Session 13.4: Blood for blood (Part 2)
Session 13.4: Blood for blood (Part 2)
Padrig and Jens descend into the pens. Odo reveals himself.
Recap
In part one of this episode, Anwen, Vahid, and their crew managed to get the drop on Dawa Eyegouger, one of Odo’s trusted lieutenants. Thanks to Vahid’s arcane sight, he was able to learn that Dawa lives in terror of being fully corrupted by the Howling Curse and turning into one of the most-blessed — half-man, half-beast monsters that serve Odo without question. Using her fear, Vahid was able to turn her against Odo — if her nerve holds. She promised Anwen that she would find Padrig, wherever he had been taken, and render whatever aid to him she could.
Padrig was taken to the complex’s holding pens to await the attentions of Odo Thriceborn, so we will rejoin the action as he descends into them. Before we dive in, let’s establish some GM prep about Odo Thriceborn
NPC Breakdown: Odo Thriceborn
We’ve established that Odo Thriceborn is a thrall of Y'aaw'kara, one of the Things Below — to generate some stats for him, I used the Stonetop setting materials1.
The base stats for Thralls are pretty beefy — 16 HP, and 1d10 damage. To add some flavor to them, the book suggests giving them a few Gifts (abilities or immunities granted by their patron) as well as a few Marks (outward signs of corruption).
I chose them from the list (rather than rolling them randomly) to best tie Odo thematically to Y’aaw’kara — a bestial creature of hunger, jealousy, cruelty, and the winter winds.
For Odo’s Gifts, I chose:
Uncanny Insight / Inexplicable Knowledge: We’ve already established that he is able to learn what his enemies whisper about him, so I chose this one to reflect that.
Unnatural Resilience: We’ve likewise established Odo is a hard man to kill. This will raise his HP to 20, and give him Armor 4 unless his attacker wields bronze. Anwen has a bronze dagger, but that’s it.
Transformation: Odo carries the howling curse, and is able to give into it to manifest claws and fangs, giving him advantage on damage.
And for his marks:
Transmission of the Howling Curse: He’s a carrier of the curse, and ever since he called on Y'aaw'kara, anyone who draws near to him can hear the whispers. This makes fighting Odo even more risky — acts of violence in the presence of the whispers can spread the curse.
Unnatural Signs: I wanted something that set Odo apart from the other carriers of the Howling Curse — beyond yellow eyes, lengthened fingers, fangs and claws. The aura of cold is the spirit wind blowing from Y'aaw'kara’s frozen domain.
Strange Appetites: We’ve implied, though not shown or told, that Odo’s family partakes in human flesh — the Howling Curse has that effect on people, and it is especially strong in Odo.
For Instinct, Thralls choose one of three: To hide their condition, to explore their condition, or to serve their master. Odo’s an opportunist, not a true believer — he’s in it for the power to defeat and humiliate his enemies, so I chose To explore his condition, to revenge himself on those who he believes to have wronged him.
So we have:
HP 20, Armor 4 (0 vs. Bronze)
Damage d10 (with advantage when transformed)For his stats, and for his moves I recorded these three, based on what we’ve established so far:
-Manifest a monstrous form
-Know something he couldn’t possibly know
-Command or terrify those marked by the Howling Curse
Scene 8: The Prisoners’ Pens
They pass through the left-hand archway and down another steep stairway that leads to the pens. Once perhaps a luxurious apartment of one of the great artisans who dwelled here, it is now a dismal prison. Three floors have collapsed in on one another in the aftermath of some long-ago quake, resulting in terraced depressions filled with Odo’s captives. A rickety wooden lift has been erected at the edge, and it is to there that the Gasper’s men prod and shove Padrig and Jens, while their leader moves to the crank.
“I was going to let you sleep at the top, with the other hard ones. But we wouldn’t you to get gutted before your audience with the boss, so down among the wretches you go!” He wheezes in laughter as he turns the crank, and with a sudden jolt, the descent begins.
