The Factotum (Mythic + Planescape - Session 2)

The last time we met Gorrister, he got a job from the Mercykillers: to find a dangerous criminal. The complication was that Forken Tallan is a member of the Doomguards, possibly shielded by the factol. Given this fact, the Armory is the most likely place to find someone who knows where the elusive murderer is hiding.

Scene 2

Synopsis: Gorrister Peldvale meets Alys, a minor factotum for the Doomguards, hoping to know Forken Tallan's whereabouts.

CR: 4

Characters: Markos, Forken Tallan, factol Pentar, Alys

Threads: Find Forken Tallan

We need to check if the scene goes as planned (3). It's lower than CR 4, so it's altered. But how? We'll find out soon enough.

I didn't like the Lady's Ward. The streets were too broad and empty, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. The sight of sprawling mansions with gardens and monumental buildings was annoying, considering my tiny office in the Guildhall Ward and an even smaller kip in the Lower Ward. And Hardheads were everywhere, with their coppery armors and mean looks. A leader of one patrol gave me an unfriendly glance, but the presence of the Armory discouraged them from messing with me. No doubt they would later find some Indeps to torment in compensation.

I went as Gorrister, the same persona I used to take the job. I was a slender man of medium height, with olive skin and long, curly hair. My goatee was a few stray hairs short of being immaculately trimmed because looking too perfect seemed suspicious. I wore a red doublet with frills, blue culottes, and an enormous hat with several colorful feathers. I looked like an addle-coved fop from the Upper Ward who unsuccessfully tries to look more prosperous than he is.

The Armory loomed over the surrounding buildings: an ominous structure with an open-top, billowing heat and light from the forges below. It had few windows, its walls covered in black razorvine. Above the only entrance, a giant symbol of the Doomguards loomed—an auroch skull.

If Tallan hid there, even an army of Mercykillers wouldn't get him out. But was Pentar really barmy enough to let him?

This beckons an explanation of our faction's politics. Every Doomguard believes in one fundamental tenet: entropy always wins. As time passes, everything ends: people die, plants wither, buildings crumble, relationships fall apart, cities depopulate. The Multiverse will come to an end one day, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

What Sinkers are divided about is what to do with this information. Some believe that entropy comes along too fast and try to protect things they care about against the ravage of time. Others think this is hubris: no one can bend universal destruction to its will, so it should be watched and learned from. However, the barmiest, most loud group wants to speed it up. They're the stereotypical Doomguards who cause trouble and don't balk at vandalism, arson, assault, or even murder.

It used to be that they were a loud minority, and the factol was nearly always a Watcher or Preserver. Unfortunately, Pentar is a staunch Destroyer, favoring those who share her extreme views. She's young (too young, some would say) and intense, quick to anger, and full of enthusiasm. Her detractors are afraid that our faction will be among the things she'll bring to ruin.

Fortunately, the person I was about to meet wasn't one of Pentar's fanatics. Alys was a pretty pleasant person, one of the fellow Watchers. Her forte was engineering and siege works, but she was also proficient with an axe. The latter was why I could easily find her: every Hive, she frequented the Armory courtyard to instruct Sinkers how to fight; later, she spent the evening drinking bub.

Time to find out how is our scene different from what we expected.

Does Alys refuse to show up (Very Unlikely)? No. (65 vs. 5/25/86)

Is she upset about something? No. (84 vs. 10/50/91)

Is she scared? No (79 vs. 10/50/91)

Is someone else with her (Likely)? No (84 vs. 15/75/96)

Damn it, game, you're not giving me enough to figure anything out. Is Gorrister under observation (Likely)? Exceptional no (98 vs. 15/75/96). Not only Doomguards don't keep watch on him, they actually find him pretty trustworthy.

Do they have a job for him (Very Likely)? Yes (72 vs. 15/75/96)

Is it about Forken Tallan (Near sure thing)? Yes. (23 vs. 18/90/99). There we go.

I found her in Auroch's Head, a dive near the very edge of the Lower Ward. She was seated on the back, sipping cider from a metal cup. As I approached her, her eyes brightened.

Again, we need to figure out Alys's behavior. Her Identity is a factotum, a person dedicated to working for her faction and spreading its ideas. I have no idea about her Personality, but Description Roll turned "Loosely Mundane," which I interpret as casual. I do the same about Activity and get "Pursue Intellect,"—which probably means quick-witted. The Theme, of course, is giving Gorrister a task. Her casual Personality will likely provide a -2 to the roll.

The Starting Disposition roll modified with the descriptors gives me 4, which means Passive. I roll for action and get "NPC continues (+2)", which in this case just means a theme action, but bumps the Disposition to Moderate.

"Oh, it's you." She passed me a pewter bowl of raisins. "Perfect, it saves me a trip to the Guildhall. You really should have set up your kip closer to the Armory."

"Perhaps, but these prices in the Lady's Ward are outrageous. Were you looking for me?" I asked.

"I did," she took a sip of cider and continued. "In fact, I have a job for you. Does the name of Forken Tallan ring a bell?"

Just to be sure, let's establish one thing: do the Doomguards want to protect Tallan (Near Sure Thing)? Exceptional No (97 vs. 10/50/91). They want to kill him. This throws my expectations out of the window.

I did, but I didn't want to appear too knowledgeable. I scratched my temple in mock wistfulness, mussing my hair a little.

"I may have heard something. He was nearly scragged by the Harmonium, right?"

"Yes." Alys beckoned to the tavern keeper. "Some cider for this blood. You do like cider, right?" 

I nodded. I did like cider.

"So," she continued after a fat tiefling with hairy ears brought a pitcher of clear liquid. "The rest of his crew was sentenced to the leafless tree several days ago. It's only him that's left at this point."

"And what's the job?"

"Pentar wants him gone."

That was weird wording, but I already knew what to expect.

"She wants me to get him out of the Cage?" I asked.

"Lady's tits, why would she?" Alys's casual swear brought a few worried looks from nearby patrons. "He's barmy and an embarrassment to the faction."

I raised my brows. Apparently, Markos gave me a piece of cake, but I wondered what could have made Pentar turn the stag on Tallan. Did he know too much? Did he anger her somehow? Or maybe it was really some attempt of cleaning the faction?

Well, what is it? Does Pentar want to silence Tallan (Somewhat Likely)? Yes (19 vs. 13/75/96). Well, faction politics is never pleasant.

"Since when does Pentar care about that?" I asked, stuffing my mouth with raisins. I never refused something I was given for free.

"I don't know." Alys shrugged. "Do you want to ask her yourself?"

I didn't.

"What do you expect me to do about him?" I asked after finally managing to swallow the sticky fruits.

Does she only want him found (Likely)? Yes (28 vs. 16/75/96)

"Just find him." The factotum glanced at the empty bowl, disappointed. "When did you manage to eat all of those? Never mind, find him, and someone else will take care of the rest."

"How much? I am getting paid for that, right?" I asked, calculating if Alys would buy me another pitcher if I downed this one fast enough. Seemed unlikely.

Do the Doomguards pay more than the Mercykillers? No (66 vs. 10/50/91)

"One hundred jinxes sounds fine?"

"Are you kidding?" I didn't even have to feign indignation. "You want me to endanger my agents for one hundred?"

"What do you think is a fair price then?" She didn't seem too happy.

"Three hundred. And at least one hundred if he gives you the laugh. I'm not looking for him in Plague-Mort, or wherever she decides to go."

Is she convinced (Social Skills: Above Average vs. High difficulty)? Exceptional Yes (1 vs. 9/45/90), she accepts without negotiating it down.

She opened her mouth to argue, thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fine. I hoped you'll give a better price to your own faction but have it your way."

"Look, if it was only about me, I'd do it for one hundred," I lied. "But my agents don't come cheap. Especially when it comes to dangerous bashers such as this Tallan."

It's worth establishing at this moment if Alys even supports Pentar? No (54 vs. 10/51/91). She's probably a fellow Watcher.

"I understand, but your purse isn't the only thing that could benefit from this job," the factotum slowly sipped her drink. "A lot of Sinkers want to clean the house. This is our chance to be seen as something more than a faction of murderers and troublemakers."

I wondered why she was saying it so loudly in an establishment mainly frequented by Sinkers; some of them must have been fond for Pentar.

"Does Pentar even care?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing goes forever," Alys apparently realized that she was too loud because she started to whisper. "The entropy will take care of Pentar one day."

"If you say so." Maybe she didn't bother about making enemies, but I did. "Look, I'd like to find him, but do you have any idea which places he used to frequent?"

