Last episode, the party traveled to a whiskysink known as the Bloody Grin on the first terrace of the Delve to treat with Smiling Ffransis, one of the five Delve Bosses. His patch is the smallest of all the Bosses, but he holds it with an iron grip. After some aggressive negotiations with Ffransis and a few black eyes, they had secured the exiled Stonefolk’s temporary cooperation in defense of the town, which will be attacked by the party’s sorcerous rival when moons rise full in two weeks.
Next, the party must return to Jahalim of the Keys and report their success. In the meantime, Jahalim has not been passive — he’s been making his own inquiries and since the threat that Vahid claims is coming threatens his interests to their core. As a GM, I’m trying to portray the NPCs here — particularly the Delve Bosses — to be competent and proactive in this scenario. For one thing, it’ll keep the pace up if the PCs don’t have to do every little thing to prepare a defense for the Delve, and for another thing, it gives the PCs (and hopefully you!) a reason to care about whether these NPCs live or die.
We’ll envision that the party has rested1 at Madam Parvati’s, and is now returning to report their success to Jahalim, and rejoin the action as we approach Jahalim’s manor. While he does his public business out of the ancient foundry, he maintains a stately (for the Delve) household nearby for more private affairs.
Scene 5: Jahalim’s Manor, the 2nd terrace
Jahalim’s well-fortified manor house looms over the Delve’s biggest crossroad, just north of the great stairs from the second terrace to marketplaces on the third. It is enclosed entirely by a tall wall, with stout timbers filling the gaps between tumbled-down Maker stonework, topped by unwelcoming iron spikes. A pair of yellow-scarved bravos lounge at the gates, coming to attention as Demetra approaches, ferrying the party to their conference with Jahalim.
Demetra calls them to a halt and turns back to face them. “In this household, you are under Jahalim’s protection. No weapons are allowed beyond the gate’s lintel. Even your staff, ebn Sulaim — as a show of good faith.”
Padrig and Anwen wait on the Seeker’s reply. “Very well,” Vahid bows respectfully. “We will entrust our safety to Jahalim’s hospitality. No doubt he will keep faith with the Lawkeeper, but know that if a threat comes from one of his rivals, we will be quite capable of defending our host.” Demetra narrows her eyes in response and calls for her bravos to accept their weapons. Padrig unbelts his sword and quiver, but keeps his unstrung Hillfolk war bow2, while Anwen unlimbers Bearkiller3 and removes her harness, which holds a blackened bronze dagger4 and a worn iron shortsword5. Vahid takes in Demetra with his storm-marked gaze and hands her the Azure Hand, cradling it in both hands. Her eyes dart down to his strange, blackened claw, and then back to his glowing blue eyes.
“These things are not to be trifled with. I hope your men will treat them with respect, as they would Jahalim’s own treasures,” Vahid says. Demetra looks back to her men, who nod warily at the Seeker. They withdraw to the gatehouse while Demetra opens the heavy wooden gate and beckons the party in.
The manor itself mimics the Lygosi style, a two-story stucco villa with wide, wood-trellised windows surrounding a courtyard with a shallow reflecting pool. A handful of young, rough-looking men and women lounge about in the courtyard, drinking watery wine from clay jugs and playing at warrior’s games — wrestling and boxing, or fencing with sticks. They nod with respect as Demetra passes, and their easy conversation quiets as they watch the newcomers — some with curiosity, others with hard-eyed stares, sizing them up as threats. The conversation resumes in whispers when the party passes beneath the portico and into Jahalim’s manor.
Demetra takes them through an entry hall, grand by the standards of the Delve, and built over an ancient floor of tarnished bronze, carved with faded scenes of the Forge Lords in their workshops, hunched over anvils with hammer and tongs and other, more arcane implements. They find the master of the house in a long dining hall. The room is lit by shafts of the noonday sun, cut by the trellised window casting its shadows over the three Delve Bosses sitting in conference.
Jahalim is at the head of the table, in an ornately carved ebony chair, its back taller and grander than the others. Demetra joins him, and puts her hand on his shoulder, which he briefly covers with his own. At his right is a sour-looking, heavyset Marshedger with grey-streaked black hair and a thick shadow of a beard. On his left is a leathery-skinned woman with a shorn scalp. Her face is angular and tattooed with neat rows of dots, and her lip curls over teeth of dark iron.
