create an item and make an agreement—a weird result, but let's roll with it. She is Angry, Cunning and Manipulative.

After a few hours of walking through the swamps, I finally reached the river. It was hard to figure out where the swamp ends and the waterway starts. First the muck started to get more wet and the dry spots became rarer. Then the entire area started to look like surface of a lake overgrown with reeds and trees started to get sparse. At this point you needed a boat to traverse.

Fortunately, there was an observation post nearby. I looked for the only red maple in the surrounding area (not counting a few saplings), then looked up. At the thickest branch there was a small platform made of planks. There, I saw the wiry silhouette of Setara, our smith's only daughter.

I would be lying if I said I liked her. She was unpleasant where she didn't want anything from you, or slippery and manipulative if you had something she needed. After she saw me, she perked up a bit. A bystander could take it as a sign of sympathy, but I knew her long enough to realize the true reason.

"Great, someone came to relieve me." She said, dangling her legs from the platform.

"Sorry, but no." I said. "I'm looking for Glain and I need a boat."

"There's one in the bushes. Is there a possibility you could bring me some ore while you're there?"

"What? No!" I rolled my eyes. "There's a basilisk prowling there, do you think I will have time to look for iron?"

"Fine, fine!" Setara shrugged. "I just thought the greatest hunter in the village, by virtue of having both hands, could use the opportunity to get us some ore."

"I don't have time to talk." I was annoyed already. "Do you need anything doable from me?"

"If the inevitable happens and the basilisk eats you, be sure to throw your quiver as far away as possible. I could use some arrowheads."

There was nothing to say after that. I found the boat tied to an oak, a simple hollowed out trunk. I took a large stilt and started to cross the river.

We're Undertaking a Journey again (Weak Hit, 2+3=5 vs 7, 4). We mark progress (6/10), but suffer -1 Supply, reducing us to +4. This time the Oracle gives us a Low Bridge.

It was a slog. The boat was wobbly and the slightest tilt could overturn it. At one point, I saw it for myself when I accidentally pushed on the stilt too vigorously. The trunk rotated and before I could react, I was in the water. I managed to climb back into the boat, but the damage was done: I was wet, cold and angry. What's worse, I lost some of my arrows—they simply fell into the river. Not the best omen for the future. Fortunately, Setara wasn't around to see this disgrace.

After getting on the other side, it was the matter of walking to the dig site. In a bout of optimism, the villagers had built some foodbridges two years ago, hoping to speed up transporting the ore to Stilthouse. They even talked about building a bridge through the river. Then our only carpenter just went missing one day. We never found the body.

I briefly considered stopping here and making some arrows to replace the ones I lost, but there was no time. It was already late afternoon and Glain had a large head start. Hopefully he didn't find the basilisk yet.

We Undertake a Journey (Strong Hit, 4+3=7 vs 4, 2), marking Progress (9/10). High Wits makes Qamar good at traveling, which fits his background. This time I'm not rolling for a location, because we're close to the destination and I already know what should be there. I could roll once more to be sure, but the chance of failure seems low.

We Reach Our Destination and get 9 vs 8, 7. A Strong Hit, although barely. Let's mark the progress on our starting vow, bringing it to 3/10.

When I found Glain, it was already quite dark. I spotted him on the large, muddy field, where we usually looked for bog iron. He was sitting on a trunk, trying to light a fire with his only good hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, frowning.

"Hunting a basilisk." He said calmly, raising his balding head. He knew me well, but his hand involuntarily grabbed the spear lying on the ground. I didn't begrudge him; it was a useful reflex in the wild.

"You can't shoot with one arm!" I protested.

"I still can wield a spear. It's more than enough."

"It looks to me that you're trying to die here." I sat next to him. "Is that the case? Is life without a hand not worth living?"

He went silent for a moment.

"I just had to try. I feel useless there, sitting at the doorstep. I don't want others to look at me and see just a useless mouth to feed."

"No one called you that!"

