Last episode, we closed out Session 10 and arrived in Gordin’s Delve, in search of Elder Kirs and Stormcatcher’s Crown, and hoping to avoid the notice of the ruthless Bosses who run the town — if only to keep Padrig’s bloody history from come back for revenge in the present.
We left off with the party deciding which of their (relatively few) allies in the Delve to tap in order to start the search for Elder Kirs — we considered Rheisart, an old and trustworthy friend of Anwen’s who came to the Delve to learn the smith’s trade, or Kanter, a Delver merchant who travels between Stonetop and the Delve, trading whiskey and grain for passable iron tools1. Let’s see what y’all selected!
The party (Anwen in particular, I imagine) is tempted to contact Rheisart, but they think better of roping him into their dangerous business, so they will instead contact Kanter. He relies on trade with Stonetop, so he’s inclined to help them, but he’s also not entirely trustworthy. Before we set the first scene of the session, let’s dip into our GM prep for Gordin’s Delve, and establish a few more things about the situation our PCs are moving into. Fair warning — this episode is a bit heavy on the commentary and GM prep — if you’re more interested in the fiction, I’d encourage you to skim through the first scene!
First, I wanted to create an overarching situation in the Delve to create a backdrop for the PC’s mission here. If things go awry, they might be entangled in this trouble as part of the adventure here. To envision this situation, I used the Ironsworn Settlement Trouble Oracle, and got the result “Production Halts.”
From this, I envisioned that thanks to the feud with the Hillfolk (instigated by the hdour), the smiths of the Delve have been unable to supply themselves with timber to feed their fires, shutting down the Foundry and the smithies. This puts the squeeze on two NPCs we detailed — Raul the Limper, a blacksmith Keep2 who oversees a work gang of other smiths, and Jahalim of the Keys, who oversees the Foundry, as one of the five Delve Boss who run the town. This means Jahalim is up in arms against the Hillfolk, and is stirring up anger against the nomad outcasts who have made their home in the Delve — of which Elder Kirs is one! This confluence of events creates a thorny situation that could rope our heroes in — don’t forget that last episode, we started a countdown clock that represents the party’s ability to evade the notice of the Delve Bosses, and that clock currently stands at two ticks:
So, that’s the broader situation in the Delve. Now let’s talk about our inside man, Kanter.
NPC Breakdown: Kanter
In our prep episode, we established Kanter’s instinct: To look for an opportunity to get rich quick. I also wanted to establish a more immediate character goal, using Ironsworn’s Character Goal Oracle, and I got the result “Restore a Relationship.” To me, the most straightforward answer to the question “which relationship?” is the one with his Keep, Raul the Limper. Let’s envision Kanter, a bit of a cowardly opportunist, has been reluctant to make a trip to Stonetop with the Hillfolk situation being as it is, and his supply of Stonetop whisky3 has run dry. Raul the Limper is dealing with his production stoppage, and has no patience to protect Kanter if he’s not willing to buy his goods or sell him whisky, so now Kanter’s out on the mean streets on his own.
To make the situation a bit more grabby, we’ll want to envision some imminent danger — now that Kanter’s without protection, someone’s gunning for him. Drawing on our prep, that someone is likely Smiling Ffrancis, who, thanks to his Stonefolk heritage, has the knowledge to set up his own whiskey distilling operation here in the Delve, and resents the imported competition.
With that in mind, we can set the scene: the party has successfully asked around and gotten a lead on where they can find Kanter, and are headed towards his (sadly barren and unprotected) market stall.
Scene 1: A market road on the Delve’s second terrace
Padrig, his scarf masking his face and his hood pulled up, leads the party through the market streets and down to the second terrace4, making his way through the crowd, with Vahid at his side and Anwen trailing shortly behind, leading Smoke by her reins.
It is noon, and the second terrace’s stalls host food and water sellers — they pass butchers with fresh goat carcasses and skewers of bloody meat sizzling over dung fires and steaming pots filled with palm-sized bugs, their shiny black-and-blue carapaces glistening in the steam as they clamber over one another to escape the boiling water. There is precious little else to be found — bread sellers and rice traders from Marshedge and Lygos loiter restlessly by their stalls, their tables empty.