Padrig bows his head respectfully before the three of them, and breathes a warning to his companions. “These are Honest Draigh and Mutra the Teeth — along with Jahalim, they are some of the most powerful people in the Delve. Step carefully — hospitality or no, this is dangerous ground.”
“By the gods, it was true, Jahalim,” Draigh rasps. “That’s Padrig, all right. Didn’t think we’d be seeing any of Brennan’s lot, after the gutting we gave you.” He grins cruelly.
“Can’t say I’m pleased to be back, Draigh. But needs must.”
Now Mutra speaks. “Yes, Jahalim’s told us about this nomad hdour of yours and his plans for the Delve, Padrig. And about your sorcerous friend, here,” she sneers in Vahid’s direction, exposing more of her black iron jaw6. Her Stonetongue is heavily accented with the sing-song tones of the Barrier Peaks. “Why should we trust what you have to say? You have proven yourself our enemy.”
“Aye, I have the same question,” Draigh echos. “I’m surprised you’ve been taken in by this, Jahalim. I thought you had more sense.”
“You must admit, there is some substance to what this one says,” Jahilim rumbles, gesturing to Vahid. “The nomads have been particularly troublesome of late, have they not, Mutra? If this is not so, then why are your lumber crews not working? Where is the fuel for my fires?”
“The nomad raids come and go. If you care so much, lend some of your knives to their defense,” Mutra snaps.
“If your Keeps cannot defend their people, Mutra, they do not deserve to lead.” Jahalim counters.
“You two forget,” Draigh interjects. “There’s still the matter of this bandit standing before us. The Claws are over and outlawed — we all agreed. And here, Jahalim, you have invited one of them into your house. Here is my advice: Throw him into one of your cells and sweat him until he tells us what Brennan is up to.”
“I’ve already told you what Brennan is about. He’s wormed his way into the marshal’s office in Marshedge, and he’s planning to take over the place.”
“Indeed,” Jahalim says dryly. “A fact you did not supply to us, Draigh. Despite your sources in Marshedge. Is that not curious?”
Draigh draws himself up, his honor offended. “There are all manner of rumors about Brennan and his whereabouts. I’ve had reports of him engaging in banditry in Ferrier’s Fen, selling his sword to Manmarcher hillforts, and working for the Despot in Lygos.” He shrugs noncommittally. “Why should we believe him?”
Padrig’s eyes narrow.
Here, Padrig is triggering Seek Insight — he’s taking in the information that Draigh is laying out, and looking at it through the perspective of what he knows of Brennan and the Claws. It’s a more abstract use of Seek Insight, but it works within the description of the move7.
Padrig triggers Seek Insight: 6+2+2 Wisdom = 10, Strong Hit
He asks “What here is not what it appears to be?” and he’ll share the information he gleans in the ongoing conversation:
“Belike Brennan spread those rumors himself — Or Bertrim did, at his order. Before he died8. I’ve seen them play this game before. Who’s been feeding you this information, Draigh? If I were you, I’d take a look at my people — Brennan had a way of making folk see his point of view. Who brings you news from Marshedge? Someone who could be turned traitor?”
“Ridiculous,” Draigh huffs. “I keep my business close. In the family.”
“Brennan’s wormed his way into the confidences of the Old Families9, why not Draigh’s as well?” Padrig says coldly. “There was another bandit crew striking out from the Fen, and Brennan dealt with them, neat as you like. One of Marshedge’s elders was so pleased he put him up for marshal, and there he sits, plotting how best to overthrow his new benefactor. Now, doesn’t that sound like the Brennan you know, Jahalim?”
Pad’s trying to drive home the truth of what he’s saying and stave off any suggestion that he’s still working with Brennan. We’ll trigger Defy Danger with Charisma, since he’s not really trying to Persuade Jahalim and the other bosses to do anything in particular — he’s just trying to separate himself from Brennan and the Claws. He has advantage because he’s acting on the results of his Seek Insight roll.
Padrig triggers Defy Danger with Charisma: 6+3
+1+1 Charisma = 10, Strong Hit
Jahalim prods his fellow boss gently. “It might be wise to look into this, Draigh. If our old enemy has an agent in your household, that is a matter that concerns us all. I am also curious: Who brings you this news of Brennan from all corners?”
Draigh shifts uneasily in his seat. “My daughter’s man. He’s a Marshedger, like we are — a Tricklebank10 by-blow. He has a few merchant friends in town who give us the news. Any of them might be spinning false tales, too. I’ll look into it, but it will take time.”