"But they will. Winter will come and our food supplies will get scarce. More and more people will wonder why they have to feed a useless geezer when their own children starve. I need to kill that basilisk, Qamar. I need to be able to look them in the eyes and tell them I'm not useless."

We're trying to Compel him with Heart (Weak Hit, 2+1+1=4 vs 1, 8). He wants something from us and it's not hard to guess what. We mark progress (6/10)

"You can't kill a basilisk. Not in this state." I tried to protest, but it was hard to mount a defense. He was right and I hated it.

"No, listen." He said. "I tracked it almost to its lair. It's bleeding. I can pull it off."

"No. We can pull it off." I reached for an arrow, touching the arrowhead with two fingers. "I swear on this iron that we will kill the basilisk. Together."

Swear an Iron Vow (Weak Hit, 4+1+1=6 vs 7, 1). This will be a Dangerous quest. Momentum goes to +5.

I had no idea how I was going to pull it off. I never hunted a basilisk before and I heard it requires a group effort. Pulling this off with two hunters, one of them without a hand, seemed insane. But I couldn't just leave him to do it by himself. That wouldn't do at all.

**

Edge +2. Heart +1, Iron +1, Shadow +2, Wits +3

Health +5, Spirit +5, Supplies +4, Momentum +5 (+10), Bonds +2

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 0/10)

Vows:

• Get Glain safely back to the village (Troublesome, 6/10)
• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 0/10)
  

Assets: 

Archer

• When you Secure an Advantage by taking a moment to aim, choose your approach and add +1.
  • Trust your instincts: Roll +wits, and take +2 momentum on a strong hit.
  • Line up your shot: Roll +edge, and take +1 momentum on a hit.
  

Fletcher

• When you Secure an Advantage by crafting arrows of fine quality, add +1. Then, take +1 supply or +1 momentum on a hit.

Outcast 

• When your supply is reduced to 0, suffer any remaining -supply as -momentum. Then, roll +wits. On a strong hit, you manage to scrape by and take +1 supply. On a weak hit, you may suffer -2 momentum in exchange for +1 supply. On a miss, you are Out of Supply.
  

Bonds:

• Glain, vilage hunter, Escape from something, Timid, Cautious, Wary
• Stilthouse, settlement in the Flooded Lands

Blood of Tyrants - Session 0

A lot of Ironsworn campaigns I see revolve around finding the true king of the Ironlands. It makes sense—it's one of the more evocative quest starters, promising a lot of heroic action. The dramatic potential of such a campaign is high and full of questions just begging for an answer. How to find a leader worthy enough to rule the entire continent of scattered settlements? How to convince their population that being ruled by one king is beneficial for them? And what to do with those who, no matter how good points you make, won't agree to the beneficial unification?

This time someone else will have to answer these questions, because this Ironsworn campaign is not about finding the true king. Instead, we’ll be opposing him. We’ll be the villain that prevents the Ironlands from uniting, or the rebel trying to stop a tyrant from achieving absolute power. Without further ado, let’s create the world for our hero.

Our world

• The Old World was run into the ground. We were pawns in the hands of our kings, princes and petty nobles, who never had enough. They squeezed us for every scrap of food, drafted us into their petty wars. When the land itself started to get barren because of their greed, they hid in their luxurious palaces while we died of hunger and thirst. We cast our fate to the sea and sailed to the cursed continent where no one wanted to settle, because that was preferable to staying.
  
• Iron is the favored metal of Gamanna, the goddess who created the Ironlands. The jealous gods shackled her in the center of the world, forging the chains of her greatest creation. When we swear on iron, she hears and remembers our vows.
  
• Other humans sailed here from the Old World untold years ago, but all that is left of them is a savage, feral people we call the broken. Is their fate to become our own?
• We live in communities called circles. These are settlements ranging in size from a steading with a few families to a village of several hundred. Some circles belong to nomadic folk. Some powerful circles might include a cluster of settlements. We trade (and sometimes feud) with other circles.
• Each of our communities has its own leader, called an overseer. Every seventh spring, the people affirm their current overseer or choose a new one. Some overseers wear the iron circlet reluctantly, while others thirst for power and gain it through schemes or threats.
• Here in the Ironlands, supplies are too precious, and the lands are too sparsely populated, to support organized fighting forces. When a community is threatened, the people stand together to protect their own. Only the Tyrant's kingdom uses wardens instead.
  
