Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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baelthazar
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Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Hey everyone! So I started playing this solo RPG Ironsworn. It is a lot of fun, particularly if you view it as a "writing prompt generator." Since some of you are interested in solo RPGs, I am going to share what I have done over the past few days.

In terms of tone, Ironsword is what I am going to lovingly call a "Icelandic/Viking Saga Story Prompt Generator." I suppose many people play in the "theater of the mind," but I am writing this all down because that seems the most natural way to play for me.

Here are the detail points - the way Ironsworn works is you "envision" certain scenes, and then make "moves" (which I write in italics) that give you what happens. You follow up your action with some mechanical changes (stats, supply, stress, health, and momentum) but mostly with a narrative of how the action went There are a few additional mechanics, but it is pretty darn simple. To see if you succeed, you roll a d6 (Action Die or AD) and 2d10 (Challenge dice, CD). If your AD + stat + bonus is higher than both challenge die, you get a strong hit. If it is higher than one CD, you get a weak hit. If it is lower or equal to both, you get a miss. Weak hits succeed, but often add complications.

I am playing with both the core book and the Delve expansion book.

Anyway, here is the story (in progress) of my first character, Cian Whisperwind. I'll update from time to time as I keep playing.
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baelthazar
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Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Character Generation and Prologue

This is the story of Cian Whisperwind.

Cian always knew he was different. Born a twin, the people in his village of Summerhold believed that he and his twin sister, Siobhan, were touched by the old magic. Summerhold, relatively prosperous and situated on the west side of the Havens, was a place steeped in tradition and old lore. The entrance to the mysterious Deep Wilds lie not far to the west, and villagers told tales of Elf sightings, the return of the deep magic, and the dangers of the hidden horrors stalking the night. Cian and Siobhan’s birth was generally viewed as a blessing - the coming of foretold twins who could tap into the long lost magic of the land, bringing protection and power to Summerhold. For years, the two children enjoyed a life filled with attention, preparation, and anticipation.

On their thirteenth birthday, the siblings were roughly awoken in the middle of a dark night. The villagers, adorned in ritual garb and masked, led the twins in solemn procession to the Deep Wilds, carefully and slowly moving inwards with dogged determination. Despite the oppressive shadows, the strange noises, and the growing sense of unease, the twins were lead to a large grove, containing only a ragged cottage and a small pool of crystalline water. It was here that the twins were made apprentices to the Mystic of the Grove.

For two years, the twins were taught in the ways of the mystic. They spoke incantations long lost to man. They bonded with the creatures of the woods. They learned the wild and weirding ways. When they turned fifteen, the mystic took them separately to the crystal pool and bade them to be immersed in the water. Cian went first, and as he was immersed he heard the mystic speak, as if all around him. “Just as the water of the pool mirrors the sun, the secrets of this pool are a mirror reflecting the true nature of your heart. Embrace that nature, accept the power, receive your birthright.” But Cian saw only darkness, the shadowy depths of the pool surrounding him. Rising to the surface, the Mystic smiled, and proceeded to teach him three gifts.

The first was the gift of deception. Cian learned how to take on new personas, pretending to be who he was not to fool those around him. Lies became his currency. He now knew that he could take on different faces and different stories to suit his purposes.

[Aspect 1 - Path: Pretender].
Spoiler:
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His second gift was darkness. The mystic instructed him on the secret rituals needed to pull shadows from the ground and to cloak himself in them. He now knew the shadowy hidden paths and could become nearly invisible, even if he risked being swallowed up in their darkness

[Aspect 2 - Ritual: Shadow Walk]
Spoiler:
Enlarge Image
For his final gift, the mystic took him to the edge of the wood and told him that he would soon bond with a creature, something that best matched his destiny and his soul. For what seemed like hours Cian waited, and not a single bird or beast approached. As night grew darker still, Cian heard it, a soft and gentle scuttling. Seeing nothing, he felt only a slight weight crawl slowly up his arm. Looking down, he saw a giant spider, black as the night and with shining eyes piercing deep into his mind. He could feel the animal’s will, nearly seeing himelf through its eyes. Finally, a single word resonated in his mind, “Calixtus” and Cian now knew that this spider and he were forever intertwined.

[Aspect 3 - Companion: Giant Spider]
Spoiler:
Enlarge Image
[Cian’s Stats - Edge +2, Heart +1, Iron +1, Shadow +3, Wits +2]

Cian returned to the hut and awaited the end of his sister’s trial. When she returned, she was radiant, with a beautiful white hawk perched regally upon her shoulder. “Cian, the mystic told me that my soul reflected the very essence of the sun, that I walk the path of bright day, and will bring light wherever I go. Did you too get such news?” Cian briefly bowed his head with shame, but looking up, said, “Aye Siobhan, the Mystic told me that I was indeed a bringer of light to this world.” This was the first persona that Cian would adopt.

Fifteen years passed and Cian and Siobhan used their skills to strengthen and protect Summerhold. But times grew dire and the serpent of chaos coiled around the land. Warlords rose across the Havens, and each tried to form their own petty kingdoms, aiming to subjugate all others and become the true king. In secret, Cian spied on these men, using subterfuge and guile to thwart those who would threaten his home. It was on one of these missions that he heard of The Tyrant.
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

From yesterday's session (first actual play session):

The Arrival of the Tyrant

The Tyrant started, like many of these warlords, as a simple man with a fanatical warband - consolidating the towns around him into his own fiefdom. But that all changed with his discovery of an artifact from the Old World. No one knew exactly where he found it, or even what it was, but tales began to be told that the Tyrant was impervious to normal steel, invincible on the battlefield, and untouchable by mortal harm. Bolstered by his newfound power, the Tyrant expanded his kingdom more, cruelly subjugating the towns that submitted and decimating the towns that resisted. It was this threat that led Cian to go on his mission to learn more.

His mission had largely been a failure, getting few leads on the extent and nature of the Tyrant’s protections nor even of the Tyrant’s plans or recent conquests. Disheartened, he returned home, only to find that - while he sought out the Tyrant, the Tyrant had sought out Summerhold. As he arrived, he saw the home of the town’s chief in flames, and the inhabitants of the town prostrate before a great armored and masked man. Hiding, to avoid detection, Cian heard the words of the Tyrant as he surveyed his new conquest. “This town belongs to me - another subject to my will. Should you agree and submit, I will take my due and leave, expecting you to abide by my iron law and pay regular fealty. The only loss you will have is your chief - as I abide no pretenders to my authority. But should you resist, this town will pay, in blood, dearly.” The townsfolk agreed, submission was preferable to death. Cian watched as Chief Lorgan was summarily executed and the Tyrant’s men looted the town’s stores. “I asked only for one thing more in sacrifice to my will. I will take the town’s prized heroine - Siobhan - to join my warband and fight at my side. As long as she remains loyal to me - this town will be safely under my protection.”

Cian’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Siobhan led away by the Tyrant’s troops. It took all his will to not leap out of hiding and attempt to cut him down - but he knew such an action would be futile and lead only to his death. At that moment he grasped the blade of his dagger so tightly that is drew blood and he swore an iron vow - “No matter the time, no matter the cost - I will rescue my sister and see her free.” [Background vow: Rescue my sister from the Tyrant - Extreme Difficulty] For what seemed like an eternity he hid, until the Tyrant and his men rode away, back their stronghold. As they left, Cian wept as he caught one last glimpse of his sister, led away, captive, on horseback.

As the morning sun rose, Cian made his way down the path to the Mystic of the Grove. The way was treacherous, but his will was strong, and - although he had not been there for fifteen years - he followed the old trails back to the mystic’s cottage. Older and even more frail and weak than before, the mystic greeting Cian, somehow knowing the pain in his heart. Cian spared no time and asked the Mystic directly, “by what means can the Tyrant be stopped? How can I face a man who can shrug off death itself?” [Gather Information, +1 due to Bond: AD 2 +2 Wits +1 for bond = 5, CD 1, 8 - Weak Hit]

The Mystic’s face was grim. “Were that I could give you an easier road to follow, my son. The answer to your query is simple, but the path to your goal is not. Your lineage is blessed, and your ancestors have always been touched by the wild magic of the woods. In a dark and twisted locale, in the heart of the Deep Wilds, lies a hidden inheritance. A blade, forged of star-metal and wielded by your ancestors, was lost long ago in pitched battle with horrors beyond your ken. Even now, the spirit of your heroic ancestor inhabits that blade, waiting for his bloodline to rescue him. If the Tyrant is to be wounded, it will be by that ancient blade.”

The mystic sighed, “ But the blade is deeply buried. The land around it is dangerous and dark. Your journey will be fraught with peril and the depths of the wood will challenge you at every turn. Would that this were not so, that I had the blade here to give you. Alas, that was not to be. I pray you do not end up like your progenitor, caught in that blade as he quested just as you quest now.” [Information gathered, but added complication that the kin-blade will require a Delve]

Cian sharply rebuked the mystic, “Pray not for an easier path. Should I succeed against the Tyrant, I will need to steel myself further. This is but a gentle step in my ascent.” Again, touching the shining metal of his dagger, Cian spoke, “I swear on this iron, I will overcome this dark abode and retrieve the kin-blade of my forefathers!” [Swear an Iron Vow: AD 3 +1 Heart = 5, CD 1 and 5 - Weak Hit - Inciting Vow: “Recover my family’s ancestral Kin-Blade” - Dangerous Difficulty]. Despite his outward confidence, inwardly, Cian was troubled. He knew almost nothing of where the blade could be and the Deep Wilds are large and dangerous. In one final breath, before slowly returning to the cottage, the Mystic said, “Seek ye the elves.” Cian shuddered, knowing full well that dealings with elves were unpredictable at best, and deadly at worst.
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Blackhawk
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by Blackhawk »

Watching with interest. I see that the core rules are free. What is not included in there that is needed?
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by Smoove_B »

I don't believe you need anything else. There's a reference guide, an expansion to go on dungeon crawls and the cards, but those are all "nice to have" after you figure out if the core game is what you're looking for.

I'm following along with interest. I still don't "get" these types of games, but I do like the idea.
Maybe next year, maybe no go
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Smoove_B wrote: Fri Nov 12, 2021 3:50 pm I don't believe you need anything else. There's a reference guide, an expansion to go on dungeon crawls and the cards, but those are all "nice to have" after you figure out if the core game is what you're looking for.

I'm following along with interest. I still don't "get" these types of games, but I do like the idea.
I got the printed books because I love RPGs books. But it took DriveThru about 3-4 weeks to get them to me, so I had already read the core rules on my iPad before getting the printed book. I would ABSOLUTELY spring for the Lodestar, if you are getting anything, because it is a great little reference guide. The cards are nice, but - in retrospect - I think I would have been better off printing out the aspects as I needed them. The Delve cards are pretty cool, however. But you can jump right in at any time for free.
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Cian and the Elves

At that, Cian set off upon his journey, knowing that he would need to seek out the help of the elves to lead him to the kin-blade’s place of rest. (Undertake a Journey - AD 1 +2 Wits = 3, CD 3 and 4 - Miss - Pay the Price). But as the Mystic predicted, the journey began fraught with peril and hardship. Brambles blocked the way, even on what had once been well trod paths. Thick mists obscured hidden sinkholes and rough terrain. Wild howling made sleep nearly impossible. At the height of exhaustion, Cian stumbled down rough terrain, tumbling into a ravine and cracking his arm harshly against the jagged rocks. (-2 Health, Endure Harm, AD 6 + 3 Health = 9, CD 1,2 - Strong Hit, -1 Momentum for +1 Health) Cian collapsed from pain and exhaustion, falling into a deep slumber. The rest did him good, and when he awoke, he found that there was a sweet spring trickling down the ravine’s edge. Refreshed by the clear water and the rest, Cian bandaged his arm and set out, albeit more carefully, on his journey. (Undertake a Journey - AD 4 +2 Wits = 6, CD 1,2 - Strong Hit)

Traveling slowly and more carefully took time, and more importantly took resources [-1 supply, +1 momentum]. But at the close of his third day of travels, Cian came upon a small clearing illuminated by strange glittering lights. Approaching carefully and staying at a distance, Cian could see spindly forms dancing around a fire, whose color shifted oddly from warm reds and yellows, to cool blues and purples. Cian waited, until one of the forms stood close enough to the light to show him enough detail. Long hair framed a face hidden by an elaborately carved wooden mask. Elves. He had found his goal. But now, he had the harder task of convincing the elves to aid him in his quest.

