Session 5.2: Thunderhead

Alarms sound. A storm gathers.

Housekeeping

PTFO is on Twitter now, @ReadPTFO, despite my deep, deep ambivalence about that platform. I’ll mostly be promoting the newsletter, and perhaps musing about episodes as they’re played/written, if there are enough readers that follow. And welcome to the folks who found us through Twitter! If you need to catch up, there’s an Act 1 Recap written for you right over here.

A few folks have asked to see the character sheets for the PCs — up until now I have kept them on paper (so retro!) but this week, I picked up a google sheet template made by an awesome member of the Stonetop Discord (which you can get access to if you pre-order the game), and filled it in with the most recent versions of the characters. You can find that sheet here, and it will live in the sidebar on the PTFO site.

Last item before we get back into it — I was curious if there would be any interest in an AMA-type post (in addition to the regular episodes) where folks could ask questions about PTFO’s approach to solo play, GM and player best practices as they’ve emerged (or failed to emerge!) in this game, specific details about the story or the characters, or really any topic? If so, I could do an open question thread on a Thursday or Friday. Let me know in the comments if that sort of thing would be of any interest to you!

Pre-Episode Notes & Setting the Scene

In the last episode, Anwen sought the advice of Bronwyn, a priest of Tor, about her upcoming initiation, and Padrig laid out his crew’s bloody past to the village elders. The elders — particularly Cerys, the priestess of Danu, and Marged, the master stonecutter — were quite reluctant to take the risk of inviting bandits into their midst, but before judgment could be rendered, one of the village watchtowers sounded the alarm, throwing the assembly into disarray. We then put on our GM hats to decide what kind of threat now looms:

Wildcard was our shorthand for a threat that we haven’t dealt with before and that isn’t explicitly connected to the established threats of the campaign — perhaps one of the dangerous wild animals or magical beasts that roam the lands here at the edge of the world — which will allow us to deal with the threat and then return to the story threads we’re currently pursuing.

However, with the Hillfolk sorcerer coming in second with a strong showing, I had a thought — what if the threat we see is a dangerous creature, but the Hillfolk sorcerer had a hand in urging it onward? This allows us to pick up our story threads after the danger has passed, but also will give us a lead to follow when the time comes to further investigate the Hillfolk sorcerer. As for you crinwinistas, we’ll see about getting those little creepers back — maybe in the dark nights of winter!

We’ll now rejoin the action: Padrig, Vahid and Ozbeg have come to the edge of the village green to see what has raised the alarm:

Out on the Flats, stormclouds gather

Scene 4: The village green

From the edge of the village green, Padrig can see out past the farmlands surrounding the village, out to the broken line of the Old Wall, and into the grassy pastures beyond. In the skies above those pastures, stormclouds gather — grey and black, shot through with the ember-orange of the fading sun — and a hot wind blows from the southwest.

Behind them, Padrig can hear Cerys quietly chiding Owain, who was drawn to the village green by the sound of alarm. “Why does your militia sound the alarm and rouse the village at nothing but dark clouds? Surely the herders have enough sense to come in from the storm on their own?” she hisses at him urgently.

“It can’t be just the storm,” Owain mutters in reply, pulling away from his mother to shove to the front of the crowd and peering out to the horizon.

Padrig triggers Seek Insight: 1+4+2 Wisdom = 7. Weak Hit

A weak hit gets Pad a single question from the Seek Insight list — he asks: What should I be on the lookout for? We’ll deliver the answer in the fiction:

Out in the pastures, between the gaps in the Old Wall, Padrig sees it: A huge drake, half again as tall and massive as an aurochs, with copper-colored scales and a bony frill spiked with horns. Padrig taps Owain on the shoulder and points. “There.” As though in response, the beast rears to its hind legs and lets out a thunderous bellow.

“Tor’s balls,” Owain says. “A thunder drake. They never come this far east. What is it doing?” As they watch, it drops to all fours and resumes its loping stride, diverting its path towards the village to charge headlong at a herder and her flock, panicked and scattered by the storm that now lours above them.

