This episode, we continue the journey to Marshedge, traveling through the Steplands, which are peopled by the nomadic Hillfolk. Last episode, we voted on new move for Anwen. Here are the results:
A very thin majority for Speak Truth to Power. Thanks to prolific commenter Machi for making a compelling argument that caused at least one reader to change their vote (meaning the majority is slightly less thin than it appears in that image.
There were 17 votes total, which is pretty cool! I suspect this substack is and will remain very niche, but I’m very much enjoying writing it, so if you know anyone who would enjoy it, please feel free to send them my way.
And without further ado, we return to our heroes, on the road:
The barren and rocky Steplands.
Scene 7: The Steplands, on the Makers’ Roads
After three days of travel, the grassy Flats give way to the dry, rocky Steplands. The once arrow-straight highway of black basalt begins to curve and wend its way through canyons of pale stone, and up and over countless hills. Here and there, the south side of the road falls away to a cliff face, dozens of feet high, with a staggering overlook — a barren, rocky plain stretching out for miles and miles beneath a cloud-dappled blue sky. Shadowed cave mouths dot the cliff faces, and precious little green can be seen amidst the rocks.
At once such cliffside, Vahid pulls the leather case that conceals the Azure Hand from the wagon and draws out the ancient staff, carefully steadying the unwieldy Aetherium hand that tops it. He stands at the edge of the cliff, and closes his eyes. Anwen waits and watches him, curiously, while Ozbeg and Padrig pause with a bit more annoyance. “What is it, Vahid?” Anwen asks.
“When last I visited these lands, I had not yet grasped how to extend my perceptions through the Azure Hand. Now, I can see much more clearly how the Stone Lords’ magic still infuses this place. Scholars have long theorized that these lands would be verdant, if not for the spells worked into the very bedrock here. It is one of the reasons the Despots of Lygos have rarely attempted to extend their grip this far north.”
Ozbeg sidles up to the cliff and spits off it. “The Stone Lords wanted it to look this way?” he snorts.
“Yes, though there is some debate as to why. Abra the Elder writes that in the later dynasties of the Makers, the Stone Lords and the Green Lords came into conflict, and the Stone Lords scoured these lands of living things to deny their enemies the materiel of war. Hierotytos wrote instead that it happened earlier, and simply to provide the Stone Lords with what they required to build their wonders.”
“And what does Vahid think?” Padrig asks.
He smiles. “I hold more with Hierotytos — the Stone Lords delved deep into these mountains and built many things with their bounty. But who is to say that the Green Lords did not take it as a provocation? And who is to say that it was not also intended as one? It is hard to say when exactly a great conflict began, in hindsight. And it seems almost inevitable that two great houses, alike in might and lordship, yet so different in what they treasured, would come into conflict.”1
Vahid waits for Padrig’s reply, but he’s not listening. His eyes are narrowed, peering into one of the canyons below. Anwen notices as well, and she comes to his side. “What is it, Pad?”
“Down there. East by southeast. Don’t point, just act like we’re taking in the view.” Anwen squints down into the canyon, and spots them: Three riders, standing tall in the saddle.
“Hillfolk?” she asks. Padrig nods.
Ozbeg chuckles. “Likely we’re passing through their band’s territory. The Hillfolk are right bastards to tangle with, no doubt about it, but they have a truce around the Makers’ Roads. They’ll leave us be.”
“Most bands ride to the Flats for the Summer. And this is the second time I’ve seen them, not the first. They were with us this morning as well.”
Ozbeg’s face darkens. “They’re a long bowshot off, Padrig. You sure it’s the same group?”
Padrig shakes his head. “Two brown horses, one piebald. Could be a coincidence, but we’ve never been that lucky, Oz.”2
“What do they want, then?” Anwen asks.
“Three riders, traveling light, are rarely bringers of kind tidings. At best, they are hunting boar. At worst, they are hunting travelers. They might approach us, challenge us, try to distract us while they steal from our gear. Stolen or looted iron is sacred to them, and aspiring warriors will make a name for themselves by taking some, by force or guile. They might think we are from Gordin’s Delve. They believe the miners of the Delves are digging too deep and awakening The Things Below.” Padrig says.3 “We’ll march on, nothing else for it. If they approach, let me and Oz do the talking — we know the Steptongue well enough, and they most likely won’t speak ours. They might test us, threaten us to see if we scare easily. And, as ever, don’t leave the road — its wards against violence will render many of their threats empty ones. Come, let’s not linger.”