Cian gently stroked the wiry hairs on Calixtus’s back. “I need your help again, old friend. Show me what they fear, that I might leverage it for help.” Calixtus rubbed his chelicerae together, making his signature “purring” response. Softly, Calixtus crawled into the trees surrounding the clearing, focusing his mirror-like eyes on what appeared to be the leader of the elven gathering. (Face Danger - AD 1 +3 Shadow = 4, CD 3, 8 - Weak hit, but negative impact involves Calixtus - rolled 1 on AD). Calixtus observed the elves silently but, having experience solely from observing humans, underestimated their keen elven senses. On the periphery of the group, one of the elves spotted the spider’s glossy fur, barely glinting in the scintillating firelight. He launched a quick rock from a sling, battering one of Calixtus’s legs. The spider, lurching in pain, scuttled back to Cian. (-1 health, Companion Endure Harm - AD 6 +3 Health = 9, CD 5,7 - Strong hit - +1 health). Thankfully, as Cian tended to the spider, he found that the hit was but superficial, painful but with no lasting harm. “Thank the darkness, dear one,” Cian said looking into the spider’s shining eyes, “now show me what you saw…” (Gather Information, AD 3 +2 Wits = 5, CD 2, 6 (re-roll 6 with Spider power), 1 - Strong Hit).

The mirrored surfaces of the spider’s eyes began to display a scene. Deep in dark woods, not far from here, lay a Corrupted Tanglewood. Cian had no way to know, but distinctly felt that this is where his family’s kin-blade would be found. But something made of even more powerful magic stirred, something evil and twisted, zealously guarding a grotto sacred to the elves. The image of this beast shifted and changed, pulsing and amorphous. Cian knew what it was the elves feared - a Nightspawn - a beast formed of corrupted magic and flesh, keeping them from a location crucial to their magic and faith.

He now knew what he must do. Reaching into his pack, he produced a set of paints and trinkets. Methodically he applied the paints to his face, drawing the markings easily recognizable in the human world as a soldier of fortune, a monster hunter. He tied beast bones around his waist, and adorned his blade with a fake talisman of protection. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that these are human symbols, and hoped that the elves too recognize this disguise. Steeling himself, he cautiously entered the clearing, hands raised in a gesture of goodwill. (Pretender Aspect, AD 2 +3 Shadow = 5, AD 3, 5 - Weak Hit).

The elves raised their bows and spears immediately at Cian’s appearance. Speaking slowly and with an adopted lilt, Cian greeted the group. “Oy, fair firstfolk. Me name’s Morter. I bear ye no ill will. I saw yon fire and, in all me travels, I’ve yet to be acquainted with your fine people. Please, indulge me a moment, I could use the rest and I’ve sore need for your help.”

Speaking in an oddly melodic tone with a heavily inflected accent, the leader of the elves responded in a soft whisper like the wind, “These woods are our lands human. What causes you to trespass so in places forbidden to your kind?”

“Ah, I should’ve known you might not recognize me gear. Me trade is that of a hunter of beasts. I travel the lands, looking to make right what’er has gone wrong in our world. I seek out unnatural things, undead, horrors, things of the void, and I show them ‘er end. I heard tell that things such as this haunt these deep woods. Mayhaps ye can help me find me quarry?”

“Nothing exists in these woods, newcomer, that our people cannot handle. Leave this place and return not.”

“I’m right sorry ye feel that way. I’ve come on legend of a twisted Nightspawn, which word says that plagues this woods. But if ye truly wants me gone, I won’t tread where I’m not wanted.”

At the mention of the Nightspawn, the elves steal worried, yet hopeful glances at one another. They slowly began to relax the tension in the bows, and the leader stepped one step closer to Cian.

“Hold Morter. It appears our desires are aligned. We too have set out to deal with a Nightspawn, festering deep in a once sacred part of our lands. In what way could you proffer aid to ones such as us?”

Cian smiled as he lied, “Fine firstfolk, If ye would but lead me through these twisting woods to that place, I could challenge the beast for ye. Despite my rough look, I have experience besting foes far worse than this simple challenge.” (Compel - AD 2 +3 Shadow, +1 Pretender = 6, CD 1, 10 - Weak Hit).

“That is good, Ironlander, we accept your offer for aid. But we know your ways and traditions. Before we lead you to that place - swear on the iron that your kind holds dear that you will end this beast’s life in exchange for guidance.”

Inwardly Cian grimaced. He had not expected the elves to know human practices so well. A vow made on iron is sacred. It looks like what began as a lie, would now become his word. Laying a hand on his dagger, he swore, for the third time in a month, “Should ye lead me to this fell tanglewood, I will end the life of the Nightspawn plaguing your people.” (Swear an Iron Vow, AD 2 + 1 Heart + 1 Pretender, CD 1, 3 - Strong Hit). While he started the night not a monster hunter, it was clear that now, he was. If he had any hope of retrieving his kin-blade, he would first have to kill this Nightspawn.
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tylertoo
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by tylertoo »

Thank you for doing this. Going to follow. I have both the core game and Delve in hardcover but haven't done a lot with it. I also kickstarted the SF version, Starforged.

Also, to all those interested, this is a great browser based tracker:
https://nboughton.uk/apps/ironsworn-campaign/#/
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Today's Story Drop:

The Sacred Grove of Dotani

The next morning, Cian awoke with the elven leader, Arakhi, standing silently above his bedroll. “Morter, we must make our way to corrupted wood. Your fold once called it Death’s Shade, but to our people, it is the Sacred Glade of Dotani. With your help, perhaps it will be sacred once again.” Cian arose, gathered his things, and with the elves leading the way, progressed deeper into the ominous forest. (Undertake a Journey, AD 6 + 2 Wits = 8, CD 9,6 - Weak Hit). The path was longer than Cian expected, and the speed at which the elves traveled made Cian struggle. He tripped over branches and limbs they dodged with ease. He drank thirstily as the elves continued their brisk pace. By the time they reached the gnarled and foreboding entrance to Dotani’s Glade, Cian’s pack was lightened by fewer rations and several empty water skins. He only hoped his supplies would last as he explored further.

The entrance to the Sacred Glade of Dotani resembled a wooden mockery of a castle gate. Thick branches and trunks intertwined with brambles and vines to form a massive archway, stained with thick, oozing, blood-like sap. At least Cian hoped it was sap. Arakhi motioned curtly to the entrance, “Your oath is a bond, human. You have sealed yourself to us. Remember that, should you falter.” The elven band turned to leave, but Arakhi glanced back, the leaf-fractured sunlight casting shadows on his mask that almost looked like a smile. “Should you succeed, however, you will always have friends in the elven lands.”

Cian cautiously entered the Glade, the thorn-crowned gate leading into a long passage of increasingly conjoined undergrowth. “Stealth,” he thought, “wouldn’t want to be caught unaware.” As if answering his musing, a strange guttural moan echoed from deep inside the woods. “Yes… definitely stealth.” (Delve the Depths, AD 5 + 3 Shadow = 8, CD 1, 10 - Weak Hit - roll on table - 64 - mark progress - New area - rolled 100 - “transition to new domain” - Ruins)

It soon became clear why the entrance and early pathways so resembled the gateway to a keep. As Cian traversed the rooted halls of vines and limbs, wood slowly gave way to intricately carved walls, delicate columns, and elaborate broken masonry. “Elven ruins,” Cian said, awestruck, “this is no mere tanglewood. This was once a great elven hold.” Trees wrapped violently around the crumbling architecture, fighting a century long battle to erase these elven traces. Eventually, he came to another entrance, a massive doorway, adorned with carvings of leaves and vines, eroded, and now matched by their real forest counterparts. (Delve the Depths, AD 1 + 3 Shadow = 4, CD 7, 9 - Miss - Reveal a Danger - 54 - Encounter a hostile denizen - 96 - Blighthound)

Stepping into the main hall of the ruins, Cian felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck. A strong wrongness pervaded the area, the light looked skewed, the air hung thick, and an acrid smell not unlike that of fresh blood assailed his nose. The stones themselves looked stained red, as if the site of a long past battle. From behind a stone pillar, Cian heard an ominous, phlegm-filled growl, and two burning red eyes peered from the darkness. (Consult the Oracle, Does the Blighthound see me - Likley - rolled 11 - it does not) Loping on sinuous legs that looked to be made from the shadows themselves, a blighthound entered the center of the ruined room, its nose sniffing the air for prey. Cian knew he would have to overcome the beast if he wanted to get deeper into the Glade.

Cian reached down, grasping at the myriad shadows cast by the sun hitting the canopy above. Pulling those shadows upward, they formed together as a thin cloak, which he wrapped around his body, hiding him from view. (Shadow-Walk, AD 6 + 3 Shadow = 9, CD 1, 9 - Weak Hit) He could feel the shadows covering him like a fine mist, but their warm embrace became tantalizing and, perhaps due to the presence of the blighthound, he thought he could hear familiar voices whispering in the dark (Face Danger, AD 1 + 3 Shadow = 4, CD, 7, 6 - Burning +8 momentum to cancel CD less than 8 - Miss turns to Strong Hit) The voices became almost too tantalizing, and Cian felt himself move closer to the blighthound as if called by a siren. Realizing the danger and steeling himself, he ducked behind a pillar just as the beast turned its horned head towards him, gore-flecked saliva dripping from its fangs. The shadows quieted as Cian melded deeper into the dark.

Cian crept forward. Hidden by the veil of darkness, he drew his dagger and prepared to strike the first blow. (Enter the Fray, AD 5 + 3 Shadow = 8, CD 1, 10 - use Shadow Walk to reroll 10 - get 5 - Strong Hit - +2 momentum and initiative) Positioning himself behind the beast, he swiftly struck forward to plunge the dagger into the beast’s neck. (Strike - AD 4 + 1 iron = 5, CD 10, 7 - Miss - Pay the Price, foe gets initiative) Misjudging his blow, Cian fell forward, his cloak of shadows swiftly evaporating back into the forest floor. Prostrate on the ground, the blighthound’s face mere inches away, Cian smelled its fetid breath and fear welled up deep within him. Panic struck and he jumped back, losing his chance to make a decisive hit. (Endure Stress - 3, AD 2 + 2 spirit, CD, 5,5 - Miss - -1 momentum).

The blighthound charged, giving Cian barely enough time to roll out of the way. Looking at the darkness on the other side of the room, Cian attempted to leap over the fallen pillars and rush down the corridor before the blighthound could catch him. (Face Danger, AD 4 + 2 Edge = 6, CD 1, 4 - Strong Hit) Cian heard the hound crash into the pillar behind him as he barreled down the hall. He knew that he would have to move quickly, lest the hound catch up and finish the job. (Delve the Depths, AD 2 + 2 Edge, CD 3, 8 - Weak Hit - Roll on table - 53 - Mark Progress) For what seemed like hours, Cian ran, hearing the sickening and wet panting of the beast. He barely noticed the ruined portals, walls, and shadow-filled rooms as he twisted from corridor to corridor. Finally, the beast relented, and Cian found himself alone, with enough time to explore his surroundings.

In that moment of peace, Cian’s eyes focused on the oddly-shaped room which enveloped him. A perfect circle, the room’s many alcoves were filled with wax from candles lit long ago. The sky was blocked here by a mostly intact dome. Within the dome’s faded paint, figures danced, perhaps representations of elven gods or protective spirits. The ground below the dome, however, was in complete opposition to the joyous scene above. Bones and long-dried blood littered the floor. Odd twisted bits of… perhaps organs… were scattered in odd patterns. A terrible ritual went on here. Cian wondered to himself, was this the site of the fell magic that corrupted this place? If so, could he learn something about the Nightspawn he sought? (Gather Information, AD 2 + 2 Wits = 4, CD 3,3 - Strong Hit)

Cian searched the site of the ritual, finding little but odd bits of metal, the refuse of sacrifices, and the burned wax of candles. Just as he was about to give up he felt a strange tug, and the shadows began to whisper. Calixtus, crawling forth from his home in Cian’s pack, perched silently on one of the alcoves. A scene played out in Calixtus’s eyes as the shadows’ voices grew more clear. The beast was, indeed, summoned here, but the sacred power still ingrained in these elvish ruins vexes it. While the beast’s power is vast, likely more than Cian can muster alone, there are other ways to defeat the beast, hidden allies or holy paths that will weaken its anchor to this world. (Consulted the Oracle - it said “Avoid Battle”) Progressing more slowly and stealthily, Cian continued on his path. (Delve the Depths, AD 5 + 3 Shadow = 8, CD 1, 7 - Strong Hit - Mark Progress and Find an Opportunity - I get to choose, so I chose “You Encounter a denizen who might support you.”)
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Nessana, Elven Seer

The ruins opened up again, to a large room that was clearly once a temple to long forgotten gods. The walls, once adorned with finery, now lay bare. The ceiling contained large holes, and chunks of painted masonry were scattered across the smooth stone floor. Sunlight poured in from those holes, indicating a break in the twisted foliage making up the tanglewood surrounding the ruins. The air almost felt serene, and Cian began to let down his guard. Just then, Cian saw her, a cloaked figure standing by a brilliantly colored tree pushing up from the floor cracks at the center of the room.

