Hob finally reaches the flooded valley containing the heart of the aurora, delving within its strange tides to thwart the tendrils’ kiss, its shadow blossom.

---

Roll: Oracle, Does the threat advance? 50/50 – Yes; Advance a Threat – The threat readies its next step. If you succeed in preventing this development, Reach a Milestone. Otherwise, mark menace. 

Threat Oracle: Transform its nature

This threat advance move occurred because of the previous weak hit rolled at the end of last episode to reach Hob’s destination. How exactly can she prevent this development, its next step, its transforming nature? I haven’t a clue yet but we’ll find out if it’s possible through play. 

So I reached the flooded vale, but I did not like what I found. Facing the green sun, both blinding and cold, I stood on the edge of the pass overlooking the long broad valley below. The Pillar and heart of the aurora were to my right, to the north, too bright to look at directly, but if I shielded my eyes with my arms, I thought I could make out another smaller structure beside the Pillar. A tower maybe? The valley was flooded, as expected, its pooling fogs not yet burned away by the true sun. But it was what I saw within the fog that I found most unsettling.

It was as if the valley was alive, shifting and flowing, almost churning as the floods surrendered and then drowned both trees and the crumbling walls and husks of long abandoned buildings. The ruins of an ancient city, at least as large as Autumnrush. A city of stone. So old that the walls were turning to powder. So old that it must have already fallen to forest and rubble well before even the first landers had arrived. Pella’s directions had mentioned none of this.

Pella. I could see no sign of her or the Sustainers, but they must have been below, somewhere in the mists. I could see land though, islands between the fogged waters, what must have been hills before the flooding. The second river flowed down from the pass into the valley, into waters that lapped and receded as if there was a tide, as if these flooded ruins were the sea.

The bright tendrils in the sky danced across the haze below, casting green light instead of shadow. Within the mists they touched, I swore I saw movement. Shifting waves and blooms of leaf and rust. The valley was changing, twisting outward. I glanced back to the wooded pass behind me. The tendrils danced across those trees as well. Would they soon also transform?

Near the mouth of the second river, at the borders of the fogs where runoff sustained flood, a broad hill could be seen above the waters. There was a path to it, a narrow land bridge, but the strange tides appeared to be rising. They were higher now than they’d been minutes ago when I’d first begun my survey. The waters would soon claim the path and the hill would become island. And when it did, I would be forced to either wait until the waters receded or wade into the floods. I would not be delayed though. I was entering those mists to find Pella, and when I did, I preferred to walk rather than swim, so I set off, racing against the rising tides.

Roll: Secure an Advantage, Edge, reach the land bridge before the tide consumes it – Weak Hit, advantage is short lived

I scrambled down the rough path along the second river to the valley floor. It was steep enough that I had to move cautiously to keep my footing, clinging to the branches and trunks of trees to slow my descent and stop from tumbling forward. I reached the mouth of the river and bridge to the hill before the tides swallowed it though. 

Taking a moment to catch my wind, I glanced back the way I’d come. The fog was thickening so I could not be certain, but I thought I spotted figures on the pass above, near where I’d stood surveying just moments prior. Without a second thought, I turned to embrace the mists. Whether masked or Sayer’s scouts, I would rather face them in the haze, where their arrows might lose their way and the blade could better hunt.

Discover a Site: The Flooded Valley, Formidable – Ancient Tanglewood/Ruins/Shadowfen

Roll: Delve the Depths, Shadow – Miss, Complication (6 v. 6/6 but with 7 momentum stored, an interesting roll) => Burn Momentum – Strong Hit, 1 progress; Find an Opportunity – Locate a secure area, take action now; Oracles: flooded boundary

And so I stepped again into the mists, creeping along the land bridge, as slow and quiet as I could manage so as not to draw the attention of those on the pass or whatever might lay hidden in the fogs. The haze collapsed my vision, but it was not so thick that I couldn’t make out the upper branches of trees submerged on each side of the path and the blurred form of hill rising before me.