Does Alys even know that? I find it very unlikely because she wouldn't have to hire Gorrister to find him if she did. But the dice say "Yes" (8 vs. 5/25/86). I ask where and the Action Roll gives me "Attract Fame." Some establishment where famous people gather? What could it be?

"There's a tavern in the Hive. Something with a burning deader in its name. Flaming Cadaver? It does bring a lot of bashers, some of them pretty famous, and if there's one thing this sod liked, it was mingling with famous warriors."

I knew the establishment which she mentioned. The Smoldering Corpse Bar came from its very tasteful main attraction: an eternally burning corpse. Apparently, some local spellslingers decided to punish an arsonist by not only burning him but making him burn forever. I was never curious enough to visit this place, but it was pretty well-known.

Well, there's a first time for everything, I guess.

That ends the scene. Time for maintenance.

Characters: No one new appeared.

Chaos: Doomguards wanting Gorrister to find Tallan for them is a complication, but Gorrister dealt with it nicely. I think it reduces CR to 3.

Threads: Let's add another one: "Choosing between Mercykillers and Doomguards." We also made progress in the other thread, which gives us +10 Favor Points (bringing us to 60).

PC's decision: Gorrister will go to the Smoldering Corpse Bar, trying to get some intel on his quarry.

Next scene: He arrives in the bar and interrogates the locals about Tallan's whereabouts.

There should be no surprises with CR lowered even further this time, but one can never be sure. We'll see.

The Justiciar (Mythic + Planescape - Session 1)

How do we start? I think I have a situation handy. Forken Tallan is another of my former characters, a classic chaotic neutral murderhobo I played in Greyhawk. He's a stereotypical Doomguard warrior, a violent fanatic, notoriously breaking the law. Sinkers, as Doomguards are informally called, worship entropy, and Forken serves it in the most obvious, direct way.

Sigil has another faction that will come important here: Mercykillers. Their whole deal is punishing the guilty, and because of that, they run the prison system in the Cage. They are forbidden from arresting those suspected of crimes (that's Harmonium's job), but after they are sentenced, they're fair game. The adventure writes itself: a Mercykiller Justiciar comes to Gorrister, trying to hire him to find his fellow faction member.

Scene 1

Synopsis: Markos, a Mercykiller Justiciar, attempts to hire Gorrister to find Forken Tallan

CR: 5

Characters: Markos

Threads: Get a job (or not!)

The first Hive of Tithing a Justiciar came to my office. He didn't look like one despite his bladed armor and the faction symbol (a red dragon with its wings outspread). He was large, even fat, and bumped into the doorframe when he entered the room.

First things first: Does Markos mind dealing with a knight of the post (Likely)? Yes, he's a little upset. Apparently, people who catch criminals for a living don't like doing business with shady people; who could have known?

Let's figure out what kind of man he is for the Mythic GME Behavior Roll. His Identity is obviously a Justiciar. His Personality is clumsy and jovial, as I decided. His Activity is business-like. Theme, of course, is giving Gorrister the job.

I roll 2d10 for the starting Disposition. Because he doesn't like to deal with criminals, his Identity gives us +2 to the roll. Fortunately, his Personality nullifies it with a -2 modifier. Rolling gives us 3, which means a Passive disposition. When we roll for his Action, he will take the softest approach.

But what action does he take? A roll of 1d10 suggests he'll just continue his last one. As he didn't manage to do anything yet, this means a Theme Action. He'll just give us a job. Nothing weird is going on here.

"Lady's Grace to you, good sir." His booming voice was a little too loud for my small office. "I have an offer for you if you don't mind working with the Mercykillers."

"I don't mind, provided you pay enough." I smiled, rubbing my goatee. "And it's nothing illegal, of course."

He furrowed his brow a little.

I rolled for another action, given that Gorrister may have hit a sore point here. NPC continues, but with a +2 modifier, so Disposition is now at 5. This still means Passive.

"Don't worry, friend, this job will make you rich, or my name isn't Markos," he continued with the same friendly tone, which seemed slippery to me. I know everything about faking, and this Mercykiller was pretty good at it. It was unnerving.

"Tell me," he continued. "Do you know anything about Three Shivs?"

Does Gorrister know Three Shivs? No.

"Never heard of them, no." This didn't seem like a situation where I should pretend to know of them to impress the customer.

"Well, understandable. They're a bunch of knights of cross-trade. Blades for hire, responsible for countless hits and even some murders." Markos looked at the chair next to my desk. "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," I said. "They sound like a nasty group of bloods, but what does that have to do with me?"

He plopped on the chair, which fortunately had been made of wrought iron.

"I was just getting to it. See, two of those three were recently arrested by Harmonium. Their hanging is already scheduled, but the factol thinks they would be sad without their companion. Sadly, he's in hiding."

"You want me to catch a hardened killer?" I raised my brows.

"Of course not! Only to find him and let me know where he is. Surely this isn't a problem for a man of your talents?"

Of course, it wasn't, but I didn't want to look too eager before negotiating the price.

"You are aware he's likely no longer in the Cage? Only a complete barmy would stay, being hunted by both Hardheads and the Red Death."

"He is barmy. I bet he's still there" Markos seemed confident.

"But if he isn't?" I pushed. "Am I still getting paid?"

Good question. Will the Mercykillers pay if Tallan escaped, but less (Unlikely)? Yes. They must really want him. Of course, they need to pay enough, considering they want Gorrister to hunt his fellow Sinker.

"The factol authorized me to pay you a hundred jinxes if you ascertain the murderer is no longer in Sigil. If he gets captured, however, it's an additional two hundred."

Does Gorrister realize something's fishy (Intuition: Exceptional vs. Markos' Social Skills: High)? Yes.

"That's... a very generous offer," I said slowly.

"Isn't it?" Markos smiled a toothy grin.

"A little too generous, in fact. Either factol Nilesia has suddenly gone soft, or there's something you didn't tell me about this offer to make sure I'll take it. Please, spare us both time and tell me what it is."

Time for another Behavior roll! The Theme is now "Interrogated about the hidden aspects of the job." Clumsy and jovial doesn't apply anymore, so his Disposition is modified by +2. As an action, he "gives something," which in this case probably means the information we want. But his Disposition jumps by +4 to 9. It's no longer Passive but Moderate.

"Very well." He straightened up and suddenly looked larger, more imposing. "He's a Doomguard, but not an ordinary one. We have every reason to believe he's shielded by factol Pentar or someone in her circle."

"You want me to turn the stag on my own factol? Are you barmy?" I snapped. To say Pentar was intense was to say nothing. I really didn't want to make her angry.

How does he react to refusal? Theme is now "Refused the job, still trying." This means the business-like Activity comes to the fore, giving us further +2 to Disposition. It's still Moderate, but we can fully expect Markos to become more and more threatening. We roll for action, and...

...he "acts out of PC's interest." What? The Meaning Table suggests "Travel Mundane."

"She doesn't need to know and most likely won't. Remember, you only need to find him. I'll be the one to scrag him." The Mercykiller took off his helmet to scratch his balding head.

"No plan is foolproof," I retorted.

"If it comes to the worst, I have contacts who will let you use a portal to Rigus, no question asked. It's not the most pleasant place in the Multiverse, but it's one where Sinkers won't like to come."

I was impressed.

Why is he so generous despite not liking us? Does Markos need this arrest? Exceptional Yes, so his life is on the line. Did he piss off Alisohn Nilesia, his factol (Very Likely)? Yes.

"You need it that much?" I asked.

"I'm in the dead-book if I can't catch him."

"Mercykiller politics?" I already knew the answer. Alisohn Nilesia liked to do occasional purges to keep her underlings loyal.

"Something like that. Do you take the job?"

His desperation convinced me. I could find my mark and then decide how much I really wanted to get paid. He wouldn't be in a position to refuse, after all.

"All right." I decided. "Tell me who it is, and I'll see what can I do."

"His name is Forken Tallan. He's easy to recognize: his skin went gray after spending too much time on Oinos. He fights with two short swords, and he's very keen to use them."

"Is he a planar?"

"A prime, but I don't know how much this is going to help you."

"I don't know too, but every bit of chant helps," I said, shuffling the papers on my desk, hoping to find something useful. "Anything else you could tell me about him?"

Does Markos know anything else? Yes (Hastily Healthy).

The Justiciar thought for a moment.

"He got into a fight with Harmonium officers and got his left leg wounded. I doubt it's completely healed. Magical healing doesn't go well with Sinkers, as I heard."

"If he's one of Pentar's bloods, he'd have refused it anyway. Good chant, I can work with it."

As I talked, I was already thinking about how would I approach this. If Tallan is protected by factol Pentar, the Armory was a good start. Risky, but beats checking every kip in the Hive Ward.