The party marches on, in a somewhat more subdued mood.
GM Notes
Before we set the scene and meet these Hillfolk, let’s figure out who they are exactly and what their goals are in this scene.
As astute reader Jeremy noted in the Choose Your Adventure post for this session, these Hillfolk can be aligned with a Hillfolk sorcerer who has heard rumors of Vahid and his staff, and has warned his loyal riders to keep an eye out for a traveling magi. We’ll learn more about Hillfolk sorcerers through play — for now, we just know that these riders have been watching the roads, both for Vahid as well as for simple banditry. Now that they’ve spotted Vahid, we need to see what they’ll do.
His companions: Protect the status quo, Find a person
A pretty straightforward group of bravos. The leader is an ambitious warrior who is looking to distinguish himself in the eyes of this sorcerer. His two companions are split: One is a zealous true believer in the sorcerer, and isn’t so invested in personal glory. The other is more interested someone who’s gone missing — we’ll say that when the sorcerer came to power, some of the Hillfolk band split off, and this young warrior had a loved one on the other side of that split. In other words, he’s the weak link. We’ll play out an encounter with this trio and see what happens.
Scene 8: A waystation, 3 days from Marshedge
It is near sunset, and the fading light paints the rocky plain surrounding this hilltop waystation in ember-orange. The campsite is identical to the many they have passed or stopped at over the last week, lending the place an odd sense of home. The campfire is burning in the firepit, while Ozbeg tends it and Vahid sets up the meal kit and cauldron, and Padrig and Anwen stand at the roadside, quietly keeping watch.
“You know the Hillfolk because you’ve fought against them before. And with them,” Anwen says. It’s not a question.
Padrig lets his breath out. “That’s right. The Claws spent four summers mixed up in their feuds. It’d be best if we stayed well away from them.” He pauses, then continues. “I’m sorry I kept all that from you, especially after you started training with us.”
“You should be. I feel like a fool. All of you — Ozbeg, Donal, all the ‘Companions,’ had that secret all this time, and I had no idea,” Anwen’s voice quakes a bit, with anger and sadness.
Padrig shrugs sadly. “You’re young. You’ve grown up among good folk, give or take a few. You had no reason to distrust us.”
“I’m learning, bit by bit,” Anwen says bitterly. “Pad, that thing — the Judge at the Crossroads — it said my mother was guilty of some crime. She must’ve had a secret, too.”
Padrig frowns. “You heard Vahid. That thing was corrupted by The Things Below. You had cut it deeply. Who knows what madness it was spouting?”
“No. I don’t think so. I never looked for the signs before, but now they’re as plain as day. She always told me stories about my father, and what a hero he was — but if that was so, why did she leave Marshedge when he went missing? Why was there no one there who would help her?” Anwen says. Padrig has no reply.
The sun is low in the sky, and the late spring air is growing chill. She draws her grey woolen cloak around her. “The night she left, she gave me this cloak to remember her by. She told me she knew for certain that my father was still alive — that he had sent for her in a dream, and that she had to go look for him. It was too dangerous for me to go with her, and so I stayed in Cerys’ household. When I got older, I stopped believing that he had sent for her in a dream, but I didn’t know what else to think. Why else would she leave me there?”4
“She raised you to be forthright and honest. If you take after her, she might have had a good reason to keep it from you.” Padrig says.
“That’s what I always thought, too. It stopped me from being too angry with her. But now, after what that creature at the crossroads said,” Anwen trails off for a moment. “I’m not sure what I’ll find out if I find her in Marshedge.”
The pair are quiet, for a time, until Padrig breaks the silence with a short, sharp whistle. The Hillfolk are approaching from the west, with the setting sun behind them. As they crest a nearby hill, the lead rider, mounted on a grey-and-white piebald, raises his hand in greeting.
“Fetch Ozbeg here, and go by the cart with Vahid. Keep doing the business of the camp, try to act unconcerned, and tell Vahid to do the same. Understand?” Padrig says, quickly and quietly.
Anwen nods, and trots back to the campfire. Ozbeg joins him as the three riders rein in their horses at the base of the hill — just close enough to shout, too far to converse.
“Already trying to draw us off the road,” Ozbeg grumbles quietly.5
“We’ll not oblige them. He hailed us, let him speak first.” Padrig mutters.
After a short standoff, the lead rider grins, and shouts, speaking in the Steptongue, waving his strung bow over his head “These are our riding grounds, from the tall grasses to the Black Road! Our kin shed and spilled blood for them this season! Announce yourselves, if you would not give them insult!”