The crowd on the green sees the drake now too, and fear runs through them, as warm, heavy summer rain begins to fall, driven by the strengthening wind. Owain begins to hand out orders to his lieutenants. “Talfryn, take your pick of half the warriors’ circle and gather the vulnerable around the Standing Stone. Royce, you’re with me — we will muster the militia and gather by the southwestern tower,” he growls. “If it comes, we’ll have to drive it off at spearpoint.”

“What would you have me and mine do?” Padrig asks.

Owain’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he answers. “This changes nothing, Padrig. You and your bandits don’t belong in our village.”

“If that is the elders’ decision, then you can pay us when the danger has passed, and we’ll be on our way,” Padrig replies, dead-level.

Owain nods dismissively. “Fine, then. Take your warriors out into the fields and see if you can drive it off with your arrows, or at least slow it down while we prepare.”

Padrig turns to Ozbeg. “Gear the lads up. Light and deadly. We’ll find high ground on the path to the village and cover this thing with fletching if it doesn’t turn back.” Ozbeg salutes, and gets about it.

Meanwhile, Owain faces the crowd, shouting against the wind, the rain, and the growing panic. “Bring your loved ones to the Standing Stone! You will be safe from the storm and the beast there! Militia, rally your fellows, arm yourselves, and muster at the southwestern tower!” The crowd mills about uncertainly — Owain can barely be heard in the chaos.

Padrig repeats the orders, his stentorian¹ baritone cutting over the din and carrying to the edge of the green. Owain glares at him and prepares a rebuke. Still, when the assembled villagers begin to move with purpose, he swallows his anger and moves on sullenly, heading for the watchtower at a jog, a knot of warriors trailing after him.

Trying to be helpful, Vahid searches his accumulated learning about thunder drakes, their behavior, and their capabilities.

Vahid triggers Know Things: 1+2+2 Intelligence = 5. Miss.

We’ll save our hard GM move here for a bit later, and catch Padrig and the crew flat-footed with the thunder drake’s abilities.

Vahid puts his hand on Padrig’s shoulder. “I don’t know much about the fauna of this place, Padrig. But I do know that very little that dwells here is untouched by the magic of the ancients. Be cautious, and ready for the unexpected.”

“What will you do?” Padrig asks.

“I will stand with the militia at the watchtower. I am not sure what I can do against such a beast, but if I see a chance to act, I will take it.” Padrig goes to gear himself for battle, but Vahid stops him for a moment. “Padrig — Anwen told me she was bound for the goat pastures with a friend. She may be out there, in the beast’s path. Keep a sharp eye for her, eh?”

Padrig meets Vahid’s eye and nods solemnly before following after Ozbeg to make ready for the coming fight.

Scene 5: The fields

Anwen and Cadoc are sprinting through the fields towards the village. The storm has already reached them, blowing the Flats grasses into rippling waves and soaking them with warm rain, and through the rush of the wind, they can hear the hunting horns sounding. Anwen stops short. Shadow bounds up alongside her and tilts his head back, responding to the horn with a howl.

“That’s the alarm! The village is in danger!” Anwen cries. She and Cadoc scan their surroundings. In the distance, Anwen spots Olwyn, a young herdswoman, bearing a braying goat on her shoulders and chasing after her panicking herd. Her braided blonde hair is soaked and matted against her face by the rain, and when she spots Anwen, she screams a warning, pointing behind her.

Now, Anwen and Cadoc see the beast. Eight feet at the shoulder and at least twice as long, the earth shudders beneath it as it strides forward, slashing its massive head from side to side, clearing the foliage from its path as it moves with a thick, curving horn on its nose. Olwyn has caught its eye, and as Anwen and Cadoc watch in horror, it paws the earth and charges, the pouring rain streaming off its armored back, its clawed feet tearing up the grass in great gouts as it runs.

