Guest Post: Alex's Ironsworn Journal - Chapter 4 - A Promise

Continuing guest host Alex's Ironsworn campaign journal.

Chapter 4: A Promise

After patching up his wound as best he can, Varro continues through Strangled Valley to where the river bends around to the west towards the plains. 

Undertake a Journey: weak hit

He comes to Green Bridge, the ruins of a stone bridge across the river, named for the dense foliage that has grown over it. The sun is going down, and he makes camp. 

Make Camp: strong hit 

recuperate: +1 health

prepare: +1 to Undertake a Journey 

He puts a fresh poultice on his arrow wound. It doesn't seem to be infected, although it still hurts. He packs his things carefully and sets off at dawn. 

Undertake a Journey: weak hit

Reach Your Destination: strong hit

He spends the whole next day walking, and at dusk finds himself approaching the fork where the Kenning is joined by the Mistwater, and there sits Merlo in the fork. 

He has been here only once before, as a child. There are more houses, more people, than he is used to, and the walls are high, and the bridge that spans the river just outside the town is built of good stone. 

Varro heads for the north gate, hoping he doesn't seem like too much of a bumpkin. His first goal is to find a decent place to stay, and then a surgeon to remove the arrowhead stuck in his shoulder. 

Sojourn: weak hit

Sojourn, focus: strong hit 

Health restored to 5

The surgeon: Dag; proud, hostile, harm a rival, mimicking 

He sleeps in a cheap longhouse common room, and the next morning finds his way to the Street of Crafts, where the skilled artisans ply their trade. Across the road from each other are two surgeons. It's a busy day, and tradesmen are out in the street calling to passers by. Both surgeons spot the broken-off arrow shaft in Varro's shoulder and cry out to him. They quickly begin jeering and rudely mimicking one another, and each loudly assures him of their superiority over the other. Varro decides at random, and enters the shop of Dag. It seems he mostly cuts hair, but has some skill at treating wounds too. He removes the arrowhead and applies a more potent poultice. 

Varro spends the next few days resting up and wandering the town, listening out for rumours. For the most part it seems life in Merlo goes on unchanged. But in the evenings, in the firelight of the Lonely Owl tavern, there is a certain tension. 

On the fourth night he strikes up a conversation with the tavern keeper and begins to tell the story of Jergul the Quick, who stole all the belongings of the tyrant Lord Grahl. A group gathers at the bar to listen.  

Storyweaver, Secure an Advantage +Heart: weak hit 

The story originated in Merlo, and these folk know it well, and they smile at the comfortable familiarity of it. By the time the tale is done, Varro and most of his audience are onto their second drink. He tells them that he is in search of new tales, and listens to them talk. As they do, he tries to steer them towards the topic of the Elder Wolf. 

Gather Information: weak hit 

He learns something. How does it complicate his next step? Create duty. 

Someone here lost someone to the Elder Wolf, and seeing this out-of-towner turn up asking questions and seeming to know something of it already, they decide they want some answers from him. 

Who is this person? 

Bataar, guard, ambitious, weary, seek a truth. 

There is an unhappy murmur and a sudden tension there at the bar as Varro brings up the subject of the wolf. The townsfolk share a few details, the farms that have been attacked, a merchant slain on the road to Wyvern's Rest. They seem unwilling to say very much, and rather than bring the mood down further, Varro simply finishes his drink and prepares to return to the longhouse to sleep. 

As he leaves the Lonely Owl a haggard-looking man follows him out. Someone who listened to his story and sat quietly as he asked about the Wolf. Varro wonders if he has drawn the attention of another would-be Wolf-summoner. The man introduces himself as Bataar, and says he is a member of the Merlo Wardens, the ragtag outfit that defends the town from broken ones and river raiders. 

"You know something about that beast, don't you?" says Bataar. There is a pleading, desperate look in his eye. 

Varro sizes him up for a moment, and decides it won't do him any good to be paranoid about cultists. He tells him the truth, that he knows only a little and is seeking more knowledge. Bataar tells him that the beast killed his sister, Tamara. She was a Warden too, and she joined the hunt for the beast in Cradle Wood three weeks ago, after managing to persuade Bataar not to go. She was older, and tougher. She looked after him as they were growing up. He always wanted to prove himself to her, to do something important. But she talked him out of it. And now she's dead, and he's still here. 

"But if you had gone in her stead it would simply be the other way around," says Varro. "If the tales of this creature are true, there's nothing you could have done. You cannot blame yourself." 

"I know that, dammit. But it doesn't help. Listen, this isn't even the point. The point is that if you know some lore of this beast then you should put it to good use. Because we wardens are out patrolling the farms and guarding travellers, knowing full well that if it comes there is nothing we can do." 

Varro thinks of the tiny paragraph in his book. "But I really don't know anything. The Elder Beasts were nothing but a legend until all this started." 

"This Wolf is no legend. It killed my sister. And eight other Wardens, and a dozen farmers and travellers. And it won't stop." Bataar pauses, takes a breath. Then he explains that when he and some of the other Wardens found the clearing where Tamara and her companions were slain, they found a swatch of fur left behind by the Wolf. They tried to follow its tracks but the rains had made it impossible. But with a piece of the beast's fur... Varro nods. He knows that there are mystics said to know rituals that can find out the location of any living creature, if they have a piece of it. One such mystic lives to the west, Bataar tells him, just a little way into the endless forest of the Deep Wilds. 

Why have the Wardens not gone to this mystic already, Varro asks. Bataar explains that this mystic, Okoth of the Foul Thicket, is no friend of Merlo. His spells are said to have caused the great drought, and to have infected the previous overseer with the sickness that drove him mad. All because of some imagined slight decades past. The Wardens are expressly forbidden from going into the Deep Wilds. 

"But you're not a Warden. You're not even from Merlo." 

Varro nods. Bataar suddenly grips his arm. "But listen. If I give you the piece of fur, and I show you the way to Okoth's abode... Promise me you'll help us. Not just ask more questions. Promise you'll help us find the Beast - and slay it." 

Varro sees no option. He promises. 

Vow Progress: Learn of the Elder Wolf. 2 boxes. 

Chapter 5: in search of Okoth of the Foul Thicket