Although their forms were unfamiliar to Cian, it was clear that this was a female elf, standing - almost completely still - while contemplating the tree. By elven standards, she was beautiful, her long lithe arms and legs - too long by human measure - draped in impressive gossamer cloth. Her face was, like all elves, covered in a magnificent wooden mask, finer, however, than the masks he saw from the earlier group. In her hand was a staff, not carved or hewn, but cultivated so that its bark made fine spirals and the end wrapped naturally over a massive, uncut gemstone. Despite her imperious appearance, Cian felt oddly at calm, and approached her, uncharacteristically, without feeling the need to adopt a new persona.

“Hail and peace, friend! Have no fear - I am called Cian Whisperwind, and I am here on a mission from your brethren. Should you know where I can find the nightspawn haunting these ruins, or perhaps proffer aid in my quest to defeat it, I would be forever in your debt.” (Compel, AD 4 + 1 Heart + 1 Previous Move Success = 6, CD 3, 4, Strong Hit)

The elf spoke, low and slowly, with a musical rhythm to her word, “You need not tell me your name, nor your intent, Cian - for your coming was foretold. I am Nessana, a seer or the first folk you know as the elves. I have been anxiously awaiting your arrival, for it is here that our destines first weave together.”

“You have me at a loss, milady, but any aid given is aid eagerly accepted. The nightspawn we face is a terrifying beast indeed, but I am sure that - together - we can bring it low.”

“Let us travel onward, Cian. There is much in these ruins that are known to me and that I would show you. As you say, defeating the beast will take far more than mere force or violence.” Nessana gestured to a dark space hidden in a nearby alcove, and Cian smiled, “I guess I’ll lead the way, milady.” (Delve the Depths, AD 1 + 3 Stealth = 4, CD 3, 9 - Weak Hit - Roll on Table - 64 - Mark Progress)

Cian and Nessana continued down the crumbling chambers and ruined hallways, the detritus of a fallen age unidentifiable after countless centuries of rot and decay. The brief reprieve allowed Cian to converse with Nessana, and he asked what she knew of these ruins. “I know the elves are a long-lived people, were you here when this place was in its glory?” (Consult the Oracle, Likely Outcome - Roll 22 - She was not).

Nessana let out a small sigh that, in the melodic tones of the elves, sounded like a short song. “I understand humans have trouble gauging our age. Alas, Cian, I am far younger than you might believe. I have heard tales of this place, passed down by my fore-bearers, but I was born long after it fell into ruin. I was brought here, like you, to serve a higher purpose in the here and now.”

“A pity,” Cian responded, “although I am heartened that I am not the only one of us that is lost in these ruins.” (Delve the Depths, AD 6 + 3 Stealth = 9, CD 4, 9 - Strong Hit -Mark Progress and Find and Opportunity - Locate an interesting or helpful object)

The winding hallways and ruined chambers eventually gave way to a massive rift which split the eastern side of the end of the hall. Moss grew around the rift, and trickles of rust-colored water made blood-like veins on each side of the crack. Big enough to enter, Cian pushed his way through the encrusted opening, his torchlight revealing a massive change in the the patterns and shape of the ruins. Coming from the monotony of the corridors and chambers, the new room seemed almost functional. Other than the layers of stone dust and webs, Cian might have believed that the room had just been inhabited. Oddly carved coffers lined the room’s periphery and a large rectangular crypt rose from a center dais. Glowing gems bathed the room in a soft greenish light, offering enough illumination to see clearly.

Cian moved towards the crypt, but before he could push off the heavy lid, Nessana’s hand gently touched his. Her long fingers, which looked so soft and delicate, felt strong and calloused, almost wooden. “Hold Cian. This is a tomb of one of my people. Allow me to properly and respectfully open it, lest we disturb the inhabitant.” Closing her eyes, Nessana murmured what must have been a prayer - another song-like melody - as her hands gently displaced the coffin’s lid.

Within the tomb, the body of an elven man - looking almost completely untouched by decay - lay in regal glory. He was wrapped in a winding sheet, his face still covered by the mask he wore in life. His hands clasped a simple wooden amulet, decorated only by runic carvings and a small glinting sapphire. Nessana drew in a quick breath at the sight of the amulet, “Cian, do not let the rustic form of this treasure fool you. What we have found here will be of great help in our quest. This is a holy symbol dedicated to our elvish principles of order and peace - the very antithesis to the chaotic origins of the nightspawn we hunt. It will serve as a powerful weapon against our quarry.” Gently, Nessana reached into the tomb and took the amulet, reciting the same musical prayer as she returned the coffin lid to its place. (Mark Progress on Kill Nightspawn quest) (Delve the Depths, AD 3 + 3 Stealth, CD 4,5 - Strong Hit - Mark Progress and Find and Opportunity - This area provides an opportunity to scavenge, forage, or hunt)

Cian and Nessana left the tomb from its original entrance, down a stately catacomb carved with scenes from the life of the tomb’s forgotten inhabitant. Twisting down other passages, they eventually came upon a large room, filled with flat trays hanging from the ceiling by slender chains. Impressively-colored fungus grew up from the dirt on the trays, and a gentle flow of fresh water cascaded from tray to tray, keeping the fungus moist and the dirt fertile. Nessana stretched her hands out in wonder as she began to softly examine the mushrooms and lichens. “We are very fortunate. This must have once been a larder of sorts, providing sustenance for the adherents making pilgrimage to the tomb. Many of these mushrooms are edible, even for humans.” Cian smiled, his pack light from his travels and greatly in need of fresh water and rations. (Make Camp, AD 3 + 3 supply + 1 bonus success above = 7, CD 3, 7 - Weak Hit - Choose a benefit - +1 Spirit)

The mushrooms proved too delicate for use as rations, but they were surprisingly delicious, and as Cian ate, he felt more at peace. He and Nessana passed the time, learning more about one another, resting, and enjoying this brief respite from the crushing gloom of the ruins. Cian told Nessana about his sister and his quest to save her. Nessana shared with Cian the expectations that her tribe placed upon her as seer. For a second they gazed at one another in silence, a strong connection formed based upon their mutual tribulations. In too short of a time, they again had to continue upon their way. (Delve the Depths, AD 3 + 3 Stealth = 6, CD 3,7 - Weak Hit - Roll on Table (43) - Mark Progress)

The larder gave way to more ruined hallways and empty chambers. But Cian could feel something growing, a pressure, an “itching” in the back of his skull, a strange shiver that would not quite go away. A presence, wrong and evil, fouled this part of the ruins. It could only be the Nightspawn. (Locate your objective, Progress move, Roll CD - compare to Progress in Delve (+7) - Rolled CD 2, 6 - Strong Hit - Located objective and the situation favors you)

Turning the corner, Nessana and Cian heard an odd cry, not unlike the bray of some beast of burden mixed with that of a monstrous crow. Ducking into the shadows, they heard also the slap of wet flesh upon dry stone. Gazing from his hiding place, Cian viewed the beast. It was a little larger than a man, but shaped like a hideous amalgamation of a gorilla or similar hunched mammal. It’s head, however, bore a closer resemblance to a great vulture, bald and with a massive crushing beak. Instead of legs and arms, masses of tentacles sprouted from its limbs, holding it aloft as it moved. The most disquieting thing, however, were the strange glowing runes carved all over its glistening and pulsating body. As Cian watched, the runes glowed stronger, and the creature began to hover, moving swiftly to the top of a rock on its own blasphemous magic. (Hover/Fly, Creates Illusions, Intelligent)
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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The Fight Against the Nightspawn

Cian signaled to Nessana, “Distract the Nightspawn as I sneak to strike the beast.” She nodded, jumping forth from her hiding place while brandishing the holy symbol they found at the tomb. Slowly and sonorously reciting her elven tongue, the symbol began to glow with a strange light, piercing the beast’s eyes and causing it to recoil. (Enter the Fray, AD 6 + 3 Stealth, + 1 bonus + 1 bonus =11, CD 3, 9 - Strong Hit - Cian has initiative)

Blinded by the holy symbol, the beast failed to notice Cian sneaking slowly to the rock. In its efforts to defend itself, illusory images appeared around the room - mirrored copies of the beast, strange masses of unholy filth, and other things best left unseen. But the light from the holy symbol made these illusions look as if they were simple farces, and Cian drew his dagger to strike at the true beast’s back. (Strike, AD 4 + 1 Iron, CD 3,4 - Strong Hit + 1 harm and keep initiative = 3 harm)

The blade struck true and deep and the creature brayed its awful cry in pain. Cian, heartened by his successful blow, raised the dagger to strike a second time. As he did, the light from the holy symbol dimmed, and the creature started to regain its senses, turning its scarred and vulturine beak towards him. (Strike, AD 6 + 1 Iron, CD 9,9 - Burn Momentum + 10, reset to +2, cancel CD under 10, Miss to Strong Hit + 1 harm and keep initiative = 3 harm)

At first, Cian’s mind reeled as the Nightspawn appeared to multiply before his very eyes. What had once been one abomination became three surrounding him as he was perched on the precarious rock. The creature hovered, drawing back its beak to make a strike. But just before the beast followed through on its attack, Cian noticed a wavering in two of the images, almost imperceptible, as if the wind were rustling a small leaf on a tiny tree. Leaping from the rock, Cian connected with the beast again, driving the dagger deep into one of its rolling and hideous eyes. The Nightspawn ceased hovering, and both the creature and Cian crashed to the floor. Rolling from the momentum of the fall, Cian made a quick feint and lept backwards, drawing forth his throwing knife from his side belt. (Secure Advantage, AD 1 + 3 Stealth = 4, CD 7, 8 - Miss) In a split decision, Cian threw the knife at where he believed the creature to stand, but the knife harmlessly passed through one of the many illusions, clattering across the room. Cian gripped his dagger tighter. He had hoped to end this fight safer and at range, but it appeared he would need to get up close to the creature once more. The Nightspawn cried out again, but this time in an odd, braying mockery of a victory cry. Mirror images rushed towards Cian, and he raised his dagger in defense. (Clash, AD 2 + 1 Iron = 3, CD 4,5 - Miss)

While Cian tried to hold off the strikes by the creature’s mighty beak, the swarm of images confused him and he swung his dagger around blindly. Powerful blows struck at his arms and torso, and tentacles grasped him roughly, holding him as the beak crushed down upon him. (Endure Harm, -3 Health, AD 2 + 1 Health, CD 5,4 - Miss - take the health and -1 momentum) Pain shot through his body and the massive beak clamped down, ripping clothing and flesh alike. Feeling lost, Cian steeled himself to face his end, when suddenly, the shining light of the holy symbol flared again. Nessana, standing beside him, pushed the holy symbol deep into the creature’s flesh, disrupting the illusions for long enough to allow Cian to make a desperate strike. (Turn the Tide, Get Initiative, +1 to next move) (Strike, AD 6 + 1 Iron + 1 Bonus = 8, CD 1, 7 - Strong Hit + 1 Harm)

Blood running down his wounded arm, Cian swung his blade at the creature’s writhing neck. Striking true, the blade slammed into its ropey muscles, horrid ichor spurting wildly across the ruined floor. The beast shuddered, and Cian silently prayed that this would be its last gasp. (End the Fight - Progress Move - Roll CD, Compare to Progress (9) - CD 6,5 - Strong Hit) Letting loose one last malevolent bray, the Nightspawn collapsed upon the floor, its body twitching malignly. (Fulfill Your Vow - Kill the Nightspawn - Progress Move, Roll CD, Compare to Vow Progress (9), CD 1,2 - Strong Hit - Mark Experience = 3)

As the beast lay vanquished upon the ground, Cian sank to his knees, holding aloft his dagger, stained with the sticky blood and ooze of the Nightspawn. “A vow made is a vow fulfilled,” he cried, then lowered the dagger gently to the floor. Watching with quiet contemplation, Nessana waited until Cian finished his ritual before pressing the holy symbol deeply into the Nightspawn’s dead forehead. A hiss escaped the body, then strangely colored and wrongly dancing flames erupted from the carcass, devouring it and the holy symbol, leaving behind nothing by clean white ash. “It is done Cian, you have fulfilled our prophecy and cleansed this place.” (Forge a Bond, AD 3 + 1 Heart + 1 Vow Fulfilled = 5, CD 3, 8 - Weak Hit)

“The prophecy, however, is not done with you quite yet, my friend. You and I share a fate, one that was decided in the stars long ago. Before I pledge my bond to you, you must do the same for me. Swear to me that, when the time presents itself, you will journey to my home at Vidarna’s Wake, deeper yet in these Deep Wilds, close to the Ragged Coast. There, you will aid my settlement and, once completed, we will be bound together as one.”