Without hesitation, Anwen races to intercept it. “Anwen, wait! You can’t stop that thing alone!” Cadoc shouts, but she sprints forward, heedless of his warnings. After a beat, he follows after her.

Anwen catches up with the drake as it is bearing down on Olwyn. Weighed down by a panicking kid, she is struggling to get out of the drake’s path. Anwen snatches up a fist-sized stone from the ground and flings it at the charging animal’s face, desperately shouting and heckling to redirect its ire.

The beast halts and turns towards Anwen, its thick, scaled tail swinging to and fro in the air to balance it as it steadies itself for another charge. Topped by its spined and armored frill, the drake’s head is as broad as a wagon wheel. Walnut-sized black eyes focus on Anwen, and its sharp, beaked mouth opens and issues a bellowing challenge.

Anwen draws her sword and holds it ready at her side, crouched, ready to dodge this way or that. A dozen feet away, Cadoc and Shadow watch, frozen with fear.

There is a peal of thunder from above, and the drake lowers its head and charges at Anwen. She waits until the very last moment to dodge, lashing out with her sword as she goes, but the drake is old and canny, and it feints left before turning its frill to the right, slamming into Anwen with brutal force and sending her tumbling to the sodden earth.

Scene Breakdown

We’ve got a few moves triggered here in rapid succession — let’s break them down, and then complete the scene. We open with Anwen trying to catch up to the drake and save Olwyn from its wrath. She triggers Defy Danger with Dexterity, and rolls 5+6+0 Dexterity = 11. Strong Hit.

She is able to save Olwyn and attract the thunder drake’s attention. It then charges at her, and her plan is to dodge out of the way at the last minute and catch it with her sword. Now, Anwen triggers Clash: 2+2+2 Constitution= 6. Miss.

The drake deals 10 damage to her. Anwen only has 16 HP, so she triggers I Get Knocked Down and halves the damage, suffering 5 instead, leaving her with 11 HP. She chooses the “You’re out of it for a moment” consequence. This hands initiative in the fight back to the drake, and it is about to trample her to death. She’s not in a position to strike at it, so instead she’ll try to steel herself, and regain her senses in time to move out of its way. This triggers Defy Danger with Constitution: 2+2+1 Strength= 5. Miss.

It’s really not our day for rolls, is it? From a GM’s perspective, if we really want to hurt Anwen, the best place to hit her isn’t in the hit points. We’ll return to the action with that in mind:

For a moment, she is lost in darkness with a strange sensation of weightlessness as the warm rain falls onto her face and in her eyes. She distantly hears Cadoc’s voice, calling her name, and Shadow’s wild, frantic barks. As she rises unsteadily to her knees, she can see the drake above her, looming over her, rearing up on its hind legs. Its clawed forefeet are in the air, about to descend to grind and tear her underfoot. She struggles to focus, her vision is blurred, and her joints feel wooden as she vainly tries to put her feet under her.

A calm fills Anwen as she waits beneath the drake’s claws, but before the end, she feels able hands push her hard aside. The breath is knocked out of her lungs when she hits the ground, so she cannot scream when she sees Cadoc fall beneath the drake’s massive bulk with a strangled cry. The beast bellows and shakes its head as though clearing it from a fog and then once again begins to lope towards the village, picking up speed as it goes.

Anwen staggers to Cadoc’s side, Shadow close at her heels. The once-fair goatherd lies on the matted grass, the green and yellow stalks around him streaked with bright, arterial red, his right arm snapped at a sickening angle, and his chest broken and crooked. She sobs when she takes in his shattered form, tears mingling with the pouring rain. “Cadoc, why,” she sputters.

His hand reaches weakly towards her. “I wanted to help you,” he rasps. “Thought I was fast enough.”

“Cerys can help you,” Anwen whispers, as she tries to lift him. He cries out in agony, and she quickly relents, lowering him softly back to the ground. Shadow whines quietly, nuzzling at Anwen’s side. For a moment, his face looks to her like the young Marshedge guardsman, dying on the gaol steps.