“We come from Stonetop, bound for Marshedge,” Padrig replies, his Steptongue returning to him quickly as he fights to keep his voice clear and even. “With an empty wagon. Just some Stonetop potatoes for our meals. If your band is hungry, we have some to spare!”
The lead rider, clearly amused, speaks with his fellows quietly. They urge their horses forward, and the lead rider calls back. “You do not have the look of a party from Stonetop. You have the mishmash look of the Delve; You have a man of the mountains with you, and Lygosi!”
“Now who is offering insult? I’ve told you where we come from and where we’re bound. It is your turn to speak.” Padrig replies.
The rider laughs again, as he draws his horse up a dozen yards from the roadside. He is about as old as Padrig, with a sharp-featured, narrow face. His head is shaven on one side, with jagged lines tattooed on the bare skin and his beard is thick and rust-colored. He has a short bow in hand, strung and ready to fire, with an arrow clenched in his fist with the bow grip. His two companions are younger men, and they wait with a tense energy.
“I am called Adm, a warrior of the Ash-Pickers.” as he approaches the crest of the hill and the edge of the road, he dismounts. “I watch the Black Road for my band. It is my right to know your business as you travel through our riding grounds.”
“We are not from the Delve. We are bound to Marshedge, to trade for clay. Not much glory to be won here.”
“And what of the Lygosi? Is he of Stonetop?” Adm asks.
“He is a visitor. A scribe and a scholar. He travels with us.”
Adm is now close enough to speak quietly, and he does so, though he does not set foot on the road. He gestures his chin at Padrig’s bow, slung on his back. “That is a fine Hillfolk bow you have. Tendon and horn. A champion’s weapon,” Adm says.
“It is. I had it from the champion of the band of the Yellow Hand.” Padrig replies, his tone flat level.
“Did he give it to you as a gift?” Adm asks, still smiling. Behind Padrig, Ozbeg shifts his stance, and the bells on his fighting knives jingle softly.
“No.” Padrig replies, his eyes locked with Adm’s.
Adm barks laughter again. “Come come, my battle-friend. You may be from Stonetop, but your manner is that of a sellsword. You and your brother-in-arms, here,” he says, nodding at Ozbeg. “Did the Lygosi hire you to protect him?”
Padrig glances at Ozbeg, who shrugs. “What if he did? Why are you so curious about some Lygosi, Adm of the Ash Pickers?” Padrig asks.6
“We have a richer price to offer you. Our mestr is searching for a Lygosi, who bears the staff he bears. He is a thief, and a trickster. Deliver him, and the staff, from the coward’s magic of the Black Road and into our hands, and we can give you much. Gold and silver.” Adm says, grinning wide.
Ozbeg snorts. “Never met a Hillman whose purses were flowing with gold and silver.”
Adm’s face flashes with anger. He draws a few coins from a pouch around his neck and throws them to the ground, beyond the edge of the road, where they glow silver in the fading light. “See for yourself, then, mercenary. These coins are a trifle, take them as proof of what I say.”
Padrig rubs his beard thoughtfully. “If you want to come to an arrangement, come talk with us here on the road, where we can trust one another.”
The rider approaches, but not before making a quick hand sign against the curse of the Makers’ magic. He looks ill at ease as his hide boots touch the black basalt of the road. His two companions wait by the side of the road.
Padrig glances at Anwen and Vahid, who watch them from a distance as they tend to the fire and the bubbling stewpot, and then looks back to Adm. In a quiet voice, he asks “So what do you propose, and what is to be our payment?”
Adm nods, and begins to lay out his plans in a quiet voice. “It is simple: Tell the Lygosi that we have something to trade that will draw him from the road — the location of a cache of Maker artifacts. Stren are always eager to find those. Once he is outside the wards, help us disarm him of his staff and take him alive. We must be cautious, for he is dangerous. In return, you will receive coin — our meistr told me five hundred bezants of silver and two hundred of gold.”
Padrig nods thoughtfully. “I will confer with my companion here, in the open. So you can see we are in earnest. And so our… employer will not suspect,” he says. Adm nods, smiling.
Padrig turns to Ozbeg, and continues in the Steptongue: “What do you say, Oz? Shall we throw in with these battle-friends?”7
Ozbeg grins. “Seems like the most profitable decision. If you’ll speak with our former employer, I’ll keep our friends here company.”
