Episode 15: The Officer in Ondwani

Gokrenxia    Prose    Tales of the Inner Council      Episode 15: The Officer in Ondwani

Previously, on Tales of the Inner Council

In the remnants of a bandit camp deep in the Karnwood Forest, North of Vath’azen’s capital city of Stoverj, Ruling Council members Chodvar Taibil and Jenta Hua'zur rescued the raccoon-like Senior Historian Basr Saklay'n to learn the truth behind the final decree of King Ga'jam Ch'luun. As a new day dawns over the forest, they must prepare for the long trek back to the capital.

Former Bandit Camp, Karnwood Forest, North of Stoverj

The world faded in slowly as Jenta awoke to the fresh scent and low steady trickle of a light rain in the forest surrounding the former bandit camp. Her back was sore from lying on the hard wooden floor. There hadn't been enough beds for all of the freed captives, so she and Chodvar had opted to let the others have them. She lay still, breathing deeply and eyeing the open window. A light grayish-white sky hovered close above the forest's canopy.
No sun today, she thought. Traveling conditions will worsen as the day wears on. We shouldn't delay. She looked to her fellow Councilor, lying several feet away.
The young noble Lord Chodvar Taibil still slept. His typically vibrant reptilian scales seemed more of a pale green than normal. He shivered, tensing his body. His golden brown eyes half opened to meet hers.
"Time to go?" His voice cracked as he sat up with a grimace, gripping his side.
Jenta didn't know much about mahnkii health, but he certainly didn't look well. She stood and stretched, moving to the window. "Are you okay to travel?" She asked over her shoulder, her tone flat. "Dying en route would slow me down terribly."
"Nice to know your so concerned Councilor," he chuckled, a stab of pain shooting through his chest. "I'll make it. The healers in the capital can check me over once we get back."
"Suit yourself," she nodded, moving to collect her things.

* * * * *

Jenta and Chodvar ate a quick meal from the bandits' food stores then prepared their horses, taking one of the bandits' steeds for Senior Historian Saklay'n.
Dez, the young arjeev boy from the capital who'd been instrumental in helping them locate the camp, approached the stables. "We about ready to go?"
"You're not coming," replied Jenta.
The street urchin raised a grey-furred eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Excuse me?"
Jenta rolled her eyes and softened her tone slightly. "Look. You wanted work, right? Here's your chance. I need to get Lord Taibil and the Historian here..." Basr opened his mouth to speak, which earned a sharp look from the pantheress.
"… If the next words out of your mouth are Senior Historian, I might be tempted to throw you back into that pen where we found you." Basr shut his mouth as quickly as it had opened.
She turned her attention back to Dez. "As I was saying... Time is of the essence and there aren't enough horses for everyone that was held captive here. I need you to get the rest of these people back to the city." Reading the objection in Dez's yellow cat-eyes, she held up a hand.
"I know what you're thinking, and here's my proposal. This camp, the land it's on, and the goods the bandits collected... All of it, is yours. We'll call that your initial payment for working for me. Bring your crew here if you like. Or not. I don't care. That's your decision. You're free to do as you see fit from there, but know this: if you agree, when I call, you answer. Deal?"
Dez, Chodvar, and even Basr all looked on in a stunned silence. She could see the wheels turning in the boy's head.
"Deal," Dez finally replied with excitement.
The two councilors and the historian mounted their steeds and rode Southward into the increasing rain.

Disclaimer

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

Actual Play

CT: Face Danger (+iron) - Poison

5/1/6-W-1H

CT: Endure Harm

7/1/8-W-1M+1H

JH: Compel (+heart)

