They laid Bindr to rest with that old knife he loved so much, the silver one that he took with him everywhere since he won it off a southern trader ten seasons ago. They had him laid up on the pyre like a big man, like an honored man, but everyone knew better. Bindr was a cad, a borrower but seldom a repayer, a slacker, and a lout; but Bindr stood knife in hand with the ragged line of defenders when the raiders attacked, so tonight, his name rings out in dirge as his body burns on the hero’s heap.
Scene 1 - Just outside Martahall
“Fuck.” Laurl whispers into the flame. Ever since the first attack, he’d been performing the spirit rights as he was taught to, but Winter’s Wind hadn’t warned him something foul moved through the countryside. The Forest’s River had not hinted that the foulness had many thirsty mouths; and Fresh Snow hadn’t whispered to him that it had fallen ‘on helmet and sword closer to Laurl’s adoptive home every day. He was too weak to hear, perhaps. During last night’s raid, Laurl couldn’t compel a single spirit to action, and now, among the fresh cinders, he thinks of all the homes his weakness had cost him already.
The hamlet of Martahall has gathered three times, three times this season to burn their honored dead. Each time the elder women had wailed mourning songs into the chilly nights, and they all huddled around the pyre to weep, and to wonder what fate has befallen those unlucky enough to be taken prisoner by the raiders.
Tonight, Laurl sees Brona the huntress circling the gathering towards him, her daughter Swan sniffling and cold just behind her. He works with Brona’s husband, Quinn in tending the sick and wounded of Martahall, while Brona’s expeditions into the forest source the reagents for Quinn’s mundane cures as well as Laurl’s magical ones.
As the last note of the keening trills, a villager steps forth to address the group, but Laurl’s eyes are still focused on the fire. “Fuck.” he murmurs again, as Brona finally appears beside him.
“You chantin’ blessings, Druid? A little too late, I’d say.” She suggests darkly.
“I did what I could, Brona - I’m not as strong as I thought.” Laurl snaps, deflated .
“Isn't that the truth of it. I remember us standing here weeks ago having a similar conversation, and you swearin' up and down that you'd see the next attack coming. Casting bones and that, day after day, only to get a message as the raid was already upon us? No, you're not a Druid, are ye.” She waits a beat, but Laurl does not respond. “Laurl, you've got to go find them now . Beg the proper Druids to help if you have to - Danu1 knows no one else is comin'.”
“I know!” Laurl says, stung by the word “proper” and looking Brona in the eye now.
“I know.” he repeats in a whisper.
Soon enough, Quinn steps up to the pyre to hold forth - gesticulating and riling up the crowd’s ire towards the raiders. Tears and soot mix on Swan’s shivering face as she watches him pace this way and that.
After a minute or two, Brona tries again. “I’ve never asked why they cast you out, but I’m getting the shape of it now. Do you plan to let these fuckers kill all of us to save your fool’s pride?” Brona presses, catching the attention of some of the villagers. “What’ll it take, Laurl? Will you wait ‘till it’s Swan on the shield line? I killed at least one last night while you drew circles in the dirt and talked to that fucking bird of yours. Maybe Quinn and I just search Druidholm out ourselves?”
Laurl looks at Brona’s hard eyes, red rimmed and serious, and then down at little Swan, just turned 11 last winter, still struggling through the latest round of eulogies. He opens his mouth to reply, but is hushed by the villager next to him, so instead he looks back into the flame, and nods.
“No, you have to say it, Laurl.”
“I’ll go.” Laurl relents.
“That an oath, Laurl. ‘Don’t know how it’s done where you’re from, but here, oaths bind. Don’t let yourself down.” Brona says. “I trust you.” she murmurs, and turns away just as Swan all of a sudden lets go her hand, shrinking through the press towards the village.
“I’m getting my good blanket, ma, won’t be a minute!” she shouts back at them as she ambles away on skinny, bowed legs.
“Damn it. Girl, you better -” A louder shush this time cuts Brona off as she tries to follow Swan through the crowd.
“I’ll go.” Broods Laurl, and he pulls his coat on, slithering quickly through the press towards the village, and not waiting for more...conversation.
