Episode 16: What Happens in Hervakh...

Gokrenxia    Prose    Tales of the Inner Council      Episode 16: What Happens in Hervakh...

Content Warning

Contains scenes of violence, blood, torture, death, and dying

Previously, on Tales of the Inner Council

The largely unknown dwarf Tashkerr Dyber of the strange Wayfinder's Magic Guild, now many weeks into his journey from the Stormbreak Mountains, departed from his strange encounter with an elder elven woman in the dusty hills of Kireen Voojdad under paid escort by the rugged mercenary dog-man nomad known only as Kharveg. With but one thousand miles left in their journey to the Vath'azen capital of Stoverj, the two arrived in the coastal entertainment town of Hervakh, in the vyrian Kingdom of Sanysgal.

Ayzinmas District, Hervakh City, Sanysgal

Two weeks ago...

The brutish bulldog of a man slammed the thin wooden door of their second-floor room shut, moving his squat but wide body in front of it. "I don't care what you want," he bellowed in irritation, his flat, typically wrinkled tan-and-white furred face even more scrunched up than normal. "I'm getting paid to get you to Stoverj, dwarf. Hervakh is a dangerous place and the wrong move can be deadly."
"I am bored, Kharveg," Tashkerr responded in his thick Stormbreak accent. "I am not going to sit here staring at you all night. We have been riding hard for two straight weeks. ‘Get to Hervakh. Find a ship to Stoverj,’ you said. We are here and still need to setup passage." He rose from the reasonably clean table and moved to the window. His eyes drew upward to the open night sky.
While not as bad as his first few weeks away from Stormbreak, the lack of the comforting embrace of the mountainous caves all around still left him feeling anxious. He exhaled and forced his view back down to the myriad of dimly-lit shops lining the waterside street. "This city is alive, Kharveg. I have never seen anything like it. Who knows if I will ever have a better chance to learn what your vyrian kingdom of Sanysgal is like."
"Just because I'm vyrian doesn't mean Sanysgal is my kingdom," the mercenary corrected, arms crossing his chest.
With a slight smile, Tash leaned into his House Dyber-honed skills. "Yes, exactly! You help illustrate my point. As a dwarven negotiator summoned by the King of Vath’azen, I will undoubtedly be called upon to weigh in on matters relevant to both Sanysgal as a neighboring Kingdom as well as the vyrian peoples. How can I do so effectively if I cannot even differentiate between the two?"
Kharveg's bulldog features softened slightly, telling Tashkerr the argument was already won. "Besides, my intimidating friend, you will be with me. Who would dare to threaten me with you at my side? Yes, now that I consider it further, I am doubly certain we must do this. I can imagine no better opportunity for me to learn firsthand about this city, its peoples, and its ways. Come now, let us go and find a place to eat. What do you say?"
The mercenary clenched his jaw, shooting the young dwarf a skeptical glare. His black nostrils flared as he crossed the room and donned his sword belt. "Fine," Kharveg began. "But we're keeping to the Ayzinmas District." Seeing the lack of understanding on Tash's face, he expanded. "It's the nicer part of the city and the least likely to land you in trouble."
Tash struggled to contain his excitement. "Excellent!"
Kharveg rolled his eyes, and the two headed out into the streets of Hervakh city.

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

Initial situation?

Oracle: Deflect Risk

TD: Compel (heart)