• Some still find comfort in the old ways. They call on mystics to divine the fortune of their newborn, or ask them to perform rituals to invoke a bountiful harvest. Others act out of fear against those who they suspect of having power. However, most folk believe true magic—if it ever existed—is lost to us now.
• Our gods from the Old World didn't help us, so we strike out their names of our stories and vowed to never worship them again. Some try to pray Gamanna, but most find it pointless—as she is imprisoned and wouldn't have been concerned with us anyway. She is hard and cold like the iron she loves; vows and obligations are the only thing that concerns her.
  
• The firstborn have passed into legend. Some say the remnants of the old tribes still dwell in deep forests or high mountains. Most believe they were never anything more than myth.
• Monstrous beasts stalk the wild areas of the Ironlands.
• We are wary of dark forests and deep waterways, for monsters lurk in those places. In the depths of the long-night, when all is wreathed in darkness, only fools venture beyond their homes

Our Character

Once, we lived in Havens. Thornhall, a large village on a fertile hill, used to be our home. We almost always had enough barley and pork to last through the winter and we traded the surplus for iron from the Veils. Our stockade was large enough to deter weaker raiders and our community was large enough to give the stronger ones a pause. It was a paradise.

Five years ago, the Tyrant came, along with his warband. He showed us a trinket he claimed to be a half of the True Crown, the proof of his descent from the royal family. Had he tried to conquer us, we would have defeated him. Instead, he spoke with honeyed words, promising riches, power and safety to those who would swear fealty to him.

No doubt he used some vile magic to make himself more convincing. Despite our traditions and history, most of the village—including the overseer—was swayed, joining his nascent kingdom. He turned his biggest supporters into nobility, giving them privileges and power over the others. His "wardens" guarded the land from dangers, but also enforced his will.

Those who opposed his rule were cast out from his demesne. We were banished into the Flooded Lands and told never to return under the threat of death. Some of us died. Around fifty people persisted in these swamps, founding a new village: Stilthouse.

We have survived five years here hunting, foraging and digging for bog iron. Each year there's less of us. Some perish from hunger and sickness, some drown, some get eaten by beasts or worse. Everyone knows most of us won't survive five years more. The only thing that keeps our society together is a shared vow: that one day we will return to Thornhall and see it free from the Tyrant's yoke.

My name is Qamar. I was only thirteen when we had been forced out of Thornhall. I spent a lot of time in the bogs and swamps around Stilthouse with Glain, our best hunter. He taught me how to craft arrows and shoot them for the best result. We both did our part to provide our village with food.

But that was in the past. Glain can no longer hunt. His right arm is gone, taken by an infected wound. He can't draw a bow or hold a spear. His days as a hunter are over.

As I learned, he left the village yesterday—to fight a basilisk.

Edge +2. Heart +1, Iron +1, Shadow +2, Wits +3

Health +5, Spirit +5, Supplies +5, Momentum +2 (+10), Bonds +2

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 0/10)

Assets: 

Archer

• When you Secure an Advantage by taking a moment to aim, choose your approach and add +1.
  • Trust your instincts: Roll +wits, and take +2 momentum on a strong hit.
  • Line up your shot: Roll +edge, and take +1 momentum on a hit.
  

Fletcher

• When you Secure an Advantage by crafting arrows of fine quality, add +1. Then, take +1 supply or +1 momentum on a hit.

Outcast 

• When your supply is reduced to 0, suffer any remaining -supply as -momentum. Then, roll +wits. On a strong hit, you manage to scrape by and take +1 supply. On a weak hit, you may suffer -2 momentum in exchange for +1 supply. On a miss, you are Out of Supply.
  

Bonds:

• Glain, vilage hunter, Escape from something, Timid, Cautious, Wary
• Stilthouse, settlement in the Flooded Lands