True to the Gasper’s word, the first level is populated by two cold-eyed men and women, each giving the others another a wide berth. One of the men, a long-bearded man of the Peaks, sleeps the sound sleep of a hardened killer, while the other, a one-eyed Manmarcher, leans against the wall, perhaps dozing, or perhaps pretending. The woman, her blond hair cut close and her lip split by a wide, angry scar, is wide awake, eyes darting to the other two prisoners.
The second level houses a ragged collection of a dozen or so unfortunates, no doubt plucked from the streets of the Tenements, spread out around the central pit as best they can be. Few of them sleep, and those that do toss and turn, fitfully remembering whatever deeds earned them a place above the bottom.
The bottom of the pit, where Padrig and Jens’ descent ends with a dull thud. The darkness is thick, the burning torches from above casting only a whisper of light down into the depths. Those imprisoned here are haggard and hungry-looking, though strangely, Pad espies a large, iron pot with a thick brown-red stew near the center of the pit, and a few rough-carved wooden spoons strewn about. Down here, the denizens huddle together for protection or warmth, and few are sleeping — those who are not are watching the newcomers with anxious anticipation.
Jens, drawn by his caravan guard's instinct to take food when offered, approaches the stew with some caution, peering into the pot.
"I wouldn't," rasps a voice from the shadows. The speaker is a bent, aging man with thinning black hair. His face is drawn and sallow, and he leans limply against the tumbled-down rubble. "It isn't... clean."
From above, there is a burst of maniacal giggling. "Eat, new meat! Eat!" a shrill voice from above calls. "You'll need your strength in the fighting pits!"
Pad and Jens snap their attention above, but whoever called out can't be seen.
Jens casts his gaze around the prisoner's pens, his face grim. "Shit," he says simply. "Shame it has to end here, after what we survived."
"It's not over yet. And it can get much worse, I promise you. So stow that and keep your wits about you."
Jens swallows, and stands a bit straighter. "Right, chief. What do we do?" he whispers.
In taking a moment to look around, Pad is triggering both Read the Land, which gives him a question for free, as well as Seek Insight.
Padrig triggers Seek Insight: 3+4+2 Wisdom = 9, Weak Hit
2 questions total. He asks:
What here is useful or valuable to me?
What's the best way out?
Answers in the fiction:
Pad likewise takes in their shadowed surroundings. "They're trusting that the prisoners won't work together," he whispers back. "If they did, belike they could stand feet-on-shoulders and reach the next level without much trouble."
"Guards would see, up above," Jens says, gesturing to the torches overhead.
"Aye. But they might be called away, if..."2 his voice trails off, thinking of Anwen, hopefully still hidden somewhere in the complex, before turning his attention to their perhaps-allies. The dozen prisoners held in the lowest depths are a sad sight, for the most part -- soft-faced folk, sleeping restlessly or watching with haunted eyes. The man who warned Jens off the stew still watches them -- he seems to have gathered a handful of unfortunates around him, along with a strong-looking, blond-haired youth, who sits at his right hand, doing his best to control the fear in his eyes and look hard.
Pad also spots a few other likely fighters, keeping to themselves on the edges of the room, sleeping, or perhaps only resting their eyes3. Padrig pitches his voice tocarry to the corners of the pit and to wake the fitful sleepers. "Which of you have stood a post, or walked a patrol before?"
The young man looks to his elder for guidance before tentatively raising his hand. Pad gives him a nod of acknowledgment, before looking to the lone wolves. One of them — a dark-haired Marshedger with a patchy beard and watery blue eyes meets Pad’s gaze defiantly. “What if I have?” he sneers.
“Just taking stock, friend. If we work together, maybe we don’t have to die down here.”
“I ain’t gonna die down here, friend. Odo’s fixing to take the Delve, and he’s looking for fighters.”
“And you’re a fighter?”
“Damn right. I’m a fucking legend in the Delve. Thorolf Three-Cuts, they call me — before I kill a man, I cut him three times. The last man who told me to stand a post was a caravan master, and I beat him til he begged me to take his coin.” He rises, drawing himself up to his full height — a head taller than Padrig or Jens, with more than a few scars on his thick arms. “So if you’re trying to be the chief down here, old man, I’ll give you the same as what I gave him.”
