Episode 9: The Arrangement at Arden's Rest Prose in Gokrenxia | World Anvil

Episode 9: The Arrangement at Arden's Rest

Previously, on Tales of the Inner Council

Upon being summoned to his House's Great Hall in the Stormbreak mountains, a little known Dwarven negotiator and mystic by the name of Tashkerr Dyber met with an unnamed Soverika, an Enforcer and Advisor to the House Elder. There, he learned he'd been summoned to the distant city of Stoverj, capital of the animal-like Kynekin kingdom of Vath'azen, by none other than the King of that land, Ga'jam Ch'luun.   Tashkerr learned that some among the Soverika wanted him dead, simply to avoid becoming entangled in any kind of political intrigue. One Soverika successfully argued to allow the shadowy game to play out, using the Journeyman Wayfinder as a pawn to uncover the players and the plot, turning it to House Dyber's advantage. Now, Tashkerr begins the long journey to Stoverj, unaware of King's Ga'jam's forthcoming decree that he is to become the "Voice of the Myndikin" for an entire nation.

Hill Region, West of the Stormbreak Mountains

Several months ago...
In the dead of night, Tashkerr of House Dyber had packed quickly, trusting his gut for things that would allow him to get on the road. Very little about the trip West of the Stormbreak met his expectations. Although come to think of it, the thirty-something year old Journeyman Dwarven Mystic of the Wayfinder’s Guild really didn’t know what to expect. He’d never actually considered leaving the mountains, unless it was to retrieve goods from the lush, Dwarf-controlled resource zone where he was born - East of the mountains. Leaving Dwarven-held lands was nowhere on his bucket list.   He'd half expected the high-ranking house enforcer, the Soverika - whose name he now realized he'd never asked - to send him off with a suggested route, or maybe a supply list, or drop him in some kind of caravan traveling in the right direction; perhaps even assign him some kind of companion, protector, or guide. But no, he'd been given the mysterious letter summoning him to the Kynekin kingdom's capital city of Stoverj, an order to leave before dawn, a mission to uncover a shadowy political plot (of which he was an unwitting pawn), and the threat of his House leadership if he failed.   Tashkerr had scribbled a few quick but cryptic notes talking about being given a special task requiring his immediate departure; one to his parents, one to his little sister, and one to his best friend from childhood, Raya. Tash eyed his father’s aging bear, but knowing there was a great distance to be covered, opted to “borrow” a riding bear from the Courier’s Guild. They were smaller and lighter, but had much great capacity for speed and distance, when compared to war bears. Tash left a stack of coins and an apologetic promissory note in the bear’s stall, hoping its owner wouldn’t be too cross.   The guards at Danyatuer - the Westernmost gate from House Dyber lands and the second-most Western point of the entire Stormbreak mountain range - had questioned the strange hour of Tashkerr's departure. A simple flash of his Istoyaver guild tattoo and a mention of an urgent task brought their questions to an abrupt halt with nervous stares. Right or wrong, most people were afraid of magic, though few actually understood it. In cases like this, the mere mention of the guild often made Dwarves want to steer clear, and he shamelessly used that to his advantage.   That was over a week ago. Since then, Tash had followed a seldom-traveled, lonely West-Northwest trail. It wound its way through the dry hills and short grasses in the rain shadow of the mountains, without a soul in sight. The terrain sloped downward gently to the West until things leveled out in the grasslands of the human kingdom of Rolighav.   After a week of trail rations, Tashkerr was ready for a hot meal, something with more substance, and a soft, warm bed. It's not that trail rations were terrible... for the first day or two. But by day three they’d grown uninteresting and tedious. By day nine, they were miserable. Eating had become a chore, not to mention his hastily collected supplies were starting to run low. Prudence dictated he risk approaching the next settlement he came upon.
Show spoiler
What follows is an Ironsworn RPG solo session. My notes will generally be captured in the form of: Character Initials: action
  • six-sider/ten-sider/ten-sider-result(Strong, Weak, Miss)
  • Effect
  • Show spoiler
    TD: Undertake an expedition +shadow
  • Dangerous
  • 4/2/6-W
  • Progress: 2/10
  • Face a peril
  • Situation
  • Oracle: Learn Trade (A school of some kind?)
  • Oracle: Vehicle/Parts dealer
  • (Wagon sales/construction?)
  • Oracle: Raiders prey on the weak
  • Location:
  • Settled
  • Barren
  • Name: Historical event
  • Arden's Rest (where his wagon broke down in the wilderness)