8/4/7-S+1M

Ovalyn, Ayzinmas District,
Hervakh City, Sanysgal

The narrow stone streets of the Ayzinmas District were abuzz with people. Crowds of drunken revelers and carousers cackled with joy as they staggered blissfully from one establishment to the next under the star-filled night skies above Hervakh. Yellow-orange lanterns — soft, but not the green hues of Stormbreak - hung lazily from the doorways of tall, multi-story wooden buildings lining either side of their path. The height of the buildings and the press of the crowd distracted Tash from dwelling too much on once again being out in the open.
Hervakh was indeed unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was filled with a palpable energy in the air beckoning visitors to set aside their cares and concerns. One large building towered above the rest in the very center of both the district and the city. It called to him, a gentle pull against his soul. His pace quickened ever-so-slightly as he turned down one well-kept street, then another, until he came upon it.
Individual, dark-wooden balconies lined the lit windows above the street level in the multi-story building. Some of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen stood upon them, waving down to passersby with coy smiles and tantalizing eyes. They were of many different races, but primarily of kynekin descent. Packed tables spilled onto the sidewalk before the building as comrades clanked their mugs of ale in raucous celebration. Squinting to see through the open arches on the first floor, Tashkerr could make out even more people and expensive décor with rich colors inside.
These kinds of places were not completely unfamiliar to him, for he had grown up around them. Tash's mother was one of the deshelmende; a worker who uses their body to engage in spiritual healing and restoration. But this… This felt somehow, different. He took another step, when a strong hand gripped his shoulder, startling him.
“Hold on there,” Kharveg challenged. “Get your head about you dwarf. Those Ovalyn girls will rob you of everything you own, and you’ll thank them for it.”
“Ovalyn?” Tash questioned.
Kharveg chuckled, nodding as he looked on longingly. “ ‘An oasis of want in a desert of desire,’ they say. It’s said they teach a kind of magic there to manipulate men’s hearts.”
Tash took a deep breath and closed his eyes, turning his senses inward to the flow of magic around him. As the world faded out, he began to sense the steady rivers of energy racing toward the building, pooling together like many tributaries emptying into a lake.
Unfocused and inattentive, came the all too familiar memory of Master Saldre’s disapproving voice. He thought about the lessons the elf woman, Nizara, had tried to teach him about sensing the flow of energy around him and shoring up his mental defenses.
How could I have missed it? Kharveg was right. That inextricable tug on his heart wasn’t natural at all. It was magical! Tash shook his head in frustration and moved to an open table off to one side. Kharveg sat silently across from him.
I need to put my guard up. Pulling his hooded cloak a little further over his eyes and lowering his forehead to rest on his fist, Tash carefully drew in small amounts of the magical energy swirling around them.
In his mind’s eye, he stood at the center of a great stone circle in the darkness. Lifting his arms as though he carried massive weights, a dome of carved cavern stone arced upward from the floor, enclosing him, shielding his mind and heart.
"Look out," yelled a voice from the crowd, breaking his concentration just before a human man bounced awkwardly across their table, slamming into the vyr mercenary and toppling him from his chair. Tashkerr popped up and back as Kharveg struggled to get out from under the man, when a large, black-furred bear of a vyr pushed through the assembled people.
"Lying cheat," the bear-man spit toward the human as he descended to the ground with a flurry of punches.
That was the last thing Tash saw as a canvas sack came down over his head from behind. Something blunt but solid smashed his head hard enough to make him see stars. Bodies hooked his arms from either side and dragged him quickly away from the scene.

Actual Play

TD: Face Danger (wits)

4/3/9-W+1M, -1Sp

TD: Endure Stress

8/5/7-S+1Sp

TD: Secure Advantage (+heart)

First Impressions +1

10/3/1-S-+2M

TD: Face Danger (+shadow)

5/6/7-M

The wrong folks take notice!

Somewhere in Hervakh City, Sansygal

Keeping the sack over his head, Tashkerr’s kidnappers had dragged him through a series of streets and alleys, tossing him unceremoniously into what he assumed was a dungeon cell of some sort. His wrists were bound together with metal manacles connected to a heavy chain.
Footsteps approached from the distance, casting a familiar sound that reminded him of the caverns of Stormbreak as they reverberated off stone walls. It wasn’t until they fell silent that his mouth went dry with panic.
“Hello,” Tash called out.
The metal jangle of an iron key-ring. The clank of an old lock. The squeal of a heavy door. The footsteps approached quickly.
BAM! His world flashed red-white as the blunt object struck his head once again, knocking him to the hard stone floor. The canvas sack was ripped from his head, revealing a tall, bluish-black and brown-snouted doberman-like man glaring down. He was laden with brass accouterments - a collar around his neck, chains dangling from brown leather pauldrons, bracers around his wrists, and rings on practically every finger of his right hand, and brass knuckles - no doubt what he’d hit Tash with - on the other. He was lean, fit, and muscular with a callous air of murder in his eyes.
The dog-man dragged a wooden stool across the stone floor, its scraping a harsh echo off the walls, and sat.
“Now that I have your attention,” he began, his voice a chilling calm. “I am called Tunkesh the Blue, a hunter of the Brenacyra. My employer has questions. You will answer them, or you will suffer. Do you understand?”
Tashkerr nodded, willing the ringing in his ears to stop without success.
“Good. Then let us begin. Who are you and how did you come to be in the company of the outcast Kharveg?”
Tash's head throbbed and his mind was foggy. "My... my name is Vennik. Of... Of House Zulzny."
Tunkesh leaned forward, cracking his knuckles, yellow-brown eyes narrowing in menacing suspicion. "Go on," the vyrian ordered.
Tash swallowed, reconsidering the wisdom of lying to the brute. "I... I really don't know why, but Kharveg said he was hired to transport me."
Next began a series of rapid fire questions between the two.
"Hired by whom?"