The strange tides licked my heels as I finally reached the hill, now an island. Good. Without the landbridge to guide them, the figures descending from the pass might find it difficult to follow. I breathed a little easier despite the chill air. I knew not what I would find ahead, but for the first time since I’d left Autumnrush, the urge to look over my shoulder for pursuers calmed. The impulse was still present, but I could ignore it for a time, at least. I could finally focus on what lay in front me.

Burning momentum to reverse the complication gave a little extra narrative bump, providing me some breathing room from my pursuers.

Roll: Delve the Depths, Wits, +1 from taking action now – Weak Hit, 2 Progress

Oracles: Flooded thicket, moving denizen

I could no longer see the walls of the valley, could no longer see the sky. The only hint of direction came from the bright yet dulled green glare of the aurora’s heart, which I knew lay to my north. I followed the glow as the island widened and flattened, through the mists and trees until I reached it’s northern shore. I could just make out the shadow of another hill through the fog, another island. The slope seemed gentle and the flooding shallow enough to ford to it. 

As I cautiously lifted my boot to test the water, to tentatively step into it, the translucent shadow from a tendril above danced before me. And as the lights kissed earth and flood, the strange tides began lapping harder, prompting a quick retreat back to dry ground. I stood transfixed in awe and horror as the forms of trees in the distant fogs shifted and bloomed, twisting and coiling before erupting with growth. The cracks and rattles of one thousand branches breaking and bending and binding all at once. And at that, I changed my mind, I would not go that way. I would try to find another path.

Roll: Delve the Depths, Wits – Miss, Complication; Reveal a Danger – trap or snare, create darkness (on account of the complication rolled, I think it is likely more than just a trap)

Oracles: something unusual or unexpected, expansive power

And so I followed the shore, the heart of the northern glow remaining to my right so I knew I was moving west, deeper into the valley, until I ran out of island and the beach curved away from the green haze. And that was where I found my first ruins, crumbling walls among the trees just off the shore. The tides had not yet claimed their lower branches and so the waters appeared shallow enough to wade. I took a deep breath and stepped into them. They were only shin deep but freezing, as cold as mountain lake and its icy runoff. There was no changing it though, I was already wet, so I kept moving, plodding through the tides to reach the closest of the decayed walls.

Though the ruins were half dust now, the stones were smooth, symmetrical and polished. I didn’t recognize the rocks, brown with veins of crimsons and orange under a veneer of patina. I ran my finger along the wall, coating it in green and red powder. Whatever stone it was, it was old. Old and pretty.

I thought to pry a small chunk of the pretty stone loose as a keepsake. But before thought could become action, the tendril returned, its translucent shadow dancing across the trees and walls, kissing both wood and stone. And then the cracks and snapping started. The spiraling terror as branches all around me coiled and bent, twisting inward like harrow spiders in their death throes. The deafening crash and din of the Wilds transformed.

I had no shield to shelter behind and could see nowhere to flee, so I braced my back against the wall and crouched, becoming as little as I felt in the shade of the contorting warpwood. And then the trees erupted, the coiled branches bursting outward with unrestrained violence, unfurling and expanding in all directions. Quickly followed by darkness and the thump and thunder of shattered stone as pebbles pelted my face and I choked on dust.

And then silence, just the darkness and my coughing.

Scene Challenge: Anomaly, Troublesome – Escape the tendril’s trap

Roll: Face Danger, Heart – Miss, Complication, Countdown: 1; Endure Harm (-1), +1 Lightly Armored – Strong Hit, shake it off (4 Health)

Well I guess that second complication settles it, there’s definitely more going on than just the anomaly trap.

My cough faded as the dust slowly settled. I steadied my wind and tried to collect myself. The bite from the icy waters I was sitting in ripped me back to the moment. I could not rise. I couldn’t move anything but my sword arm. Groping around me, I found wood everywhere, wet and binding. A tree limb had wrapped itself across my chest, pinning me to the wall.

The blade was awake and screaming, but I could not reach it with the branch and my pinned shield arm in the way. I again resteadied my wind and tried to think. And as my breaths calmed and quieted, I heard the other call, almost but not completely drowned out by the blade’s urgent wail. The questioning yawn of Lightdrinker roused.

