Quinn of Axeford (Ironsworn Actual Play - Session 1)

Session 0

Time for the first session. As before, I'll present dice rolls, mechanics, and other game bits as indented text. I don't plan to include my out-of-character thoughts (beyond what can be interpreted from the prose), though I might consider changing that approach as things go on.

Things ended up leaning more into the magical side than I had expected from my session 0 worldbuilding, but they all seemed to spring up naturally as complications from bad rolls. Speaking of which, getting seven 10s on my first fourteen rolls was definitely a remarkable feat. I suppose I should just be glad that there weren't any matches on those.

As for the prose, I'm not going to put effort into making it fancy, so expect rough draft-quality of writing. That's generally what I stick to for this blog, anyway, so any regular readers should be able to handle it.

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The sun cast long shadows across the cliffs and coves of the Ragged Coast, stifled though the light was by the early morning fog. In the settlement of Axeford; so named due to the unusual rock formation jutting into its nearby tributary, leaving a convenient throat for a waterwheel; this would normally be a time of stirring noise as the villagers awoke for another day of harvest and preparation for the coming winter. This day, however, little broke the silence, save for the burbling river and the occasional caw of a raven.

Quinn had been up for some time, roused before dawn from a restless sleep by a dream he could not remember. He had used the early hours to take care of some quiet morning chores around the stone cabin, trying to avoid disturbing his older sister or their aging father as he did so, but as the sun’s glow came in through the windows, the silence caught his attention. Donning his usual wool cloak despite the weather not being quite cold enough to justify it yet, he left the cabin to check if any villagers were out and about.

Ask The Oracle: “Are there any villagers about?” (50/50) = 01 -> No

Nothing greeted him except for the fog.

Something was wrong. Concern furrowing his brow, Quinn returned home to rouse his father and sister, only to discover that their beds were empty. He was sure that he had heard their slumbering breaths earlier, and yet....

Something was very wrong, something unnatural. Quinn’s hand closed around the talisman hanging between his breasts, an iron nail threaded on a leather thong, and he cast out his senses, hoping that he could pick up a trace of whatever hex or sorcery had beset the village.

Gather Information: 3 + 2 Wits + 1 Bond + 1 Sighted = 6 vs 9/3 -> Weak Hit

Momentum: 2 + 1 + 1 = 4

Oracle 10 (character role): 07 -> Guide

Baring his mind to the veil revealed ethereal tendrils to his eyes, slithering around his body to reach into the two empty beds. Quinn rushed outside and saw more of them, a web snaking through all of the other homes in the villages, with their core at the dwelling of Mertyl, an old woman who lived alone in Axeford after a lifetime of travel and who used her worldly experience to help identify the curios that the villagers would occasionally find washed up from the great sea.

Quinn muttered a silent prayer of forgiveness for the intrusion before entering the house and following the ghostly tracery to its source: a crudely-shaped humanoid figure the size of his hand made of some pitch-dark glassy stone. He reached a hand towards the figure but stopped short of touching it directly as his fingertips felt a frigid cold from another world.

Old magic, bound to a cursed idol. A dangerous matter to disturb, but without any other immediate leads, it was a chance he felt he had to take. With one hand shoved under his tunic to grasp his talisman directly for whatever protection it might offer, he steeled his nerves and grabbed the figure.

Face Danger: 2 + 2 Wits + 1 Sight = 5 vs 5/10 -> Miss

The figure’s curse thrashed against Quinn’s attempt to divine what had happened to the missing villagers. His hand went numb. He held it still, taxing his mental reserves with the effort that it took. His fingers started to feel the telltale stings of frostbite. He held it still, until a vision flashed through his mind: a dark cavern in which there was a larger version of the same figure set atop a pedestal amidst the skeletal ruins of some ancient building, radiating a sickly light that revealed the forms of villagers laying on the floor.