Vahid interrupts smoothly. “If I may, I might be of assistance in this. My studies into the Makers and their tools has given me insight into the mind, and a sight that can perceive a man’s hidden thoughts,” he says, touching his bandaged eye, gently. “If you can put your people to the question, I can determine who is dealing falsely.”
Draigh’s bushy eyebrows raise in surprise. “That is quite a claim. You do seem to have some magic about you. But I was always taught it was foolhardy to trust a dealer in the works of the Makers.”
Jahalim’s gaze flicks to the shadows in the corner of the great hall. “What do you make of this, Abrim?”
In the dark corner, a stooped shape moves and shifts, accompanied by the sound of rattling chains. The Judge is here, quietly observing, and he moves into the patterned light shining through the trellis.
“It is written among the scriptures of the judge-prophets of the Lawkeeper that such blessings exist,” the Judge replies wearily. “I have seen him make use of some strange, mystic sight. Whether he can cleave truth from falsehood, who can say?”
Jahalim looks back to Vahid with mischievous curiosity. “Did you look into my Judge’s mind?”
“I did.”
“And what did you see?”
Vahid holds the three bosses’ rapt attention. The Seeker and the Judge lock eyes. “He is a man you have placed in your control, for now. But there is still a fire in his heart for his god,” he says slowly, watching Jahalim’s prisoner carefully for any reaction.
The Judge does not react, his face, as best can be seen in the light and shadow, is totally impassive. Draigh scoffs. “I told you the Judge wouldn’t be broken. You should’ve let me stretch his neck all those years ago.”
Mutra sneers at the Marshedger. “He is blessed of the Lawkeeper! You fen-scum — so accustomed to blasphemy. Living close to the devils in the deep water11 has seeped poison into your heart.”
“Your people partake happily enough in the rice that grows in those waters. Call me a blasphemer all you like, I’ll still happily take your coin12,” Draigh chortles.
Jahalim raises his hand for quiet before Mutra can snarl back. “That proves nothing. You are clearly a perceptive man, Master ebn Sulaim. You need no magic to guess my thoughts and give them voice.”
Vahid weighs his response carefully before replying sharply. “Indeed, the contents of a man’s mind are a great mystery, to most. If you could see as I see, you could look into my thoughts and discern the truth of the matter. Alas, you cannot — so you will simply have to trust me.”
“Careful, ebn Sulaim,” Demetra growls from Jahalim’s side. She draws closer to the Seeker, her corded arms tensed for a fight.
“Your husband is a powerful man. I see no reason to patronize him. If you think me a liar, Master Jahalim, then bid me leave your house and wait until the moons rise full and the nomads rise against you.”
There is a cool silence in the room. It is Draigh who breaks it. “Let’s see if he can prove his boasts, then — what about this turncoat in my household?”
“Gather those who are in position to lead you astray on this matter, and present them to me. If they dissemble about their true loyalties, I will know. And in return, we expect you will lend your aid to the defense of Gordin’s Delve when the nomads come.”
“If the nomads come,” Draigh corrects. “I remain unconvinced. Where shall we meet?”
“You can bring them to the Foundry’s place of judgement,” Jahalim supplies with a smile. “Master ebn Sulaim is under my protection, after all.”
“Husband,” Demetra hisses. “Can we trust him?”
“His trustworthiness will be tested soon enough, my dear,” Jahalim replies. “Until then, I know you will be my eyes and watch him closely.”
Draigh watches this interplay between husband and wife with edged curiosity and then rises, hissing in exaggerated weariness. “Well, I am off to herd some disloyal goats into your pen, Jahalim. If this conjurer of tricks is true to his word, that is.”
The grizzled Marshedger stops as he is leaving and turns to Padrig. “I hope you’re not running another scheme to take a patch of the Delve for yourself, Padrig. There are a lot worse things we can do to you than what we did to your crew.”
“Go see to your household, Draigh. I’d appreciate it if word didn’t get back to Brennan that I was here,” Padrig replies in a dead-level tone. Draigh scowls and storms out.
Vahid turns his attention back to their host. “We have secured Ffransis’ cooperation. He has agreed to lend his strength to whatever defense we muster. And that his quarrels with you will be put to rest — for the time being.”
“Impressive, ebn Sulaim. I did not expect the Smiler to take kindly to your silver tongue.”