Roll: Face Danger, Wits, +2 Lightdrinker – Strong Hit, 3 Progress, 1 light track

I moved my sword hand to the belt, to the ebony, and drew the knife from its sheath, opening the thread and painting the greys across shadows. And with the greys came confirmation. The erupting branches had blocked out the sky, had impaled the wall, and crowded every gap in between, weaving and writhing throughout each other. The limb that pinned me was constricting, further tightening around my chest. The sailor’s wargear protected me for now, but it was just leather, and its segmented plates were already beginning to dig into my chest, threatening to steal my wind. Things were about to get worse fast.

Roll: Face Danger, Iron, +2 Lightdrinker – Strong Hit, 6 Progress, out of light track

So I stabbed Lightdrinker into the pinning branch. It was action inspired by desperation and should have done little, as its honed edge was crafted for neither hacking nor sawing. But as knife punctured bark, the suffocating thicket recoiled. The crack of branches shifting and retracting, the scrape of wood against leather as it surrendered its hold of me, and the waves and pulses of grey flaring outward from where Lightdrinker had pierced it. 

The greys focused and painted across the limbs, back to their trunks, pooling and collecting deeper into the thicket. There was something there, something here besides the twisting trees. And I knew I must face it. I remembered the bloodthorne vines and their crimson bulb I’d destroyed outside of Brokefall. This thicket had a heart as well.

I was now free, the branches having retreated just enough that I could rise. I leapt to my feet, icy water cascading down my cloak and leathers, and swapped the knife to my shield hand. I was finally able to answer the blade’s call!

Roll: Face Danger, Iron – Strong Hit, 9 Progress; Conclude Challenge, 9 Progress – Strong Hit

And as my hand touched bone and iron left scabbard, the blade roared. The branches twisted, closing and reclaiming, but the blade was swift and I now had my footing. Wide arcs cleaved wood and the roof of the thicket began to unravel, again revealing the hazy green glows of the tendrils dancing across the sky above.

I advanced deeper into the thicket, towards where Lightdrinker’s painted greys had gathered. Towards its heart. Clearing the way with wide cleaving swing after wide cleaving swing, and then it was before me.

Roll: Enter the Fray, the Shadow Blossom (nightspawn), Formidable, Heart, +1 Blade-Bound – Strong Hit

I would have missed it if not for the painted greys, as it was so entwined and mingled with the limbs of the thicket. But there it writhed. A mass of roots and saplings, large as a person, coiling and twisting before me, suspended and weaved amidst the wall of boughs. My first thought was of the shifting mass that Pella and I had faced beneath the Desolate Beacon. This was different, more a ball of tangled wooden snakes than a shapeless mass of undulating quartz, but its rhythm was the same, steady and pulsing. Like the mass, I doubted blood flowed within these roots, but the blade pulled the same. So I let it pull.

Roll: Strike, Iron – Weak Hit, 2 Progress

And the heart knew I was coming. The limbs constricted again, to crush me, to stop me. I would not allow it. I hacked with blade and knife, continuing my advance, and as I neared the writhing roots, they retreated further into the thicket, weaving and entwining amongst the branches to drag themselves higher and away from my reach. It feared the blade, and so it struck back.

Roll: Clash, Iron – Miss => Burn Momentum – Weak Hit, +2 Harm from Swordmaster, 6 Progress

A cracking and snapping from my right and the blade arced that direction in response. But it struck no mere branch, more like a trunk or root, too large and thick for the blade to cleave or even stop. Whatever it was, it pushed through the blade and swung into me with force, launching me off of my feet. The scrapes and scratches as I flew through clawing twigs, almost colliding with the crumbling wall but sailing just over it, and then the splash and skid as I hit flooded ground.

Roll: Endure Harm (-3), Iron, +1 Swordmaster, +1 Lightly Armored – Strong Hit, shake it off (2 Health)

I coughed and wheezed, losing my vision for a moment, but the icy waters again brought me back. I was bruised but still breathing. Limbs coiled and probed above me. I could hear little but the din of cracking and snapping from the other side of the wall, from the heart of the thicket and its writhing roots. And then I recognized the stifled cries of the blade buried among the clamor. It was nearby. It was no longer in my hand! I had lost hold of it when I slammed back to earth!