Endure Harm: 4 + 4 Health = 8 vs 3/10 -> Weak Hit

Health: 5 – 1 = 4

Endure Stress: 2 + 4 Spirit = 6 vs 4/5 -> Strong Hit

Spirit: 5 – 1 = 4

Momentum: 4 + 1 = 5

Vow: “Find and rescue the villagers missing in the ruins near Axeford” – Formidable

Swear An Iron Vow: 5 + 3 Heart + 1 Bond = 9 vs 1/3 -> Strong Hit

Momentum: 5 + 2 = 7

Quinn released the idol, ignoring the sweat running down his face as he tried to rub warmth back into his hand. “I will find you. I swear it,” he said, the depth of his sincerity echoing through his talisman and back into his very soul.

If the vision was true, the ruins had to be somewhere nearby for the villagers to be there already. Quinn did not know where the ruins were, but he knew someone who might: the eccentric hermit Servan, who had helped the villagers find more than one lost child during Quinn’s life and had always been welcome to join in their feasts. Still trying to shake the cold out of his hand, Quinn wrapped the figure in some burlap to carry it safely and then set out, concern spurring his pace.

Reach A Milestone: “Find and rescue...” Progress: 0 + 1 = 1

Bond: Servan, a hermit who lives near Axeford. He had been a companion-at-arms with Quinn’s parents, and he was the closest thing the village had to a mystic to help guide Quinn in the use of his second sight.

Gather Information: 1 + 2 Wits + 1 Bond = 4 vs 6/7 -> Miss

The trip to the thatch hut sheltered within an old copse was quiet, filling Quinn with a sense of anxiety until the sight of smoke rising lazily from the fire pit where Servan was brewing tea released the knot of tension that been growing within him. A familiar smile split the hermit’s face as he waved for Quinn to sit on a stump of petrified wood. "Wasn’t expecting to see you today, boy," he said once Quinn was close enough to speak with.

"I need your help," Quinn replied, knowing Servan would appreciate skipping the niceties once he learned the circumstances. "Everyone’s missing in Axeford. Some foul magic’s at work, and I found this." He took out the burlap bundle and set it on the wood stump, letting the material unfurl on its own to reveal the figure. "I tried reaching through it, and I saw a vision of some buried ruin with a bigger idol. I need to find it, before anything worse happens."

"You," Servan said, the word stilted by a mix of concern and fear. "Reached. Through it?"

Quinn was taken aback. "I mean, yes? It was like what you taught me."

Servan stared at the figure as he spoke. "My little witchcraft tinctures are nothing compared to...this. For you to reach through it...no offense, boy, but sometimes you scare me. Don’t be so reckless again."

"Sorry," Quinn said automatically, not actually understanding Servan’s reaction but feeling like he must have done something wrong to earn the rebuke. "Anyway, do you have any idea where it came from? In my vision, the other villagers were all around where the big idol was," he said before describing the rest of the vision.

Servan showed no reaction to Quinn’s words, still staring intently at the figure. "This is old magic," he said eventually, speaking low and slowly, as if each word took concerted effort to speak. Servan shuddered and hugged himself tightly. "It should’ve stayed buried."

Quinn took a hesitant step forward. "Servan?" he said, reaching out towards the man’s shoulder. "What’s wrong?"

He had to react quickly to withdraw the extended hand before Servan’s knife slashed through it.

Foe: Possessed Servan (Troublesome)

Enter The Fray: 2 + 2 Wits = 4 vs 4/10 -> Miss

Burn Momentum: Weak Hit (choice: take initiative), Momentum Reset (2)

Quinn did not understand what was going on, but it was obvious enough that the figure’s fell magic was somehow influencing Servan. Quinn knew he was no match for Servan in a direct fight under normal circumstances, and while Servan was not moving with his usual practiced grace, Quinn had to do something quickly to stop things from spiraling out of control. He lunged to disarm his friend.

Face Danger: 4 + 1 Iron = 5 vs 1/10 -> Weak Hit

Endure Stress: 5 + 3 Spirit = 8 vs 2/2 -> Strong Hit + Match

Momentum: 2 + 1 = 3

Oracle 16 (combat action): 68 -> Leverage the advantage of a weapon or ability

Quinn crashed into Servan, grasping both hands around a forearm. The collision jostled Servan enough to loosen his grip on the weapon, and Quinn was somehow able to wrench it away without cutting himself in the process. "It should’ve stayed buried," Servan intoned with the same struggling manner, causing guilt to spike through Quinn at the realization that his decision to bring the figure was the cause of this fight.