Ahead of them, calls of “Make way!” ring out, and the crowd presses against the terrace wall as a pack of four bravos make their way past. They wear fighting leathers adorned with scarves and sashes of yellow silk, and the largest drags behind him a miserable, beaten-looking nomad bound to a wooden yoke. The bravo leading them cries out as they strut through the marketplace. “Only Jahalim will protect you from the savages of the Steplands! Only the Master of Keys can put an end to this feud! The Lawkeeper and Rainmaker smile upon him!”
Jahalim’s bravos stalk the markets of the second terrace, making sure the streets ring out with their boss’s name. Source: Midjourney
Pad mutters under his breath. “It’s gotten grim again. This is what it was like when the Claws were here -- the bad old days.”
Vahid strokes his beard. “No doubt this Jahalim is using the feud to strengthen his hold on the Delve. The statesman ebn-Rashun admonished: ‘Unite those you rule against a common enemy, and they shall never look with jealousy upon their Despot.’”
Padrig sees Anwen tense, her jaw tightening and her grip tensing around her axe as the bedraggled Hillman is dragged past them. He puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers: “We have a job to do here. Hold fast.” Anwen nods grudgingly, and they push their way through the crowd.
“Are we nearly there?” Anwen asks, casting a backward glance at the unfortunate prisoner.
Padrig nods and points ahead. “Aye, that is the place — the Serai of Helior’s Light.” The building ahead is a large, squared-off structure with walls of trellised bronze, overgrown with a network of thick, ropey vines, just budding with spring leaves and white blossoms. Built by the ancient giants, the Forge Lords, it towers over the ramshackle stalls and lean-tos that crowd the terrace wall, and its doorway is tall and wide enough for two carts to pass through side by side.
“There are four caravanserais in the Delve, each shared among a few of the Bosses,” Pad continues. “They’re easily defensible, and only the most favored merchants can set up shop there. Kanter is a smaller-timer — belike he’ll be posted up outside.”
It is not long before they spot him — Kanter’s stall is little more than a patched tent pitched against the caravanserai wall and a half-dozen wooden barrels, all but one of which has been marked empty with a slash of red paint. Kanter is a thin, pale man with an old and tired face, and he wears the rough, striped woolen trousers of a Marcher with a heavy woolen Peaksfolk robe stitched with their sacred geometries.
The merchant is not alone — as the party approaches, two bravos stand in animated discussion with him, while a third waits aside, watching for trouble. Like Jahalim’s men, they wear fighting leathers — vests and studded armguards, with dagger sheaths and heavy wooden cudgels at their hips — but adorned with faded blue scraps of wool tied as armbands or worn as scarves.
Padrig holds them back, waiting to hear what’s being said. The bravos aren’t being quiet, and a small crowd has begun to gather, watching with cautious curiosity.
“Kanter, Kanter. All alone on the second, are you? Ain’t seen the Limper’s knives around for weeks. Why’s your Keep not looking out for you?”
Kanter backs away, pressing his back against the stacks of barrels, his eyes darting between the men. “Raul and I are still good friends, I assure you. He would not be pleased to hear of it were anything to befall me.”
“That’s not what I heard,” the bravo says, still advancing. He grins, and his smile shows three lost teeth replaced with copper and iron. “I heard the Limper says that if you can’t help keep the anvils ringing, you’re no good to him. And with the nomads on the prowl, you ain’t been able to trek to Stonetop.”
“Please, Vikas. There’s a caravan leaving next week. I’ll cut you in on the proceeds when I return, and I’ll be back in the Limper’s good graces. What does it gain you to hurt old Kanter? I’m nobody!”
“Might bring a smile to the boss’s face, is all. You’ve been cutting into his trade with that Stonetop swill for years. Maybe it’s time you worked for him — starting with tax already owed.” The bravo holds out an expectant palm.
Kanter holds up his hands helplessly. “I have nothing, Vikas. Not a thin copper bezant.”