Cian, weak from exhaustion and his wounds, looked at the elvish woman. While she was not without her charms, her form was alien and strange. Her luminous eyes peered solemnly from a face hidden in a mask. Her arms, legs, and fingers were long and spindly, giving her a tree-like build. Her gray-toned skin was delicate and felt too like wood or dried leaves. But something drew him to her. Something that he could not explain or fully understand. Grasping his blade once more, he swore, “By this blade, I will find and help your settlement, sealing our bond together forever.” (Swear an Iron Vow, AD 6 + 1 Heart + 1 Bond = 8, CD 3, 7 - Strong Hit)

“You deserve the truth - someone in my village is responsible for the creation of this beast. Once you arrive, we will root out this hidden evil… this dark secret… and bring the one who did this to justice.”

“Cian, I can also give you one last boon, before we temporarily part ways. The Kin-Blade you seek lies within the very next hall, dropped by your ancestor as he, too, attempted to defeat this Nightspawn. Finding this blade, however, will only be part of your trials. You must convince it of your worthiness, coax it to follow your will. It will not be an easy feat, but you have made it this far.

“Until next we meet again, my fated. I will await you at Vidarna’s Wake.”

Cian smiled, “Until we meet again, fated one.” As Nessana left, Cian, once again, wondered exactly what had he gotten himself into.
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Just an FYI for anyone who might be reading this (and hopefully enjoying it). I use Scrivener (novel writing software) to keep a record of my adventure/write this up. I compiled it into a manuscript and I have, so far, clocked in 32 pages.

It looks like I am having fun (at the very least, I appear to be obsessed).
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tylertoo
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by tylertoo »

I am trying to keep up reading this, and appreciate you doing this. It inspires me to do the same.

I own both physical books and did one attempt at Ironsworn months ago, handwriting in a notebook. I lost steam and never finished, but I itch to get back to it. My world was not as well thought out as yours.

I am, coincidentally, using Scrivener for my fiction, and currently I'm doing NaNoWriMo so I'm in Scrivener every day. Do you have a particular template for doing Ironsworn in Scrivener? I'd love to see how you have it formatted.
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

tylertoo wrote: Sat Nov 20, 2021 10:10 am I am trying to keep up reading this, and appreciate you doing this. It inspires me to do the same.

I own both physical books and did one attempt at Ironsworn months ago, handwriting in a notebook. I lost steam and never finished, but I itch to get back to it. My world was not as well thought out as yours.

I am, coincidentally, using Scrivener for my fiction, and currently I'm doing NaNoWriMo so I'm in Scrivener every day. Do you have a particular template for doing Ironsworn in Scrivener? I'd love to see how you have it formatted.
Thanks!

I really had a lot of broad stroke ideas before I started, but I think you can certainly play with any level of detail you want. You could actually think about this as an outline generator and then go back and flesh out the story more once you have gotten to the end of a "chapter." I plan on finishing this up at some point and then doing one of two things - either start a new adventure as Siobhan (Cian's sister) or another ancillary character or make a new adventure in the same timeframe/space. Then I might use Scrivener to "weave" the adventures together into a narrative that is coherent but bounces from character to character. Then, at the end of it all - I might bring the characters together for a finale. That would be pretty darn close to a novel.

Another fun thing you could try is get some "story prompt generators" - like The Story Engine. I haven't used mine for Ironsworn yet, but they are super cool and could certainly take the Oracle to the next level. Once the new Word Engine set comes out (I kickstarted it), I suspect I will be using that pretty liberally in Ironsworn to generate locations (the hardest part, IMHO). Here is the website: https://storyenginedeck.myshopify.com/

As for Scrivener, I just used the normal Novel format. Then I make main story chunks Folders and each 1500-1800 word "scene" a new "text." So it looks something like:
The Journey in the Deep Wilds
  • Cian and the Elves
  • The Sacred Grove of Dotani
  • Nessana, Elven Seer
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tylertoo
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by tylertoo »

That all sounds great. Thanks for explaining!
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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The Kin-Blade

As Nessana deftly vanished into the depths of the ruins, Cian found himself feeling an odd longing, missing her quiet, insightful company and melodic voice. It wasn’t a conventional attraction, but their mental and… spiritual… connection had been undeniable. For the first time since he began his quest, he felt there was a bright spot in the future, when he would see her again at her beleaguered settlement. The feeling faded quickly, as he realized how challenging it would be to engender trust with her fellow elves. Thankfully, he could hide behind his personas, knowing that deception and intrigue would be an integral part of that quest.

His mind swiftly turned back to the task at hand and he pushed forward into the ruins. He was shocked, however, as he entered the next room and the anticipation of his victorious recovery of the kin-blade melted into shock and dread. The ruins opened up into a dark cavern, what had clearly been the lair of the hideous beast. The floor was carpeted thickly with bones, some short and stout, belonging to human corpses, others long and thin, like branches, from fallen elves. Most were splintered and cracked, sheared by the strong beak of the Nightspawn. Studded amongst the bones were weapons of all types, hundreds of daggers, swords, axes, and spears jutted out from the charnel-house floor. Cian’s heart sank - how would he know his kin-blade amongst all this refuse? (Gather Information, AD 5 + 2 Wits = 7, CD 3, 8 - Weak Hit - Ask the Oracle - 69 (Advance), 95 (Warning).

Calixtus began to chitter in his pack, as a cold wind pricked up the hairs on the back of Cian’s neck. Hearing a rush of air behind him, Cian turned just in time to see a glowing, translucent blade whistle swiftly towards his back. Pivoting quickly, Cian attempted to dodge the ghostly weapon. (Face Danger, AD 1 + 2 Edge = 3, CD 2, 8 - Weak Hit) The blade sang as Cian moved the majority of his body from its path, but the tip of the sword managed to nick his forearm, as he stretched it out to block the blade’s descent. The sword passed through his body, not cutting, but filling his arm with bone-chilling cold. His arm, numb and weak from the frigid effects of the blade, felt as if his very spirit had been drawn out by the cut. (Endure Stress -1, AD 3 + 2 Spirit = 5, CD 6,7 - Miss - -1 Momentum)

Stepping back, Cian now saw who wielded the strangely translucent blade. A figure, clad in ancient Ironlander armor, hovered above the skulls and bones. Like his blade, the figure itself was ghostly and translucent, as if made of a strangely glowing mist, save for black holes where its eyes should be. In a sneering and bone-chilling voice, it spoke, “You are a sorry excuse for a descendant, seeker. Aided by an elf, nearly dispatched by the Nightspawn, sneaking like a thief in the night. I expect better for one who would wield my blade.”

“You know me so well then, that you would judge me unworthy before hearing of my feats?”

“I don’t need to know you. I don’t even know your name. But the weakness of my descendants is apparent from the dilution in your blood. It is barely strong enough for me to manifest before you.”

Cian smiled, the specter had revealed its hand too readily. It knew nothing of him, and would thus be unable to judge the lies told by one of Cian’s personas against Cian’s true exploits. (Pretender, AD 5 + 3 Shadow = 8, CD 6, 1 - Strong Hit) Cian spoke boldly, “I’ll not broker any slander, be it from a living man or a long-dead remnant of my ancestor. My name is Cian, slayer of men, warrior of the Havens, known as High Marshall of Summerhold. Men bow before my might. Others flock to join my warband. You question the tactics I used against the Nightspawn? Who but a fool would run headlong against an agent of chaos as such? You criticize my choice of an ally? What ill-prepared man would refuse aid from the venerable and powerful elves? And, unless I am mistaken, it appears you fared even worse against the Nightspawn, or else your spirit would not be trapped within a blade in this cavern.” (Secure an Advantage, AD 3 + 3 Shadow + 2 Pretender = 8, CD 10, 9 - Miss - Pay the Price)

Cian misjudged the final insult, angering the specter rather than cowing it into acceptance. Growling a hollow war cry, the specter rushed again at Cian brandishing his ghostly sword. (Face Danger, AD 6 + 2 Edge, CD 1, 3 - Strong Hit) At the last moment, Cian dodged the enraged spirit, feeling its soul-sucking chill as it rushed wildly past him. Knowing that the spirit would try again, Cian had to quickly guess what would truly resonate with the spirit, both to calm it and make it listen to reason. Having been lost in this cavern for centuries, Cian guessed that the spirit feared the oblivion of being forgotten by time - both the ghost himself and the ghost’s bloodline. Acting on impulse Cian beseeched the spirit to hold (Consult the Orace - “Does the specter fear that he and his bloodline will be forgotten?” - Likely - Yes).

“Hold spirit! I came not to fight you but to honor you with my deeds! Perhaps you do not find my feats here impressive, but it is for that reason I sought you out! I wish to learn from you, to gain your trust and skill, to have you guide me towards greater heights than the heroes of old. Your acts are legendary, and I was wrong to disparage you in anger. Hold, that we may speak! Honor me with your name and tales of how you became a man with honor and courage to rival that of the Gods!” (Compel, AD 2 + 2 Wits + 2 Pretender = 6, CD 4, 10 - Weak Hit)

The spirit, sword still raised, slowed its advance. “You presume that I do not see through your lies. But your desire to wield my blade is genuine, I can see that. In fact, your need for my aid shines like a beacon through the morass of deceit and falsity surrounding you. You have a sacred quest, one that requires me to complete. Fine… but first you must prove yourself beyond what mere words can achieve.”

The spirit slowly floated above one of the many swords, embedded deeply in the pile of bones and filth. “If you truly wish to make a bond with me, you must first swear an oath. My name was once Delos, and I lived in the Haven village of Ravenrock. Before I made my quest here, I was the greatest warrior Ravenrock had seen. There were many that were jealous of me, and I was often challenged by Toran, the village smith. They were, for the most, friendly challenges but I always knew his enmity ran deeper.

The last time we dueled, I could see the anger and jealousy in his eyes as I bested him yet again. But when I embarked upon this journey, he offered me a fine shield to protect me from the Nightspawn, a peace offering acknowledging my superior skill and might. I should have seen through this ruse. While fighting the spawn, the shield - too brittle and corrupted by impure iron - shattered upon first hit. It was this treachery that laid me low, otherwise I would have prevailed against the beast. As I lay, dying, I swore that my blade would taste his blood one last time. It was this oath that forged the kin-blade, binding my spirit to it for eternity.

Swear to me Cian, that you will travel to Ravenrock, find one of Toran’s ancestors, and bathe my blade in their blood. Once you do this, we will seal our bond and I will be yours.”