“Anwen, she’s here,” Cadoc whispers back. His eyes are unfocused, looking past Anwen into the distance. “I see the Lady of Crows.”

“No,” Anwen sobs. “Not yet. Wait a little while longer; I’ll get you home to Cadwyn.”

Cadoc’s voice wheezes, but it’s no longer tinged with pain. “Her hand is on your shoulder, Anwen. Do you feel it?”

A shiver runs down Anwen’s spine. Her skin feels ice-cold, even as it’s washed by the pouring summer rain. She takes Cadoc’s hand in hers. “Should I go with her?” he asks. “I’m afraid.” Tears well up in his eyes.

“Don’t be, Cad. I’m here with you.” She tightens her hand around his and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, he is gone.

Numbly, she rises, taking back up her sword. The chill of the Lady’s presence is replaced by burning anger², and she takes off at a run, following the drake’s trail.

Scene 6: An approach to the village

Padrig and the Companions await the beast atop a ridgeline that overlooks the path up the hill towards Stonetop. Thin, scrubby trees provide some cover, and Padrig’s crew waits with a line of arrows stuck into the earth, along with the pair of iron-tipped Marshedge spears for good measure.

The storm has overtaken them, and Padrig’s archers strain to see through the gloom and lashing rain. Moments ago, Olwyn and her panicked herd passed by, and once again, sharp-eyed Donal spots movement in the pouring rain, but Padrig shouts out to hold the volley. It is Anwen, racing up the path.

“It’s still coming!” she shouts. “I overtook it a few minutes ago, looking for a chance to slow it down.” Padrig gestures her up to the ridgeline, and plucks one of the spears from the earth, tossing it to Anwen. “Here. A better weapon for the task. Are you all right?” he asks, taking in her bruises and the water-streaked bloodstains on her face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m ready,” she says in a deadened tone. Padrig’s face darkens with concern.

“Here it comes!” calls out Donal, as the lumbering drake swims out of the gloom, churning the muddy path as it climbs the hill doggedly towards the village, bellowing in answer to the peals of thunder.

Padrig raises his hand, and the Companions take aim and draw their bowstrings. The beast strides forward another dozen feet, and he signals for the volley.

Padrig leads his crew and triggers Let Fly with advantage from his Read the Land move (finding a good spot to strike from): 1+3+6+1 Dexterity = 10. Strong Hit.

Padrig rolls 1d8 for damage and adds +6 for the Companion’s aid (one per warrior). They total 13 damage, but the drake has 3 armor, so it’s reduced to 10. The drake has 20 HP total, so this knocks off half. Now, we bring back our hard move from Vahid’s missed Know Things roll, and hand initiative back to the drake:

Arrows rain down on the drake. Some bounce off its thick frill or shatter on its gleaming copper scales, but many still find their mark, piercing through the beast’s armored hide. Padrig takes careful aim. The drake roars its defiance, rearing up on its hind legs, towering fifteen feet over the muddy ground.

Padrig feels a buzz in the air, and a vexing smell assaults his nose, like heated metal. The beast’s scales seem to flicker with a strange internal glow and blue-white threads of writhing energy play between the bony spines on its frill. An impossibly loud rumble comes from deep within the drake’s gullet, rattling Pad’s teeth. “GET DOWN!” he bellows, throwing himself behind the ridgeline.

Padrig triggers Order Followers. His crew adds +1 here, since they have the Warriors tag, and have advantage, thanks to Padrig’s Stentorian move. 1+1+4+1 Quality = 6. Miss.

The drake deals 9 damage with its lightning strike — plenty to kill a Companion and wound another, with their 6 HP each. We randomly determine which one (there are six of them, so it’s a simple 1d6 roll).