The bravo’s hand goes to his belt, unlooping the cudgel and hefting it eagerly. “Then we’ll take it from your hide — and you can remember what it cost you to cross Smiling Ffransis.” He seizes Kanter by the collar of his robe and raises his cudgel to strike.
This is too much for Anwen — she pulls away from Padrig and Vahid, forcing her way through the gathering crowd, and calls out to the bravos, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Let him go. You heard him; he has nothing for you.”
The bravos turn to face Anwen, and the crowd recedes from her, leaving her standing alone before the three of them. The man holding Kanter lowers his cudgel, pointing it at Anwen.
“This is none of your concern. This pissant peddler has cut into our trade for the last time. Move along, fresh meat, or we’ll give you a dose of the Delve’s hospitality.”
Like a pouncing lioness, Anwen closes the distance to the man before he or his fellows can react and seizes him by his leather harness, hauling him away from the cowering merchant.
The bravo struggles against her grasp, and is surprised at her strength. Anwen holds him fast and looks into his eyes. “This man serves my village, and I’ll protect him if I have to.”
“Who the fuck are you, then?!” The bravo spits back. His breath is foul, and Anwen grimaces. It is Vahid who answers him, emerging from the crowd. “She is Anwen of Stonetop; Marshal and champion. She speaks for our village, and Kanter is one of ours.”
Scene Breakdown
Anwen begins by trying to intimidate these bravos to back down, with the implicit threat of violence. Anwen’s a tough-looking customer at this point, and she’s openly carrying a weapon of war, so she doesn’t need to be explicit to be threatening. She triggers Persuade, gaining advantage from Speak Truth to Power5:
Anwen triggered Persuade with advantage: 3+3+6+0 Charisma = 9, Weak Hit
A Weak Hit means they reveal (either by word or deed) the easiest way to persuade them to back off. In this case, they need a show of force, and a sense that Anwen has some sort of claim on this merchant.
As part of SpeakTruth to Power, she also banks 1 Resolve, which can power her Anger is a Gift6move. Needless to say, she’s uses it immediately, to act suddenly, catching them off guard. Since she’s spending a hold, I opted not to make her roll Defy Danger to take the bravo in hand. Vahid then steps into the scene and answers the bravo’s question in a manner that satisfies the condition of the Persuade weak hit.
Vahid is being a touch indiscrete here7, however, and so as GM I opt to mark a tick on the party’s countdown clock, bringing us to 3 of 8.
For the previous two countdown clocks, I really only marked ticks when there were Weak Hit or Miss results, but the GM has full discretion to mark ticks whenever the fiction suggests it’s appropriate (even filling the clock entirely, if, for example, the party were to go knocking directly on Jahalim’s door). A common PbtA term for this is “when the players give you a golden opportunity” — when the players do something that demands a reaction, the GM doesn’t need to wait for them to roll a Miss to react.
Back to the action:
The bravo struggles to pull away and stumbles to one knee when Anwen releases him. He snarls and draws a shiv of rusty iron from his belt. Anwen unlimbers Bearkiller from her shoulder and throws off the hide covering. A shudder runs through the crowd watching the conflict, and the onlookers gasp when they see the gleam of the makerglass axe in the high noon sun8.
The man scrambles away and up to his feet with his blade at the ready, but another of the other bravos -- one of the mountain folk with a brand like Ozbeg’s across his cheek -- calls out. “Hold fast there, Vikas. The boss wouldn’t want us picking a fight with his old kin9, would he?” He turns his gaze on Anwen -- he moves slowly and smoothly, like a lizard basking in the sun. “Not unless you’re here to cause trouble for him. Are you here to cause trouble for him?”
Vahid answers him. “We are here to speak to Kanter on the business of our village. We do not quarrel with your master.”
“Yet.” Anwen finishes.
Anwen’s Aiding Vahid here by adding a little extra threat to his Persuade attempt — Vahid’s trying to get them to depart, rather than stoking a conflict with Stonetop as a whole.
