Session 11.2: A curious thing

A chance meeting with a strange procession. A warm reception at Madame Parvati's.

Recap and Housekeeping

Last episode, our heroes met with their local contact, a merchant named Kanter, hoping he might be able to help them find the elusive Elder Kirs, who, thanks to the increased tensions between the Hillfolk nomads and the people of Gordin’s Delve, has likely gone into hiding somewhere in the town.

When they found him, Kanter was in a spot of trouble — some local trouble had left him without protection from his Keep¹, Raul the Limper, and at the fortuitous moment the party arrived, he was being menaced by a trio of bravos sent by another boss, Smiling Ffransis. The party intervened, won some perhaps temporary loyalty from Kanter, and Padrig went off with him to arrange a meeting with Kirs.

Meanwhile, Anwen and Vahid are left to secure lodgings and wait. In last week’s interlude, the readers decided which of these two would end up making the risky decision to leave whatever safety they’ve found and head off into town. In Anwen’s case, she’d be looking for her friend, Rheisart, and in Vahid’s case, he’d be seeking to satisfy his curiosity about Gordin’s Delve and its many mysteries.

Vahid was the winner of last week’s poll by a substantial margin. We haven’t given the Seeker a chance to get up to some mystical mischief in a while, so this gives us a chance to delve into the weirder side of Stonetop. One thing I noticed, however, is that the total vote count was about a third lower than usual, so I’m curious if the Substack voting system didn’t work for folks. If you are a regular voter, but were blocked last week, head into the comments section and give me some feedback!

One last note before we begin — this episode is on the shorter side, and we’ll probably see shorter episodes for the next few weeks as well. I’m still load-balancing working on this story with my new work responsibilities, and I want to maintain weekly publishing, so the compromise was to stop aiming for 5000-6000 words every week.

We’ll rejoin the fiction when Padrig parted ways with Anwen and Vahid:

Scene 2: The Swap

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.

They keep to the middle of the street, avoiding close encounters with the merchants in their stalls who bark offers and bargains at any passerby whose eyes brush over their wares. Vahid keeps his eyes downcast to the ground, while Anwen’s gaze darts all over, taking in the multitude and diversity of folk here, and the hodgepodge of Maker ruins, with red stone columns and walls adorned by green-tinged copper and rusty iron filigree, with wooden tenements, shanties and tents pitched on and among them.

“Why is this place called Gordin’s Delve?” Anwen asks, taking in the ancient crumbling splendor alongside today’s squalor.

Vahid triggers Know Things: 1+1+2 Intelligence = 6, Miss

Vahid starts off strong with a golden opportunity for the GM. He’ll receive some superficial information², but we'll mark 2 ticks on the clock, bringing us to five.

We have to explain the marks narratively, so we'll make a bit of a scene. One of the GM moves is offer an opportunity, with or without a cost -- since we know we want to offer Vahid opportunity to go out on the town and get into some mischief, we'll we'll combine that offer with something that draws a lot of attention to the party. We’ll provide Vahid’s information about the Delve in the fiction, and follow it up with his opportunity.

“Gordin was a prospector who first discovered the three Delves twenty years ago — great tunnels dug into the mountains by the Forge Lords to bring up material to fuel the fires of their invention,” Vahid replies. “The man himself was said to have died only a few years after the town’s founding, most likely murdered. The tunnels are rich in iron and copper, which is shipped south as far as Lygos. But the true treasure below are the secret workshops and manufactories of the Makers, hidden in the Labyrinth, a maze of cave systems and tunnels that stretches for miles into the depths of the Huffel Peaks.”

As Vahid holds forth about the history of various significant finds in the Delves, Anwen comes to the eerie realization that the crowd has stopped moving around them and is drawing back, making way for someone. Or something.

There are a half-dozen of them, clad in near-identical, voluminous black robes, their hands hidden by heavy gloves of dark hide sewn with polished metal plates. Five of them wear ornate bronze masks, polished to a shine, and the sixth, surrounded by the others, has a visage that gleams like gold, and robes ornamented with intricate patterns of metal thread.

The strange creatures glide through the parting crowd, the gossamer outer layers of their robes floating like black smoke in the cold mountain breeze. The Delvers crowd against the terrace wall to avoid them, making warding signs and superstitious gestures of their many peoples.

Anwen goes to pull Vahid aside, out of their way, but he resists, briefly transfixed by this strange sight. Beneath his hood, Vahid's storm-blue eyes begin to glow, and his sight beyond sight can pick out a strange flow of orange-red igneal energy beneath their bodies, animating their cloaked forms. “The Ustrina³,” he mutters under his breath. “So they are not human, after all.”

In unison, the party of Ustrina draws to a halt before Vahid. They stare at him in silence, and he stares back, leaning on the Azure Hand. The staff seems to resonate with their gaze, thrumming softly. The crowd watches this strange standoff, whispering among themselves.

The gold-masked figure reaches into its ornate robes and withdraws a bauble of some kind, handing it to one of its fellows. The creature in turn breaks rank and approaches Vahid. As it draws near, Anwen's noise wrinkles -- it smells strongly of sulfur and rust. Her mare, Storm, being led by the halter through streets, scents them on the air and knickers nervously, dancing from side to side.