"Servan, wait!" Quinn blurted, but his friend was upon him already.

Face Danger: 3 + 1 Edge = 4 vs 2/7 -> Weak Hit

Momentum: 3 – 1 = 2

Quinn managed to dodge away from the hurried attack, but Servan was still between him and the figure, and a slip as he tried to set himself put him literally on his back foot. Servan was pressing on, and Quinn steeled himself to endure what he had to in order to reach the figure.

Face Danger: 3 + 3 Heart = 6 vs 7/10 -> Miss

Unfortunately, unlike Servan, Quinn was no warrior, and he found himself forced back again. "Sorry," he said, sincerely this time, as he raised the knife.

Clash: 2 + 1 Iron = 3 vs 4/10 -> Miss

Endure Harm: 1 + 3 Health = 4 vs 1/2 -> Strong Hit

Momentum: 2 + 1 = 3

While Servan was not fighting at his full potential, he was still capable enough to evade Quinn’s awkward attack and land a clubbing blow in return. Quinn stumbled back, dazed long enough for Servan to grab a stone and hurl it with lethal intent.

Face Danger: 3 + 1 Edge = 4 vs 1/10 -> Weak Hit

Momentum: 3 – 1 = 2

Quinn managed to avoid the missile, giving up ground in the evasion to buy some space to break direct sight with Servan. While it put him at risk of being taken by surprise, Quinn hoped that taking cover in the brush could give him an opportunity to quietly circle back to the hut; and more importantly, to the figure; without dealing with a constant hail of incoming attacks from someone who he did not want to hurt.

Secure An Advantage: 4 + 2 Shadow = 6 vs 3/3 -> Strong Hit + Match (choice: take control)

Quinn dove behind a large bush that was still holding on to enough of its autumn foliage to hide himself. Moving with painful patience, he crept slowly behind a tree trunk, and then another, and another yet, until the sounds of Servan’s pursuit were distant enough for him to crawl behind a low rise and then take a circuitous path to the hut. Not seeing his friend back at the fire pit, Quinn dashed across the final bit of open space and stabbed his knife at the figure.

Strike: 3 + 1 Iron + 2 Cutthroat + 1 = 7 vs 1/5 -> Strong Hit

Harm: 0 + 2 harm + 1 harm vs Troublesome = 9 Progress

Momentum: 2 + 1 = 3

End The Fight: 9 Progress vs 5/8 -> Strong Hit

Reach A Milestone: "Find and rescue..." Progress: 1 + 1 = 2

The blade struck the glassy figure, releasing a gout of ghostly blue flames that knocked Quinn back onto his haunches. He patted himself instinctively to check for any burns, grateful to find none, before rising. "Servan?" he called out.

"Quinn?" came the reply.

Quinn’s heart leapt hopefully, but he forced himself to stay wary as he trotted towards the voice. He found Servan kneeling next to a tree, clutching his head. "Are you feeling better?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, thanks," Servan said with a groan.

"I’m sorry abo-"

"Don’t be," Servan interjected firmly. "You needed help, and you couldn’t have known what would happen. Is it still there?" Quinn nodded. "Best that you cover it before anything else happens, then. I’ll need a moment to walk back, anyway."

Quinn hesitated, but he decided to trust Servan’s instincts over his own. He returned to the hut, wrapped the figure, stowed it away, and tended to brewing the tea until Servan approached. "Drink," he said, pouring a cup and holding it out as an apology.

Servan accepted it as he sat on the stump he had offered to Quinn earlier. "I’ve got a hell of a headache, but I should be fine in time. Tell me again about your vision." Quinn repeated what he had said before, and Servan nodded. "Sounds like a cove I know, not too far from here. Let me gather some things, and we can head out."

Quinn offered to return the knife, but Servan waved it off. "Keep it. Fool boy probably didn’t think to bring any weapons for yourself, and you showed good judgment in how to use it. Better than I probably would’ve, in your place. And I’ve got an axe I can bring for myself."

"Do you think we can save them?" Quinn asked, not sure if he wanted an honest answer but trusting Servan to give one all the same.

"Can’t say, as I’ve never faced something like that before. But that won’t stop us from trying."

Session 2