Tales of the Ironlands

Kalyra Sophisdottir

Episode 04: The Bantu Clan

Session Report

Last time, on Tales of the Ironlands: Kalyra Sophisdottir, having fought the primordial who had abducted her father, and lost, decided that she needed further help and made her way across the Hinterlands to the west. After about a day and a half of travel, she found the hut of a hermit, a woman named Aliaanor, and her grandson Tegan. When she arrived, Aliaanor was very ill; however, thanks to her herbal skills, Kalyra was able to bring Aliaanor back to — not full health, but certainly on the road to recovery.

This was very useful, as it turns out that the wisewoman Aliaanor — a very elderly woman from the first generation who settled the Ironlands — had a great deal of useful information. Chief amongst which was that in order to effectively fight an earth primordial, Kalyra needs a bludgeoning weapon of some sort, such as a mace or maul, which she does nto currently have. In addition to that, she needs to seek out the Kocari, the shaman cast of the elf clans who live in the Deep Wilds, in the hopes they will be able to tell her more about what the earth primordial is doing to her father and how (or whether) she can save him from that fate, whatever it may be.

Somewhat recuperated from her fights, and with a new sense of purpose, Kalyra sets out to travel into the Deep Wilds. Bookkeeping: marked progress on the quest to rescue her father, because she knows a bit more about earth primordials and has some leads to follow. The journey to reach an elf clan in the Deep Wilds is a Dangerous level journey. This may perhaps seem a bit low, but to date, most of Kalyra’s travels have been restricted to a fairly small section of the map that happens to sit right at the borders between the Havens, the Hinterlands, and the Deep Wilds, so I mostly haven’t felt that the narrative called for truly extended journey sequences.

Kalyra sets out to the south west. Undertake a Journey: 3v2/6, weak hit. Marked progress, -1 supply. Kalyra pushes steadily to the south west. Although she keeps an eye out for useful resources — she’d really like to find some early spring greens, especially sorrel — unfortunately there is little in her path. She eats some of the food she brought from Peilinham during the day, but finds nothing of any significance to replace it.

As the sun begins setting, she looks for a place to make camp, and discovers that she has come to the border of the Deep Wilds, which was not terribly far from Aliaanor’s hut. Here the trees of the forest grow ever thicker, and larger. Previously the forest consisted primarily of small pines, small enough that she could clasp their trunks in her outstretched arms if she felt like it. Here, the trees are considerably larger and older, much too large to grasp about the center. The mix of trees is still primarily coniferous, but they are large. In some places it feels like she is walking through a cavernous space with the occasional shaft of light striking down through an opening in the canopy above.

Eventually, she locates an even larger tree, one which towers over its neighbors. It’s large enough that she doubts even three full grown men could encircle it with their arms fully extended; and it seems to be hollow. She approaches cautiously, and looks into it, but the hollow is unoccupied. The faint smell of musty rot comes from within it. It’s not terribly damp, but earthy.

Satisified that this will make a suitable camp for the evening, Kalyra settles in. Make Camp: 8v10/5, weak hit. +1 momentum. The night passes uneventfully. The trees sound different in the breeze than the ones she’s familiar with. All around her, the deep creaking of ancient wood swaying in the winds far above her head lulls Kalyra to sleep.

In the morning, she makes breakfast, takes a look at the state of her supplies, and shakes her head. Reluctantly, she slows her journey somewhat in order to resupply. Resupply: 8v3/5, strong hit, +2 supply. Kalyra is not familiar with all of the plants and animals that she encounters in this area of the forest, never having been to the Deep Wilds before. The seem to grow larger here. She catches sight of an owl perched high above her head, sleeping in the daylight; it must be at least half again as large as any other owl she’s ever seen. She admires it from a distance for a moment, and then moves on. But before she does, she discovers that at the base of the tree the owl inhabits there is a large patch of valuable medicinal herbs that she recognizes from her training. She takes a moment to harvest those. Later in the afternoon, just before she begins seriously travelling again, she finds the sorrel she wanted, and some mushrooms.

Feeling better about the state of her supplies, she continues to the southwest. Undertake a Journey: 8v1/2, strong hit. Marked progress, -1 momentum, +1 supply. Kalyra is not sure where exactly to go. She knows that there are elves who live in this forest; she knows they must be here. But she doesn’t know quite where to go to find them, however, and so she spends some time going in broad slow curves back and forth. Her forward progress is less than it might otherwise have been, but she gets a greater sense for the terrain. There’s not a lot of time. She’s worried that the longer she spends out here looking for the elves, the harder it will be to rescue her father; and so she hurries as she travels. Between her efforts at resupplying this morning and the day’s travel, she feels as though she’s made good progress, which is heartening.

Later in the day, she comes to a vast river which flows south-east; it crosses her path at a diagonal, and it is larger than any other river she’s ever seen. It’s wide enough that she can’t quite get a stone across it if she hurls one as hard as she can. It’s rushing quickly. She’s a bit taken aback, but it looks like a good stopping place: at least there’s a good supply of fresh water. And perhaps she can do some fishing in the morning. She backs up from the water a little bit and finds a place to camp in a small glen off to one side, where the trees have pulled back a little from the water, creating a broad, smooth opening.