One of the younger riders — a fierce-eyed youth with streaks of blue pigment running through his blonde hair — puts his hand on Adm’s shoulder and sneers “We should not trust these sellswords, Adm. Why do we not return to the ride and bring the meistr here? Then we can drive them from the road and take what is ours.”
Adm shushes the youth with a raised hand. “Be still, Loic. We are not in council now; we are riding.”
Padrig forces a smile at the youth. “You need us because you cannot lure the scholar off the road, and no matter how brave you are, you cannot strike at him through the wards.”
Loic glares back at Padrig. “Keep believing that, stren. Our meistr wields great power.”
Adm turns back to the youth. “Quiet your wagging tongue, or I will take your reins from you and lead you like a child.” Then, to Padrig: “Go, and do your part.”
Padrig doesn’t bother to conceal his worry at this exchange, and moves back to Anwen and Vahid, eagerly awaiting him by the campfire.
“These Hillfolk aren’t simple bandits. They are looking for you, Vahid, and they wish me, Ozbeg and Anwen to lure you off the road so they can capture you.” Padrig says.
“Yes,” Vahid replies. “I heard, a bit.”
“You speak the Steptongue?” Padrig asks, a bit surprised.
“One of our guides on my journey to the north was a Hillfolk, and it seemed prudent to learn it. As you can see, I was correct,” Vahid replies.8
Anwen’s eyes widen, but before she can question him, Padrig speaks quickly and quietly: “Listen closely, then. We must play along with their ruse. If we rebuff them, and stay on the road, they will return in greater numbers. They claim their chieftain wields some sort of power that can drive us from the roads. I’m not sure how that could be true, but best not to risk it. We can turn their trap against them, take them by surprise.”
“And kill them?” Anwen asks.
Padrig pauses for a moment, taken aback. “They preparing an ambush for Vahid — and for us, if we stand with him — as sure as if they were hiding around a bend in the Great Wood with weapons drawn. They are fighters, and they picked this fight the moment they started to track us. If we have the chance to strike first, we must take it.”9
“And if they yield?” she asks.
Padrig frowns at her. “Eyes on the battle, not the victory — if you want to survive. If they yield, they yield. We’ll cross that water when it comes.”
Anwen doesn’t look happy, but she nods and prepares her gear. Padrig speaks quickly quietly to her and Vahid: “Stay ready — if they move to attack, we will be waiting. Otherwise, I will signal by creating a distraction with Sweetfoot. When that happens, you will know to strike.”
Padrig harnesses up the horse, who snorts in protest, and leads her off the road, assuring Adm, in the Steptongue, that the trap is set.10 Adm rides alongside Padrig and the cart, while the two young riders flank the rest of the party behind them.
They descend the hill and into the winding canyons of the Steplands. At the first bend11, as Adm is briefly separated from his two riders, Padrig calls Sweetfoot to a halt, and says, “We can leave our gear here, off the road, until we return. Take whatever you need from the cart, scholar.” He nods at Vahid, who approaches the cart.
Then, with a flick of his dagger, Padrig pricks Sweetfoot’s flank. The horse rears and bucks before rushing down the canyon, and the party strikes.
Scene Breakdown
We’ll do the scene breakdown first here, to show what moves are triggered in the first moments of the ambush, and their rolls. Note, they all have advantage from Padrig’s careful selection of the ambush’s location.
Anwen: Triggers Clash: Strong hit with an 11, dealing 3 damage (with disadvantage on damage, she’s not striking primarily to wound or kill). She also triggers Potential for Greatness and increases her strength to +2, permanently(!)
Padrig: Triggers Let Fly: Weak Hit, with a 7, dealing 8 damage. He’s put in harm’s way and takes 7 damage.
Vahid: Triggers Defend — He’s protecting himself and seeing where he can aid. Weak hit, with an 8. This allows him to reduce damage to himself, or intercept attacks aimed at others, if necessary.
Ozbeg: Triggers Clash/Order Followers: Weak Hit, with a 9, dealing 3 damage. In return, he receives 4 damage, which his armor and Vahid combine to reduce to 1.
And the action:
Adm is distracted for only a moment, but it’s long enough for Padrig’s bow to spring to hand. The hillman is drawing his blade — a wickedly curved iron sword — and shouting a warning as Padrig steps back, nocks, and looses an arrow. The arrow strikes the warrior in the chest as he leaps from the saddle and slashes at him, catching him with the very tip of the blade, slicing through the boiled leather of Padrig’s bracers and drawing a thick line of blood. Adm tries to rise, struggling for breath, but Padrig doesn’t wait to watch him fall again, he nocks another arrow and rounds the canyon bend.