Inwardly, Cian cursed. Yet another task. Yet another delay from seeing his sister free and safe. But there was no other way. He took the blade of his dagger in hand, and upon that iron swore, “I will bathe your blade in the blood of one of Toran’s ancestors.” (Swear an Iron Vow, AD 4 + 1 Heart = 5, CD 2,8 - Weak Hit) The spirit saluted, retreating back into a now glowing blade. Cian retrieved the sword, glowing from the spirit’s energy, but clearly inert, rusted, and unimpressive. Cian prayed that fulfilling the vow would return the blade to its glory. But other than the name of a settlement, Cian had little to go on. He could only hope that the settlement still stood after all these centuries and, if it did, one of Toran’s ancestors could be found there. Weary and disheartened, Cian made his way out of the foul elven ruins. As he did, however, he noticed that the once heavy gloom had begun to abate, and the once corrupted flora began to look refreshed and alive, no longer held captive by the fetid power of the evil Nightspawn. (Escape the Depths, AD 3 + 3 Shadow = 6, CD 3, 7 - Weak Hit - A Denizen Plots their Revenge)

Keeping to the shadows, Cian emerged from the gate-like entrance to the ruins. Distracted as he made his way out of the Deep Wilds, Cian did not hear the unearthly howling calling from the dark passageways of Dotani’s Glade. Following on his heels, having caught his scent, the Blighthound raged towards the entrance. It’s dark eyes were fixed on the path ahead. It had only one focus - to finish the hunt.
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tylertoo
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by tylertoo »

baelthazar wrote: Mon Nov 22, 2021 9:59 pm Following on his heels, having caught his scent, the Blighthound raged towards the entrance. It’s dark eyes were fixed on the path ahead. It had only one focus - to finish the hunt.
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Here is a little Holiday reading for you:

Finding Ravenrock

The journey out of the Deep Wilds was uneventful, and Cian found himself back on the well-worn merchant paths. His experiences lately had taught him many things about his personas, how to leverage them to better get what he wanted, particularly when approaching groups and communities. As he traveled, he practiced his grift, created new disguises, and worked on false motives, accents, and histories. (Advance, Spend 2 XP to improve an aspect - Pretender - added ability to use + Shadow when I Sojourn at a community with a false identity) (Undertake a Journey - Troublesome - AD 6 + 2 Wits = 8, CD 5,7 - Strong Hit)

After a few days of fairly easy travel down the merchant paths, Cian soon had a chance to put his skills to the test. Circling around a tall hill, Cian found a settlement tucked in the valley. The settlement, Redhall, was known for its impressive cedar longhouse, stained red with carmine dye made from crushed beetles. As he approached the town, he pulled his cloak over his heard, adorned his body with a variety of fake charms and small bric-a-brac, and adopted a hunched, limping gait. Eyes fell suspiciously upon him as he entered the town square, calling out “Get yer charms, luck and love! Get yer charms, fertility and prosperity! Let not the evil eye befall ye! Charms for sale!” (Pretender - Adopt a false identity - AD 4 + 3 Shadow = 7, CD 6,9 - Weak Hit)

Several townsfolk came forward, curious to meet the new peddler claiming to have magical charms. In particular the young and the superstitious flocked around him, asking about his wares. The more stalwart and traditional stayed back, continuing to eye Cian with suspicion. “While I be happy to accept ye payment, dear ones, I come asking more for shelter and rest. As ye can see, me travels have been hard and the road rough. Fell bandits tried to set upon me, and were it not for me special charms, I surely would be dead on the road yon.” (Sojourn, AD 6 + 3 Shadow + 1 Pretender = 10, CD 5, 10 - Weak Hit)

Those fooled by his disguise took pity upon him, to the great skepticism of the village’s elders. Finally, a young man and his wife agreed to have Cian stay at their hut for several days, offering him food and rest in exchange for charms to make their home safe and the wife fertile. Cian traded them some worthless charms for their generosity, but repaid them equally in good spirits, entertaining tales, and pleasant company. The food was meager, but hearty, and Cian felt better by the time he was ready to depart from the town. (+2 Health) As Cian trekked back down the merchant paths, he wished his hosts a genuine blessing, even if they were gullible and overly naive. (Undertake a Journey - AD 4 + 2 Wits = 6, CD 2,7 - Weak Hit: -1 supply) (Consult the Oracle - “Arrive Community - Survival”)

The weather on the merchant road worsened and the road curved upward - out of Redhall’s valley and up into the rocky hills. Cian spent several days huddled under overhangs or tucked into cave-like crevices, his cloak pulled tightly against him to protect against freezing rain and driving winds. Part of his ascent led him through a quiet cedar forest, the crisp air making a muffled hum as it passed though the soft needles of the trees. Snow fell softly, adding to the hush and blanketing the area in a gentle white blanket. Chilled, but moved by the natural beauty, Cian spotted a brilliant red bird, perched upon a cedar branch, blue berries clutched in its beak. As the bird flew upward, disturbed by his passing, he noticed a pillar of smoke rising slowly from the forest. Hoping to find a nearby camp or settlement, he pressed off the path, further into the imposing cedar trees.

Dusk fell as Cian continued towards the smoke. Eventually, though the trees a soft red light filtered, dancing the distinctive dance of a campfire. Slowing his progress, Cian saw what appeared to be a large and rag-tag gathering, huddled in makeshift tents and lean-tos. The less fortunate lay on the cold hard ground, what little they had spread around them. It was clear that these were refugees, surviving, barely, on the bounty of the woods. They looked depleted and weary, but Cian remained cautious. Desperation makes monsters of men, and this group weighed heavy with desperation.

Carefully, Cian sent Calixtus to assess the situation. He focused the spider on a tall woman stoking the campfire. She was clad in threadbare, but once fine, clothing. Her air was one of command and concern. Perhaps she had been the community’s leader, beaten low by circumstance. At any rate, surely her fears would be those shared by the group, and Calixtus stared deeply at her, peering down beyond her surface appearance and into her heart. (Face Danger, AD 3 + 3 Shadow = 6, CD 5, 8 - Weak Hit - -1 Momentum). Calixtus returned, and his glassy eyes revealed to Cian a truth that lay, like a persistent itch, in the back of Cian’s head - these people were refugees displaced by the brutal rule of the Tyrant. For a moment, his mind flashed back to Summerhold, and he lost his breath as he wondered if his own people huddled like this on some forgotten moor, barely holding on, with hungry children and forlorn eyes, unsure of what awaited and fearful of what pursued. Like Cian, this woman’s true fears were that the Tyrant would never be stopped - crushing all before him - subjecting the land to a harsh and joyless subjugation. Blinking back tears, Cian prepared himself to greet these wayward survivors and pushed into the clearing.

“Well met friends. Be not alarmed, we share the same sorry fate. From the looks of your condition, your village too was brought down by the Tyrant.” Cian spat as he said the word, “May whatever Gods survive curse him and may he be scourged with chains of iron.” This was no mere curse, such a statement was considered - by the more religious or superstitious - to be one of the strongest bits of old magic. Saying such marks you clearly as an enemy, so much so that no liar nor spy would dare speak it, lest it come true. The refugees eyed Cian with suspicion, but their glances were weary and filled with despair, and Cian felt that even if they had mistrusted him, none would have had the volition to rise and oppose him. “Listen friends, I need to reach a settlement to warn them of the Tyrant’s arrival. I am loath to tax you unduly, but your aid could save hundreds a similar fate. Have any of you heard of Ravenrock?” (Gather Information, AD 2 + 2 Wits = 4, CD 4, 10 - Reroll AD 2, CD 10 with Calixtus’s Power - AD 5 + 2 Wits = 7, CD 4, 6 - Strong Hit).

The woman Cian presumed to be the leader step forward. “You need not harry my people further. I am Dagmar, once overseer to these townspeople, now their shepherd in this wilderness. I know of Ravenrock. It lies to the northwest, farther along the mountain merchant path and up towards the peak. There, past the higher trees, the village sits, perched upon the rock face. If they are in danger, there is no hope for any of us, as they are well defended and have a supply of iron weapons without parallel.”

Cian thanked Dagmar for her help and quickly took his leave. While it saddened him to withdraw without finding a way to help these beleaguered souls, he knew his best recourse would be to reactivate the kin-blade so that it would find the Tyrant’s heart - preventing more death and devastation from infecting the land. (Undertake a Journey - AD 3 + 2 Wits = 5, CD 7,9 - Miss - the Blighthound returns)
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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Hunted

The sun dipped low while Cian made his way through the woods, leaving the huddled refugees behind him. Snowfall added to the hush of the cedar forest, but Cian found the silence to be oddly deafening. Why did no birds call during the night? Where were the soft hoots of passing owls, catching their prey in the moonlight? Where were the occasional howls of wolves and other wild dogs, their packs traveling from one den to the next? He tried to shake off his disquiet, settling into an impromptu camp, with the merchant trail just out of sight.

He rested under a large fir tree, its shed needles providing a soft cover and its canopy shielding him from the snow. Just before drifting into a light sleep, he felt a shudder that rattled him alert. That feeling of wrongness, the air warping and pulling, an unmistakable scent of copper and metal. Not metal. Blood. He gripped his blade just in time to hear a familiar phlegm-filled growl. The Blighthound had found him. (Enter the Fray, Formidable - Ambushed - AD 2 + 2 Wits = 4, CD 5, 8 - Burn +7 Momentum to Cancel 5, - Weak Hit - Take Initiative)

The beast rushed forward, jaws snapping and horns lowered. Cian jumped out of the way, but as he did, he grabbed a handful of the fir needles and soft dirt beneath him. Just as the Blighthound’s jaws missed clamping down, Cian threw the needles and dirt at the hound’s hideous face. (Secure an Advantage, AD 6 + 3 Shadow = 9, CD 7,7 MATCH - Narrative Twist - Strong Hit - Consult the Oracle - Combat Action - Destroy Something) The needles flew true, striking the hound directly in the eyes. Distracted, the hound skidded into the tree, its head flailing from the irritation of dirt and needles.

In that moment, the lower branches of the tree gouged deeply into the hound’s already hurt eyes. The hound roared as dark blood poured from its wounded face. Angered and damaged, the hound sniffed roughly, blinded and attempting to find its prey. (1 damage to hound) Cian took this chance to strike the hound from behind. (Strike, AD 5 + 1 Iron, +1 Secure Advantage Bonus = 7, CD 3, 9 - Weak Hit - 2 dmg, Hound gets Initiative). The dagger raked the hound’s flesh, causing it to roar again in pain. Despite its blindness, Cian’s proximity alerted it to his presence, and the hound prepared again to charge. Cian reacted quickly, throwing his cloak aside while ducking behind the nearest tree. (Face Danger, AD 3 + 3 Shadow = 6, CD 5, 9 - Weak Hit - Success in taking initiative, but -1 supply).

The ruse worked, and the cloak’s scent drew the Blighthound’s attention. The hound pounced on the cloak with rage-filled ferocity, tearing the woolen cloth into shreds. Cian grimaced, feeling the wind’s chill and knowing that there would be cold days and nights ahead. But first, he had to ensure their would be any days ahead and the price of a cloak was small if it meant his survival. He jumped out again from behind the tree, striking at the hound’s exposed hindquarters. (Strike, AD 5 + 1 Iron = 6, CD 4,4 - MATCH - Narrative Twist - Strong Hit - Consult the Oracle - Combat Action - Leverage the advantage of a weapon or ability - 3 dmg + 2 momentum for match)

The dagger struck swiftly, tearing at the tendons on the Blighthound’s leg. Again the Blighthound yelped and was stunned enough for Cian to pull the weapon forth for another strike. The dagger’s light weight and sharp blade made it ideal for striking again, and Cian aimed once more for the creatures exposed side (Strike - AD 1 + 1 Iron = 2, CD 3, 3 - MATCH - Burn +4 momentum to cancel 3s - Strong Hit - Consult the Oracle - Combat Action - Prepare an Action - 3 dmg + 1 to spirit). At first, it seemed that the dagger had faltered, glancing off the beast’s hide harmlessly. But before drawing back the blade, Cian twisted his wrist, using the inertia of his strike to rake the sharp side of the dagger upwards into the beast’s stomach. Warm ichor rushed over his hand as the blade hit whatever horrible mass served as its internal organs. It collapsed, haggard and bleeding, upon the snowy ground, its dark blood making unholy patterns upon the forest floor.