Roll: Face Danger, Heart, follow the blade’s calls – Strong Hit

I had kept hold of Lightdrinker though and, swinging the knife overhead to deter any branches from venturing too close, I ran my free arm through the waters, desperately searching and listening for the blade’s pining call. The splash and stir brought its cries closer to the surface, and I followed them, finally finding the bone grip with my fingers.

I swung the blade upward, clearing room to stand, and as I did so, the wall between me and the writhing roots began to fissure and crack. I readied myself. The greys were fading but there was light enough now that the thicket had scattered. So I reunited the knife with its sheath. And as the thread closed and Lightdrinker sighed, as I shifted to grip the blade with both hands, the wall burst.

Crimson dust and orange pebbles erupted outward as a massive root stretched and expanded across the shallow waters towards me, thickening and lengthening as it came, as if generations of growth were occuring in an instant.

Roll: Strike – Weak Hit, 8 Progress

So I stepped to the side, water spraying my face as the tip of the root shot past me. And then I ran, along the root towards the shattered wall and the writhing mass beyond. I could see it now. Entwining and weaving with the thicket as it again attempted to retreat into the upper canopy. The blade pulled skyward to follow, and so I did, leaping onto the massive root, still swelling and expanding, and running atop it. Ever upward towards the coiling heart.

I am not known to be nimble, not one of particularly light foot, and so I likely should have fallen. The root was now wide enough to dash on top of, growing even wider with each step, but it was slick and shifting. If the blade had not pulled me onward, dragging me forward, I would surely have slipped off the side.

I burst through a lingering cloud of crimson dust. I was past the wall now, closing in on the mass. It could not retreat fast enough. It must have realized this as well because the thicket again cracked and coiled, preparing to defend its heart. And then it erupted anew, branches shooting inwards from all sides. The blade veered left then right, cleaving and hacking the limbs as they tried to impale me or block my path.

Roll: Turn the Tide, Strike, Iron, +1 Honorbound – Weak Hit, 10 Progress

But as the blade swung from side to side, no longer pulling up and forward, my footing began to slip on the wet wood. I teetered over the edge of the root, now a dozen feet up. And I know not how or why, but as I stumbled and swayed, staring down at the floods below, I had a vision. 

I saw Pella falling before me, tumbling to the ground and the darkness. The scream she gave was from memory, from beneath the Desolate Beacon. But that memory had not actually been her. That had just been a cruel trick of sound made by the deceptive gloom. In truth, Pella had not fallen. She had been chased, had been ambushed by the shifting quartz mass that moved as this one did. The mass I had cleaved in half when I found it attacking her. No, she had not fallen, but she had been in danger. So I decided that no, I would not fall either. I would instead cleave this horror in half like its kin before, and then I would hunt whatever or whoever would dare to chase her now.

And as the decision was made, the blade swung back, dragging me away from the edge and forward again. I was almost upon it, the writhing roots and saplings, twisting and tangling, coiling and retreating. The blade chittered, I howled, and then I leapt. Launching myself into a roaring two-handed overhead swing and, as the blade collided with the coiling mass, it split through one of the many roots. Just a crack, a small break in the entwining shell, but large enough to reveal what lay inside.

A blinding green flare from within. It shined like the dancing tendrils, like the aurora. And when the glaring radiance was freed, a seam was exposed. Almost as when Lightdrinker was drawn, as when the knife longed for its sheath. A thread was released, taught and tugging, between the blade and the heart of the writhing roots, and looser but thicker strands between them both and the tendrils above and the blossoming aurora. There were other threads as well, slack and remote but perceived, leading in all directions, to things felt but not known in the far distances.

The blade whimpered, it felt them too, it felt the fear of connection, of becoming known. Things were calling to the blade, from the other sides of those threads. Things that recognized it. The blade hissed. Lightdrinker hissed. And I watched on with mounting dread.

Roll: Face Danger, Heart – Strong Hit, Opportunity (5 v. 1, 1!!!)

Oracles: Escalate power, threaten creation, forgotten weapon (66, that’s a match! )

They were calls of greeting. Those at the ends of the threads remembered the blade, and the blade gave a bitter growl in response, the growl of a betrayal known. I did not understand. There were too many strands to follow, a history or context that I did not grasp. I stood awestruck.