There, Anwen has dragged the quiet Hillfolk from his horse and slammed him into the dirt, holding one of Ozbeg’s fighting knives to his throat. She is shouting “Do you yield?” while Ozbeg holds tight the reins of the fiercer of the two riders, having slashed at him with his blade. Padrig watches as the rider rears back for a strike, hefting a bronze-tipped adze, but as he swings for Ozbeg’s head, Vahid intercedes with the Azure Hand, deflecting the blow with a resonant clang. Shouting defiance, the rider rears his horse against Ozbeg, driving the mercenary into the dirt and wheeling to rush at Vahid. But Padrig has marked him and his arrow flies true, knocking the rider from his mount, which sprints off, dragging him in the stirrup.
Anwen’s captive is struggling against her grip, panic in his eyes, and the knife scrapes against the skin of his neck, raising a thin line of red. “Stop!” Anwen cries. “I don’t want to kill you!”12 Sensing her hesitation, the rider pushes with all his strength, rolling Anwen off him, scrambling to his feet, and rushing towards his mount.
As the young rider springs onto his horse, Padrig nocks an arrow and takes aim.
Ozbeg snarls: “He’ll bring the rest of his ride down on us! We can’t take the risk!”
The bowstring is taut. Padrig feels the breeze in the canyon and adjusts his shot slightly.
We’ll end the episode here. You all know Padrig, and this story, just as well as I do, so let’s make this decision together. Does Padrig:
Take the shot: The risk is too great — for this mission, and for Stonetop. The riders know where we came from, after all.
Offer his parole: Not every Hillfolk is so eager for death. Maybe there’s another way.
That’s today’s reader poll. Click the button below to vote! (Voting closed 12/29/2021)
This is another long one. Hopefully not too long, but if you’re struggling with the size of these, hit me in the comments and I’ll try to be a more ruthless editor.
Next episode, we’ll actually, definitely, positively conclude this journey, we’ll level up Padrig, and we’ll reach Marshedge. See you next week!
Vahid can’t help himself from rolling Know Things about the Steplands — he gets a 9, so some background, but nothing immediately useful. We’re also exercising his Curiosity instinct, which will give him an XP, but it also means he can’t resist taking the Azure Hand out and using it out in the open, which could be risky — it is quite valuable.
There’s no roll for this — Padrig’s the most sharp-eyed, so he’d be the first to spot them, but we don’t leave it up to chance whether they’re spotted at all. Stonetop and PbtA generally encourage you to announce threats early rather than springing big surprises — it’s generally more fun and interesting to play through building tension than being attacked unexpectedly. In other words: Ambushes are a sometimes food.
Padrig rolls Seek Insight and gets a 10 — this is his answer to the question “What is about to happen.” He has two questions remaining, but likely won’t use them this scene.
This are the results of our last Keep Company question, which we set up in Session 3, Episode 1. Padrig asked Anwen the question: “Who or what seems to be on your mind?”
Padrig attempts to convince the Hillfolk to reveal his plan, and to pretend that he is open to betraying Vahid. He rolls Persuade (his Charisma is +1) and scores an 11. Lucky!
Here, Padrig is trying to continue the ruse and turn the ambush around on the Hillfolk. To see how well they pull it off, Padrig uses Defy Danger with Charisma, He gets a 9 — we’ll have the lead rider be convinced, but the zealot in his part has reservations.
Vahid’s Polyglot move in action — he can have some knowledge of any living language we might encounter (though we might decide for whatever reason to forgo that if it’s dramatically appropriate).
Anwen defies danger with strength and scores a weak hit with a 7. We offer her a hard choice: She can keep hold of the Hillfolk, but she must deal her damage to him, which may kill him. This isn’t a hard choice for Anwen — she lets him go.
Anyone feel these are too long, because I super, super don't and enjoy every bit of it. I would enjoy, I think, up to 150% of this length as an episode.
“Quiet your wagging tongue, or I will take your reins from you and lead you like a child.” oof, I felt that disrespect all the way in Brooklyn. He gonna take that from a dude with a hipster side shave/big beard combo in 2022?
Anyone feel these are too long, because I super, super don't and enjoy every bit of it. I would enjoy, I think, up to 150% of this length as an episode.
“Quiet your wagging tongue, or I will take your reins from you and lead you like a child.” oof, I felt that disrespect all the way in Brooklyn. He gonna take that from a dude with a hipster side shave/big beard combo in 2022?