"All right, sir. I think I already know what to do." I smiled.

That ends the scene. Now, the only thing that's left is maintenance.

Characters: We add Forken Tallan and factol Pentar to the list.

Chaos: We're in control, so it goes down by 1.

Threads: "Get a job" gets resolved. Another one, "Find Forken Tallan," takes its place.

PC's decision: Gorrister will ask around in the Armory about Forken Tallan, pretending to be worried for him

Next Scene: He meets a minor factotum with a loose tongue in a tavern next to the Armory, hoping to pump him for info.

But will it go as planned? We'll see another time.

Mythic + Planescape - Session 0

I've always loved Planescape, but the entire setting has been in limbo since TSR discontinued the line. WotC used some of its aspects but threw away the most. Whoever wants to play in Sigil now needs to scout multiple sourcebooks, unofficial conversions, and blog posts. It's far from being comfortable.

Besides, I always thought that D&D isn't a particularly great system for PS, which is ironic because of some of the most iconic elements of the setting result from dealing with AD&D alignments. It's great when you want to delve into a dungeon, disarm some traps, beat up a dragon, and take its treasures. When it comes to stuff such as social interactions, it needs a lot of tweaking to not feel restrictive.

Recently, I got Mythic on a sale and really wanted to test it. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to return to Sigil once again. I'm going to recycle some characters from my old forum sessions. Gorrister was a concept I wish I could explore more, but the game died out quickly. Now he'll get a second chance!

I'll be using a lot of planar cant, which may be impenetrable for those who don't know the setting. But don't worry: there's a handy glossary here.

Our character

Gorrister Peldvale's my name. Well, one of my many names. See, the Cage is a pretty tolerant place, but some berks consider doppelgangers untrustworthy. Wouldn't want to make my customers peery, right? So I invented a more trustworthy persona for myself, which works fine for those who don't have true seeing. Some fiends and celestials see me for what I am, but the latter tend not to use my services, and the former don't mind.

What do I do? Most doppelgangers try to find a group of people, put some important sod in a dead-book, pose as them and live a life of luxury. Well, for some time. Then someone inevitably finds out and puts them in the dead-book. Some manage to give their pursuers a laugh, only to end up destitute and looking for another cony. This doppelganger thinks it's stupid.

Instead, I work. I have a tiny office in the Guildhall Ward, not so far from the Great Gymnasium. I employ many agents, who coincidentally are also me, so I don't need to pay them. They join factions and guilds, perk up their ears, listen to the chant. Then I sell it for cold, hard jink. Am I not a hard-working, respectable citizen?

Of course, every respectable citizen needs to belong to a faction. As I wanted to break with my old life, I decided to join the Doomguards. Yeah, they are a barmy bunch, especially since Pentar took over... but it beats getting depressed every second day and handing out soup somewhere in the Hive as a Bleaker. When it comes to finding weak points, whether in people or organizations, only the Anarchists are better than them. Thanks to their lessons, I can even touch something broken and learn what happened to it, which sometimes gets useful.

Despite being a hopeless fighter, I adjusted well to a bunch of shiv-toting maniacs. They tend to hire me a lot. Sometimes they want to know what the Hardheads are doing, sometimes they want to give some group a push and need some scrape. This doesn't mean I trust them enough to spill my little secret. How could I bill them for my agents' work if they knew there were never any agents?

**

Gorrister Peldvale

Attributes

Strength: Average

Agility: Average

Reflex: Average

IQ: High

Intuition: Exceptional

Willpower: Above Average

Toughness: Above Average

Abilities

Disguise: Incredible

Dagger: Weak

Doomguards Rank: Average

Hiding and Sneaking: Weak

Planar Knowledge: Average

Social Skills: Above Average

Strengths and Weaknesses

Turns stag (weakness): Everyone knows him as a professional cheat (-1 RS to convince anyone to trust him as Gorrister)

Doppelganger (weakness): Disguise straight out fails if viewed by a being with true seeing.

Of Ghosts and Crowns (Blood of Tyrants - Session 10)

I spend almost a week simply lying in my bedding, burned by high fever and tormented by nightmares. I dreamed of endless floating in murky water, slowly eaten by eels and maggots until nothing but bones remained. In those dreams, a one-eyed man lived my life in Stilthouse, with no one recognizing him. At some moments, I thought it really happened that the wraith visiting me managed to take my life and left me with his decaying body.

But I finally woke up, weak as a baby but alive. The room smelled of dried herbs, damp plant matter, and blood. It was raining outside; the roof made of birch bark leaked a bit, with water dripping from above the entrance and gathering in a small puddle near the doorstep. Even more, water was falling through the opening in the roof, clanging on a cast iron pot. It was Sera's hut.

I slowly got up, almost falling on my butt after an awful pang of weakness, then looked for anything I could use for a chamber pot. I used a vast jug and briefly wondered if Sera would be mad at me before realizing she was dead.

Just as I finished, Mira entered the hut.

"Huh. You're alive," she said. "I didn't expect that."

"Was it that bad?" I asked. It was surprising how weak my voice was.

"With Sera's gone, no one knows for sure how bad it was. Setara did manage to learn some from her, it seems. If she hadn't chased away those butchers and didn't clean the wound properly, you would have been gone for sure."

"Oh," I said. "I must thank her."

"Even then, it's a miracle you pulled through. It was hard to feed you. Once per two days, we would just give you some broth, but that's it. You're not only weakened by the sickness but also malnourished."

"I will. Thank you for not giving up on me," I teared up a bit. "This means a lot."

Mira looked uncomfortable.

"Didn't I say you're an asset for this settlement? I meant that. There are so many things I need you to do."

"The basilisk..." I sighed.

"That too, but the crown is even more important. We could actually fulfill my late husband's oath if we had it. The one he made for the entire circle."

"And how are we going to find it? The only person who knew where could it be is dead."

"I don't know," she admitted. "Perhaps someone in other settlements might have found him?"

"That doesn't seem particularly promising."

Mira sighed.

"I wish we could ask that dead man," she muttered.

We try to Sojourn again, this time with a better result (Strong Hit, 4+1+1 vs. 5, 3). We're going to Mend (clearing our Wounded debility and giving us +1 to Health) and Relax (+2 to Spirit). Unfortunately, this will have to do for a while.

**

Kormak revisited me in my dreams despite a complete lack of fever. I floated in swamp water, paralyzed and helpless. He stood on the muddy bottom of the swamp.

"I want my life back," he stated.

"I can't give it to you," I responded.

"What use is it to you anyway? You have no family and live as an outcast on a fetid swamp."

"I have my people. They're my family."

"Not for long. How long do you think this circle will survive? I've been told there were sixty of you when you left. It's been two years, and I barely saw thirty."

"This is because of the Tyrant you call your king," I spat.

"This is because you couldn't accept your lot and stand with the majority," the wraith laughed." You chose your pride and your precious laws over bread and a roof over your head, and where did that lead you? Where is your pride now, as you crawl in the muck like worms? Where were your laws, murderer, as you sneaked up on me like a common brigand and slit my throat?"

"It had to be done. You would have told the Tyrant where is our circle."

"And he would undoubtedly send more people and destroy this dump. What a waste would that be! Those nice people, who considered putting you to sleep when you were feverish, so they don't waste their precious broth on you. You know what their leader told them?"

"That I'm an asset to this village?" I asked.

"That they're dumbasses who would slaughter a golden goose because it eats too much. Yes, you're valuable to her because you'll be willing to risk your life for what she tells you to do instead of clinging to life as the others."

"Just like you risked your life for the Tyrant's fake crown?"

Kormak didn't respond, but I felt his resentment.

"Don't you want to find it?" I suggested. "See what was it all about?"

Does Kormak care (likely)? No.

"And why would I care?" He laughed. "What's in it for me?"

"You'd see what did you die for?" I suggested.

"You didn't even have it. I sure as hell didn't die for it."

"Are you the only one here? I killed three of you." I asked, annoyed.

"I'm the only one that can talk to you."

"Why?" I asked, but the specter just grinned maliciously.

**

When I woke up, I skipped breakfast and immediately searched for Mira. She was in the foundry, counting lumps of bog iron.

"I forgot to ask. What happened to Morter?" I already knew the answer, but man can hope.

"What do you think? We dressed her wounds, set her broken nose, and let her go," she didn't even turn towards me, still counting.

"Really?" I raised my brows.

"But first, we feasted her with pork ribs, spiced mead, and some honey cake. She promised to leave the Ironlands forever and become a fisherwoman in the Old World."

"You killed her," I said with some regret. I really didn't want another Kormak chiding me every night.

