Welcome back to my actual play of RP Deshaies' dark fantasy ttrpg Tales of the Burned Stones! In this entry, the Remnants return to the village and offer their services to the villagers before venturing out into the wilds in search of a person important to Torfyr.
Torfyr watched the two females walk down the rise and into the ruined, smoking remains of Harfall Village. The gnome, Myn, looked back at him and he was certain she found him to be uncaring and hard. He wasn’t opposed to folk having that view of him, it kept the most annoying of people away and allowed him to maintain a carefully-crafted aloofness. But he was not heartless, and the sight of the familiar settlement in such ruin weighed heavily on him. He had not visited since the last season and was looking forward to interacting with an old friend, Dontar, the village butcher. He hoped the old fellow survived the cataclysm. With a sigh, the woodsman followed his newly resurrected companions into the smoldering village, hoping against the odds that his friend was among the survivors.
NPC Name
The survivors crowded into the remains of the village square, breaking off into groups and huddling together for support. Many families comforted each other with long embraces; couples mourned for their children while orphaned children wept for their parents. Aged folk looked around at the destruction of their home, with a mix of anger and despair on their weather-beaten faces.
“Friends!” Torfyr heard Iryn’s strong voice call out over the crackle of fire and crash of collapsing timbers before he saw her standing atop the crushed fountain amidst the mourners. “Harfall has been dealt a destructive blow, it is true. Many of you have lost loved ones, and all of us have lost our homes and places of work. But the eruption of the mountain is not the end! Harfall is not defeated! The Sisters of the Eclipse have given us—me and my friends, Mynval and Torfyr—a second chance, and we will not rest until we have helped you rebuild your homes, your businesses, and put to rest the lost! Take heart, my friends. Together, Harfall will rise above this calamity!”
The tall woodsman stepped between a group of weeping villagers and watched as the halfling began to sing, weaving a bright green magic before her with rhythmic gestures. The words of her song rose and fell, haunting and yet uplifting. As she sang, the magic swirled and expanded like a great shimmering cloud over the gathered survivors. Even Torfyr felt his doubt and pessimism fade away beneath the comfort of Iryn’s song. The halfling’s skill with song was impressive, and Torfyr had to give it to the mystics: they chose well when they resurrected Iryn Whisperwind.
Iryn: Activate an Ability
“But what can we do?” asked an old, balding man, with a flowing gray beard. His once expensive robe now hung stained with soot and dirt.
“We can rebuild!” Myn answered as the halfling continued to quietly sing her song of comfort. “The forests are full of wood, and stone is as prevalent as ever! We will organize work crews and rebuild!”
“There’s not enough of us to do it alone, we will need to hire help and purchase supplies from the villages to the north and south,” the old man retorted.
“Then my friends and I will do what we can to help earn coins to pay for the hirelings and the supplies.”
“You would do that for us? You and this minstrel are only recently come to Harfall, and Torfyr has never been overly friendly.”
“Harfall serves us all,” Torfyr said, stepping into the center of the gathering and addressing the bald man, whom he knew to be Kaetor, the village’s alderman. “We’ll help. ”
NPC Name
“Very well, Torfyr Silverbloom, we will welcome your help and the help of your companions,” said Kaeltor with a flourishing bow.
“Alderman Kaeltor, have you seen Dontar?” Torfyr asked, eager for news of his friend.
“Aye, a few of us spotted him in the hills, but he did not return with our group. Like as not, he has become disoriented.”
Mechanics Discussion: Question Oracle
Question Oracle
“Where did you last see him?”
“To the north-east, in the hills near the Birdsong River.”
“I’ll go and find him.”
“We shall go with you,” said Iryn, her song now hanging only in the residual magic hovering above the crowd.
“You have my thanks, minstrel,” Torfyr nodded to the halfling, then returned his attention to Kaeltor. “Can you find us some equipment? We will need something to defend ourselves in the hills. Take these few coins to help begin the repairs and for the goods as well.”
Mechanics Discussion: (From Ashes) Village Construction
Torfyr: Deposits Coins
Harfall Stats
“I will gather some folk and search the village and return here within the hour.”
“You have my thanks, Kaeltor.”
“And you, mine, woodsman.”
An hour later, Kaeltor returned to the village square accompanied by three villagers: a human boy, barely out of adolescence, a dwarf with a braided blonde beard, and a red-haired young woman with a sleeping babe on her back. Each of the villagers carried a pack, worn and soot-stained but fully stocked. The dwarf bore a short spear, only about four feet in length and with a wickedly sharp iron head. The blonde dwarf grunted and handed the spear and pack to Iryn. The boy bore a longbow, a quiver of white fletched arrows, and a battered hunting knife, which he quickly and nervously presented to Torfyr without a word. Finally, the red-haired woman unwrapped a bundle she carried in both hands, revealing a silver-bladed rapier with a finely wrought handle. She held it out to Myn reverently.
“This belonged to my father. He perished along with my mother in the cataclysm. I hope it serves you well.”
“My thanks, dear,” Myn responded, taking the rapier and pack with a bow.
“Thank you, Kaeltor,” Torfyr addressed the alderman as he slipped the bow over his shoulder and strapped the quiver to his belt. “We will return with Dontar. Gather some able-bodied folk and collect some timber. We’ll need lots of it to rebuild.”