“Truth be told, it was Anwen that persuaded him,” Vahid bows his head and gestures to Stonetop’s champion. “He tested her mettle and found someone worth fighting beside.”
At this point, the party has tentatively secured the cooperation of three of the bosses — Jahalim of the Keys, Smiling Ffransis, and Honest Draigh (assuming Vahid successfully roots out Brennan’s spy in his household).
When we originally used the Make a Plan move to determine what it takes to unite the Delve into a credible defense against the coming nomad attack back in Session 12 GM Planning, the ‘win condition’ is three bosses aligned, and at least two not opposed. Mutra is here, and perhaps ready to be persuaded — so it makes sense for the party to try, to strengthen their position further.
Vahid nods to Mutra. “And have you two concluded an agreement as well? Has Mutra the Teeth joined our defense?”
Mutra raises her chin defiantly. “I have been calling for aid against the nomads for months now, and my requests have fallen on deaf ears. Now that Jahalim’s claim is in danger, we must all guard the commonweal. Fie, I say. I can take my people into the foothills while your homes burn. When we return, the rest of you can pay us a princely fee to rebuild them.”
“We can aid you,” Anwen puts in. “If your people are being attacked by the nomads out in the wilds, we can help protect them. We’ve fought the hdour’s warriors before and won.”
Mutra’s brows rise. “Why are you so eager to join my fight, girl? What’s in it for you?”
“After the Delve, the sorcerer’s next prize is my home. I can’t let that happen.”
While Mutra chews over Anwen’s words, Jahalim presses her. “We need fuel, Mutra — my foundry sits idle. If we are going to prepare for an attack, we’ll need new weapons for our fighters. And if we leave the mob idle when rumors of a coming attack begin, they will grow... unmanageable.”
“Fine,” Mutra says. “I hope your mettle is as good as your word, Anwen of Stonetop.”
We’ll close out there! Next week, the party will venture out into the foothills of the Huffel Peaks with one of Mutra’s lumber crews and see if they can strike a blow against the nomads, or at the very least find out what’s been happening to Mutra’s people.
This episode was a bit of an odd one — it probably would’ve unfolded very differently at the gaming table, because a lot of it is ‘NPC theater’ — NPCs talking to one another. In the past, I’ve avoided it, but this time it felt a bit more appropriate since the PCs were in the mix and guiding the conversation and the Delve Bosses are a bit more fleshed out than other large groups the party has addressed in the past (the Hillfolk Spearmoot in Session 8.4. being a significant example, where we ‘zoomed out’ rather than having NPCs gab at each other for an extended session. I’d be curious what y’all think — was it worthwhile listening to the Bosses negotiate and snipe at one another a bit? Or should this have been a bit more abstracted? Let me know in the comments!
This will trigger the Recover move, allowing everyone to heal 4 HP, putting Vahid at full (he hasn’t taken any HP damage since he last rested) Padrig at 17 HP, and Anwen at 9.
We learned back in Session 3.3 that Padrig won this in battle with a Hillfolk champion, back when he was a sellsword in and around Gordin’s Delve.
Her Makerglass axe, whose first kill was an enormous cave bear back in Session 9.4. The beast’s meat fed Stonetop through its lean winter. Later, it helped Anwen overthrow Owain in single combat.
Given to her as a gift by Kirs’s sister at the young war-leader’s funeral. Very sentimental indeed — if these bravos were to steal anything, Anwen would be very perturbed indeed.
Anwen’s first real weapon of war, taken from the Hillfolk champion Adm way back in Session 3.4. Hopefully this isn’t too much gear-porn — I think it’s a good player practice to have gear with some history, and Anwen’s probably our best example of this in the party.
In the world of Stonetop, black iron is a hard, heavy, steel-like metal that is completely immune to all magic.
Pad killed Bertrim, Brennan’s spymaster, in the dungeons below Marshedge back in Session 4.6.
The Old Families of Marshedge are a group of wealthy and influential elders who rule the place together, much like the Delve Bosses rule here.
The Tricklebanks are one of the Old Families of Marshedge.
Recall that it is a local (to the World’s Edge) superstition that deep, still water hides The Things Below.
Representing Draigh’s instinct here: To covet rare, precious, or valuable things.
I'm quite ok with this level of NPC theater. It might not work at the table, but this is a different medium. It also does a lot of world-building.
The theater was a good way to flesh out the factions and give them a face. You even worked a defy danger in there - it was nearer combat than a social call.