7/3/8-W-+1M w/cost

Karnwood Forest, North of Stoverj

They were a few hours into the journey, Jenta riding at the lead, when Chodvar's wet cough grabbed Basr's attention. His gaze flicked from the young Lord to the back of pantheress' head, who showed no signs of noticing. Basr slowed his horse, coming alongside the green-scaled mahnkii.
"Are you unwell, my Lord?"
"I..." Chodvar swayed slightly in his saddle. "Perhaps we could rest for a moment?"
Jenta jerked her mount's reigns to one side, causing it to wheel around with no small amount of protest. "I asked you if you were well enough to ride," she spat, her eyes filled with venom. "We still have a long road ahead and getting the Senior Historian back to Stoverj is the priority. You have several options. One," she held up a black-clawed finger. "Head back to the camp and have Dez get you help. Two, rest here while we press on and try to make it back on your own – in which case you could die out here all alone. And three, continue to press on when you're clearly not in any shape to continue. It's your decision, but I shan't wait. Historian – come, we're picking up the pace."
With that, she turned her horse and spurred it along the muddy trail. The raccoon-like historian eyed Chodvar with concern. "What will you do?"
He sighed in resignation. "She's right," he coughed. "I'm not in any shape to ride. Go, before she gets too far ahead. I'll head back to the camp."
"In my mind she has to wait for me," Basr stated confidently. "I'm the one with the story to tell."
"Let me save you from yourself friend," Chodvar chuckled in response. "You're wrong. She would sooner render you unconscious and carry you back than admit she needs your support. You don't want to press that position."
Basr nervously measured the growing distance between his and Jenta's horses. "No, my Lord. I guess I don't. What will you do?"
"Loathe as I am to admit it, the Councilor is right. I'll head back and seek aid. You two must press on. Time is of the essence. Go now, before she gets too far ahead."
Basr nodded, spurring his horse after the pantheress.

* * * * *

The Mistress of Whispers pressed the two steeds and the pair's scant rations in a hard ride southward for the capital, leaving little time for the horses for the rest. The rain had built to a heavy downpour and Basr could feel a chill setting into his soaked garments.
"Councilor," Basr called over the sucking slurp of hooves through the muddy terrain, "The horses cannot maintain at this pace! They need to rest."
"They'll be..." Her words were cut short as lightning flashed and thunder clapped. Her horse reared, crying out in fear. Basr watched helplessly as Jenta was unceremoniously launched backwards from her saddle. Yet in an impressive feat of agility, she managed to hit the ground in a backward roll, coming to a sliding stop on all fours.
“Ugh!” Jenta shouted in frustration.
Basr dismounted, rushing to her side. “Councilor! Are you hurt?”
“No,” she retorted, almost offended he would even ask. “But these clothes are ruined!”
Thunder clapped again, sending both horses fleeing in terror. "Stupid beasts," she yelled after them. Her shoulders sagged as she scanned their surroundings. "We need to find shelter." The soaked raccoon-man nodded silently.
It didn't take long to find a copse of low-hanging trees clustered together under which they could ride out the storm. Finding a small bit of good fortune, the trees turned out to be berry producers with fruit in full bloom. Basr was "reasonably confident" from his studies they were an edible fruit called marberries and were not poisonous.

* * * * *

Time passed slowly while they waited out the storm. The Senior Historian tried several times to engage in conversation, but was only met with menacing looks from the pantheress. After what seemed like several painfully quiet hours, her menacing tone broke the silence.
"Tell me what you remember."
Basr looked up in confusion from the brownish cluster of marberries he held to find her piercing gaze almost staring through him. "About?"
"The side passage from the King's quarters. How big was it? As wide as a hall or like a narrow path between two walls? What did it smell like? Was it lit? "
Basr stuttered, shaking his head. "I don’t..."
"THINK! You wanted to talk, Historian. So talk! Be useful."
"I can't when you're yelling at me!"
His words hung heavy in the silence between them until her shoulders relaxed and she nodded, her demeanor softening slightly. When she finally spoke her tone came flat, with less menace and venom.
"Very well. Let's try a different approach. Close your eyes.” Basr stared at her skeptically. “You’re going to have to trust me here, Historian… Good. Now take deep breaths. Listen to the steady fall of rain on the forest floor.“ Jenta watched until the Historian’s breathing settled into a slow, rhythmic pattern. “Now, I want you to see yourself climbing the stairs to King Ga’jam’s chambers that day. See yourself moving down the hall. You were almost to the door."
“I reached out for the handle. A hand on my shoulder startled me.”
“Which shoulder?”
“What does that…” Basr opened his eyes, earning pursed lips and an angry glare from Jenta. He shut his mouth, sat up straight, and closed his eyes. “Left. A hand grabbed my left shoulder.”
“Can you see the hand?”
Basr nodded.
“Tell me about it. What color was their skin? Were there any marking or tattoos?”
“He was definitely one of the light-skinned elves. Oh! And he wore a ring. It had a flat, ruby-colored gemstone set in a triangle of bronze-colored metal.”
"On which finger?"
"Mmmm. Third? I think." Basr's heart raced with excitement at recalling the new details.
"Good," replied Jenta in a rare word of praise. "That’s enough for now.”
Disappointed, Basr opened his eyes. “Why? I feel like we were just getting started.”
Jenta motioned with her chin toward the opening to the tree cover. “Because the rain has slowed and we need to move. Don't worry. We can have additional sessions once we return to the capital.”