"We killed her," she nodded. "It was that or risking more Tyrant's men here. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"I think I have an idea how to get this crown."

"Really? That's great! How?" Mira finally turned towards me, a dirty lump of iron still in her hand.

"I need to ask Rhoddri."

She rolled her eyes.

"Are you still feverish?" She asked.

"No, listen. Since I killed those three men, one of them keeps visiting me in my dreams. He demands his life back."

"Such things happen," Mira shrugged, but I saw she was a little nervous. "Guilt has a tendency to bring out ghosts of the past. Pay them no attention, and they will hold no power over you."

"I don't think he's just a dream brought by my guilt," I protested. "Why would I even feel guilty about him?"

"I don't know. Why would you?"

"I killed three of them. Why wouldn't they all appear?" I insisted.

"All right, let's suppose it wasn't a dream. How does that help you to find the crown?"

"Rhoddri took a great risk to steal it and died on the way here. I doubt he can rest in peace."

Mira sighed.

"Do you think he'll just appear to you?" She asked.

"It's an option. Or I compel the specter that stalks me to help."

"That doesn't sound like a particularly great plan." Mira weighed the lump of iron in her hand.

"Do you have a better one?" I asked, looking for my sword, then realized I had left it in my hut. "Damn, I don't have anything to swear on."

The Overseer threw the lump of iron at me. I caught it mid-air.

"Don't waste a good sword on a vow that's going to get broken anyway," she suggested.

We Swear an Iron Vow ("Find the other half of the True Crown") (Strong Hit, 4+1+1 vs. 1, 5). It's going to be an Extreme one. Because it's a Strong Hit, we also get +2 Momentum. The first steps are obvious—go to the body and find a way to make it talk, possibly with Kormak's help. But will he even want to assist his murderer?

It seems that we have another reason to return to the basilisk's lair.

**

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

Health +1, Spirit +2, Supplies +2, Momentum +2 (+10), Bonds +0.5, Experience +0

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 1/10)

Vows:

• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 1/10)
  
• Find the other half of the True Crown (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.

Spirit-Bound

• You are haunted by someone whose death you caused through your actions or failures. When you consult with their spirit to Secure an Advantage or Gather Information, add +1 and take +2 momentum on a hit. On a weak hit, also Endure Stress (1 stress).

Bonds:

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

Beyond the Watery Grave (Blood of Tyrants - Session 9)

I stood there, with the useless pommel of the sword in my hand. In the darkness, I saw Nanuk's silhouette. He reached to his belt, but he didn't seem to find what he was looking for.

I asked the Oracle: Nanuk DOES have a knife (Likely), but nowhere immediately accessible (50:50). Most probably, it's in his boot.

"Murderer," he said, then spat on the floor. What could I even say? He was right. What I did was unacceptable in a civilized society.

"The Tyrant made us outlaws. I guess laws no longer matter." I stalled for time while trying to look around. There should have been at least two more weapons lying around there. I needed to spot them before my enemy.

He didn't want to give me time, though. As soon as he heard my voice, he jumped towards me, sending his meaty fist towards my face. He must have slipped or tripped as he lost his balance. The vicious punch turned into an impotent slap in the shoulder as he tried to use me to break his fall.

I punched his throat with all the strength I could find.

We Clash with Iron (Strong Hit, 6+1 vs. 6, 1). A great result that we needed. I chose +1 harm, bringing the Progress to +6. If we still had our sword, it would be over. We also End the Fight with warrior #2 (Strong Hit, 10 vs. 3, 6) to represent him bleeding out. I know it's a little unorthodox to do it offscreen, but this fight is far from ordinary. I think it would have been wiser to make them a group of enemies instead of making three separate tracks. Well, lesson learned. Progress of the vow goes to +8.

He fell to the ground, gasping for air. This is where I saw the glint of metal in the weak moonlight. The knife that Kormak tried to wield when I was fighting him. I hadn't even realized that I was so close to getting stabbed this entire time.

No longer weaponless, I jumped at him as he tried to stand up, trying to stab his belly. He tried to block the hit with his left hand and grabbed mine. Useless. The blade embedded itself to the hilt. But I didn't manage to get it out. Even with the pain, or maybe thanks to it, his grip was more potent than mine. I realized that he would overpower me and take away my weapon if that continued.

We Secure an Advantage with Wits, trying to find another weapon (Strong Hit, 4+3 vs. 4, 2). Instead of taking Momentum, we take a bonus to the next move, Strike—which doesn't go that well (Weak Hit, 5+1+1 vs. 7, 2). We max out the Progress but lose initiative.

This is when it hit me: I didn't need the knife anymore. He was mortally wounded; his burst of strength was the last-ditch effort to stave death. If he wanted to perish with a weapon in his hand, I would let him. I only needed to stay away.

Like a snake, I slipped out of his grasp, leaving the weapon in his hand. As I thought, he cared more about the knife than keeping me close. As he gripped it, he smiled terribly.

"Now you die," he bellowed, ripping the blade out of his wound. The fountain of blood that followed surprised even me. He made a few shaky steps, nearly slipped on the wet floor, then looked at his ripped stomach in amazement.

"Oh? It's mine?" He said, then fell on his face.

It was over.

This is the best moment to Turn the Tide, so I do—using a Face Danger with Edge roll (Strong Hit, 2+2+1 vs. 4, 1). This is the only thing I need to End the Fight (Strong Hit vs. 10 vs. 4, 1). And, as it's the last enemy, I progress the vow one more time, then Fulfill "Kill the Rest of the Tyrant's Men" (Strong Hit, 10 vs. 6, 8). That's 2 XP for us.

We also progress "Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke," bringing it to 1.25. Nice!

**

"So you didn't manage to kill them as they slept," Mira said as I told her the story of my fight. "Perhaps it's for the best."

"How come?" I raised my brows.

"Don't be mistaken; you won't find me disapproving," she explained. "It was a smart approach. To win as one against three, you need to cheat and hard. But people don't like secret murder. It makes them nervous."

"Are they still angry at me?" I asked.

"No. Well, some are. Not much I can do about Wylan. But telling them about the crown changed a lot. Now they understand that even if we surrendered, our truce would last just for a moment."

"Well, thanks." I still was a little bit salty for having to do this.

"You're an asset to our settlement. That was the least I could do," she said. "What are you going to do right now? There's that other vow you need to get taken care of, right?"

I felt ill and tired just thinking about this, but I nodded.

"The basilisk, yes," I said, shivering. It was cold in Mira's hut. "I'll take care of it soon. But first, I need to take care of myself. Eat, check my wounds, that sort of things."

"Sure, sure," she nodded. Wouldn't want something to happen to you.

I nodded and left her hut, thinking primarily about sleeping.

**

I thought I would recuperate, but fate had other plans for me. I thought I had correctly cleaned the wound, which Kalidas gave me several days ago. It turned out I had been mistaken. Or maybe two full days in the same bandage, chafed by leathers and repeatedly splashed with dirty swamp water, didn't help. It was now angry red, swollen, and started to smell.

Usually, I would go to Sola, our best herbalist. However, she died of her wounds several hours after I had left Stilthouse, never regaining consciousness. Instead, several people gathered around me, arguing if it's better to simply puncture the wound and drain the pus, open it again and cauterize, or just slap some herbs from Sola's stash on it and hope for the best. I was feverish at this point and barely coherent.

We try to Sojourn, but it doesn't go well even with +1 from the bond (Miss, 4+1+1 vs. 6, 8). It would have been weird if the community was hostile again, so we consulted Oracle for the result. "It is harmful." We take one Harm and Endure it (Miss, 6+1 vs. 8, 7). Rather than rolling, we mark Wounded. Hopefully, the next Sojourn roll will let us remove it. We also reduce our Momentum to +0.

As they drained the pus, I saw a barely visible man-shaped figure standing next to me. He moved his face closer to mine, and I noticed that his left eye was covered with a dirty headband.

"You murdered me," he said, and I recognized Kormak, one of the Tyrant's men I had killed the day before. His breath was so cold that it stung my lips. "I was sleeping, and you slit my throat. You didn't bury me, just took everything valuable I had and dumped me into the swamp."

"I'll give you burial." I rasped through my dry throat. It was so cold that I was shivering.

"I don't want it," he told me.

"What do you want then?"

"My life back. My flesh swells and goes soft. Fishes nibble my body, and maggots will soon hatch to feast on it. I can't see nor move. But with your blood, breath, and warmth, perhaps I will be able to live again?"

"Please. I can't give it to you. I have vows to fulfill..."