Vahid triggers Persuade with advantage: 6+3+1+1 Charisma = 10, Strong Hit
He succeeds, and the bravos will decamp to try their luck another day. We’re also going to mark another tick on the countdown clock — at the gaming table, I’d say something to the effect of ‘Unless you stop them, they’re going to report back to Ffransis, and people will be talking about what happened here today,’ and it’s a safe bet that this party isn’t going to murder witnesses an alleyway.
The Peaksman makes a small, restraining gesture to his fellow, who nods and stows his shiv, looking a bit relieved. “We’ll be seeing you, Kanter,” he says with a smile as the three disappear into the dispersing crowd.
Anwen turns to Kanter, who promptly falls to his knees, blubbering effusive thanks. “Praise the Rainmaker for sending you to succor me, Anwen of Stonetop! I curse my fortune that I have nothing to repay your kindness.”
Vahid takes this opportunity to withdraw, taking a seat on a low bench alongside a hunched beggar with a chipped clay bowl. He draws the hood of his cloak down to conceal his face from prying eyes and reaches for the place in his mind where his third eye rests.
Padrig takes his place by Anwen’s side, and when Kanter sees him, his eyes widen in surprise. “Padrig?” he whispers. “I thought you were well and far gone, safe at Stonetop. Not many friends left here. Though you can surely count honest Kanter as one of them!”
Padrig grimaces. “Aye, it’s me. I wouldn’t have returned if it wasn’t important, Kanter. We need your help.”
Kanter shrugs helplessly and bows his head to Anwen. “I’m in your debt for seeing the Smiler’s men off. If there’s anything I can do for you, I will do it.”
“We need to find someone in Gordin’s Delve,” Anwen says.
“Of course! I may have fallen on hard times, but Kanter still has friends in the Delve. Whom do you seek?”
Padrig turns, putting the crowd at his back, and speaks quietly. “A man named Kirs. He is a hillman, a guide for prospectors and treasure hunters here.”
The obsequious smile dies on Kanter’s lips, and his voice lowers to a hiss. “If he has any sense at all, he’s in hiding or left the Delve altogether. The Hillfolk bands have been striking at caravans, prospectors, and logging crews since the Spring began, and things have grown dire here. A few weeks back, Jahalim sent his men into the nomad encampment on the second terrace, looking for weapons and stolen food, and cleared them out. Since then, the Hillfolk have made themselves scarce. Your Kirs is likely deep in hiding.”
Anwen presses him. “Haven’t these poor folk any allies in town? No one who could get a message to him?”
Kanter bobs his head from side to side, considering. “Still a few, perhaps. I could make inquiries.”
“Then do,” Padrig replies, putting his steady hand on the merchant’s shoulder.
Kanter nods and bows deeply. “I will, sir, I will. Where can I find you when I have learned something?”
“Let us confer,” Padrig replies and returns with Anwen to Vahid, who rises to meet them. Padrig sees the white glow fading from beneath Vahid’s hood.
“Well, Seeker?” Pad asks, in sotto voce. “Can we trust our old friend Kanter?”
While Padrig and Anwen were chatting, Vahid was mind-reading, using his The Eye, Opened arcana10.
Vahid triggers Seek Insight: 6+1+1 Wisdom = 8, Weak Hit.
He can ask one question from the arcana’s special list, and chooses “what do you intend to do?” He’ll deliver the answer in-fiction:
Vahid inclines his head thoughtfully. “For the moment, I think. There is an air of desperation about him. So long as it is advantageous to aid us, he will do so. When it is not...”
“Right,” says Padrig grimly. “I’ll go with him on his rounds. The two of you should find a place to rest -- stable Anwen’s steed and lay low.”
“Where should we look?”
Padrig thinks for a moment and then chuckles quietly. “Head back to the Swap, and find Ozbeg’s lady, Parvati.”
“A brothel?” Anwen asks, a bit skeptically.
“A brothel is a fine place to lay low. They have quiet rooms, stables, and lots of people minding their own business. Madame Parvati always had a tender heart for old Ozbeg, and with a little luck, she’ll remember him fondly.”