  • The Road through Rolighav, Day 10

    Several month ago...
    Dawn was just beginning to break on the tenth day of Tashkerr's journey. The morning sun peaked over the Stormbreak mountains behind him, painting the clouds in warm oranges and yellows while casting a pinkish hue across the sparse grasslands. Its rays illuminated a light fog that hugged the ground as far as the eye could see giving everything a peaceful, ethereal feel.   Tash took a deep breath, pulling the point of his hooded cowl a bit forward to reduce the amount of light hitting his sensitive eyes. Magic here was like a cold stream gently flowing down from the mountains. It was shallow, but refreshing and invigorating. A light breeze from the North carried the slight scent of wood smoke.   "Let's head that way, Tetsodnyy" Tashkerr said aloud, patting the large, albeit stolen, brown bear whose name he'd found etched into its saddle. Tetsodnyy glanced back over his shoulder with a look that said "really?" It huffed audibly and began padding through the low grass to the North.   As they closed the distance spanning the relatively flat grassland, Tash's characteristically weak Dwarven eyes brought the village into focus. On one of the few squat, dry trees just outside a low, split-rail wooden fence-line hung a faded wooden sign upon which were scrawled marks that read in the Human tongue: "Arden's Rest."   Tash thought back to his historical studies. Arden's Rest - a human village South of what is now the Kynekin controlled Zuul'Hy Freelands; The village was a way-point on the North-South trade routes known for training exceptional wainwrights in all aspects of building and repairing wagons. Unfortunately, Tash's studies didn't extend much past the Great War, and sixty years left a lot of room for change. That is, a full generation of humans, and many Dwarves, had likely lived out their lives in the time since his history books were written.   He momentarily mulled over the idea of writing new and updated tomes about his journeys, to be like the members of the famous Historian's Guild, but quickly recognized he lacked both the passion and the discipline to follow through with such an ambitious endeavor.   The village dwellings in Arden's Rest were small, rectangular structures constructed from white stone blocks. Their A-frame roofs were thatched with an unfamiliar reddish reed. Tash drew closer, dropping from his bear-mount and ran his hand along the outer wall of one of the buildings. These stones were very similar to the ones comprising the table he'd noted in House Dyber's great hall, Lestreppe.   Lost in his own thoughts wondering about how much trade Stormbreak might have done with Arden's Rest historically, he completely missed the man rapidly rounding the corner, laden with several large, heavy grain sacks. The two collided, the man's sacks toppling from his arms. Both men crashed to the ground, a cloud of light yellow dust poofing into the air from the sacks. Tetsodnyy the bear groaned and wandered away, disinterested in whatever came next.   The man grumbled angrily. “What in the word do you think you’re…” Taking note of Tash, he stopped mid-sentence, the irritation washing away in an instant, replaced with something else entirely - a look of fear.   “Oh! I, uh, I’m so sorry!” He rolled to his knees eyes downcast. ”I… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t see… Oh please forgive me, sir.”   Tash’s brow furrowed and lips pursed, confused at the reaction. He forced the friendly smile he oft donned when conducting negotiations for the guild. Standing slowly, he reached out and gently grabbed the man’s elbow, speaking warmly. “Please, let me help you up.”   The man flinched at Tash’s touch. The color drained from his face, a mix of deep fear and concern washing over him. Tash backed away, instinctively tugging on the sleeves of his cloak. It was an old self-conscious habit to ensure his Istoyaver wrist tattoo stayed covered. Fear of magic made people so uncomfortable. "Hello?" Tash tried unsuccessfully to get the man to look him in the eye. "It is okay, friend. No harm done. A simple accident."   Tash realized he had no idea how to judge a human's age. Clearly this man wasn't a small child nor was he old and decrepit. There was some scruff to his face, and lines around the corner of his eyes. His hair was brown without any signs of graying. If humans aged similar to Dwarves, he was likely an adult.   Feeling Tash's stare and the awkward silence, the man looked up. "Ah. Much better," Tash smiled. "What is your name?"   "N... Noah, sir."   "Well Nu-noah," Tash started, sincerely misunderstanding the man’s fearful stutter. "I..." He hesitated, suddenly remembering he was supposed to keep his identity a secret, and realizing he'd not thought of a name. "...I am Vennik," he recovered, placing his hand on his chest with a slight bow. "Are you hurt? Can you stand?"   Noah stood slowly, towering over the Dwarf. Tash had never met a human before and stood mouth agape, momentarily shocked at the man's height.   Tash chuckled lightheartedly, backing up a step. "They do grow Myndikin big West of the mountains, eh?" The man shifted nervously, hands folded in front of him, eyes again downcast.   Clearing his throat, Tash continued. "Hmm. Perhaps you could direct me to a tavern?" Noah succinctly explained the route to a place called "Falcon's Folly" and seemed visibly relieved to be done with the whole encounter.   After recovering his bear mount Tetsodnyy, Tashkerr made his way through the village. He stuck to the sides of the dirt paths, unsuccessfully trying not to draw too much attention. Windows closed as he walked by and he could feel the stares of the townsfolk upon him. Clearly his presence made these people nervous. But why? he wondered.
    Show spoiler
    Tetsodnyy – Bear "Always hungry" TD: Gather intel +wits
  • Learned +1
  • 7/2/9-W-+2M
  • Complication
  • Oracle:
  • Impress Secret
  • TD: Compel +heart
  • 7/3/6-S+1M