"You could get a new vow," he whispered. "To give me your life. Then I can help you fulfill it, and you will die in peace. You owe me that much."

As he spoke, he changed. The slash around his throat blackened and widened, spewing half-congealed blood. His one eye got milky, bulging from his head. Deathly pale face turned green, swelling and making him look obese. Murky water spewed from his face and nose, splashing my face and chest; it was cold and smelled of rot.

"I have to go," he said. "My body calls me back. But don't worry, we will meet again."

He was liquifying now, swollen skin opening in several places, dripping corpse bile, and maggots.

"I have all the time in the world, after all."

He disappeared with these words, leaving only the stench and a lone maggot wriggling on the floor.

We have 3 XP, but too sick to actually do something with it... unless I do something drastic. Remember that one combatant we tried to finish off and got only a Weak Hit? He's going to accompany us now. And because of that, I'm able to get the Spirit-Bound Asset for all 3 XP.

We end this session in no shape to travel or do anything. But the vow to slay the basilisk won't fulfill itself; hopefully, the next Sojourn roll will go better.

**

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

Health +0, Spirit +0, Supplies +2, Momentum +0 (+9), Bonds +0.5, Experience +1

Debilities: Wounded

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 1/10)

Vows:

• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 1/10)
  
• Kill the rest of the Tyrant's men (Fulfilled!)

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.

Spirit-Bound

• You are haunted by someone whose death you caused through your actions or failures. When you consult with their spirit to Secure an Advantage or Gather Information, add +1 and take +2 momentum on a hit. On a weak hit, also Endure Stress (1 stress).

Bonds:

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

A Simple Murder (Blood of Tyrants - Session 8)

I spent some time sitting on a damp trunk, just watching the surface of the lake and hoping a basilisk carcass would surface against all odds. I wounded it pretty badly, right? Maybe that unexpected escape was its swan song.

But after long minutes, I had to admit to myself that I had failed. I was conceited. I focused so much on getting a trophy that I didn't bother with checking if my quarry was actually dead. I was unworthy of the bow I wielded.

However, as much as I just wanted to lay down, I couldn't afford to dally. I had to gather the contents of my backpack, which still lay on the wet ground, spilled. I needed to find firewood, which isn't trivial on a swamp, where everything is damp. I had to build a fire and make a makeshift shelter. Only then I could wallow in self-pity.

It took nearly two hours before I sat in front of a crackling fire, boiling water in a pewter cup and trying not to burn my fingers. It was already getting dark, and looking for tracks would have been not only pointless but also dangerous. It appeared I would spend the rest of the night crying myself to sleep.

I didn't even manage to shed a single tear before I dozed off.

Time to Make Camp and recover at least some of this Momentum and Spirit I lost (Weak Hit, 5+1 vs. 10, 4). I chose to relax and get Spirit to +1. Momentum is still at +0, but there's nothing I can do about it right now.

I woke up just before dawn in a much better mood. It's funny how even a mediocre sleep completely changes perspective.

Sure, I let the basilisk escape. But I wounded it grievously, most likely wholly blinded it. It lost a lot of blood and had arrowheads under its skin that would be almost impossible to remove without arms. It would be unable to hunt and very likely would starve. And even if I needed to fight it again to finally kill it, it couldn't possibly be worse than the fight I had the previous day and which I still won.

And if it died of its wounds, it wouldn't matter if I see it or not; my vow would be fulfilled, and the Chained Goddess could kiss my ass if she disagreed.

Calmed, I drank some water, cleaned my makeshift camp, and got back to the trail. Fortunately, there was no rain, and the tracks weren't flooded. Besides, there weren't many places where those bastards could go. Damula was the nearest settlement; it was unlikely they could have gone anywhere else.

I decided to not Abandon the Vow. This means we had to clear everything but a single Progress and bump it up to Formidable. I suppose that the main problem here will be finding the basilisk and making sure it's dead; if there is a fight, it will probably be an afterthought. We'll cross this bridge when we come to it.

Meanwhile, we Gather Information to follow the track and our crappy luck finally gets better (Strong Hit, 3+3 vs. 2, 3). I gladly take +2 Momentum, and the marauders go straight towards a settlement we know. Now we only need to get them before they arrive there. Also, this seems like an excellent place to Progress the Vow (+2).

We Undertake a Journey and get another good roll (Strong Hit, 6+3 vs. 4, 1). We can't afford trading Supply for Momentum, but not losing it is good enough. The new location is a Lush Lake, so it seems the scenery won't change a lot.

I left the small overgrown lake and, after several hours of marching through treacherous paths, I reached another, larger one. It seemed it overflew again, as thick trunks jut out straight from the water. I found some ducks, but they swam away as soon as they saw me. However, after rummaging through the reeds, I found some eggs in a small nest. This meant I had to make another stop here to boil them.

We need to Resupply, but the dice aren't as magnanimous as before (Weak Hit, 1+3 vs. 10, 1). I sacrifice 1 Momentum (+1) for 1 Supply (+2), just not to end up Unprepared just before the fight.

Having nothing better to do, I wanted to make some arrows but found myself hampered by the lack of a knife. I remembered I'd lost it when fighting the wolf and sighed. It could undoubtedly have been useful now.

Instead, I took stock of my supplies. My worst problem was that my fight with the basilisk left me with just one arrow. Therefore my original plan of hiding somewhere, waiting until it's dark, and shooting them dead when they were sitting around the fire was not viable anymore. It left me in quite a pickle. I did have a sword, but my chances of killing three warriors in the melee weren't good.

My knife, of course, was missing. I had some cords, spare arrowheads (completely useless now), a small sack of feathers for fletching, flint with some tinder (almost used up), and a tin cup. Nothing that could help me in combat.

There were two ways I could realistically deal with my enemies. One would be waiting until they are asleep and killing each one before they wake up. If that fails, I could separate them and pick them off one by one. The surroundings worked to my benefit—recklessness on the swamp could cost one their life.

We Secure an Advantage with Wits (Strong Hit, 3+3 vs. 2, 3) to get some Momentum (+3). Originally I wanted to spend that time making arrows to use the Fletcher asset—but it would have been weird after establishing we don't have a knife. It doesn't seem I make good use of my assets, and I wanted to change that. Well, maybe the next time.

Because we shot up many arrows, I decided to use the Oracle to check how many of them we had. Do we have enough for the next combat (Unlikely)? No. Do we have more than one arrow (50:50)? No. Do we have at least one arrow (Likely)? Yes. One arrow, then.

**

The stilt house looked like it had seen better times. It was visibly crooked, with the timbers underneath looking warped and rotten. A footbridge leading from the muddy ground to the entrance seemed to miss a few planks. Its roof, made of wood covered in clay, had a large hole in the middle. The building had no door, with one wholly rusted hinge jutting from the frame.

Nevertheless, this was a luxurious residence for someone forced to spend the night in the middle of the Flooded Lands. I wouldn't mind having even half of a roof over my head. Unfortunately, my quarry evidently thought the same because they were already there. The smoke coming out of the hole in the roof made it obvious.

I wondered how these people managed to find an old house several hours from the nearest settlement. What did it even do here? But it wasn't all bad, I decided. Yes, the walls did provide them a cover from my arrows, but I had just one. And if they choose to spend the night inside, they will likely hide my approach as well.

We make the last roll to Undertake a Journey (Strong Hit, 1+3 vs. 1, 3) but don't decide to sacrifice Supply for more Momentum. Instead, we Reach our Destination (Strong Hit, 9 vs. 5, 7), taking 1 Momentum (+4). So far, so good. Oracle gives me "Desolate Steading" as a location, and I decide to roll with it.

Finding the enemies lets me progress the Vow, bringing it to +4.

Nevertheless, I decided to stake this place out instead of coming closer and risk getting discovered. Positioning myself to see the door opening, I confirmed that all three were sitting inside and didn't seem keen to wander around. One of them went outside to piss, lazily looked around, and immediately returned. It was pretty clear none of them expected to be attacked.

I was slowly creeping closer as it went darker until I heard their muffled voices. They didn't sound happy at all.

"How the fuck am I supposed to eat this? There's more salt than actual meat in this pork," grumbled one.

"Just wash it down with water," barked another voice, lower and harsher than the first. "Be glad we have anything to eat at all."

I agreed with him. Pork, even salted, seemed like a feast fit for a king.

"You think it's already good to drink?" The first man asked.

"Gamanna's tits, are you five?" The second man seemed to have enough. "My daughter barely got all her teeth and, she's more self-reliant than you. Do we have to bring your mother with us for the next trip to take care of you?"

"Just trying to maintain a conversation," muttered the man. "No need to be a dick about it."