Vahid brows rise in quiet appreciation. “Clever. We will seek her out.”
Resolved, they part ways, Padrig drawing up his hood and raising his scarf to hide his face before following Kanter deeper into the Delve while Anwen and Vahid turn back towards the teeming marketplace of the Swap.
Kanter leads Padrig from the second terrace to the fifth, climbing over rickety wooden scaffolds and stairs as the construction grows more and more ramshackle and crowded. Padrig hears shouts of alarm and the smell of smoke as yellow-garbed men rush by with buckets of water. They pass under a rusting iron gateway chased with flames of tarnished green copper and dull brass, past which the wooden lean-tos and half-timber structures give way to a forest of tents and cruder shelters.
“This is where the nomad camp was — there was lots of bad blood between the Hillfolk who wound up here after their bands drove them out, but they still preferred to live together than scatter among the other Delvers,” Kanter explains as they move deeper into the slum. The folk here are desperate, begging for food or coin from the passersby making their way to higher terraces. Some have the glassy, distant look of lotus addicts and soma-drinkers slumped against the terrace wall.
“Poor devils,” Padrig mutters.
Kanter keeps quiet — his eyes are hard and contemptuous when he looks at the fallen nomads, and they continue. Near the end of the terrace, where the path meets the black granite face of the Huffel Peaks, he waves Padrig off and approaches a priest of Helior with a dirty white robe and a shaven head tattooed with the sunburst of his god. After a brief conference, Kanter returns to Padrig.
“That priest performs rites and services to the Hillfolk who revere Helior in their way. He knows this man, Kirs, and can get a message to him. But he makes no promises that he will meet with you, so choose your message carefully.”
Padrig considers this for a moment. “Tell him Katrin11 sent us. We have news of her brother, and we need his aid. We will meet him at Madame Parvati’s in the Swap if he is able and willing.”
Kanter notes this cryptic message, returning with it to the priest. They speak again, and the man of Helior bows low. Kanter returns to Padrig and nods with satisfaction. “I have passed along your words exactly, and he will do the same. We will see what this Elder Kirs says.”
We’ll close out here for the week! In the next episode, Anwen and Vahid will take in the local color at Madame Parvati’s, and we’ll see if Elder Kirs makes an appearance, and what trouble he brings with him! As always, thanks for reading, and I’ll see you in your inbox next week!
Recall from the prep episode that Keeps are like sub-bosses in the Delve — they manage and ‘protect’ tradespeople and merchants for a cut of their earnings and pay up a tax to the Bosses for permission to operate.
This is one of the fun idiosyncrasies/anachronisms of the Stonetop setting — one of the village’s unique trade goods is whiskey, which was most likely knowledge passed down to their forebearers by the Makers.
Recall that Gordin’s Delve is built into seven terraces carved into the mountains by the ancients — some of the Forge Lords’ constructions still stand and are occupied by the Delve’s elite. The rest of the Delve makes do with simple constructions built against, into, or atop the Maker ruins.
Note this might represent Vahid, consciously or unconsciously, working at cross purposes with the other characters. After all, he wanted to try to negotiate with the Bosses as peers, and this could be a move toward that outcome.
Recall from our GM Prep episode that Smiling Ffransis was born and raised in Stonetop, but he was exiled after a bloody feud and made his way to the Delve.
Katrin is the Sun-Spear Band’s spirit talker — we first met her back in Session 7.4. She is Elder Kirs’ daughter, and her brother is the younger Kirs, his son.
For those of you reading in email, perhaps you noticed a preponderance of the word 'shoulder' in today's episode -- one of the many hazards of live publishing.
If it bugged you, the version on the website has been updated with slightly more varied vocab. ;-)
For those of you reading in email, perhaps you noticed a preponderance of the word 'shoulder' in today's episode -- one of the many hazards of live publishing.
If it bugged you, the version on the website has been updated with slightly more varied vocab. ;-)
It took me a few repeats to decide that the double F in Smiling Ffrancis wasn’t a typo. How do you reckon it’s read? Fuhfrancis?