"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.
**
- Get Glain safely back to the village (Troublesome, 6/10)
- Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 0/10)
- 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.
- When you Secure an Advantage by crafting arrows of fine quality, add +1. Then, take +1 supply or +1 momentum on a hit.
- 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.
- Glain, vilage hunter, Escape from something, Timid, Cautious, Wary
- Stilthouse, settlement in the Flooded Lands
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