"How is this maintaining a conversation?" The third voice, a little bit raspy, chimed in. "What's there to discuss in whether water is good to drink or not? Take a sip and check for yourself."

There was a moment of silence.

"I think Morter could have survived," the first voice said.

The other men snorted.

"And here we fucking go." The second man seemed annoyed. "You want to rescue her, be my guest. Get back to these savages; we'll wait."

"She's your kin."

"She's my wife's cousin. She knew she was shagging Kori's son for a month and never told me. I'll tell Cortina she's welcome to mount a rescue mission, possibly with her boyfriend."

"You think it's a good moment to hold a grudge?"

"For Nekun, there's never a bad moment to hold a grudge," the third voice said with dry amusement. "There's enough bile in him to drown the entire world."

"All right then. But maybe we should hold a grudge against these outlaws instead?"

"Fucking why?" Nekun asked incredulously. "They're enemies. That's what they do—they kill you or get killed. It's supposed friends who betray you that I can't stand."

Hearing them was uncomfortable. I expected the Tyrant's men to talk about how they're glad to serve their master and slaughter his enemies. I didn't want to listen as they spoke of their wives and daughters or sympathized with us. It made what was about to happen even harder.

I tuned their voices out. The only thing I needed was to know if they were asleep or not.

It would be glad to get more Momentum, so we Secure an Advantage with Shadow (Strong Hit, 4+2 vs. 2, 3). It's at +6 now. Hopefully, it will be good enough.

Sometime later, the voices went silent, and I decided to risk coming closer. I tiptoed through the mud and slowly stepped on the footbridge. The wood croaked a little but not loud enough to be a problem. A few cautious steps later, I was at the door, my heart thumping.

But seeing the three men sprawled around the hearth, covered in moldy blankets and snoring, made me feel a pang of regret. It's one thing to kill a man while fighting for your life. It's another to murder him while he's asleep, having heard him say he doesn't wish you ill.

We Face Danger with Shadow to sneak towards the men as they're asleep (Weak Hit, 3+2 vs. 4, 7). Given the narrative, losing Stress makes perfect sense, even though we risk a lot by doing it. Fortunately, the Endure Stress move goes well enough (2+1 vs. 1, 9).

I looked at the man lying closest to the entrance. He wore a dirty headband, crooked to cover his left eye. I remembered him with Morter, standing somewhere near the back.

I crouched near him, put the sword to his throat, and pulled. As soon as the blade touched his skin, he opened his eyes, looking straight at me.

With his neck still bleeding, he tried to cry for help. I put my hand on his mouth, silencing him. I looked around with my heart in my mouth, but the other two men were still asleep.

I wasn't sure how to solve this conflict. I thought about a scene challenge, but it seems to be my go-to every time the situation becomes a little bit more complicated. There was no reason to not treat it as normal combat, with some modifications. These men are seasoned warriors (Dangerous), but they're Troublesome at best right now. The main problem is that one could wake up and alert the rest.

We Enter the Fray with Shadow (Weak Hit, 6+2 vs. 8, 5). It could have been better, but at least we have the initiative. We follow that with Strike with Iron (Weak Hit, 5+1 vs. 8, 1), and the barely adequate result actually hurts here. We only get Progress to +6 and lose initiative.

He doesn't Clash, though, choosing to warn his friends instead. We Face Danger with Iron, trying to overpower him (Weak Hit, 6+1 vs. 6, 1). We lose 1 Momentum (+5) and still don't have initiative.

Still bleeding out, the man started to scuffle, trying to grip my sword. He slit his hands against its edge for all his efforts. But to my growing frustration, a bearded man lying next to him finally woke up.

"The hell you're doing, Kormak?" He asked, looking around. As he spotted Kormak and me struggling on the floor, he came to a standstill.

"Crap!" He screamed, trying to get his weapon.

This seems like a Clash (Miss, 2+1 vs. 4, 9). Oh hell, no. Burn Momentum! We get a Weak Hit instead. We inflict harm, Pay the Price (the obvious consequence being others waking up). Momentum is now +1, but one of my enemies is now as good as dead (Progress +10). Unfortunately, there are two more.

Knowing that he could quickly kill me if he got his weapon, I stopped grabbing Kormak and jumped at the other man with the sword. I slashed his ribcage, making a nasty gash and sending him sprawling. The third one, however, was already on his legs. He kicked me in the gut so hard that I almost fell.

"You!" He shouted, and I recognized Nekun's voice. He sounded both furious and astonished.

His distraction was all his companion needed to reach for his sword. But I was faster, kicking the weapon out of his reach. With a loud clang, it hit the floor near Kormak, who at this very moment was drawing his last breath.

We Face Danger with Edge (Strong Hit, 5+2 vs. 6, 2), rewarded with +1 to Momentum. Finally having the initiative, we End the Fight with poor Kormak and... you've got to be kidding me, game (Weak Hit, 10 vs. 10, 4). I'll try to figure out the price we can pay for letting a bleeding man die later; for now, let's assume he's gone. Let's mark Progress on the vow.

"No!" Nekun was so frustrated that for a moment, he stopped attacking me. This was what I needed to stab his companion's gut, ending his struggle to stand up.

But this was the one moment the last remaining man needed to get his bearings. Instead of kicking me again, he kicked the hearth, scattering burning wood around the room. Roaring like a wounded bull, he went towards the sword. I tried to point the blade his way to make him stand down, but I was too far away, and he knew it.

We Strike (Weak Hit, 5+1 vs. 3), filling the entire Progress track of the second warrior but losing initiative. Predicting Nekun's action, the Oracle suggests, "Use the terrain to gain an advantage." We Face Danger with Heart (Miss, 4+1 vs. 5, 9) and miss. From now on, he will be treated as an armed enemy, and our Momentum gets reduced to +0.

The burning slivers of wood went off one by one. The room went dark.

But the joke was on him. I was more accustomed to darkness than him. I saw him faster than he saw me.

I went towards him and cut him with such strength that it should split him in two. Instead, I hit his weapon with a loud clang, which fell out of his hands and went through the door opening. A loud splash told me I didn't have to worry about it anymore.

Then I realized my weapon was much lighter than it was. I was only holding the pommel. The blade lied on the floor.

We Face Danger with Wits to locate our last enemy in the darkness (Strong Hit, 5+3 vs. 5, 5, Opportunity). Not only did we gain 1 Momentum (+1), but we also got something else out of it. Asking the Oracle gives us "Assault Strength," and I decide to interpret it as the next attack being so strong that it will disarm the enemy, no matter the result. I reward myself with +2 Momentum (+3).

But then Strike with Iron goes terribly (Miss, 1+1 vs. 3, 9). So terribly, in fact, that I ask the Oracle about the consequence, and it responds: "Something of value is lost or destroyed." What's more valuable in combat than the weapon? Thus, the Momentum goes back to +1. We are defenseless, as is our enemy.

**

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

Health +1, Spirit +0, Supplies +2, Momentum +1 (+10), Bonds +0.5, Experience +1

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 1/10)

Vows:

• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 1/10)
  
• Kill the rest of the Tyrant's men (Dangerous, 6/10)

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

I Killed You! (Blood of Tyrants - Session 7)

The last time we met, we agreed to kill the rest of the warriors who attacked Stilthouse. But to even have a chance to do that, we need to Undertake a Journey. It will be only a Troublesome one: actually finding the stragglers is not our biggest challenge. We make a roll (Weak Hit, 1+3+1 vs. 5, 2). and immediately lose 1 Supply (+2). That could have gone better, but I'd rather not burn Momentum at this point. At least the Journey Progress goes to +3.

After leaving the village, I realized I hadn't eaten anything this day. After speaking to Mira, I planned to have breakfast, but then the Tyrant's men attacked. Besides, every child knows it's risky to eat just before a battle: if you get a gut wound with a belly full, you're sure to perish. I really should have taken care of it afterward, but the issue of the missing crown seemed more critical. And then I learned I was to embark on another journey.

An hour of following the tracks later, I felt weak; my arms were shaking, and my legs felt weak. I sat down and munched through my emergency rations: two fistfuls of dried berries and some meat. However, now I wasn't sure if I had enough to stay full until I met my quarry.

Fortunately, the Tyrant's men decided to travel through one of the most abundant patches of the swamp surrounding Stilthouse. Vegetation was plentiful here and, while it wasn't a season for berries yet, ducks especially loved this place for some reason. Other animals frequented this part of the swamp: martens, fitches, and foxes were common. I had even spotted a moose here once.