The Ustrina stops before them and speaks. Its mask produces a hollow, metallic echo, and it has an accent Vahid struggles to place — an old Lygosi dialect, mixed with a smattering of words drawn from the tongues of the Makers themselves.

"You bear the marks of the Demiurgoi, but you are but a doulos. A curious thing indeed,” it rattles. “His most serene excellency, The Valerix, bids you call on him at the Serai of the Red Arch.” The creature presses the token into Vahid's hand -- a flat, black stone, intricately carved with the runes of the Forge Lords.

The Valerix. Source: Midjourney

The creature bows formally and returns to its formation. They wait for a moment longer Anwen pulls him away, off to the side of the road, joining the crowd, which gives them a wide berth. The strange procession moves on, the crowd returning to the street in their wake abuzz with gossip.

“Who were those people? What did he say?”

Vahid triggers Know Things: 4+1+2 Intelligence = 7, Weak Hit

“The Stonetop Chronicle speaks of the Forest Folk as being something other than human -- so it is with these folk, the Ustrina,” Vahid whispers in reply. “Little is known about them -- they emerge from the Delves to trade, often bringing singular relics from the Forge Lords’ long-silent workshops. Many believe that in ancient times, they were the most trusted servants of that ancient house of Makers, as the Forest Folk served the Green Lords.”

Anwen listens, glancing anxiously at the crowd milling through the market street. “It seems like folk took note of us. Pad warned us to keep a low profile — let’s find Madam Parvati’s and get off the street.”

Vahid waves this off with subtle irritation, his eyes fixed on the intricate lines and sharp angular symbols of Forge Lord runes. In a controlled tone, he replies. "You are quite right, of course. Let us find Madame Parvati's.”

After a few whispered inquiries with the locals in Lygosi and Sunghaian⁴, Vahid leads them to the place. It is a two-story wooden tenement, and it reminds Vahid very much of the insula that line the streets of the old city in Lygos, with a balcony festooned with garlands of dry, saffron-colored blossoms above an arched doorway. Anwen makes to enter, but Vahid stops short, and she turns to him.

“What’s the matter?”

Vahid worries the heavy stone coin in his hand, feeling the intricate runes with his blackened fingertips.  “I must speak to that Ustrina — The Valerix.”

Anwen frowns in worry. “We should wait for Padrig. Talk it over with him. It may not be safe.”

“Nothing about this mission is safe. We have left danger behind us, and surely we will head into danger.”

“So what's a little more?” Anwen chides. “Vahid, don't be foolish. We have a mission.”

“We have an enemy who commands great power -- power that we cannot match through your strength and Pad's cunning alone,” Vahid says calmly. “The Ustrina are keepers of the ancients' knowledge. I cannot forgo a chance to learn something that might help us -- as I did in Marshedge⁵.”

“What's the cost of waiting?”

“Only the most precious thing — time,” Vahid says with a small smile. “When Padrig returns, we must focus our efforts on finding Elder Kirs and leaving this place as quickly as we may. As you say -- we have a mission.”

He pushes a heavy golden bezant into her palm. “I trust you can make the arrangements with Madame Parvati.” Anwen’s brow is still lined with concern, but she takes the coin and does not press him further.

“Be careful, Vahid.”

Vahid smiles and rubs at his beard wryly. “Anwen, I've stood by when you've gone heedlessly into danger time and again. Can I not be as courageous as you?” With that, he turns and leaves her, returning the way they came. Anwen watches him go until he disappears into the crush of the market crowds and then turns back towards the entrance.

And as she does, a trio of men tumbles out, whipping aside the yellow curtain that serves as a door and spilling onto the street, cursing furiously in a foreign tongue. One of them bumps into her as he lurches drunkenly out, and snarls and makes a rude gesture, before one of his comrades pulls him away, eyeing Anwen’s axe with concern. She soldiers on, ducking past the curtain and into the warmth of the brothel’s common room.

Scene 3: Madam Parvati’s

Inside, the air is smokey and fragrant with the sweet smell of Lygosi shisha. The earthen floor is covered with heavy wool carpets, with roughspun pillows surrounding low tables. Hard-looking men mingle with fairer faces in pairs and foursomes, drinking dark wine from copper cups and conversing quietly, frequently punctuated by bawdy guffaws and lighter, airy laughter. Every face is bathed in flickering red light from paper lanterns hanging from the rough-cut timber beams overhead.

Floating above the murmur of conversation is a lilting melody plucked from a lute in the hands of a young, olive-skinned man who catches Anwen’s eye and smiles winningly. She feels her cheeks warm and quickly looks away. As she watches, a young, almond-eyed woman rises and takes a grinning, weather-beaten miner by the hand. She leads him up the stairs toward the rooms above, and the man’s friends below hoot and jeer.

Distracted, Anwen’s slow walk is halted by a firm hand on her chest, and she turns to see a wall of a man standing before her. He is dark-skinned, like Vahid, but there the similarities end. The man is bald, beardless, and a head taller than Anwen, his massive body packed with muscle but still nonetheless quite round. His other fist is clenched and ready at his side, wrapped with a thick, iron chain that is adorned with wicked spikes at his knuckles.