Actual Play

CT: Aid Ally (+wits)

Loyalist +1

5/6/10-M-Ptp

CT: Pay the Price

99 Roll x2

24 Something of value lost

12 You are separated

Oracle: Balance Journey
JH: Undertake a journey (+edge)

8/8/2-W-2 Su

Su: 2

Progress 3/10

JH: Undertake a journey (+edge)

8/4/9-W-2 Su

Su: 0

Progress: 6/10

JH: Undertake a journey (+edge)

3/3/9-M-PtP

JH: Pay the Price

80 You are harmed

JH: Endure Harm

-1H

10/7/7-Crit Strong!

+1H

Oracle: Resource Journey
JH: Resupply (+wits)

9/6/1-S-+2 Su

JH: Gather information

7/4/4-Crit!-S+2M

From the deluge of rain and without their horses the pair was forced to a slow slog through dark, knee-deep waters and waist-high marsh grasses. They were several hours into their trek when Jenta stopped, catching herself from falling forward into the water.
"Is something wrong," asked Basr.
"Yes," she acknowledged distantly. "The terrain drops away here. I suspect that's very deep water ahead. Deeper than we've encountered thus far. Can you swim Historian?"
Basr nodded.
"Good. It shouldn't be too wide. It will be slow, but I think we can make it."
Basr placed his hand gently on her arm, drawing an irritated glance. His eyes were filled with fear, his lips silently forming a single word: "Look" as he motioned slowly with his head.
Jenta strained her eyes across the distance, at first seeing nothing. Her mouth opened, no doubt to hurl yet another insult his way when the slightest of movements caught her eye. That's when she saw it: The slow rise and fall of the chest of a massive lizard-like creature barely visible above the surface of the water. It's eyes were closed - sleeping - for the moment.
"What is that," she questioned, stepping back from the edge of the drop-off.
"It's called a pagacha'roon," Basr whispered proudly. "Violent beasts magically bred by the mahnkii during the Great War. They were released into the wilderness surrounding Imperial lands to help sow chaos and destruction. I hadn't heard of any inhabiting the Karnwood."
Jenta shook her head at the further delay. "Come on. Looks like we're going around."

Actual Play

JH: Undertake a journey (+edge)

5/7/9-M-PtP

JH: PtP

39 Terrain/env hazard

Delve Shadowfen:

Deep water blocks the path

Ondwani Town, North of Stoverj

The way around was painfully slow, but eventually brought them to the modest river town of Ondwani. The Mistress of Whispers - typically secretive about who she was - was so exhausted she wasted no time dropping her name and "Ruling Councilor" status to the local authorities. The magistrate practically fell over himself trying to be helpful. He secured clean clothes – for which Jenta was infinitely thankful – a hot meal, clean lodging for the night, and passage south the next morning by river skiff. He further took the liberty of assigning the pair a protection detail to ensure their safety; two males, a mature human and a white-and-grey feathered shar'elum bearing the features of an owl.
Jenta studied the human guard intently. He had short, orderly black hair and no sign of stubble on his face. His eyes were the color of earth, ringed with golden flecks that gave him a wild appearance. The brown-leather scabbard holding his sword was well-oiled and cared for. Her eyes lingered a bit longer on his belt, taking particular interest in the subtle but familiar etching of a leaf.
A few hours passed before Senior Historian Saklay'n had settled in for the night. Confirming he was fast asleep, the black-and-white furred pantheress rose and approached their guards, focusing on the human. "What is your name, watchman?"
The strapping man met Jenta's gaze carefully and hesitated before responding. His eyes flicked quickly to his white-and-grey feathered compatriot and back. "Hayden Lancaster, Councilor, Sergeant of the Ondwani Guard."
"Sergeant Lancaster, sleep seems to be eluding me and I intend to take a stroll around your town. Would you accompany me?"
He bowed slightly and turned to his owl-like partner. "Stay here. Stay awake," he emphasized pointedly.
"Of course Sergeant," the owl-guard nodded.
"After you, m’lady..." He cringed and cursed internally the moment the title passed his lips. It was common knowledge she was had no noble blood and despised being reminded as much. He hoped his slip-up had gone unnoticed, but the slight wrinkling of the nose, narrowing of the eyes, and tug at the corner of her lips said otherwise. He looked to the ground and followed in embarrassment as she turned without word and walked away.
They traveled in silence some distance from the lodge, Jenta's short pointed ears flexing back and forth as she listened until there was little more than the drip of rain off the corners of slanted roofs from the town's wooden buildings and their own footsteps.
"Is it safe to speak," she asked matter-of-factly, neither turning nor slowing.
"It is, Councilor."
"I hadn't thought to look for one of my doonai stationed here," she began. Walking but a few steps behind her, Sergeant Lancaster thumbed the leather-etched leaf in his belt and beamed with pride at the use of the term referring to allies of the Councilor's clandestine information network from which her moniker, The Mistress of Whispers, originated.
"But I‘m glad you're here. I have tasks for you. Do you need to write these down?”
“Go ahead, Councilor. I’m listening.”
“Very well,” she nodded with satisfaction. “First, northeast of here you will find a former bandit camp. The bandit leader has been dealt with and I have installed a new doonai - a young arjeev boy going by the name of Dez. He is to be brought into the fold. There are a number of kidnapping-victims there we have freed. They require protection and assistance finding their way back to their homes. In addition, Lord Chodvar Taibil was wounded in the capture of this camp. Send a skilled healer to tend to his wounds. Do you understand, Sergeant?"
"I shall lead the effort personally, Mistress Hua'zur."
"Good. Next, I need your Keeper to relay a message ahead of us to the Capital... Tonight if at all possible. I am looking for one of the Hadymaar."
"I'm sorry ma'am," he interrupted. "The hadee-what?"
"The Hadymaar – keep up, Sergeant." She stopped abruptly, spinning to face him so quickly he almost collided with her. "It's a sect of mute elves devoted to keeping past Imperial secrets out of our hands. Our friends in Stoverj will know the ones of whom I speak." She turned away and continued forward, speaking softly over her shoulder.
"Specifically, I am looking for a member of their group – a male elf with light skin - who wears a triangle-shaped bronze ring with a flat red gemstone on his left hand; possibly on his third finger. The ring may simply be ornamental, or it could be reflective of some factional allegiance."
She shook her head. "Elves and their damned secret Orders... Though I am skeptical, I would be interested to know if the Library has records of the ring or associated factions. Have our friends seek out the rundaba who leads the Library's Historians. Chief Historian Uk'maad is his name, as I recall. That old goat was particularly infatuated with Lord Taibil, if we need to find some common ground for encouraging his cooperation. Should we locate the Hadymaar elf of interest, he is to be tracked or apprehended. I have questions of vital importance for this elf, so he must be alive. Can you manage this message for me, Sergeant?"
"Of course, Mistress. I am in your service."
"Have you any word from the capital in the last few days?"
His slow, deep inhale told her she wasn't going to like whatever he had to say. "This morning. A northbound ship came through. We received word there was an attempt on the Grand Marshall's life."
Jenta stopped dead in her tracks, turning toward him with a look of shock. "What?! In the capital?!"
Lancaster nodded. "In the bay, to be precise. On the dwarven merchant ship called the Grewinruul. There was an explosion of some kind, but he escaped. We were warned that our own assets on the ship had gone silent, meaning..."
"...meaning," Jenta interrupted. "...they were either killed, captured, or in such danger they could not send word." Lancaster nodded.
Jenta closed her eyes, stroking the long whiskers of her white snout. "With this news, I would ask you and the persons heading to the bandit camp to delay Lord Taibil from returning to the capital. Do not harm him and do not arouse his suspicion that he is being intentionally delayed. If our adversary is so bold as to strike at the Council in the capital, it is far too dangerous for Lord Taibil to return. Keep him safe. Keep him away. And tell those in Stoverj I expect a full report of what we know upon my return."
"On my life, it shall be so."
"I will hold you to that, Sergeant. The Kingdom is counting on you. Let us head back. I have much to think upon."

* * * * *

Morning in Ondwani came too soon for Basr's taste. After a quick meal, the pair rushed onto a no-frills dwarven skiff bound for Stoverj named the Placherbav. Their return to the capital was but a few hours away. Jenta knew though, it heralded the beginning of a much more dangerous chapter in their collective story.

To Be Continued...

Actual Play

JH: Undertake a journey (+shadow)

8/3/3-Crit!-S

Progress: 9/10

Oracle: Secure Law
JH: Make a connection

Scoundrel 2 (+shadow)

6/1/5-S

Contact:

Hayden Lancaster

Human Warrior

Troublesome

Traits: insightful, armed, wild

JH: Gather Information (+network)

Hayden +1

5/5/10-M

Burn momentum

7/5/10-W+1M

Complication

JH: Finish a journey

9/2/3-S

Discoveries: +1 tick