It sure would have felt nice to hunt down a moose. They were dangerous, but one could feed the entire circle for many days. Its tough skin could make an excellent armor, antlers made a decent improvised shovelhead, and its bones could serve to make arrowheads in a pinch. However, what didn't feel nice was the perspective of getting back to the village and getting several men to bring the carcass back, then making sure they skin and butcher it correctly. No, a realistic plan involved shooting a duck and not even bothering to pluck and butcher it, just tying the carcass to my belt and moving on.

I squeezed between several raspberry bushes, trying not to get pricked by thorns. I barely avoided stepping into a deceitfully shallow-looking puddle, which would suck my boot in ankle-deep at least. Briefly checked a fallen tree for edible mushrooms feeding on its trunk. Finally, I reached the small lake overgrown by reeds, where I usually heard rustling and an occasional quack.

But I heard no quacking at that moment. In fact, the swamp seemed unnaturally silent. No birds were singing, nothing rustling in the bushes, no crack of a twig that was stepped upon. Only my own breath and a quiet gurgle of some fish in the lake.

Because the Oracle said we're in an Abundant Swamp, this seems like the perfect moment to Resupply. We roll (Miss, 3+3 vs. 7, 7, Complication)—terrible, but... Not today, Satan! We only need to burn this Momentum we were stocking, which is precisely at +7, and we'll change it into a Strong Success with an Opportunity!

Wait a minute. Precisely at +7... I don't Burn Momentum often. Did it need to be equal to the roll or higher? Let's consult the sourcebook: "If both challenge dice are less than your momentum value, you may cancel them both for a strong hit. If you burn momentum when only one of the challenge dice is less than your momentum value, the result of the other die stands—giving you a weak hit."

Oh. All right then.

The water gurgled louder, and I saw large air bubbles touching the surface of the lake. Something dark moved there, too large to be a fish. An orb appeared in the water, yellow and vibrant. They were moving closer and closer.

A giant, flat head emerged from the depth.

Enter the Fray (with Wits) (Weak Hit, 1+3 vs. 2, 8). Yes, it's the wounded basilisk we were seeking with Glain. It's a Formidable foe, not Extreme, as it's missing an eye and can't mesmerize as effectively. Let's at least progress its Vow, as we actually found it!

I jumped away before I even realized what was attacking me. A jaw, large enough to snap my body in half and full of razor-sharp teeth, closed with a loud clack. The beast hissed in frustration, setting its gaze on me.

The basilisk looked like a giant snake with dull yellow and brown skin. Its head was larger than my chest. One yellow eye glistened in weak sunlight; the other was milky white, a horizontal slash cut through its entire length. The scales on the creature's neck were shredded, with an ugly-looking scab underneath. Its long body started to coil, preparing another attack.

But at this point, my body reacted by itself. An arrow hit the creature's neck, only inches from its wound. It made an angry, bull-like scream, mashing the water with its tail.

Strike with Edge (Weak Hit, 1+2 vs. 5, 2). No, we can't afford to lose initiative now. Burn Momentum! Progress +3.

My mind worked faster than ever as I fought for my life the second time that day. I needed to gain distance because fighting a basilisk from close would be suicide. I'd never gain enough ground, seeing how fast that creature was, unless I use its weakness somehow. Its blind left eye couldn't see, so it was evident to me to jump left.

It didn't let me. Its head turned faster than I could maneuver on the muddy ground. I felt a cold shiver across my shoulders. I was going to die there. It was certain.

We try to Secure an Advantage with Shadow (Miss, 1+2 vs. 5, 10), but the dice obviously want us dead. I consult the Oracle to Pay the Price and, it responds that "It is stressful." We lose 1 Stress (0) and 2 Momentum (0). We need to Endure the Stress (6+1 vs. 1, 10), Weak Hit). What's worst, we lose initiative.

Sensing my hesitation, the creature looked into my eyes. I felt my legs getting heavy. Suddenly I felt completely calm. There was no point in fighting. My death was inevitable.

The heaviness spread into my left shoulder. Then the right. Then to the chest and neck.

The beast approached. I no longer could look at anything else, but its yellow right eye.

With the last burst of defiance and strength, I took off my backpack and threw it into basilisk's head. The beast dodged it skillfully, but our eye contact was broken for a brief moment. This was enough.

I think the basilisk would at least try to use its gaze, so perhaps this is the right moment. I Face Danger with Heart (Weak Hit, 5+1 vs. 10, 4). I lose Supply (+1), as it's the one thing I can afford to lose at this point. Still no initiative. I didn't even get any Momentum from that.

That's when I decide to Turn the Tide and Strike with Edge (Weak Hit, 2+2+1 vs. 2, 9). At least not a miss, but less than I need. I immediately lose initiative, but at least get the progress to +5. I'm ending this fight as soon as I get a Strong Hit again because I can't afford to prolong it.

That was the moment where I needed one good shot. Either I'd be able to take out the creature's eye before it reaches me, or I die there. I notched another arrow, said a short prayer to any god that could listen, and waited for the inevitable moment where the basilisk's head stopped moving to calculate the distance before its attack.

I swear it must have guessed my intentions because it moved its head when it heard the bowstring. The arrow meant to hit the pupil in the center of its eye rammed into its corner, only nicking the eyeball and striking the bone. The monster screamed again, louder and higher than before. It thrashed violently, bringing the rest of its body from the water.

I thought it would have given me time for another shot. I barely got enough. The beast charged in my general direction, biting blindly. Its graceful precision was gone. Most likely, the basilisk knew its death was coming and decided to take me with him from this world.

Fuck it. Let's Clash with Edge one more time, then we'll use Iron. Provided that we survive

Strong Hit, 6+2 vs. 3, 6. YES! +1 Harm! Progress goes to +8! We have the initiative!

End the Fight! End it! Strong Hit, 8 vs. 5, 1. Progress the Vow to +6! You're dead, snake!

But I had an opportunity for one more shot, and it was enough.

The arrowhead struck into the dead center of the creature's milky white eye. It went through the eyeball like it was butter. The beast shuddered one more time, then fell, its fanged snout still open.

I killed it. I couldn't believe it, but I killed it. It was dead.

I looked at its teeth, each as long as my forearm. One bite, and it would have been over. It would have gone through my ribcage and my back, then one slight move of its neck would have ripped my upper body apart like it was straw. But it didn't.

I needed to take one of these teeth as a trophy. Otherwise, the circle would never believe  I killed such a monster alone. I reached for my knife, realized that I didn't have it, and wondered where had it gone. Had I put it in the backpack?

I could barely reach it. My legs were shaking. Even thinking was difficult. I had had so much strength only a moment before, and I briefly wondered what happened to it. I fell on my knees, starting to gather the spilled berries, looking for the knife to pry the creature's tooth out.

Something scraped behind my back.

I slowly turned my head.

The basilisk's still bleeding corpse shuddered several times. It shook its head, like a groggy drunk after a feast, then raised it. Its previously limp forked tongue snapped to life, springing from its mouth and disappearing again.

"No..." I said.

I watched in terror as the creature arduously turned back towards the lake. It slithered, its body shaken by convulsions in random moments but otherwise unbothered. It left a trail of thick dark blood.

"No!" I screamed. "Fuck you! You're dead! I killed you!"

I reached for my bow, but my hands were shaking so much that I couldn't notch an arrow.

"Get back here! You've lost! Fair and square!" I cried. I felt like a child who was given a sweet cake, only to have it immediately snatched from their hands and eaten. The giant snake plopped into the water stiffly, making a large wave. Its blind head emerged one more time. And then it was gone.

"Please get back here..." I whispered.

What happened here? We had to Fulfill Our Vow (Miss, 6 vs. 6, 9). We simply didn't have enough progress in doing that safely, as the basilisk appeared prematurely. This is where the dice decided that if they didn't manage to kill us, they could at least rob us of our victory.

The next time we'll have to decide if pursuing the basilisk later is even worth it anymore. It will clear our progress leaving us with two boxes and upgrading it to Formidable. Or we can Forsake Our Vow, getting even more Stress, getting us into negative Momentum and potentially getting us a debility.

That's Ironsworn.

The Half-True Crown (Blood of Tyrants - Session 6)

Although the victory had been ours, no one felt like celebrating. Seven circle members died, including a teenage boy. Five more were wounded. The community now had less than a dozen adults who weren't infirm, injured, or unable to pull their weight. Our best herbalist lay unconscious, blood seeping from her ears.

Having to bury the bodies didn't help the mood. There was barely any dry land near the hamlet to serve as a graveyard. A funeral required a half-hour-long trip with the corpse—of course, if the interred even left a corpse, instead of drowning in the muck or getting killed and eaten by some beast. Now we had to do that six times.