  • Falcon's Folly Tavern

    Arden's Rest
    Kingdom of Rolighav
    Several month ago...
    Falcon's Folly was not much to look at, but its modest décor showed it to be a well-kept inn and tavern. A half-dozen round wooden tables were situated around the great room and falcon head symbols seemed to be hung, etched, carved, or burned into every surface. Every conversation had stopped the moment Tash walked in and every eye fell upon him. The barkeep, a female human with short grey hair, ordered a smaller female to the back with a disapproving glare toward the newcomer. The two women favored each other.   Mother and daughter, perhaps, Tashkerr thought.   He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as he crossed the room to take a seat in the center of the wooden bar, his back to the room. Once he sat, the conversations of those who didn't noticeably get up and leave began again in hushed tones.   The barkeep made her way over. She wore a rough-fabric brownish-orange shirt with a pinkish-orange sash around her waist. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing her oddly-tattoo-less forearms. Tash wondered how humans marked families and ranks, if they did at all.   "You're a long way from home, Dwarf." Her tone was anything but friendly.   Tash nodded, opting to be direct. "I am in need of a hot meal, supplies for the road, and a room for the evening please." He pulled out several coins from a sack on his belt and placed them on the bar.   She slid them back, leaning into his personal space yet speaking loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I'm afraid there's nothing here you want. You'd best be on your way while there's still daylight." She smelled of sweat and smoked meats. His stomach growled for something other than trail rations.   He pulled out two more coins and added them to the pile. Leaning in, he whispered. "Are you in danger?"   "No honey," she responded quietly. "You are."   Tash's instincts kicked in. He hastily reached for the streams of magic flowing through Arden's Rest, trusting his Istoyaver training to guide him. But in doing so, he completely missed the approach of the three men behind him. A noose wrapped around Tashkerr's neck, cinched tight and ripped him backwards off the stool where he sat. He slammed into the wooden floor, gasping for breath.   "Take it outside," yelled the barkeep.   The men dragged Tash out the door by the rope, stones from the dry and rocky ground raking across his back. He reached for his weapon, struggling to get his feet under him, before realizing that his war-hammer would offer no help in cutting the rope. Seeing his struggle, the man holding the rope yanked hard, crushing into his windpipe and causing him to see stars while the others laughed and hurled insults he couldn't quite make out. Tash's war hammer fell to the dust.   Lying on his back, Tash reached for his crossbow and fired a bolt down the line of the rope. It found purchase in the shoulder of the rope-holder, who lost his grip, while another of his assailants picked up and winged a rock that connected with the front of Tash's head with a solid crack.   Tash's world flashed white-red for a moment as he staggered to his feet. He clenched his fists, mentally drawing deeply upon the flow of magic. His eyes radiated a brilliant blue and his assailants were terrified.   To Tashkerr, the world seemed to slow. "Maaaaaaaaage," one of them shouted as Tash scooped up a hefty rock in one hand and unleashed a guttural battle cry. The Dwarf charged forward, Wayfinding magic coursing through his veins.   Fueled by the magics, ghostly shadows acted out the past on the edges of his sight.   The town aflame.   A crew of Dwarven riders looting and pillaging.   Deplorable acts committed by his own kind, boldly displaying the single star of House Zunoch, the first of all Houses. While before him, shadows of what was about to be played out.   Knowing when and how your opponent intends to strike made dodging the first several attacks child's play. Tashkerr responded with a rock-strike to the knee of one man, and a hammer-like action into the crossbow bolt still protruding from the shoulder of his original captor.   The Dwarf turned, looking for the third man, not realizing he'd already been flanked. He leaned to one side just enough for a club to graze off his shoulder from behind. He clenched his teeth in agony, pivoting on his right foot, white-knuckling on the rock, and blindly swinging upward to connect with the underside of the man's chin. His assailant's head snapped upward, body listing back from the force. With Tash's back exposed, the first two closed in.   Tash squared his body toward them, settling into a defensive stance drilled into muscle memory from his Deepwatch training. His eyes flared with light as though someone held a brilliant lantern beneath crystal blue waters and giving him the terrible appearance of an unnatural creature of legend. The men hesitated. Tashkerr screamed another battle cry and rushed forward. Wayfinding magic still flowed through him, guiding his strikes and aiding him in knocking the men unconscious.  