Emboldened by the beast’s fall, Cian screamed in victory. For the first time in months, he felt the strong thrill of power at overcoming his foe. “You believed you could hunt ME! You did not understand! I am not the prey! I AM THE HUNTER!” He roared as he plunged the dagger downward, towards the Nightspawn’s heart (End the Fight, Progress +9, CD 8,10 - Weak Hit). The blade sank deep into the Nightspawn’s chest, piercing its cruel heart. As its life ended, it loosed a fearsome cry, one that shook the very trees and earth around its fallen body. For a moment, Cian stood, his ears ringing, when the noise abruptly ended, plunging the world into a strange, ringing, silence. Then, distinct but in the distance, a second cry called out. Cian was not sure how he knew, but he could tell - the Nightspawn had a mate. A mate who now cried out for vengeance (Consequence for Weak Hit - Others won’t forget: You are marked for vengeance).

Cian sank to the ground, exhausted. Sleep overtook him quickly, despite the air’s chill. When he rose in the morning, nothing was left of the Blighthound’s carcass, save a greasy black stain marring the pristine snow-covered ground. Cian knew that it would be years, if ever again, before vegetation would grow on that spot. He spent a last few moments tightening his pack and partaking of a small breakfast of hardtack and air-chilled water, before continuing on his way. (Undertake a Journey, AD 6 + 2 Wits = 8, CD 6, 7 - Strong Hit).

Making his way up the mountain trail was arduous, but he made good time. Along the path he was able to find winter berries, acrid and bitter but filling. The pure snow made for clean drinking water, helping him to travel without further stressing his depleted supplies. Soon, he found what he believed was the crossroads to Ravenrock. He looked down the narrow trail, barely big enough for one cart, and watched as the trail wound precariously further up, higher into the mountains and along the jagged rocks. (Reach Your Destination - Progress + 9, CD 6, 4 - Strong Hit - Make a Move and get +1).

Cian followed the path, and within a few hours of his ascent, viewed the village of Ravenrock. The village was aptly named, for it was perched, as if nesting on the mountainside, on a large jet black outcropping which resembled a giant stone raven head. Cian could hear the distinctive sound of hammers or pickaxes ringing as they smashed into rock. He had been told the town was known for its iron goods, particularly its weapons, and the low dark smoke rising from several chimneys indicated the presence of forges. Hopefully one of these was run by a descendant of Toran, the object of his quest. (Mark Progess - Vow to Reach Ravenrock)

As he stood on the trail he, pulled a red, wide-brimmed hat from his pack. It was festooned with a gaudy feather and was matched by a red vest. Cian quickly donned these clothes, then drew out a small container, filled with congealed oil. Taking a dab of oil in his fingertips, he styled his mustache and formed his beard into a triangular point. “Yes, this is a perfect town to be visited by Kenrick, the swordsman,” he thought, as he confidently strode down the path. (Pretender, AD 3 + 3 Shadow + 1 bonus = 7, CD 1, 10 - Weak Hit - +1 moves using false identity)
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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I think there's a sci-fi version of this too - Starforged
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

IceBear wrote:I think there's a sci-fi version of this too - Starforged
It is still in late-backed crowdfunding. I am absolutely going all in on it!
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Things are gonna get real.

Sojourn in Ravenrock

Kenrick had always been flamboyant. Sporting a feathered cap, he put a dramatic flair into everything he did. Unlike Cian, Kenrick was quick to smile, bowed when he saw ladies of any age, called out a hearty “good day” to passing men, and practiced shadow swordplay with children. His laugh was infectious, and his demeanor always cheerful. In many ways, Kenrick was the emotional outlet that Cian never let himself have.

As he entered Ravenrock, Cian, in the guise of Kenrick, immediately noticed that the townsfolk were at a high state of alert. He was greeted pleasantly, but the greeting was subdued, as if people’s attention were focused on other matters. Merchants were scarce, but the ones that were there loaded large carts with fine iron armaments. Shields, swords, and axes of fine quality changed hands and heavy crates waited to be borne away to distant conflicts. Despite the chaos, the Tyrant’s conquests were good for Ravenrock’s economy, even if it clearly stressed the populace. Acting as Kenrick, Cian decided to strike up conversation with the weaponsmiths, looking for shelter and to spend several days getting to know the people before tracking his quarry. (Sojourn, AD 5 + 3 Shadow + 1 Pretender = 9, CD 8,8 MATCH - Strong Hit - Choose 2 and positive narrative twist - Provision and Plan - +2 supply and +2 momentum)

Knowing that Kenrick could not possibly be around so many swords without displaying his own blade, Cian drew the kin-blade from its makeshift sheath and loudly began to question the smithies gathered in the market. “I have this blade - once fine - that is in dire need of repair. It is made of old metal, strong and true, but centuries of neglect have harmed it. Does anyone here have the skill to aid me?” Even though the kin-blade was rusted and dulled, its former beauty was apparent. The hilt was inlaid with faded patterns and the blade’s metal was almost bluish, with strange swirls that appeared when hit by the sun. The merchants looked on, curiously, and a few came to inspect the blade. But whether from lack of skill or a healthy suspicion of foreigners, none of the smiths offered to help repair the blade. Many, whispered to one another, just out of Cian’s earshot, sharing some secret that they were not willing to divulge.

Exasperated, Cian continued to ask around. Just as he thought his efforts would be for naught, a voice called from behind - young and with a veneer of overconfidence to hide what must have been trepidation, “Nobody’s going to touch that sword, you know that right?”

Cian turned. Behind him stood a youth, no more than sixteen, face and arms smeared in soot. The teen had short, dusty blond hair, and stood taller than Cian on gangling arms and legs. Despite their slight and lanky build, ropey muscles indicated a life of hard work, and the large hammer they leaned upon was one often used in forging. The teen gestured to the sword. “You’re clearly a foreigner and that sword is one of our ancient artifacts. It was made in this town. Luckily, I’m neither superstitious nor one to pass up an opportunity to work on such a fine piece. Why don’t you come to my shop and we can discuss it over some food.”

“Thank you… ummm… kind smith. I’m Kenrick, known as the Flourish of Highmont, the Blade of Woodwall, and the…” The teen cut him off.

“Sure thing, sir. Name’s Elli. My shop is this way.”

Having gotten a better look, Cian saw the teen had fine, high cheek bones under the soot. Ice-blue eyes peered out from under the swoop of short golden hair. The teen’s clothes were an odd mix of smithing attire, but Cian saw the smith’s apron covered a traditional, albeit dirty, dress worn by Ironlander women in the northern Havens. It was not uncommon to see Ironlander women be smithies, but it was uncommon to see one so young ply her trade amongst the elder smiths. Cian was not sure what to make of her eagerness to help him, but followed her to her shop. As they were leaving the market, however, they were blocked by one of the older, grizzled, iron workers.

“You’ve not got the skill for that sword, Brittle-shard. If you know what’s good for both of you - don’t let her touch that and leave town. She ain’t even fully trained before her old man died.”

Elli glared, “Even half trained by my father, I’m twice the smith you are, you blind old goat. Mind your own forge and keep you hammer out of mine.”

Cian and Elli passed the old man, heading into a disorganized, but well stocked, workshop. “Elli, why did that man call you Brittle-shard? Is that some sort of insult or nickname?”

Elli sighed, “Sins of the father. Or in this case fathers far past. Long ago, one of my ancestors, either through negligence, desperation, or just bad luck, got a load of bad iron. He made all sort of weapons and shields with it. Many of them broke in battle, leading to the deaths of some notable men and women. Ever since, no matter how hard my family works or how good we smith, they call us by that name.” She glanced again at the kin-blade in Cian’s hand, “You know that is star metal, right? Forged from iron that came burning from the sky, sent by the gods? Maybe, just maybe, if I can help you repair that sword, they’ll call me something else.

Cian couldn’t believe his luck. He had stumbled upon an ancestor of Toran, without even trying. But his happy surprise quickly drained. This was a lass of not even sixteen. No parents shared the shop, she was clearly an orphan, trying to make her way in a cruel world. He could not just slay her to satisfy a grudge she had nothing to do with. No, this would require a new plan.

Days went by as Cian restocked his supplies and allowed Elli to study the sword. At nights they talked about life - he made up Kenrick’s exploits, she shared a sad story of a mother lost to illness and a father, scraping by and attempting to repair his family’s reputation, who died trapped when searching for the best iron ore in a local mine. Cian decided that he needed to first gain Elli’s trust, getting her to instruct him how to improve the sword. He knew the kin-blade would have to be happy with him to accept a more creative solution than murdering Toran’s ancestor. To make the sword happy, he would need to shed his own sweat and blood to bring it back to its glory. He asked her for lessons and hoped that - despite her desire to make a name for herself - she would let him help work the sword. (Compel, AD 5 + 1 Heart + 1 Pretender = 7, CD 5, 10 = Weak Hit)

“You’re a swordsman, right?” Elli seemed both hopeful, but a little annoyed at being asked to share the glory of repairing the sword. “Because what I need, more than proof that I can do this, is proof that my work is strong and leads to victory in battle.”

“Aye, lass. I am a swordsman.” Cian was not sure he liked where this conversation was leading.

She grinned. “Here is my plan. Once we have the blade completed, I want you to use it. It has to be public. We have a thug in town, roughs up the merchants, extorts money to provide ‘protection,’ picks on the younglings. He goes by Seamus. If someone, like yourself, were to beat him in a duel with a special star metal artifact, repaired by my hand, well - that sure would be proof my work is good, right? Would you swear to do this? Swear and we work on this together!”

Cian sighed. Of course. He laid his hand on the kin-blade. “I swear to duel Seamus with the sword.” With any luck, he might win. (Swear an Iron Vow, Troublesome difficulty, AD 4 + 1 Heart + 1 Pretender = 6, CD 9, 10, Miss - new complication and -2 momentum - upgrade difficulty to Dangerous)

“Now that you swore, on sacred iron, there is probably one last thing I should have told you.” Elli looked sheepishly at the ground. “Seamus, ummm… he… might be… the village overseer’s son. And his gang is less a group of thugs and more… umm… the town militia.”

Cian started to get angry and glared at Elli. He could see that her bashful reaction was almost hiding the pride at getting one over on him beaming from her eyes. For the first time in months, his anger melted away. Instead, he could only laugh.
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

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Reforging the Kin-Blade

Weeks passed as Cian, still in the guise of Kenrick, and Elli worked on the sword. The days were long, spent toiling over the hot forge. They melted gold to inlay into the hilt and pommel. Some days were fully spent just smelting iron, ensuring the highest purity and folding in small measured amounts of wrought iron to increase the metal’s strength. It tested everything Cian knew, his might, skill, and resolve. (Face Danger, AD 6 + 2 Wits = 8, CD 3, 8 = Weak Hit - Endure Harm (1 harm) - AD 3 + 3 Health = 6, CD 1, 3 - Strong Hit - +1 momentum).

Despite mental exhaustion and physical pain, Cian pushed through. Sparks burned his skin. Iron shavings dug into fingers and under nails. Soot clouded his lungs. But Elli proved to be an excellent teacher and Cian remembered the lessons in iron working taught to him by his uncle long ago. They made an excellent team. As the days passed the sword began to regain, bit by bit, its former glory.

During the short nights, Cian and Elli became closer, sharing in the kinship that comes from hard work. In many ways, Elli reminded Cian of his sister - headstrong, determined, and driven by an inner light. But Elli had her own fire. Siobhan was reserved, while Elli’s temper ran as hot as the forge she worked. Siobhan guarded her emotions, rarely revealing them. Elli wore her feelings like a badge, showing the world her true self. Siobhan was a dreamer, never truly giving out her motives and plans. Elli could barely keep a secret, over-sharing intimate details in stories and narrating her thoughts constantly. Cian knew, in so many ways, Elli had the potential to be great. Her talent was natural and her heart was genuine. Day after day, Cian’s act as Kenrick began to wane, until he could no longer bear his deception. He had to tell her, but do so in a way that might help his cause. (Secure Advantage, AD 6 + 3 Shadow, + 1 Pretender = 10, CD 10, 9 - Weak Hit - +1 momentum)

One night, as they looked over their work, sharing a dark loaf of dense rye bread, Cian lowered his hat and touched Elli gently on the arm. “Elli, I have something that I need to tell you.” Concern filled her eyes and she sputtered, “Look, I know I’m not perfect at my trade. I’m doing my best! The sword will be good I…”

Cian cut her short. “It isn’t that. I couldn’t hope for a better partner than you. You have taught me so much and we’ve come so far. No… this is about me. The real me. Here… take up your sword, let’s practice fighting.”