There was very little mourning because such a luxury is reserved for those with time for it. You have to be sure of your own survival to be sad about someone else's death. With so many villagers perished or wounded, the entire community's future was at stake.

That's why no one really was in the mood to be delicate with Morter, who turned out to be still alive. The warrior had fruitlessly tried to stand and run away but had only managed to make a few steps on her ruined knee. One good push ended her little escapade, after which she could only curse, kick and make toothless threats. For a moment, it looked like she would be killed there and now, but no one wanted to have to deal with even one more body. Those that still had some fight in them just kicked her until she stopped defending herself and dragged her to the foundry.

With Glain's help, I managed to clean and stitch my wound, which turned out to be less severe than it looked. I used my share of antiseptic herbs and wouldn't dare ask for more even if the herbalist was conscious. I was already on shaky ground with the circle.

The first thing we need to do is to Heal our wounds, as it doesn't seem like it's a perfect moment to Soujourn (Weak Hit, 5+1 vs. 6, 1). Health +2, Supply +3; the latter is not a problem because we have plenty.

Having dealt with my injuries, I tried to help the others, only to get spurned. Artiga, Maya's sister, could barely stand to look at me. Wylan straight out threatened to slit my throat when I tried to help him bury his wife and child. As I looked impotently as others took the bodies away, Glain put his hand on my shoulder and escorted me away from them.

"Do they really blame me?" I asked as we walked towards his hut.

"You shot their leader in the middle of parlay," he explained. "It had to be done, but some hoped to be able to avoid the fight."

"Even if we surrendered, what would have happened when they figured out we don't have what we seek?"

"What are you talking about?" Glain raised his eyebrows.

"When they caught me, it turned out that dead man wasn't their companion. It was a traitor who stole something valuable. Something precious to the Tyrant, enough that he decided to send those people after him."

"That offer of fealty was a ruse then?"

"I don't think so," I said. "They definitely thought he was going to give it to us. If we swore fealty, we would have been bound to return it."

"But he didn't have anything precious but this byrnie." Glain scratched his chin with the only hand. "You think that's it?"

"I don't think so. It's just a byrnie. It didn't seem different to what they wore."

"We should ask their leader. If she's conscious."

**

Fortunately, she was conscious.

The foundry, as we called it, was a glorified storage shed. After our exile from Thornhall, we had an actual blacksmith, but he was among the first to get ill and die. We helped build a bloomery according to his instructions, but he never got to use it. We tried to make some charcoal and work the iron we found in the bog ourselves, but it turned out to be too difficult.

Having been built on relatively dry ground, the foundry was the perfect place to store the few metal tools we had: mainly shovels, picks, and hatchets, stored neatly around the walls. Morter was sitting on the floor, both hands tied up behind her back. Another rope bound her legs to the anvil, occupying the center of the room. It didn't seem very secure, but it was a temporary arrangement.

She didn't look well. Her face was swollen in a few places, including the left eye and the visibly broken nose. Bloody, dried snot covered her upper lip because no one bothered to clean it. Her wounded knee was wrapped with a dirty rag to keep it from bleeding. At least someone had taken the arrow out, if only not to waste ammunition.

She looked at Mira, Glain, and I then spat.

"Fucking savages," she said. "I should have known talking to you was a waste of time."

"Hopefully not because we have questions," Mira retorted.

"What makes you think I'm interested in answering? Don't pretend you animals are going to spare my life."

"We could make you talk."

"You're welcome to try. I doubt this shithole has someone able to make me talk before I die."

"All right," Glain said. "We won't kill you. If you don't talk."

"Have someone hit your head, old man?" She snorted.

"We'll just leave you in the middle of the swamp. With no weapons, no armor, no food. Not even a knife to put yourself out of your misery. You're welcome to try to return home on your one working leg or hunt for food with your bare hands."

Morter's mocking smile disappeared.

"I can promise you a quick, relatively painless death if you tell us what we need," Mira touched her circlet. "So I swear."

Morter weighed her options.

"All right. Ask."

"What was what you were looking for?"

"You mean you don't know?" Her eyes bugged out.

"Would I ask you that if I knew?"

"But I thought..." She sighed. "A half of a crown."

Glain whistled. Mira got pale. I opened my mouth.

"THAT crown?" I asked. The Tyrant had claimed to possess two halves of the True Crown, a relic from the Old World. It supposedly belonged to the last king of our people, split by an assassin's ax. Finding both halves signified his right to rule the Ironlands. Complete nonsense, but some people bought it.

"How did the Tyrant lose one of the halves?" Mira asked.

Morter averted her eyes like a scolded child.

"He never had it."

"But he showed both in Thornhall! Was it a forgery?"

"No!" Morter shouted. "It was... Well, half of it is authentic, and why wouldn't that be enough? That second part disappeared a long time ago, and no one could reasonably expect to find it. So what if he pulled a little wool over the eyes of those that believe some dumb old prophecies? It was for a good cause!"

"But someone did find it. How?"

"I don't know! No one told me this! I only knew Rhoddri had it and was taking it to you. But he sure as hell didn't have it, and you don't have it, right?"

"I think I would have noticed a half of a golden crown." Glain snorted.

"Where is it then?"

I shrugged.

We Gather Information (Weak Hit, 2+3 vs. 2, 8). Morter knows what she seeks, but she's utterly clueless about where is it. On a Strong Hit, she would at least have a clue where to start. Momentum goes to +5, and we reward ourselves with a tick on our background vow's track.

**

"So his Crown is only Half-True," Mira said with dry amusement. "I wish we had known it back then."

"I wish we had it right now." Glain paced Mira's hut impatiently. "If that didn't turn the people against the Tyrant, nothing would."

"Can't we just tell them?" I suggested.

"It would be the word of an outlaw against the supposed king. But having the authentic piece? A completely different story."

"At least it could make people doubt him," the Overseer added. "But no point talking about this unless you at least have an idea where it could be."

"Could the basilisk take it?" I suggested.

"They don't do that. They're animals, after all. It didn't even nibble the body, so I don't think it swallowed a lump of gold."

"The more I think about it, the more I doubt the basilisk was what killed that Rhoddri," I said. "We just assumed that because it must have gotten wounded somehow."

"You think someone else killed Rhoddri, stole the crown, and then the basilisk came and ate them?"

"Why do we need to involve the basilisk at all?"

"I don't want to discourage you, but we have more urgent problems," Mira said. "Two of them, in fact."

"What do you mean?"

"First thing first, there is a bunch of the Tyrant's men that know how to get here. I really, really don't want them to return home because that means he will send more. Especially that they believe we have their Fake True Crown."

"That would be the True True Crown," I snorted. "The Tyrant has the Fake True one."

"Whatever." Mira shrugged. "The second problem is that the people are pissed off. There was a lot of death today, and someone has to be guilty, I guess."

"But you know what I did was necessary, right?" I asked.

"What I know is irrelevant. They'll come around eventually, but they need to see you solving problems instead of bringing them here. This is where we're coming back to the first problem."

"You want me to kill them."

"Yes."

"You know I got wounded in the fight, right?"

"I know!" Mira exclaimed. "But this problem really needs to get solved, and if I send literally anyone else, Wylan will probably stab you. While you're away, I'll tell them about the crown and beat into their dumb heads that surrendering without it was never an option."

I thought about it for a moment.

"All right. I'll even swear it. On that sword." I said, grabbing Kalidas' weapon.

As everyone's mightily pissed off at us, we need to Test a Bond again (Weak Hit, 6+1 vs. 10, 4). I love this roll because it's pretty symbolic: we did our best, but making everything all right was never an option. We acted without the community's consent, and some people died, which makes the rest understandably angry even though a fight was inevitable in the long run.

Mira is efficient and chooses solutions that solve as many problems as possible. The person everyone currently hates kills the runners and saves the community from being discovered? Great, and she gets time to work on them to be less angry. Qamar dies in progress? Tough luck, but at least she doesn't have to break up inevitable fights.

We make a new vow: Kill the Rest of Tyrant's Men. It's only Dangerous because the stragglers are trained fighters but disheartened, wounded after the fight, and possibly lost in the swamps. We Swear an Iron Vow (Strong Hit, 6+1+1 vs. 4, 1), which couldn't be more straightforward: find them, kill them, get back. Momentum goes to +7, which is a great start.

**

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

Health +2, Spirit +1, Supplies +3, Momentum +7 (+10), Bonds +0.5, Experience +1

Debilities: None

Background Vow: Free Thornhall from the Tyrant's yoke (Epic, 1/10)

Vows:

• Kill the basilisk (Dangerous, 2/10)
  
• Kill the rest of the Tyrant's men (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