    * * * * *
      The door to Falcon's Folly swung open forcefully, banging into a falcon-banner hanging on the wall. Tashkerr of House Dyber, Journeyman of the Istoyaver Guild staggered in, still slightly dazed from the blow to his head. His war hammer dragged along the wooden floor planks with a repetitive thump, thump, thump, until he reached the bar stool where he'd previously sat. He dropped the hammer onto the bar with an ear-piercing clank and reclaimed his seat.   "I will have that drink now barkeep," Tashkerr started. "And then we are going to have a conversation about what in the Stone Song's name happened here."   Eyes wide with surprise, she poured a mug of ale and set it before him. "You can't stay," she replied in earnest. "Reeve Sedder's gonna hear about this and bring more men."   Tashkerr took a swig of the ale. It was incredibly weak and watery by Dwarven standards. "Reeve?" he questioned. "Is that a name or a title?"   She gave him an incredulous look, clearly uncertain whether the Dwarf was kidding or in fact lacked knowledge of basic Rohl culture. "It's... someone in charge of a village or town."   Tashkerr nodded and stood from the seat. "Good." He dropped a handful of coins on the counter and collected his war hammer. "I am taking my drink, going upstairs, and lying down until this Reeve Sedder arrives."   The barkeep shook her head in disagreement. "Uh-uh. You'll not go getting' blood on my sheets."   Tashkerr sighed. "Fine. I will go wash up first. Ordad?" She looked confused at his use of Dwarven.   "Is it okay?" He restated. She took the coins and motioned her head toward the stairs. "If you have any medicinal herbs and bandages, I will take those as well. And writing instruments. I need to write some letters."   "Hope you're writing your will," she responded, before calling the younger female to bring hot water, herbs, and other items with which to write.  
    * * * * *
      Several hours passed. A well-fed, bandaged Tash lay in a warm, soft bed staring up at the wooden rafters and lost in his own thoughts. Journeys on the open road were something oft romanticized in books. He hadn't realized just how much anxiety not having a roof over his head for days on end had brought him. It's something you don't think about when you've lived in mountainous caves the majority of your life. Yet it was something he'd need to come to terms with. It was still a long way to Stoverj.   "We know you're in there, Dwarf," a man yelled from the street outside. "Come out now and I'll make this quick."   Tash shook his head and mentally replayed his plan. Sitting up, he closed his eyes and drew in threads from the surrounding streams of magic. The stream was thin here - shallow, like standing in a rain puddle. A heat began to rise beneath his collar and in his face as he strained to draw enough energy to manipulate.   He forced his focus outward, projecting the magic toward the street and the persons below.   Seven, no eight men, he counted. An overwhelming, acidic scent filled his nostrils. It was both bitter and spicy, burning his lungs to inhale. As was the nature of Wayfinding, he somehow knew what it was:   Revenge   And yet it was not white hot as one might expect, but smoldering like embers from an fire dowsed with water. There was little passion or rage here, but there was a healthy sense of fear.   A series of images flashed in his mind's eye, the thoughts of the men outside:   A cloaked figure.   A scaled hand holding a chain.   Bound Dwarven captives dragged toward the mountains.   A purse filled with coins.   And just as quickly, the images faded. Tash got up, donned his clothes, and headed down the stairs. The barkeep watched warily as he leaned out the front door. Tetsodnyy the bear was gone, no longer tied to a post out front. With an attempted friendly gaze, Tash took stock of the vengeful crowd here just for him.   The group's leader had medium length black hair, tousled by the wind of the plains, and small, dark eyes. His stern, square face was ruddy with deep creases from living under the sun. A thin, grey beard rounded his mouth, down from his large, crooked nose to his chin. He wore a long coat open, the light green color of the grasslands, and stood with a steady hand on the sword hanging from his right hip.   "Reeve Sedder," Tash started calmly. "Come in and sit down. Let us have a drink. We have much to discuss."   "Don't listen to him, Reeve," spit one of the men. "He's a mage! Prob'ly trying to put a spell on ya." Tash massaged his forehead in frustration, recognizing the man as one of the three who had attacked him in the tavern earlier in the day.   "Is he now," Reeve Sedder responded. Much to Tash's surprise, the man smiled, completely unphased by the statement, as if someone had told him his boot was unlaced. There was something about his confident arrogance that set Tash on edge. Reaching up, the leader tapped a golden brooch attached to his leather chest strap three times. Tash squinted to try and make out the details, when suddenly a flash of searing pain ripped through his mind.   Tash dropped to his knees, crying out. It was like a flash fire behind his eyes, consuming every drop of magic, until there was... nothing. The "puddles" of magic he'd felt before were just... gone. He couldn't feel them. It brought a terrifying sense of loss, akin to suddenly and dramatically going blind, deaf, or mute. He looked up at the human with a newfound fear in his eyes.   "There now, Raff," Sedder smirked. "I have a feeling he'll behave himself."   "What did you do to me," Tash questioned through clenched teeth. He fought down his desire to retaliate, knowing without his Wayfinding magic eight to one odds were nothing short of suicide.   "Just making sure we're meeting on even-footing, so to speak. Now," he nodded toward the door of Falcon's Folly. "How's about that drink?"  
    * * * * *
      Tash's head still throbbed as he plopped without grace into a hard wooden seat across the round table from Reeve Sedder. His men had spread out to the surrounding tables, far enough away to give the illusion of privacy, yet close enough to act should the conversation sour. The barkeep, whose name Tash had learned was Kathel, brought the two a round of drinks with a disapproving look of where this was headed.   "Let's see now," the Reeve began. "Master Vennik, was it?" Tash nodded. "Of House...?"   "Not one I would expect you to be acquainted with, sir."   "Please, just Sydro. Humor me," Sedder responded with a tone indicating it was more of an order than a request.   Clearly he knows something of Dwarven society, worried Tash, who settled on one of smaller Houses, specifically the 12th-ranked, Southern-most, and least prestigious House. "House Zulzny."   Sydro thought for a moment, his dark eyes scanning the ceiling. Tash took the opportunity to glance at the circular brooch. It was comprised of intricate golden thorns, like waves surrounding a smooth translucent blue gemstone. The head of what appeared to be a strange two-horned creature floated in the sea of blue, a fiery red gemstone set between its horns. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.   "You win," smiled Sydro, his attention returning to Tash. "Not a House I've heard of. Cheers." He raised he mug and took a sip. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he leaned in and continued. "So, Vennik of House Zulzny, Dwarven mage, what are you doing in my village?"   "Just passing through on an important journey for my people."   Sydro sucked in air and pursed his lips. "Ohhh. I'm sorry to tell you this but, you won't be leaving. At least, not in any way you'd approve of, I imagine."   Tash glanced around the tavern. Sedder's men watched him like hawks, or perhaps falcons he thought morosely, waiting for the word to act. Tash mentally recounted the visions he'd seen, desperately longing to feel the flow of magic all around him. He glanced quickly at the brooch again and gulped his drink. "You mean to sell me into slavery," he guessed. "But, I think you will choose a different path."   Sydro raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. And why's that?"   "I think," Tash tried to fuse the disparate mental images together. "I think my kin somehow wronged your Arden's Rest. I think out of fear for your own safety, you have turned to the Kynekin, likely those Lizardmen," his nose crinkled in disgust, "occupying Kurzniert, if I had to guess."   Reeve Sedder's look of utter shock, confirmed the truth of Tash's assessment. Sydro took a sip of his beer, buying precious seconds to consider. "And what makes you think that's not gonna happen?"   It was Tash's turn to smile. "Because I know what happened this morning."   A mix of confusion and mild concern played across Sydro's face. "And what happened this morning?"   