The Companions scramble to follow his example, but it is too late. An ear-splitting crack rends the air, and an impossibly bright flare of blue-white dazzles Padrig’s eyes as a stroke of lightning lances from the beast’s jaws towards the Companions. Dirt and rock erupt where the bolt strikes, showering down on them as they take cover behind the ridgeline. Dropping back to all fours, the drake once again returns its focus to the village, looking up at the Standing Stone and doggedly continuing on its path.

Padrig gathers his senses and takes stock. His men are scattered and dazed — Donal’s ears are bloody, and Ozbeg is crouched over a fallen comrade. It is Aled — His scarred face is frozen in anger, and his leather jerkin is blacked and charred, its iron studs pitted and melted.

“Come. We’ll count the cost when the fight is done.” As he slides down the muddy ridge, following after the beast, Anwen leaps to follow him, with the rest of the Companions close behind.³

Scene 7: The southwestern watchtower

The storm has fully overtaken the village now; Rain lashes the hill, and the grey-black clouds have formed a thunderhead above the ancient Standing Stone. Vahid stands behind a line of militia, peering over the forest of mismatched speartips — bronze, a handful of iron, and more than a handful of simple, sharpened yew or ash. Owain strides back and forth in front of the line, a three-fold oaken shield on his left arm and his father’s iron sword at his side.

The towering stormclouds above alight with flashes of blue and purple, and a stroke of lightning flashes brightly in the rain, lancing down towards the Standing Stone and striking the tip, cracking the air with thunder. In Vahid’s grip the Azure Hand buzzes like an angry wasp, almost painful to hold.

Then, the beast appears, barreling up the hill towards the militia and lowing in pain and rage. A dozen arrows pierce its hide, and behind it, Vahid can see Padrig’s scouts dogging its trail, taking careful shots where they can.

Stopping a dozen feet before the line of spears, the beast rises on its hind legs. Its eyes are raised towards the Standing Stone, and it bellows a challenge, sending a wave of fear through the militia. Owain draws his sword and beats against his shield, shouting, “HOLD FAST!”

Once again, the drake’s scales alight, sparks dance between the spines of its frill and its deep, rumbling call sounds, heralding its lightning strike. Padrig shouts over the gusting wind at the militia to scatter, but Owain is still exhorting them to stand. The line wavers uncertainly, and Vahid steps into the gap, the Azure Hand held aloft.

The lightning strike arcs towards Vahid, slashing through the air in a blue-white blur. As it approaches him, it seems to slow, like an arrow piercing the surface of a calm lake, its path distorting, curving, and looping around the Hand, crackling and whining with potential. There is no thunderclap; The air is eerily silent — even the pounding rain seems to abate for a moment.

With finality, Vahid slams the staff’s aetherium shodding into the ground, and the captured lightning surges from the headpiece, dispersingly harmlessly into the earth. The beast’s bovine black eyes peer at Vahid with something like confusion.

With the wind and rain stilled, Vahid can see clearly as he extends his perceptions through the Azure Hand. He feels the incredible power of the storm swirling overhead, and in the subtle vibrations of the Hand, he can hear a strange whispering, in a language he has never heard. The drake seems to hear it too, its head cocking to one side as its attention is drawn from Vahid back to the Standing Stone. It fills the air again with its thunderous challenge.

“Strike now!” Owain bellows into the quiet. “Finish the fight, Stonetop!” The spearmen surge forward to strike at the drake’s unarmored belly, but it turns away, lashing its heavy tail towards them and presenting its spined, armored back. Wooden and bronze spears shatter against the scales, and the lashing tail drives the militia back.

But on its other side is Anwen, full of Tor’s vengeful anger. She charges forward, outpacing Padrig and the Companions, aiming her spear in an upward stroke towards the drake’s throat. She strikes true, and the iron tip pierces the soft, unarmored flesh, spewing a gout of crimson. Its strength failing, the beast throws its weight down towards Anwen — it drives the spear deeper and splinters the shaft, but its spiked crest slams into her, driving her into the earth and darkness’ embrace.