"...Some elf woman in the desert."

"To transport you where?"

"…Vath'azen."

"How much is he getting paid?"
Tash shook his head in irritation at the shift in the line of questioning. "What? I have no idea. Why does it matter and what does it have to do with me?" The moment the words left his lips, Tash regretted his tone. With lightning fast reflexes, Tunkesh lashed out, fist connecting solidly with the Tash's cheek, knocking him once again to the floor.
"You're not the one asking the questions here," Tunkesh spat, looking down over Tash's writhing form. "But if you must know your friend owes some people a great deal of money."
"Uggghh," Tash groaned. Looking up from the cold stone, he scanned the singular exit to the small square chamber, hoping for some kind of opportunity to escape. As useful as they might have been, he dared not draw on his Wayfinding magics given Tunkesh's close observation. Magic was anything but subtle.
The door was a thick wood. The lock and the hinges looked to be reasonably solid, though time had left them with a moderate amount of rust. On the wall across from his cell door, a shadow shifted, cast from some wall torch he couldn’t see. Someone was standing in the hallway, listening to the conversation.
"You there, hiding in the hall," shouted Tashkerr. "Afraid to question me yourself? You need a mutt to do your dirty work?"
Tunkesh sprang from his chair, kicking Tash repeatedly in the ribs and stomach. His mouth foamed with a wild fury at the vyrian insult.
A commanding voice resonated through the room. "That's enough!" Tunkesh stopped, but not before one final, well-placed kick. Tashkerr struggled to catch his breath.
A short, metal pipe pushed the door the rest of the way open as a tall figure rounded the entryway. He was one of the shar'elum birdfolk, bearing the yellow beak, eyes, and warm-colored feathers like that of a golden eagle. He stood with exceptional posture in his fashionable royal blue tunic with golden clasps and trim. His leather shoulder pauldrons were meticulously crafted, appearing as additional layers of feathers, painted to match those of his head.
"Thank you Tunkesh. That will be all," he commented softly through a practiced smile as though this were some kind of tea party.
Tunkesh knelt, bringing his snarling maw and flaring nostrils inches from the dwarf's head. "I'm not done with you, dwarf." He pushed off Tashkerr as he rose, and shouldered the eagle man out of his way as he exited the dungeon chamber. Tashkerr, chest on fire from pain, pulled himself upright painfully, leaning against the chamber wall. With his hands bound by the manacles, he could only squeeze his sides with his elbows for comfort.
With an exaggerated sigh and a sympathetic shaking of the head, the newcomer pulled Tunkesh's stool farther away and sat. "My, that does look painful.“ He glanced quickly over his shoulder toward the door and lowered his voice. ”A word of advice, friend. You ought not make enemies of the Brenacyra. Those guild hunters are quite skilled and have substantial reach."
“Thank you, friend,” Tash grimaced through bloody teeth. “Perhaps now my friend will be letting me go?”
The eagle-man laughed gregariously, rocking back on the stool and slapping his knee. “Ha! And you still have a sense of humor I see. Oh, and how rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Rontea, a debt collector of the Mejinern.” Seeing the lack of recognition on Tash’s swollen face, he rolled his eyes in with feigned irritation. “You don’t know of the money lenders of Sanysgal? You really don’t get out much, do you?”
Tash stared absently, trying to breath through the pain in his ribs. “Hmm,” Rontea pondered aloud, stroking the feathers below the base of his sharp, curved beak. “It is a good question though. Whatever am I to do with you? I know. Let’s talk about the elf in the desert. What was this elf’s name?”
“I do not know,” Tash lied.
Rontea cocked his head to one side, allowing one of his yellow eyes to fully take Tash in. “I hate to be the one to tell you,” he began, tapping his fingers along the knee of his black breeches, “but you’re not a very good liar; a bad trait in a city like Hervakh. If you insist on continuing down this path I can always invite Tunkesh back.”
Pain flared in his ribs and an inextricable terror seized Tashkerr's heart and mind. As if acting of its own accord something deep inside him reached out and like a whirlpool in the ocean called forth an immense amount of magical energy.
No! No no no! Don't lose control! Don't...
Tash panicked, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his head with both hands, trying to claw back from the intoxicating power, but he was too weary to resist the rush of pleasure that came with that power. A scream rose in his ears. Whether it was his own, he could not tell.