Scene Breakdown
Ok! Our first Breakdown! Like my ancestors before me, I’ll use these asides to pull back the curtain on the mechanics and GM decisions that are structuring the scene. Here we have Laurl Persuading Brona to keep her faith in him, and to not try and find the Druids on her own. (
4+2)+2CHA = 8
, A weak hit.
She doesn’t know this, but Laurl (and their wise player) would know it’s not so easy to find the Druids, even for an experienced hunter like Brona. Furthermore, the costs for failure can be high on the boarders of the great wood where Druids are known to lurk.Laurl gets a weak hit here, so I make a move somewhere between “Put someone in a spot” and “Tur n their move back on them” Brona won’t try to seek out the Druids with her husband, but, Laurl has to make a concession. She gets Laurl to promise that he’ll go find the Druids himself. She takes trust and oaths very seriously, and we’ll play to find out how her relationship with Laurl changes as he does or does not fulfil the promise he’s made.
Scene 2 - Martahall’s Old Watchtower
From their only watch tower, Berkhard the carpenter sees villager after villager address the congregation, their words muted by the howling winter. He sees Brona approaching Laurl, and knows it’s trouble. It’s rarely a minute before those two start squabbling like siblings.
“Or lovers.” Berk broods, finishing his thoughts out loud as he rubs his hands together against the cold, more out of instinct than discomfort.
“Keep’n an eye on Brona then, are we, Berk?” chides Ganter, a member of the village guard, as he makes it clumsily to the top of the rickety ladder to relive Berk’s watch.
“Ah? Ahh!” Berk grunts, as he notices the shoddy structure shaking. He looks over his shoulder to greet the young warrior, Ganter, who was late to come of age, but big and hale as a tonnerhorn2 and already commanding the respect of Martahall's veterans.
“Brona, you know, Quinn’s wife.” Ganter teases as he pulls a blanket around his head like a hood, and settles in next to Berk to watch the funeral. “No, it’s no secret what’s in your heart when it comes to that ‘ol fox, chief. No secret to her husband, neither.”
Just then, as if he’d heard his name spoken, Quinn steps from the crowd below and approaches the pyre, fuming and waving his arms in an emotive display that riles up the mourning villagers.
Berk lets Ganter’s provocation hang in he air as he watches the talented orator work the gathering below, then answers slyly “You afraid of Quinn?” He looks askance at Ganter. “Quinn the apothecary?”
“Well, you’ve got me there. No.” big Ganter slumps back with a sigh, rattling the whole tower and flickering the lone torch they’ve got for warmth. “but even Quinn stood with us last night - well, he was afoot, anyroad…” he finishes sheepishly.
“Yeah, I’m a carpenter, Ganter, sometimes a thatcher, too. Got Alfher’s pig pen fixed, didn’t I? Remember that crib I built for Wilfrim’s lad last winter, and for a neighborly price, I might add. Time was, honest work counted for something, even if everyone survived it, great warrior” Berk teases back.
“Burk I just can’t make sense of it. ‘Hero of the Small Roads’, they called you - after you saw the caravan safely back, and we all know what became of those dogs who came looking for you afterwards - now it comes to a proper fight and you’re, what, scared?” He looks askance at Berk, waiting for a reaction.
After a few beats of silence, Berk relents. “Listen, I’m not a warrior anymore, but I’ve got my troubles, and I’d like to keep it away from the village. Best outside folk don’t know I’m here.” Berk’s voice is even, cold. “There's worse trouble than a few raids, Ganter, trust me. By not fighting, I'm looking out for my own, same as you.”
“But that’s just it! The only “own” you got to look after are the scraps you haven’t yet lost playin’ dice! The greatest good you’ve done for Martahall lately is this death trap we’re sitting in.” Ganter rubs his eyes in frustration. “Listen, warrior or not, they’ve got you up here watching over us for a reason. Folk forget that reason, and then you may find trouble even before ‘Quinn the Apothecary’ get’s a hold of you.”
“That so, boy?” Berk says, and Ganter looks up to see Berk suddenly looming over him. They regard each other for a long moment - Berk’s wild green eyes catching the moonlight and bearing down on Ganter like a death by avalanche and poison at once.
“That‘s what they say.” Ganter retreats. “That‘s what I heard, is all.” He splutters, shuffling back to his feet with a groan, and turning his attention to the fire below as the tension ebbs.