Scene Breakdown

This part of the fight contained three big rolls. Let’s go through each of them:

First, Padrig and his fighters have a chance to get one more volley in before the thunder drake reaches the militia and it’s too close to risk arrow fire.

Padrig triggers Let Fly: 3+4+1 Dexterity = 8, Weak Hit. Unfortunately, they roll minimum damage — 1 on the 1d8 plus one each for each of the five remaining Companions. With its 3 Armor, the beast only takes 3 damage. As a consequence of the weak hit, Padrig chooses to be low on ammunition — an easy choice to make at this stage in the fight.

Next, Vahid parries the lightning strike: Vahid uses the Azure Hand’s ability to capture elemental energy to protect himself and the militia from the drake’s lightning strike. He didn’t know exactly what the drake is capable of, but he’s a clever chap and can make a reasonable assumption about what an animal called a thunder drake is about to do. He triggers the Azure Hand and rolls 5+4+1 CON = 10, Strong Hit. He captures the bolt, and chooses to discharge it harmlessly into the earth.

Finally, Anwen charges in to end the fight, joining up with the militia’s attack. She has advantage on this strike, from her I Get Up Again move, referenced here.

Anwen triggers Clash. 1+3+1+1 Strength = 6. Miss.

Now is not the time Anwen wants to miss — she’s fighting for her life, and the life of her friends, in front of her village. She’ll use her Impetuous Youth move (reference here) and upgrade this Miss to a Weak Hit. As a consequence, she chooses to get hurt — 2d4 damage and an actual injury.

We’ll give Anwen +6 to her damage, assuming that roughly 6 members of the militia (including Owain) can get in a position to strike at the drake. Anwen spends a Resolve from her Anger is a Gift move to add +2d4 damage and the forceful tag to her strike. That makes their total roll 1d6 (Anwen’s damage) + 6 (the militia) +2d4 (Anger is a Gift). They roll 13 damage, plenty to finish off the drake.

In return, it deals 1d10+3+2d4 damage to her. It rolls 19 damage, more than enough to send Anwen for a visit to the Lady of Crows. But rather than head for the Last Door, Anwen will halve the damage once again using I Get Knocked Down move, reducing the damage to 10, knocking her out and leaving her with a single HP remaining. Phew!

Session End Notes & Leveling Up Anwen

We’ll conclude this episode here, now that the threat is dealt with. Anwen is hurt badly, which will compromise her ability to train for her initiation challenge — but she also just felled a deadly magical beast in front of a huge crowd of the militia and Owain himself, so surely that counts for something! This is also big for Padrig — his crew lost a man to protect the village, which will count for a lot in the eyes of the elders. Vahid has also seen some signs of what might have driven the drake towards the village — this has only deepened his curiosity about the Standing Stone, and he will be eager to speak to someone with some spirit-wisdom to better understand what he heard. We’ll continue pulling on these plot threads and play to find out what happens in the aftermath of this sudden storm.

Before we close the session out, we’ll choose a new move for Anwen as she goes up to 3rd level with a reader poll! For this poll, we’ll bring back a few of the older options, along with a new one:

Iron Will plays nicely into Anwen’s Defiance instinct and Payback represents her vengefulness when her friends are threatened. For the last choice, Armored, we’ll tie this move into the fiction that’s just occurred — she can receive the armor as a gift or reward for her bravery against the drake. Who says story games don’t do loot?

Thanks so much for reading! See you in your inbox next Monday for the next episode of PTFO!

Next Episode: Session 5.3: After the Storm

1. Padrig invokes his Stentorian move, allowing his orders to be heard where Owain’s cannot. He triggers the Homefront move Muster, and scores a Strong Hit increasing the Village’s Defenses by 1, which will come into play if the militia must stand against the beast without a PC leading them.

2. Anwen triggers Anger is a Gift and holds 2 Resolve.

3. Anwen spends a Resolve her to inspire the Companions to follow her lead, relieving Padrig of the need to roll to order them onward.