Actual Play

Situation: Locate Debt Kharveg's Debt:

Empire

Notable

Maneuvering against

Collusion w/criminal factions

Criminal Org:

Established

*Mejinern (banking guild of Sanysgal)

Hire: Tunkesh the Blue

A Critical Warrior looks to restore a relationship

Member of the brenacyra (bounty hunters) guild

Interrogation Scene Challenge

Formidable

Progress: 0/10

Countdown: 0/4

TD: Compel +shadow

7/1/8-W-+1M

Complication (Tunkesh is suspect)

Progress: 2/10

Countdown 1/4

Does Tunkesh know House Zulzny (20/80):

22: No

TD: Compel +heart

3/3/7-M-2 Spirit

Progress: 2/10

Countdown: 2/4

TD: Endure Stress

6/3/8-W-1M+1S

Does Tunkesh care about Nizarra? (20/80):

99: Nope

Does Tunkesh care about Vath'azen (50/50):

57: Nope

TD: Compel +heart

5/1/7-W-+1M-2H

Progress: 4/10

Countdown: 3/4

TD: Endure Harm

8/2/8-W+1H-1M

TD: Secure and Advantage (+wits)

8/1/3-S+1 next

Progress: 6/10

Countdown: 3/4

TD: Compel +iron

+1 Advantage

6/1/6-W+1M-2H

Progress: 8/10

Countdown: 4/4

TD: Endure Harm

4/3/8-W-1M+1H

Resolve Challenge:

8/5/8-W

Tashkerr makes an enemy of Tunkesh

Character: Rontea Phanis (theater)

Performer

Goal: Resolve a dispute

Sociable

Stingy

Connected

Race: Shar'elum

Does Rontea care about House Zulzny (80/20):

90: Nope

Nizara (80/20):

72: Yes!

Stoverj (80/20):

76: Yes

TD: Compel +shadow

8/3/10-W+1M-1Sp

TD: Endure stress

9/3/7-S+1Sp

TD: Face Danger +heart

4/1/10-W-1Sp

TD: Endure stress

9/9/9-M-Crit!

(Oh no!)

Somewhere... Else

The screams faded to the back of Tash's mind, replaced with an unending buzz of energy. The rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump of a heartbeat rattled his head. It took several moments to realize it wasn't his. Slowly opening his eyes, Tash found himself standing on the precipice of a deep, underground mountainous cavern of ethereal shadows. Far below and stretching a great distance, a river of glistening, dark ichor meandered back and forth along the bed of stone it had carved across the ages. An otherworldly greenish light, pulsing in time to the sound of the heartbeat, drew his eyes upward. Its source - a glowing gem larger than a dwarf - hovered high in the air above. Emerald flames danced around it.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
One thousand women's voices lashed out as one, assaulting Tashkerr's ears from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
"You fool! You should not be here!"
He fell to his knees, certain his ear drums were going to shatter. "Ahhhhhh," he screamed over the din. "I'm sorry! I don't even know where here is!" But that wasn't entirely true. Something about this place felt familiar. It reminded him of his homeland - the Stormbreak Mountains.
"You place everything at risk!"

"I don't understand!"

The emotional weight of her voice broke his heart. "You had but one task," she accused.
"I was taken captive," he pleaded, tears welling in his eyes and while confusion filled his mind.
"I will deal with your captors myself." Thump-thump, thump-thump.
Her tone shifted mercurially, suddenly sad and nurturing. "Time is no longer your ally, child. They will come looking for me. You are in grave danger. Make haste to finish your journey."

Actual Play

TD: Make conx

5/1/7-W

The Voice of Stone

Role: Chaotic Celestial

Rank: Epic

TD: Develop relationship

Progress: 0.25/10

Tone:

Ruined

Pretentious

Weird

Irritable

Ill-Natured

Bajintar District, Hervakh City, Sanysgal

South and east from the glitz and glamour of the Ayzinmas district, the residents of Hervakh city's Bajintar district carved out meager lives in cramped quarters beneath the shadow of the uncaring citadel. Might ruled the streets here, and there was strength in numbers. Its people banded together to protect themselves as much from one another as from the corrupt city guard.
At a dead sprint, the mercenary Kharveg threw his back into the thin wooden door with full force. It crashed open in protest as he spun into the room, unleashing an expertly-placed crossbow bolt into the head of the first being that started to rise.
In one fluid motion he released the crossbow and unhooked the studded wooden club from his belt, bringing it to head level just in time to deflect a blindingly fast sword. The squat Kharveg snarled as looked up into the familiar eyes of the wielder.
"Tunkesh," he spat. "Back off! I'm on contract!"
"How convenient," the black-furred vyrian smirked. "So am I."
Tunkesh launched forward - reach, height, and speed in his favor. Wooden floorboards creaked as he pushed Kharveg back on his heels with a dizzying assault. But Kharveg, years of practical experience across dozens of contracts under his belt, patiently deflected the attacks over and over again with a practiced ease. These two were clearly no strangers to one another's fighting styles.
“You never could beat me, Tunkesh,” Kharveg taunted over the clang of sword on the metal studs of his club, ”and you never will.”
“First time for everything,” Tunkesh heaved through heavy breaths, already showing signs of wearying. With a relentless assault toppling tables and chairs that sent others in the room scurrying to the edges or outright fleeing, Tunkesh continued to press Kharveg’s defenses with blinding speed. Yet Kharveg knew overconfidence had ever been his opponent’s Achilles heel.
It was only a matter of time before Kharveg feigned to lower his guard. Tunkesh rushed in, fully committing to an overhead strike. Kharveg dodged to his right, throwing Tunkesh forward and off-balance, allowing the smaller vyrian to bring his club squarely down upon the back of Tunkesh’s head. With a thud, the doberman crumpled to the floor.
Kharveg kicked the short sword away, shaking his head. “Not today, my friend.” He surveyed the room and the many eyes still staring at him, waiting for his next move.
“You there,” he pointed to a wide-eyed human man, then to Tunkesh's prone form on the floor. “This one brought in a dwarf within the last few hours. Where would they keep him?”
He pointed toward a door in the back of the room.
Through the door, Kharveg found a lantern-lit supply room with no windows. Stacked crates and sacks of grain lined the walls in orderly fashion. A narrow wooden door stood silently closed along a side wall. Pulling it open, the coppery smell of blood mixed with a damp mold wafted up an old wooden staircase, accompanied by strange unintelligible groaning. The hackles of the back of Kharveg's neck stood on end. Danger.
Leaning into his senses and club at the ready, he crept slowly down the stairwell. It landed at a long, well-lit hallway with alternating doors on either side at regular intervals. Across from an open door about halfway down the hall, the broken bodies of what appeared to be two lightly armored guards lay crumpled together against the wall, still twitching involuntarily. A sickening knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he stepped along the blood-slicked floors. Something is very wrong here.
Carefully peering around the open door, a shiver of dread at what he might find ran down his spine. He froze, unable to comprehend the horrific scene that lay before him. Five more armed and armored bodies, abject terror forever etched on their faces, lay unnaturally twisted and discarded like potatoes about the stone cell. There, against the back wall, lay Tashkerr's battered form.
Kharveg's training kicked in, his mind shutting out the horrors at hand and focusing on the dwarf and his mission. The vyrian bounty hunter stepped over the bodies, kneeling down to check Tashkerr's pulse. Still alive.
"Vennik," he called, slightly shaking the dwarf. Tash's swollen eyes opened slightly.
"No time," he whispered through clenched jaws. Clutching Kharveg's arm, he struggled to get out the words, "Must... get... to... Stoverj," before passing out.
After recovering the keys to the dwarf's manacles, Kharveg scooped up Tashkerr's body and exited the building, leaving behind a bloody trail of footsteps. Though he didn't understand what had happened, one thing was clear: they had to get out of Hervakh, tonight.

To Be Continued...

Actual Play

As an NPC, Kharveg relies on Tashkerr's stats.
Rescue Tashkerr (Troublesome)

Progress: 0/10

TD: Enter the frey (+wits)

7/5/8-W-Kharveg init

TD: Gain ground (+heart)

10/2/10-W-

Progress: 3/10

TD: Strike (+iron)

2/4/5-M-Init-PtP

TD: Pay the price

In the dungeon, Tash takes damage (-1H)

TD: Endure Harm

4/2/1-S+1H+Init

TD: Strike (+iron)

7/4/8-W-Init

Progress: 9/10

TD: Secure an Advantage (+wits)

I know things +1

4/2/5-Init+1 next

TD: Secure an Advantage (+wits)

I know things +1

9/6/7-S+2M+1 next

TD: Take decisive action

9/2/6-S+1M

TD: Make a conx

5/1/2-S

Conx: Kharveg

Role: Vyrian Mercenary

Rank: Dangerous

TD: Develop a relationship

Progress: 2/10

TD: Milestone

Uncover the plot against House Dyber

Progress: 2/10

TD: Journey to Stoverj

Progress: 8/10