When he speaks, Anwen is surprised that his voice is pitched high. He speaks Stonetongue in a thick Lygosi accent, with a rolling and rhythmic cadence. “My son can polish your blade while you take your ease, my friend.” He gestures to a small, pale boy of six or seven winters, sitting at a low table by the entrance, where he slowly rubs a damp linen cloth over the blade of a short, curved machete. It is only one of the half-dozen weapons arrayed on the table.

Anwen steps back and shakes her head. “I will keep my weapon, thank you.”

“I must insist. I fear idleness — idle hands serve the Things Below, it is written. I must keep my boy well-supplied with work, lest he fall into wicked company,” the man replies with a wry smile and a glance at the courtesans and their patrons in the common room.

She pauses and unslings Bearkiller from her shoulder as it dawns on her what the man is asking of her. She holds it respectfully in both hands before offering it to him. She glances at the boy. “Keep it safe for me. It was a gift from a friend.” The boy nods solemnly, and accepts it from the giant, placing it alongside the other weapons on his polishing table.

“Very good,” the Lyogsi says with a broad, white smile that pinches his eyes between his round cheeks. “What brings you to the House of the Mountain’s Daughter? Here we have delights for every temperament — a soft caress for your spirit, in this place that has forgotten gentleness.”

Anwen clears her throat. “I’m here to take a few rooms on, and a stable for my horse. My friends and I wish to rest away from prying eyes. I was told that Madame Parvati could help us with that.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “This is not an inn, my dear. Our rooms are meant for other things. If you have made an arrangement with the mistress of the house, you will have to speak to her directly.”

“Where is she, then?” Anwen asks.

“Out in the town, about the business of the household. She will return before nightfall. You will have to wait. In the meantime, what refreshments can I offer you?”

“I don’t need much,” Anwen replies. “Water and bread, if you have it.”

She feels the gold bezant Vahid had given her still clutched in her fist, and she holds it up in the soft red light. The Lygosi demures, and looks at Anwen with a fresh eye, taking her measure with care. “My dear, that is far too much for what you are asking,” he says. “Have you no other coin?”

Anwen thinks of the silver bezant Ozbeg gave her, and his admonition to give it to Madam Parvati directly. “It’s all I have. Take it, and keep whatever is left for yourself.”

He takes the coin from her and feels the weight of it in his palm.

“My dear, if I took this and all I gave you was bread, water, and a spare room or two, I would be a poor host indeed. Sit, sit,” he gestures at an empty table in a shadowed corner of the common room. “My daughter will bring us the best from the kitchen and the cellar, and I will sit and keep you company. You seem a curious thing, and you have Baraz’s attention.”

Here, we’re going to invoke a move called Carouse, which you can see here:

Source: Stonetop // Jeremy Strandberg

Obviously, this is risky; Anwen has +0 Charisma, and a miss here could almost fill the countdown clock. But as discussed in last week’s interlude, we’re sticking to our player principles (be bold, take risks and embrace setback, difficulty and failure). We’ll count Vahid’s gift of a gold coin (which has won at least some temporary affection from the Lygosi bouncer/bartender) as Aid/Sage Advice, granting Anwen advantage:

Anwen triggers Carouse: 5+5+1+0 Charisma = 10, Strong Hit

Once again, luck is with Anwen. She gets to choose two options — the first one will be you avoid getting swindled, tricked, or engtangled in someone else’s trouble. That will avoid any ticks on the clock — she keeps a low profile, drinking quietly with Baraz until Padrig, Vahid or Parvati returns. The second choice we’ll leave up to you all. Does she:

1. Spend the time focused on this Lygosi, sharing her story with him and learning about him, and in the process, make a loyal new friend?

2. Spend the time focused on the comings and goings of the common room, trying to learn something useful or juicy?

We’ll leave it there for the week. Next week, we’ll open with Vahid visit to The Valerix. Again, apologies for the shorter episode length — I know in the last poll y’all chose more focus on Vahid, and we didn’t quite get there this week, but next week we’ll get into some weird Ustrina stuff. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading!

1. Recall that Keeps in Gordins Delve are like underbosses — they oversee a trade or business, protect the tradesfolk, and collect a tax, which they then pay a cut of to one of the five Delve Bosses.

2. We could just say Vahid knows nothing about Gordin’s Delve, but that’s not really being a fan of the characters, which is one of the GM principles in nearly every PbtA game.

3. In last week’s interlude, I described the Ustrina as ‘small,’ and then when I went through the Stonetop setting materials, I realized that nowhere in those materials does it describe them that way — I had totally made it up. I briefly considered making them small, but I think they’re creepier and more ominous if they are human-sized, so I decided to depict them that way.

4. This is our name for the language of the people of the Barrier Peaks, of whom Ozbeg is one. Vahid speaks it fluently, thanks to his Polyglot move, and Anwen probably picked up a few swears from old Oz.

5. As mentioned in last week’s interlude, Vahid is no doubt frustrated that he was unable to see with his own eyes the Stone Lord arcanum hidden beneath Marshedge.