“Agreed,” the alderman replied. “Many of our people are tired and battered from the eruption, but we will set out soon.”
Mechanics Discussion: (From Ashes) Excursions
Torfyr: Excursion
Harfall Stats
“Let’s go,” Torfyr called to his companions.
He could hear the halfling and gnome thanking the villagers, and then the sound of their feet crunching in the ash and dirt behind him. Torfyr never looked back, his eyes locked on the discolored hills ahead. These lands were well-known to the veteran strider, and he did not doubt he could pick up his old friend’s trail. He was more concerned that Dontar ran afoul of the wolf packs—or worse—that called the downs home.
Mechanics Discussion: Journeys
Journey Event Roll
Torfyr: Journey
The slope of the first hill was gentle and, save the clouds of ash their steps kicked up, exactly as the woodsman expected. At the crest of the rise, Torfyr quickly spotted the tell-tale signs of human passage. A wide swath of the tall, wheat-colored grass was trampled by the passing of many feet. Another, barely perceptible, trail led in the opposite direction, down into a narrow valley between hills.
“Dontar went this way. Looks like he was alone. Come.” Torfyr rattled off the information to his companions and set off again, following his friend’s trail down into the valley. His single-minded determination was a quality that made him effective as both a guide and a woodsman.
Torfyr: Journey
As expected, Dontar’s trail led down to a small, bubbling stream that wended its way between the foothills until it met with the Lower Songbird several miles south-east of Harfall. Torfyr knew Dontar wasn’t much of a traveler, but the man had been a trapper back in his younger years and knew to head toward water for sustenance, safety, and orientation. At the stream’s head, barely half a mile from the edge of the village, the woodsman stopped and stooped beside the thin trickle of water.
“What do you see, Torfyr?” Myn called from further downstream.
The woodsman didn’t answer at first, his focus solely on the multiple footprints crisscrossing the stream at the base of a rocky hill. He could see man-sized boot prints heading across the stream to the north-west where the Upper Songbird Crossing was located. Those prints were not surprising to the huntsman. The smaller, unshod prints that marred the gravel and mud banks on either side of the stream, though, were concerning.
“Went this way,” he called back finally, pointing up the hill in the direction his friend’s prints were headed. “Other prints too. Don’t recognize them. They follow Dontar’s.”
Iryn crouched beside him and scrutinized the ground. After a moment, she shook her head and stood up. “I’ve never seen anything like this either. Do you have a guess?”
“Could be river weasels. Don’t normally come this far south. Prints are too big. Not wolves either.”
“Anybody else notice they are bipedal?” Myn asked.
“Come again?” Iryn said, looking up at the gnome.
“Look there,” she pointed at a pair of tracks that were less disturbed than the others. “See how there’s only two tracks and they move at opposite times? Bipedal.”
“Good catch,” Torfyr said, looking down at the gnome with new respect. “Never seen a weasel walk on two feet. Wolf neither.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Iryn said, shuddering.
Torfyr eyed the halfling, then nodded in affirmation before stepping across the stream and striding up the hillside.
Torfyr: Journey
The sedge at the crest of the hill was packed flat from what Torfyr could only imagine was the site where Dontar was overtaken by whatever made the unidentified footprints in the mud below. The strider crouched amid the matted grass, studying the ground. A black substance coated some of the blades of grass, like tar from the pits in the Badlands of Umurun. He bent low, sniffing, and immediately jerked away.
“Smells like sulfur,” he informed his companions.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, have you?” Myn asked, leaning down closer to investigate.
“Aye. Once, long time ago. In the badlands away east there’s pits of stuff that look like this. Doesn’t smell the same.”
Torfyr: Action using Willpower
“Look at the spray,” Iryn said, waving her hand in the general direction of the substance. “That’s odd right?”
“Good eye, halfling,” Torfyr grumbled. “Looks like the blood spray from a kill shot.”
“You think there was a fight here?” Myn asked, concern tinging her voice.
“Aye. Whatever left those strange prints in the mud bleeds black. Looks like Dontar might have wounded one of them here.”
“Then we should hurry. There were far too many prints for one man to fight alone.”
Suddenly, a bellow, whether of pain or rage Torfyr couldn’t tell, echoed across the hills, followed by a cacophony of eerie screeches and hoots. The woodsman set off at a sprint down the hill and up the next in the direction of the ruckus, his companions hot on his heels. The cries of whatever was pursuing Dontar were unfamiliar to him, and he prided himself on knowing the calls and sounds of all the wild things that inhabited the downs and forests of the area. The screeches sent chills through the grizzled man’s body, and an uncertainty settled on his chest like a weight as he crested another hill.
Below, in a bramble-littered valley, Dontar stood tall upon a boulder swinging a hefty branch and his thick bladed butcher’s knife to fend off the creatures clambering up the stone to reach him. Their small, round bodies were covered in black and brown feathers, while thick brown fur covered their rounded skulls. Two small horns protruded from the top of their melon-sized heads, above bulbous orange eyes. Two leather-like ears sprouted from either side, and a vicious beak snapped at the butcher’s legs as the diminutive monsters leapt and clawed their way toward him.
Torfyr quickly unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. “Prepare for a fight,” he whispered.
Thanks for reading! Come back next week to see how the Remnants fare against these strange creatures!