Elli gasped. “How can I possibly overcome YOU! Your skill is legendary! You are…”

Again Cian cut in, “Just do it.”

Elli grabbed a nearby sword, while Cian drew his long dagger. By the light of the forge, they sparred, weapons glinting, sending shining reflections like fairies around the workshop. (Face Danger, AD 3 + 1 Iron, CD 3, 3 - MATCH, - Strong Hit - +1 momentum - make a move at +1 bonus) They clashed for some time, Elli holding her own, despite her lack of experience and training. “Stop holding back,” Elli cried, growing more and more angry. “Stop holding back!” The blades clashed again. “STOP HOLDING BACK!” In a fit of rage, Elli slammed her sword into Cian’s hand, his blade dropping to the ground. In her face was a realization. This was no famous swordsman. “Who are you? Who are you really?”

“My name is Cian Whisperwind. Long ago, my ancestors were from this town. My kin fought alongside your kin, dueled like we do now. One of my ancestors lost his life due to the faulty iron of your forbearer. We both want the same thing - to end an age old grudge.” Cian took a pause, watching Elli’s confusion.

“You knew that this blade was special,” Cian gestured to the kin-blade by the fire, “but you only knew half of it. My ancestor’s spirit resides in this blade. He hungers for the blood of your bloodline. But he won’t have it, at least not without your consent. We were brought together for a purpose. It’s time we end this stain on our families. It’s time we bring peace.” (Forge a Bond, AD 2 + 1 Heart + 1 bonus = 4, CD 1, 9 - Weak Hit).

Elli sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “LIAR! Deceitful wretch! I have nothing… No one! My parents are dead. My town has no respect for me. I trusted you! Now I have no idea who you even ARE! And once you get what you want, you’ll be gone again! Leave town. Leaving me all alone again!”

Cian too, fell on his knees, tears falling. “I know. This is my way. All my life, I’ve lived like a leaf on the wind. No attachments, save one. My sister. The Tyrant has her now. I need this sword to slay him. I never intended to hurt you. You were just a means to an end. But now I see, I’m no better than him. He conquers land and I conquer souls - leaving just as much chaos in my wake.”

Elli was suddenly silent. Jerking her head up she stared at Cian with fierce determination. “No. You don’t get to just go. You want my help, your kin-blade needs my blood - you have to pay for it. Stay. Teach me. And when the time comes to leave… take me with you. There is nothing for me here.”

“You don’t know the dangers. The path I lead is treacherous beyond measure.”

“I don’t care. How could it be more treacherous than your treachery? Promise me. Be my mentor. Let me help you. Together, we can beat the Tyrant.”

His head was swimming. He could feel his nerves fraying, from the stress of the fight, the emotional release of his honesty, and now this young woman’s pressing need to start her own journey, just as he did so many years ago at the mystic’s hut. Could he be a teacher to her like the mystic was for him? Could his darkness amplify her light? He did not know. But Elli seemed to know. Her conviction shone at him like a beacon.

“I promise. I’ll stay. I’ll teach you. And when you are ready - we face the next journey together.” (Mark Bond with Elli)

The next few days were uneventful. Little work got done on the blade. They barely spoke the first day. But as evening drew, Elli asked Cian for true tales of his life, to replace the lies he told as Kenrick. He told her of his youth, the magic he learned, his life protecting Summerhold, the arrival of the Tyrant. More days passed and he shared about his recent exploits, meeting Nessana, his bond with her, and his promise to one day meet her again at her village.

Slowly, work started again on the blade. Weeks went by, both began to smile and trust more readily. In the evenings, Cian taught Elli how to weave a tale, to adopt a persona. He trained her on the blade, to hide in the shadows. When he felt she was ready, he introduced her to Calixtus. Elli’s reaction surprised him, she cradled the spider like a young pup, and Calixtus made his chittering purr. Within days she was helping Cian catch small prey to feed the spider, and it too became a fixture at nightly meals and during the weaving of tales.

Finally, the day came when the sword was complete. Cian knew that he next part would be difficult to ask. He looked at Elli grimly. “It was no lie I told. The blade made me swear an oath to bathe it in the blood of Toran, your lineage. While the blade surely meant that to end in your death, there must be another way. One that, though painful, won’t result in lasting harm.” (Compel, AD 3 + 1 Heart + 1 bond = 5, CD 1, 10 - Weak Hit).

“I’ll do this Cian. I know we must. But it can’t just be me. Don’t you understand? The blade only sees vengeance as the end. But we have risen above that. We stand for reconciliation - an end to an old feud and a new beginning. The ritual merging of our lines. The blood must come from both of us. It’s the only way.”

Cian knew she was right. Solemnly, they drew the sword, now glistening with new metals, it’s decorations renewed and shining. Cian could feel the sword stir as both of them grabbed the blade, their hands clasping on either side of the sharpened edge. Grabbing tight, they squeezed, the razor edge slicing into their palms as their fingers clasped. Blood from both hands ran down the blade and they waited, watching it swirl together and pool, collecting in the hilt. (Endure Harm - 1 Health, AD 5 + 2 Health = 7, CD 10, 4 - Weak Hit - Press on, no effect).

“See Cian, see our blood mix, both at our hands and on the blade? The curse is over for both of us. We are family now, like brother and sister. What was two warring clans is now united as one.”

“So let it be. United as one. Sister Elli.”

“Brother Cian.”

(Fulfill your Vow, Bathe the Kin-Blade in Blood from an Ancestor of Toran, Progress 10, CD 2, 3 - Strong Hit- Mark 2 experience)

Both Elli and Cian heard the voice of Delos resonate from the blade. “This was not the resolution I envisioned, but it is the one I needed.” The spirit’s voice was uncharacteristically warm, “I now know that the hatred that fueled me was a lie. The shield Toran gave me was truly a gift, never meant as a trap. The iron was what doomed me. All these years lost to my rage. But now, you have freed me from this and forged me anew. Better, stronger, the product of both my descendant and my rival’s descendant. Together, we truly are unstoppable.” (Forge a Bond, AD 5 + 1 heart = 6, CD 9,9 - Reroll due to fulfilling a vow - CD 2, 5 - Strong Hit - +1 Spirit)

“One became three and three became one,” Cian muttered laying the sword down as he and Elli and bandaged their hands.

(Advance - Spend 3 EXP to buy new asset - Blade-Bound - “When you Strike with your kin-blade to inflict savage harm (decide before rolling), add +1 and +2 harm on a hit. Then Endure Stress (2 Stress)” and Fulfill your Vow - Recover my family’s ancestral kin-blade from the Deep Wilds - Progress 8, CD 7, 2 - Strong Hit - Mark 2 xp)

Bandaged, Cian brandished the sword again. Carefully, he wiped the blood from the blade and marveled at its new shine. In the firelight, it took on a slight glow, the light rippling over gleaming metal, intricate runes, and the gold inlay of the hilt. This was a masterwork blade and he could feel both its prowess and fury surge within him. He looked again at Elli, “Should I fall, swear a vow to me that you’ll take up this blade and finish my task. This blade… and this quest… is now as much yours as it is mine.”

Placing her wounded hand once again on the blade, Elli swore. “If I must, I will take up this blade and finish the Tyrant myself.”

“Good. We start your training tomorrow.”
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

Seamus

Keeping his promise, Cian settled in to life at Ravenrock. A certain rhythm coalesced. Days were spent training Elli to fight, hide, lie, and assess situations. Nights passed with Cian preparing for his fight with Seamus, a promise he intended to keep. As the weeks turned into months, Cian almost became comfortable.

One night, Cian sneaked through town, looking to find Seamus and get more insight into how he might overcome him. Pulling on his magical cloak of the shadow realm, Cian stalked through the quiet marketplace, avoiding the patrolling militia strictly enforcing curfew. (Shadow-Walk Asset, AD 3 + 3 Shadow = 6, CD 1, 2 - Strong Hit - +1 momentum and reroll on stealth-based moves) Nearly invisible, he followed a particularly rowdy group of the militia, back to the dilapidated hut that served as their ramshackle base.

The hut had seen better days and its disrepair was made worse by the raucous behavior of the militia. Empty flagons were strewn across the lawn, broken shards of ceramic and glass jutted out from against the wall, and the area reeked of excrement and sick. Loud arguing came from inside, and Cian could see members of the militia wrestling, counting ill-gotten gains, and playing spirited games of chance. Seamus stood out of the crowd, large, muscular, and dressed in ill-fitted finery - purloined from someone else either too small or too big, but worn nonetheless. Once Cian got close enough, he loosed Calixtus to study Seamus, hoping to find out something that he could use as leverage in their upcoming battle (Face Danger, AD 2 + 3 Shadow= 5, CD 10, 5 - Use Reroll from Shadow-Walk - AD 5 + 3 Shadow = 8, CD 7, 10 - Weak Hit - -1 momentum)

Calixtus slowly made his way into the bright light of the hut, hoping to sneak by and into the rafters while the militia members were distracted by their debauchery. Just as he reached the hut, however, one of the men rose to relieve himself out of the same window where Calixtus perched precariously. Cian jumped quickly forward, rolling and reaching out, covering Calixtus with the same veil of shadows that hid him. With only moments to spare, Calixtus was hidden from view. But now Cian had lost some of his advantage, and found himself much closer to the hut than he had initially hoped. Once the man finished, Calixtus continued on his way, observing Seamus from the rafters then returning to report to Cian what he found. (Gather Information - reroll from Calixtus available, AD 2 + 2 Wits = 4, CD 5, 8 - Reroll Used - AD 5 + 2 Wits, CD 4, 5 - Strong Hit - +2 momentum and useful information)

The fear in Calixtus’s eyes was evident. Cian had rarely asked him to approach such a noisy, unpredictable crew. But slowly, the fear that clouded his eyes lifted and Cian saw within the troubles that plagued Seamus. A scene formed, of a very young boy in a farmyard. There a rooster blocked his path and the boy, just trying to reach his mother, felt terror as the rooster transformed into a mass of flapping feathers and flashing talons.

Cian chuckled to himself. He now knew how he might goad Seamus into a fight. “Chickens. The man is scared of chickens.”

The next morning, Cian continued to formulate his plan. “Alright Elli, you are the cause of this - so you share the blame. There is no way that I can fight Seamus while the entire militia is at his back. So I need a distraction that will call the bulk of his followers away, while I deal with him. I have some thoughts, but none of them are totally… risk free… for the town.”

“It’s a fire, isn’t it. You are thinking about a fire. Please don’t burn down the town.”

Cian frowned. “Well that certainly limits my choices. I do know he is afraid of chickens, does that help?” (Consult the Oracle, “Does Elli know Seamus’s route, Likely - Roll 31 - “Yes.”)

“He tends to shake down the farmers’ quarter on the second day of the week. Old man Angus has an entire pen of chickens, right by the road. Maybe you can use that?”

“It’s a start. Are you sure I can’t set just one small fire?”

Several days later, Cian stood almost ankle deep in fresh mud. Rain had fallen the night before and the farms, their dirt saturated from the earlier snow melt, became a sodden mess. Luckily, he was able to find some straw that was still dry, a bit away from the rest of the fields and the nearby houses. Hopefully, he could get it to light and that it would smoke, but would not catch anything else ablaze. “Elli couldn’t argue with that plan? Right?” (Face Danger, 1 + 2 Wits = 3, CD 2, 7 - Weak Hit - -1 supply).

The straw proved too wet to light alone, and no matter how many sparks he made with his flint, no fire would could. Cian sighed. He had hoped to not have to waste materials. He pulled some fire-starters from his tinderbox and placed them amongst the pile of straw. Trying again, the sparks lit his tinder, and the gently growing flame from the tinder slowly began to ignite the wet straw. Thick gray smoke rose into the air as Cian strolled briskly to the chicken pen by the road. Leaning nonchalantly against the pen, Cian waited for the militia to make its rounds.