Padrig glances back at the old man and his young friend. They are watching the exchange with detached interest, the air of two men waiting for an inevitable conclusion.
Pad turns back to Thorolf and squares up, spreading his feet and holding out his hands, palms up, in invitation. “Come on, then.”
The man looks down on Padrig, a surprised half-smile on his face. He raises up his hands — big, meaty fists with knuckles like tree knots — and rushes at Padrig.
Padrig wants to subdue the man quickly rather than getting into a fistfight, so he’s going to use some finesse and guile here rather than playing Thorolf’s game.
Padrig triggers Defy Danger with Dexterity: 6+6+1 Dexterity = 13, Strong Hit
Thorolf tries to seize Pad, but he’s quicker than he looks, and the brute’s hands close on empty air. Padrig slips behind him and cracks the back of his leg with a swift kick, sending him to his knees. As the bravo begins to struggle to his feet, Pad slams a shoulder into the center of his back, slamming Thorolf’s head into the iron cauldron in the center of the pit. The marcher is disoriented, but he gets his arms under him and begins to rise as Padrig struggles to stay atop him.
Pad has some momentary advantage here, but now the Manmarcher is going to try to power through and Pad has to use his strength to keep him down. Here, he’ll call on Jens’ aid, since he’s not exactly a powerhouse:
Padrig triggers Defy Danger with Strength: 5+4+4+0 Strength = 9, Weak Hit.
Here, Padrig has enough XP to trigger Burn Brightly, spending 2 XP to add +1 to his total after rolling, giving us a Strong Hit.
Pad motions Jens to his side, and together they hold the Manmarcher fast. Pad seizes the man by his tunic’s collar and presses the man’s face into the thick, brown stew. He struggles mightily, splashing in the thick liquid and struggling for breath, but still Pad holds him. Once the fight in him starts to ebb, Pad hauls his face out of the stew and he coughs, spewing it from his mouth and gasping for air.
“Listen here, Three-Cuts, because I will not tell you again. Maybe you’re a legend in the Delve, maybe you’re the best fighter in whatever pissant crew you run with. Maybe you’ve even killed a few men. But I kill as a soldier kills, which is as a butcher kills — fast, clean, and with the least risk to me and mine. So if you want to be slaughtered like a fattened goat, come see me again. Otherwise, sit down and be silent.”
Thorolf, chastened, nods breathlessly, and Pad hauls him away from the cauldron and throws him onto his back to cough, choke, and slink away to the shadows at the edges of the pit.
Pad rises and turns back to the other prisoners, but before he can speak to them, cruel, booming laughter sounds from above. All eyes turn upwards, and there they see Odo Thriceborn, descending into the depths on the wooden lift.
Pad remembers Odo was a large man, but looming above them, he seems almost a giant. His eyes are solid yellow, and they shine with an eldritch light in the darkness. His hulking form is robed in white, stained all over with rust-brown, in streaks and spatters. As he draws near, Padrig can make out the other bestial signs of the Howling Curse — pointed ears, a wild and feral beard — though he seems less changed than others under his command.
As he passes, the prison comes alive. Those in the upper tiers whisper his name, and rouse their fellows, and soon all are at the edge of the terraces, watching the lord of this place with rapt attention.
“So, the Gasper was telling the truth. Padrig. Brennan’s4 hound.”
“Odo,” Pad nods warily. “I’m not with Brennan anymore.”
“Do you think that will save you?” Odo rumbles back. The lift reaches the bottom, and Odo steps off. The prisoners shrink away, pressing their backs to the wall and huddling together — safety in numbers, if nothing else. Odo brings with him a strange chill; Pad feels the prickles on his skin and the shiver up his spine, and his breath clouds the air in front of him.
“Tell me: How did Mutra, Draigh, and Jahalim drag you into this scheme? How desperate are they, that they sent you as their catspaw?”
Padrig’s mind races. “They’re afraid of you, that’s for certain. I came back to find Young Brogan and tie up a few loose ends, but their bravos spotted me after I grabbed him off the street. They’re holding him and the rest of my crew here hostage — gave me their word they’d set them free if I went on this damn fool mission.”