Tash sipped his beer, drawing out the moment. "I wrote some letters," he began nonchalantly. "Specifically, letters to my Elders, telling them of my stop here, and warning them of my suspicions – both of our past transgressions and of possible treachery from Kurzniert. I packed them onto my bear-mount and sent him home. He now has," Tash looked out the window over Sydro's shoulder and bobbed his head side to side in consideration. "...perhaps a quarter-day head start. I think he is very fast and you do not know the way. I think you could ride out now, but you would never catch him. Rest assured Reeve Sydro Sedder, a force of Dwarves is coming to Arden's Rest. Whether they are coming to pay restitution for the sins of the past, or raze your precious village to the ground if I do not arrive at my destination relies solely upon the decisions you make this day."   It wasn't exactly a bluff. Tash had indeed written the letters and sent Tetsodnyy back to Stormbreak. From what he knew of courier bears, they were trained to return home in the event their rider was injured, or worse. He was less confident about the comparative speed of horses and human tracking abilities. And while he was reasonably confident, assuming someone in power saw the letters, the Dwarves would respond, he was skeptical whether there would be any forgiveness shown for selling Dwarves to their sworn enemies in Kurzniert, regardless of what wrongs House Zunoch had wrought.   Reeve Sedder leaned back in his chair and exhaled sharply, studying Tash closely. "Let's say you're right," he began. "If Arden's Rest did have some kind of deal with them scaley's from Stormbreak and wanted out of it, we'd need some allies to help protect us. As you can see, Arden's Rest isn't exactly stocked for a fight."   "What do you need?" Tash questioned.   "Some folks to help keep the peace? Steady trade reestablished with Stormbreak? Not many folks looking to head North since them Horsemen claimed their 'Freelands,' and those who are? They're generally pretty unsavory characters."   Tash nodded in understanding. "I will leave you a letter, signed, detailing how Arden's Rest is owed a great debt for the sins of our forefathers, how you have been an unwitting pawn in the machinations of the Mahnkii, and should come under the full protection of the Dwarves. In exchange, you will provide everything you know about who in Kurzniert has taken our brethren, how many, and for how long."   "And how do I know they'll accept your word?" Reeve Sedder challenged.   Tash pulled his cloak away from his neck, exposing his tattooed collarbone. "Do you see this symbol? It marks me as a House negotiator. I am expected to broker deals for the Houses. That is but one of my services to the Mount."   Sydro stared into his drink for several long moments before speaking. "Alright. But I have to ask: A magic-wielding Dwarven negotiator, taking an out-of-the-way route through Rohl lands, on an important journey Northwest? Seems like quite the unusual story there."   A distant look settled on Tash's face as he glanced outside. "It is a story yet to be written, Reeve. And only time will tell if it is to be one worth retelling."  
    To Be Continued...
    Show spoiler
    TD: Gather Information +wits
  • 5/6/10-M
  • TD: Pay the Price
  • Oracle: Locate War
  • TD: Face Danger
  • Sense Favor
  • 6/6/10-M
  • Attacked.
  • In a bad spot
  • Foe: Townsfolk
  • Dangerous: 0/10
  • -1H
  • TD: Endure Harm
  • 4/7/9-M-2M
  • TD: React under fire +iron
  • 3/10/10-M-Crit!
  • 1H
  • TD: Endure Harm
  • 4/2/5-W-1M+1H
  • TD: Clash +edge
  • 5/4/8-W
  • Progress: 2/10
  • -1H
  • TD: Endure Harm
  • 6/4/4-S-Crit!+1M
  • TD: Secure an Advantage
  • Sense Favor
  • 9/3/10-W+2M
  • TD: Clash +iron
  • 7/1/4-S+Init
  • Progress: 6/10
  • TD: Secure an Advantage +iron
  • 3/9/5-M
  • -1H
  • TD: Endure Harm
  • 5/1/9-W+1H-1M
  • TD: Strike
  • 5/2/6-W-Init
  • Progress:10/10
  • TD: Secure an Advantage +iron
  • 6/3/5-S+2M+1next
  • TD: React under fire +heart
  • 9/2/8-S+init+1M
  • TD: Take decisive action
  • 10/2/9-S+1M
  • Fight ends!
  • * * * * *
    TD: Compel +iron
  • 2/1/3-W
  • Agree w/complications
  • TD: Recover
  • Learned +1
  • 5/4/8-W+3H
  • TD: Sacrifice Resources
  • -2Su
  • * * * * *
    TD: Secure an Advantage
  • Sense Person 2
  • 5/3/7-W+1 next
  • TD: Compel +heart
  • 4/3/10-W
  • Agree w/complication
  • Oracle:
  • Capture ability
  • * * * * *
    TD: Face Danger +wits
  • Learned +1
  • 6/2/6-W+1M
  • TD: Pay the Price
  • -2M Serious
  • TD: Compel +heart
  • 8/1/8-W

  • Cover image: by dream by WOMBO


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