And then I heard her voice, the hunter’s. Her giggle and hum from behind me. I spun but she was not there, just the coiling thicket and so many threads. The voice sang, somewhere between a rhyme and chant, the twined harmonies of unchallenged winds and footfalls through packed snow. 

“That which hungers, that which feasts, that which thirsts for flames to drink.

That which guides, that which drowns, that which cleaves and bleeds and hounds.”

The voice repeated the lines, faster, the cadence of crunched snow accelerating. The blade growled, the knife hissed, the glowing heart within the writhing shell pulsed, and I lost myself to the winds.

I saw the valley from before. From before the flood and the fogs. I saw the ghost of the city, constructed out of the translucent greens. Walls and halls and longhouses, structures familiar yet alien, all stone. And the Iron Pillar and its nearby tower, dwarfed by the Pillar but still massive. Four iron sides rising to an eventual point, every inch covered in flowing runes. It was the tower from my dreams! From the blade’s memories…of aurora and tower and fog.

At sight of the tower, both blade and knife snarled. There was an anger there, a grudge maintained. What was the tower and what was it to them? What wrongs were remembered? I did not know. But that renewed rage demanded a target. So, as the taught thread of the exposed seam dragged the blade back towards its pulsing heart, the fogs returned, consuming the valley until we were once more in the coiling thicket.

Roll: End the Fight, 10 Progress – Strong Hit

It started as a whining growl, low and grating, but as the cry quickened and rose to a wailing roar, the blade lunged, punching through the crack in the writhing shell to pierce the radiant green within. And as the roar swelled, the thicket again came alive. A pained rumble of cracks and rustles as the branches erupted into even new growth, fresh limbs and bright leaves. Until the blade eventually had its fill, sighing, and then all was silent. And when I removed the blade from the stilled roots, the pulsing heart was gone, wholly consumed. Now nothing more than an overgrown thicket and misshapen tangle of roots.

I’d never known the blade’s thoughts before, not truly, just feelings and urges. But in that consuming roar I had begun to understand. That was a punishment. It was jealousy. For stealing a tool that the blade considered its inheritance alone. For brandishing a weapon that was not others’ to wield. What tool or what weapon? Who was being punished? I did not know. But the blade and Lightdrinker both had some connection to the tower by the Pillar, some old resentment, and I knew we must follow that thread.

The heart of the thicket, kissed by the tendrils, that thing which grew and transformed, expanded and twisted, was now dissipated. And as I descended the massive root and hacked my way back to flood and fog, I thought the dancing tendrils might have shone a little less bright than before.

The blade though, its blue iron now seemed to flash an oily green when it caught the light. Maybe it was just the reflection from the aurora and the lights above, but I didn’t recall it being so clear and vivid. Maybe it was nothing. After the visions in the thicket and living under the inescapable glare of a green sun for days, I had little faith in my sight.

Regardless of whether the blade flickered more brightly or not,  the misshapen thicket was uncomfortable to gaze upon, even in its stillness, and I wanted to be far from it. So I sheathed the blade and pushed onward into the mists.

Defeating the Shadow Blossom thwarted the aurora’s plans from the Advance a Threat move at the beginning of this session, so the threat track will not go up and I get to mark a progress on the vow.

Mark Progress: Uproot the Vines – Defeat the Shadow Blossom and prevent the tendril’s kiss from expanding outside of the valley, 3 Progress

Mark Progress: Blade Vow – Learn of the blade’s connection to the tower and the ancient city, 1.25 Progress

I’m really pleased with where this episode went. Rolling the matching ones and getting a strong opportunity during that Face Danger roll as the heart of the thicket and aurora recognized the blade, along with the oracle rolls that followed, ended up creating a great opportunity to explore more of the big unknowns and also discover a connection between the blade and the flooded valley. It was maybe the most exhilarating roll of the campaign for me so far, especially after all of the complications I’ve been rolling lately. I had kind of backed myself into a corner where a miss was likely to result in some dire narrative consequences (the blade being recognized by whatever was on the other side of those threads could have ended up being really bad), so I was preparing for the worst.