The wailing keen of the elders lifts up again as the cremation reaches its last act. Wind moans through the creaking planks of the watchtower as Berk steps over to the ladder, and begins to descend.
Scene Breakdown
Ganter is a jovial guy, but his admiration for and frustration with Berk has him acting a bit of a jerk here - he’s playing it fast and loose with some pretty serious topics, and at a certain point, Berk gets tired of being jerked around.
Berk decides to put the fear of god in Ganter with his penchant for moving really quickly, his killer’s stare, and those otherworldly eyes. This is represented mechanically with our second Persuade.
(5+4)+2DEX = 11
, A Strong Hit.Since Berk’s fictional positioning for this is very spooky, and since it hints of his BLOOD-SOAKED PAST, and because said past was forged in battles where his elusive brand of butchery was employed to great effect, and because he’s doubled down on those elements with the SKILL AT ARMS move (letting him Clash with DEX most of the time); I let him use +DEX instead of +CHA.
A Strong hit means that Ganter is totally shaken by Berk’s escalation, and goes into full retreat. Not only will he change the subject, he’ll carry on the message that Berk is exactly the terror some suspect he is, and that he deserves the warrior lodge’s respect (despite his suspicious absence during the raids and neerdowell reputation).
Scene 3 - Just Inside Martahall’s gate
“Swan!” Laurl shouts over the wind as it starts to pick up. “Swan, would you wait a second?”
“Can you make it stop snowing? With magic?” She shouts back over her shoulder, slowing only a little. “Can you make it less cold?”
“Uh, I…No?” Laurl lies.
“I bet you could! I know you could, but you’ll let us freeze to death instead, won’t you!” She cries as she breaks back into a run through the village’s gate, hops the low fence around the smithy’s, and speeds around a corner in the direction of her house.
“Fuck.” Laurl snaps, picking up the pace and drawing his hood closer around his head. He follows Swan to the fence, and looks around - she’s gone into the growing whiteout. “Sw-” he opens his mouth to call out again, but thinks better of it - “Potzalnek3!” he shouts instead, as a gust of powdery wind whips his cloak this way and that. He shuffles under the awning of the tanner's shop, and unfocuses his eyes. He inhales a deep, deep breath and holds it, as his familiar swoops past him and climbs high above to circle the hamlet.
Scene Breakdown (Interlude)
OK i’m going to break a bit here with the formatting of the text version, combining the interlude and the outro into one block at the end here. Ok this part of the action’s has a lot of mechanics being triggered, and I want to talk about them now and not interrupt the rest of the scene as it unfolds.
First off, Laurl’s trying to persuade Swan to stop running (or at least slow down).
(2+3)+2CHA = 7
, a Weak Hit.This is pretty low stakes, but it’s the first session, and it gives us an opportunity for development of their characters - Laurl would really rather not exert himself, and Swan just heard her mother chew Larul out. Laurl’s Weak Hit here prompts a soft answer from the GM, so I reveal what “costly, tricky, or distasteful” thing they’d have to do to get Swan to stop running - she’s a precocious, bored, freezing kid, so I say it’s a display of magic she’s after, to prove that he’s really capable of it, and not some kinda charlatan. She likes him, but her confidence - like the confidence of the village - is starting to waiver.
It takes resources, rolls, and bargaining for Laurl to do this kind of magic, and it’s cold, so that’s a no go for him (like running faster), and Swan gets away.Next, we have Laurl’s first interaction with their familiar, Potzalnek (we’ll learn more about Potz in Laurl’s session zero, and even more if and when their meet cute is reveal ed in play). The BEAST-BONDED background move lets Laurl “focus on your animal companion for a few moments” to “get a brief impression of what it senses” - super cool and useful for a utility-focused character like Laurl. As I was writing this up, I put on my Player Hat and realized that here I’d be moved to ask the GM a bunch of establishing questions about the “how oftens” and “how longs” of this move, but then I put on my GM hat, and realized it was a good opportunity for the player to make a pitch. I thought about what would be cool and evocative, an what would make sense. What I came up with was:
▹Laurl can see clearly through Potzalnek’s eyes as long as he can hold his breath.▹While he’s using this ability, he cannot see through his own eyes at all, but as soon as he finishes an exhalation, his vision returns.