He did not have to wait long and he heard the group long before he saw them turn the corner and proceed towards the farm houses. They traded rude japes with one another and loudly pounded on doors, calling the townsfolk to gather and pay their protection fees. Just as they came close to the pen, Cian looked up, pointed down the street towards the smoke now billowing high into the air, and yelled “Fire! Fire in farm fields! Militia! Help!” (Compel, AD 6 + 3 Shadow = 9, CD 10, 8 - Weak Hit)

Seamus immediately sprang into action. Standing still in the street, he barked orders to those around him. “Quick! Check on the smoke! You there, empty the nearby houses!” He pointed to Cian, “You sir! Fetch me a bucket from the nearby well, two streets over!” Despite his dissolute life, Seamus apparently had a knack for leadership. Cian knew that he couldn’t ignore the directive, particularly if he wanted the militia to take this seriously. But he had to move fast, so that he could force open the coop before Seamus left to oversee putting out the fire. Running, Cian grabbed the bucked, then spun on his heels to return to coop. (Face Danger, AD 5 + 2 Edge = 7, CD 2, 6 - Strong Hit - +1 momentum)

Speed was on Cian’s side and in moments he had made it down the muddy streets with the bucket in his hands. Seeing Cian return, Seamus gestured for him to toss the bucket to a nearby militiaman, and several more of Seamus’s coterie ran towards the source of the smoke. Not everyone was gone, but Cian hoped that Seamus was isolated enough to make this work. He ran over the the coop’s door, drew Delos and sliced downward at the rope’s holding the coop shut. Frightened by the noise of the blade and the chaos around them, Angus’s chickens quickly fled into the street. (Secure Advantage, AD 1 + 3 Shadow = 4, CD 5, 6 - Miss - Pay the Price - “It puts you at a disadvantage”)

One of Seamus’s militia turned, just as Cian sliced the rope holding the pen. She cried out, “Sir! That man just broke into Angus’s pen!” Seamus turned, seeing the chickens streaming into the street and Cian standing, caught, right at the pen door. Anger filled Seamus’s face and he advanced, kicking chickens harshly as they crossed his path. His childhood fear has clearly turned to cruelty. Cian had severely misjudged. Two other members of the militia joined Seamus as rushed towards Cian, cudgel draw. (Upgrade combat from Dangerous to Formidable, Seamus has initiative).

Cian prepared himself for combat as Seamus and his gang drew closer. Delos in hand, Cian wove left, seeking to engage the guard who first identified him. Cian hoped he could take her out quickly, evening the odds a tad. (Clash, AD 5 + 1 Iron = 6, CD 8, 9 - Burn Momentum +10 - Cancel 8 and 9 - Strong Hit - Inflict +1 Harm and take initiative) His preparation before the battle paid off, and Cian found Delos to be an excellent weapon, perfectly honed and balanced. Making a quick jab at the guard, Cian pierced her side, then, as she recoiled from the pain, bashed her quickly over the head with the sword’s pommel. The woman fell to the ground, stunned by the blow.

Surprised by the quick dispatch of his ally, Seamus began to more carefully advance, signaling his other comrade to flank Cian on the right. Cian quickly reached down, scooped up the nearest chicken, and flung the bird roughly towards Seamus. (Secure Advantage, AD 1 + 2 Edge, CD 9, 7 - Miss) Seamus struck the bird mid-flight with his cudgel, enraged. The feint cost Cian time and focus, and he missed the second miltiaman swinging his cudgel sharply into his gut. (Endure Harm 3, - 3 health, AD 4 + 1 Iron = 5, CD 4, 1 - Strong Hit - Embrace the Pain + 1 momentum)

Pain shot through Cian’s body, momentarily stunning him. He had to do something quick. Cian spat blood, feeling a sharp crack in his ribs. “What’s wrong Seamus? Need your followers to help you? Maybe you are too… chicken to fight me?” Seamus’s eyes flashed and he roared a battle cry, coming quickly into striking distance. (Turn the Tide, Steal Initiative once per battle, +1 to next move and +1 momentum if a hit, but Pay the Price if missed - dire outcome)

Cian felt Delos’s power course through his hand and up his arm. He could hear the blade cry out for blood. “STRIKE CIAN! STRIKE!” Cian drew back the blade, letting it flash in the sun. Just as Seamus entered into range, he swept the blade forward, aiming for the arm carrying his cudgel. (Use Blade-Bound - decide before rolling a strike - +1 to roll and +2 harm, then Endure Stress 2 - Strike, AD 3 + 1 Iron + 1 Turn the Tide + 1 Blade-Bound = 6, CD 5, 4 - Strong Hit - 5 harm) The blade struck true, slicing deftly through Seamus’s arm. For a moment, time seemed frozen. Then Cian watched as the limb separated, the hand and cudgel struck the ground while Seamus stood, watching in horror. Shock set in and for a moment, Seamus seemed confused, then he collapsed on his knees before sliding sideways into the cold mud. Cian felt a rush, first of adrenaline and then of the pent up bloodlust emanating from the sword. His body shook as the sword’s mind invaded his, screaming with delight and turning his vision red. (Endure Stress 2, -2 Spirit, AD 6 + 1 Heart = 7, CD 5, 8 - Weak Hit - Press on, no effect)

Quickly, Cian suppressed the feeling. He could not let the sword control him. Regaining his composure, he turned to the other militiaman. “End this now - your extortion of these people is over! Unless you, too, want to taste this blade!” (End the Fight, Progress +7, CD 4, 2 - Strong Hit). The last militiaman laid down his cudgel, slowly backing away. “Run! Tell you comrades that your boss is defeated! If they know what is good for them, tell them to fear Delos, the blade of Kenrick, forged anew by Elli Bladehealer, the finest smith in Ravenrock!”

The rush of battle dying down, Cian noticed that the commotion had caused the townsfolk to exit their homes, witnessing the final clash between Cian and the militia. Many stood in awe, fearful of Seamus, who preyed upon them, but also worried about what this all meant. Seeing the trepidation on their faces, Cian knew what he had to do. Quickly, he bent down above Seamus and reached into his pouch, drawing out a poultice of herbs and thick cloth. (Heal, AD 4 + 2 Wits = 6, CD 2, 10 - Weak Hit - Heals but -1 supply) The dire wound required almost all of Cian’s staunchblood weed and even more bandage cloth. “Quick, give me some wood for a splint and some tight twine!” The farmers ran out with the needed items, handing them to Cian fearfully. Cian quickly tied a tourniquet to aid the herb poultice, then secured what was left of Seamus’s arm tightly in the splint. “We need to get him to the healer! Help me!” (Compel, AD 3 + 1 Heart +1 Pretender = 5, CD 3, 7 - Weak Hit)

The farmers gathered around, and two men helped Cian hoist Seamus into a wheelbarrow. “We’ll help you e’nuff sir, but only if you take blame for what happened here. You’ll have to see the overseer - she ain’t gonna be happy about what you did to her boy.” Cian understood what he had to do. “You two, help me get this man to the healer. And you, go summon the overseer. Tell her that her son is wounded and to meet us at the healer. It’s time we hold both Seamus, and her, accountable!”
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baelthazar
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Re: Ironsworn - Solo Roleplaying

Post by baelthazar »

The Overseer

Two farmers, Adrick and Thelen, loaded Seamus into the wheelbarrow and took him to Ravenrock’s healer. The healer, Adria, grimaced when she saw the scene. “I always knew it would end up like this. That boy pushed his luck to the limit.” Seamus, pale white from blood loss, lolled his head while Adria tutted over him. “We’ll have to cauterize this wound. It ain’t gonna be pretty and it will damn near hurt. But it looks like your quick splint and tourniquet might have saved his life.” Adria began to heat up a large metal brand over her fire, while the others fetched implements from her hut. Just as she began her work, a tall woman, trailed by group of militia, crested the hill and approached the hut. The militia was clearly shaken, and hid behind the woman similar to how children hide behind their mother. A crowd of townsfolk also appeared and Cian saw Elli draw close behind him, sharing a subtle smile in support.

The Overseer’s eyes grew wide as she saw her son, missing an arm, covered in blood and mud, and laying prostrate on a wooden table. “By the Gods! What is this? Who did this? There will be satisfaction for this crime!”

Cian strode forward. He hoped an impassioned speech would rally the crowd to his side. “I, Kenrick the Swordsman, did this. Years ago, I vowed to never stand by open injustice. Your son preyed upon the good will of these townspeople, used your position of authority to cow them into submission. I watched this for months, but could not abide it any longer. Someone had to stand for the people! It is my code to do so!” (Secure Advantage, AD 3 + 3 Shadow + 1 Pretender = 7, CD 10, 6 - Weak Hit - +1 momentum)

The crowd stirred, but looked anxiously at the militia and the Overseer. Cian could hear faint murmurs of agreement, but no-one dared come forward. Elli, sensing that the crowd still needed enticement, strode to Cian’s side. “We all know this is true. How many of us lost hard earned coin or goods to Seamus’s excesses? While we toiled for our bread, he leeched off our sweat and blood. And the militia is no better! Taking our food and drink for their drunken revelry while leaving our town unguarded!”

The crowd looked agitated, but the overseer’s glare brought icy silence. “We have laws. I’ve been chosen to see to this town’s needs. It is a town crime to resist the authority of the militia. It is a personal crime to maim my son and kin. I will have restitution!”

Cian responded, “Law is only as just as the one who upholds it. Just being in the militia does not confer honor alone - you have to also act with honor. You want restitution, how about these people? They have been given restitution in the punishment of your son.” Cian gestured to Seamus, now being tended by Adria and her assistants. “Face it, your oversight of this community is no longer valid. What say you townsfolk? Should there not be a new overseer? A new militia?” (Compel, AD 4 + 2 Wit + 1 Pretender = 7, CD 3, 8, Weak Hit)

The crowd, finally moved, cried out. “AYE! “We’ve taken all we can take!” “No more theft! We are done with your cronies!” Cian began to smile, gesturing dramatically around him. His smile faded as the tone of the crowd changed. “Kenrick should lead us! He fights for justice!”

“Kenrick should be the overseer!”

“Kenrick! Kenrick! Kenrick!”

“He fights for law! He fights for justice! Hail Kenrick!”

Cian knew there was no way out of this, particularly as the crowd began to grab weapons and advance menacingly towards the overseer. Farmers wielded pitchforks and axes. Smithies and weapon merchants grabbed deadlier tools - swords, daggers, warhammers, and battleaxes. Their pent up anger spilled out, resulting in a tumultuous fury. Cian only had one choice. “Hold! Enough blood has been shed today! I accept the mantle of leadership, but on one condition - you let the former overseer and her kin either chose to live here peacefully or leave on their own accord. An account has been made. Wrongs have been avenged. It is time to move forward.” (Mark Progress on Vow, Seamus and Town Militia - +9)

The crowd began to calm at Cian’s words. The overseer and militia looked shocked at the turn of events. She had be unaware of the anger caused by her son’s actions. Cian thought he could even detect a hint of shame in her expression. In a soft tone, he addressed her, “Do you accept these terms? Can we end this amicably and without further violence?” (Fulfill Your Vow, Progress +6, CD 2, 4 - Strong Hit - Mark Experience)

The overseer knew she had been beaten. She motioned to the militia to stand down. “Fine. But I won’t stay in this town to see what a mockery you are going to make of it. These people see you as their savior. I know you for what you are - a con man. Time will tell who is right. Once Seamus is strong enough, we will find a new community who will have us.” (Consult the Oracle, “Does Seamus Survive?” - 50/50 - 16 - No)

Adria’s voice broke the silence, her tone grim. “I’m afraid you won’t have to wait. He lost too much blood. I’m sorry, Seamus is gone.” The townsfolk paused, some suppressed their relief at being freed from Seamus’s harsh mistreatment, trying to respect the overseer’s loss. Others, who had seen the boy grow from an innocent child into a flawed man, felt genuine remorse. Tears welled in the overseer’s eyes, and she spat one last curse toward Cian and the crowd. Then, silently, she turned away, several of the former militia following her.

Once she had gone, the crowd pressed forward, laying their hands on Cian, patting his back in support, grasping his arm in gestures of congratulations. He could hear many of them talking about the excellent sword he used, forged by Elli’s hand. He knew her reputation would soon be reversed, she would be revered as a repairer of artifacts, a worker of wonders.

Elli too, came up to him. “I guess you can’t leave now anyway, huh? Looks like I was going to be stuck with you no matter what.” She did not conceal her glee at the thought; he knew she found his election to overseer highly amusing.

“Elli, how long does a person serve as overseer in Ravenrock?”

“Two years, brother. Then another election is held. You could bow out then.”

Two years. Cian frowned. What would become of his sister, his town, in those two years?

End of Book 1
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