He’s doing his best here to seem as innocuous as possible.
Padrig triggers Defy Danger with Charisma: 5+4+1 Charisma = 10, Strong Hit.
All’s well, so far. Odo will toy with him a bit.
“To kill me?” He chuckles mirthlessly — a low, growling sound. “You?”
“To learn what you’re planning. I’m just a scout.”
“They sent you to your death. Surely you knew you would be recognized.”
“They knew, I knew. They didn’t care. This is exactly what they wanted, Odo.”
Odo reaches out. Pad steels himself for a blow, but the Thriceborn simply places his massive hand on the old bandit’s shoulder. “Perhaps they meant you as a gift for me.” His fingers tighten around Pad’s collar — they’re strangely elongated, and Pad can feel sharp nails pressing through his leathers.
“Brennan’s the one you want, Odo. He’s the one who ran your guts through those years ago. And I know where he is.”
“I will find Brennan when his time comes. I know he awaits me in Marshedge.”
Padrig feigns a bit of shock. “How could you know that? Even Draigh had no idea where Brennan had gone to ground.”
Odo leans his face down into Padrig’s, til they are eye to yellow eye. “I hear everything. The whispers and plots against me. The trembling breath of those who hide from my revenge.”
Pad nods warily. Odo’s breath is strangely cold on his face. “They say you have spies everywhere.”
Odo smiles. “Let them believe that. Before I eat Jahalim’s liver, I’ll show him the truth. Now tell me, Padrig. Who is the blue-eyed wanderer who consorts with my enemies?”
“I don’t know. He’s under Jahalim’s protection. Carries a strange staff. Some kind of sorcerer.”
Padrig triggers Defy Danger with Charisma: 1+6+1 Charisma = 8, Weak Hit
Odo believes him, but he still wants Pad to know he’s serious. He’ll give Pad a little squeeze — I rolled damage with disadvantage, since he’s not trying to kill Pad, but I still got a 6. Ouch!
Pad has 14 HP remaining.
Odo’s eyes narrow as his taloned fingers dig into Padrig’s shoulder. He can feel the leather split and then a burning pain and a bloom of warmth as his blood begins to flow. “What power does he wield?”
“I don’t know, Odo. I swear.”
With his claws digging into Pad, Odo forces him to one knee and looms over him. “Do you know why I didn’t kill Young Brogan, Padrig?”
Padrig shakes his head, grinding his teeth against the pain. “Brennan always took such pride in the Claws — his brothers-in-arms, his dogs of war. When I find him, I will feast on his lying heart. But there’ll be plenty of him to go around, while he’s still wriggling — and who better to share my bounty than his lapdogs?”
“You’re mad,” Padrig gasps.
“No. I see the world clearly — a lawless place where you must prey or be preyed upon. Your Brogan has feasted at my table. Swallowed the flesh of the unworthy. Once you have a taste for it, it never leaves you. You will see, soon enough. Or you will feed someone who does.”
Slowly, agonizingly, Odo withdraws his talons from Pad’s flesh and lets him slump to the ground before turning back to the lift. “Rest well, Padrig of the Claws,” he growls, over his shoulder as the lift rises up towards the light. “The wolves feast at sunrise — pray that you feast with them.”
We’ll close out this episode here! I’d hoped to write my way to a nice, meaty dilemma for y’all, but it was not to be, though I suspect the next couple of episodes might feature some hard choices. Next week, Anwen, Vahid, and their company will delve deeper into Odo’s lair in search of any further advantage against the Thriceborn, and Dawa Eyegouger will make contact with Padrig in the hopes of providing him some aid in the dark place he finds himself in. Hope you have a great week, and thanks as always for reading!
The Thrall entry is on page 312 of the world guide, if you’re following along!
This piece of information — that working together, the prisoners could simply climb out of this arrangement — answers the question ‘what’s the best way out?’
Pad’s survey of the prisoners who seem most likely to be able and/or willing to help effect an escape answers the question ‘what here is useful or valuable to me?’
In Session 12.5, we established that it was Brennan himself who killed Odo back when he was Odo Twiceborn.