▹If he tries to use this ability too many times in a row without catching his breath, he’d have to Defy Danger with Con at best, or it’d simply fail at worst.
As you can see with these early, establishing Breakdowns, I like to bend and shape the PC mechanics a bit, and am relatively lenient (but fair, I hope) with anything that feels mechanically incohesive or is open to interpretation. I think this breath holding thing is a really ripe and expressive choice, but I’d be interested in your opinions, dear reader, in the comments!
Through Potzalnek’s eyes, Laurl glimpses the final stages of the funeral. A woman reaches her hand into the dying flame and pulls out several obols4 from the charred remains, bearing them - still hot - to each of the next of kin. He exhales heavily as the snow and cold start to bite. Lungs burning, he takes another deep breath, and holds it despite the pain. This time Potzalnek is wheeling over the village, and he sees Swan through a window, sniffling and singing to herself as she wraps a threadbare blanket twice around her shoulders. Laurl begins to slowly exhale, but his breath catches as he sees something else.
In the distance - hard to make out through the gale - but in the far distance, a rider breaks from the forest line.
Five horsemen. Ten. Mounted raiders with torches fly across the barren fields towards Martahall as Laurl finally lets go in eyewatering wheezes, sputtering and gulping at the sharp wind.
“Potz!” he hacks, as the white bird flaps to a halt at his feet. “Warn the w-watch!” he shivers. Potzalnek takes off with a start, as Laurl wills his frozen body through the village towards Swan.
GM Notes
Well that escalated quickly.
I sat down to play out this session with only a hazy idea of how to go about it, buoyed only by my desire to play, and my bottomless love for PTFO: Stonetop. If you’re starting here, and have skipped the intro (naughty) you may not know that this game, this format, and my motivation to stick with it are fueled almost entirely by another Actual Play Fiction, the first one I read, PTFO. As I finish this session up, PTFO is currently on Hiatus until October, so it’s a great time to catch up there if you’re behind, or start if you’re uninitiated.
In Stonetop’s first session, Player/GM/Writer/Midjourney power-user SGH says “I always like starting a game at a wedding, a funeral, or some other sort of big gathering. It lets you put any PC or NPC in the scene, and have moments when people can be seen at their best or worst.”
I swear I didn’t remember the “or a funeral” bit when I imagined how this game would begin, and I thought I was so clever for zigging where he’d zagged. Also I set it in winter - totally on a lark - and turns out that’s just the season our heroes over at PTFO are entering, so we can imagine this story starting around the end of PTFO: Stonetop’ Session 8.5: The Coming Winter.
With the hamlet of Martahall under attack for * checks notes * the fourth time in a season, next session we’ll play to find out how (and maybe even why) they’re so popular, if Laurl will get the chance to make good on his oath to seek out the Druids for help, and if Berk will risk a rumor of his location getting out by finally taking the field against the attackers.
Danu is the goddess of growing things, of animals and fertility, and that kind of business in Stonetop’s setting.
Giant, horse-sized sheep they have up north in Stonetop’s (wonderful) setting.
Potzalnek is the name of Laurl’s butcher-bird familiar. Pocałunek (pronounced pretty similarly to “Potz-al-nek”) is the polish word for “kiss” - specifically the romantic, sensual kind 😉. I imagine the southern part of the northern Manmarches to be a bit more Rus than pure Scandinavian, so the Slavic influence will be stronger here. If the story takes us farther north, we’ll see more traditional Nordic stuff, bleeding into the Himalayan-like cultures of the mountains.
I wanted there to be a physical anchor to the night’s events, and to this time in Martahall’s history, so I chose a play on Charon’s Obol.
I listened the VO on my way to work and I found it very compelling. It's interesting to hear both narration and scene mechanical breakdown. For me, it is easier to consume this as a spoken thing, but I like that it's also written out. I'll do a deeper dive when I have the free time to read the text.
The one critique I have is surrounding the explanation of why your Druid has the "supposed to be for Rangers" Beast Bond. I know it's a hand wave of the established rules, but I think an explanation of "it was cool so I let the character have it to create compelling story" (which I believe is your actual reason) would have been better than the "what are you going to do" you presented. Please don't take this one tiny nitpick as my impression of the overall story and game. I found it very compelling and evocative. And I am definitely looking forward to more.
My dude I am impressed