As she settles down for the night, Kalyra builds a small fire, and sits on a log she has pulled over. “Now, Aliaanor told me that I would have to introduce myself to the elves by announcing my name and a truth about myself. What could that be? I mean, my name is true. I think. But maybe that’s not the sort of thing — anyway, I have to tell them my name. Uh ... I could tell them that my hair is red? That’s true. But again, perhaps that seems ... insufficient. Hmmm.”

Asked the Oracle to tell me a truth about Kalyra. Rolled on the Theme table: 48, debt. Kalyra sits by the fire, and her thoughts turn back to what the primordial said in the cave. It told her that the debt must be paid. “What debt? Whose debt? Is it ... Peilinham’s debt? Is it my father’s debt? Is it the earth primordial’s debt? Who owes something to whom? If it is my father’s debt ... perhaps I could pay it for him.” Her face falls at this. If it is indeed her father’s debt, then she has seen how he is paying for it: with the flesh of his body, and — perhaps — his mind. She is not thrilled at the prospect of volunteering to take his place and pay the debt herself. She shivers a bit. “Well ... maybe that’s my truth. My father owes a debt that I am afraid to pay.”

And with that troubling thought, she goes to bed. Make Camp: 6v1/2, strong hit. +1 momentum, +1 on Undertake a Journey. In the morning, Kalyra pulls out the fine line that she carries in one of the side pockets of her travel back, along with a tiny iron fish hook and spends a little time fishing. Resupply: 8v6/9, weak hit. -1 momentum, +1 supply. The fish practically throw themselves onto her hook, and in short order she has more than enough food for the day — though unfortunately fish doesn’t keep very well.

After a couple of hours of fishing in the broad white waters that rush past the stones of the river, Kalyra decides to head upstream, on the theory that perhaps there will be a settlement somewhere along the banks of the river that is so well supplied with fish and fresh water. Undertake a Journey: 5v3/8, weak hit. Marked progress. -1 supply. She eats her fish and heads north west. After a while Kalyra becomes worried that she’s going to follow it all the way out of the Deep Wilds and back into the Hinterlands; and indeed, after most of a day’s travel, the trees begin to thin out again. Regrettably, there has not been any sign of a settlement — elf, human, or otherwise. As she catches sight once more of the hogback that marks the southern boundary of the Hinterlands, she comes to a halt and sighs. “Oh well.”

Make Camp: 10v10/2, +1 momentum. In the morning Kalyra decides to cross the river and head back downstream on the opposite side. It’s still deep, and the waters are strong; so she trots downstream a ways until she finds a spot where it is broader and shallower. She carefully seals up her backpack, rolls up her trousers, and puts her boots in the backpack before fording the river.

Face Danger, rolling Iron; 6v7/8, miss. -1 supply It is still early spring, and this water flows down from the mountains to the north. It can’t have been more than two or three days since much of this water was snow on the peaks. Despite Kalyra’s careful precautions for crossing the river, she slips part way through and dunks herself in the water. She emerges gasping, moments later, only to discover that some of her supplies have worked their way out of the pack and fallen into the water. It’s the last of her oatmeal; she makes a snatch at the pouch, but it sinks and is carried away in the stream. She sighs in exasperation. “Well — so much for the oatmeal,” she says, hauling herself out of the river on the far side.

Out of the water she strips down and wrings out her clothes. It’s cold in that river — but not as cold as clammy wet clothing would be in the steady breeze that runs amongst the trees. She waits a little while for her clothing to dry. Fortunately her pack was not submerged long enough to truly soak its contents; there are a few wet pieces, especially near the top, but she went down and stood back up almost immediately. She spreads the wet things out to dry on a rock at the side of the river. The wind ruffles her red hair as she waits; but soon she grows impatient, begrudging every moment of time. She dresses and repacks her gear while it is still damp, and begins making her way south again along the banks of the river.

Undertake a Journey: 3v3/2, weak hit. Mark progress, -1 supply. Kalyra finishes the last of the fish she caught yesterday, and finds little to replace it. “I wonder if this river has a name?” she wonders. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. Or if I have, I don’t know which one it is. I should have paid more attention to the bards when they visited. Ah well.”

At the end of the day, she finds herself in a familiar spot. Looking across the river towards the remains of the sun westering away, she can make out her camp spot from the previous day. Resupply: 7v10/1, weak hit. -1 momentum, +1 supply.

“I hope I find them soon,” she says as she prepares for the night. Make Camp: 4v2/3. +1 momentum, +1 Undertake a Journey. The nights are getting a little warmer. Or at least, so she fondly hopes. It certainly seems that way. But perhaps it’s just a trick of her mind after having spent much of the day shivering in her chilly clothing.

In the morning she makes another attempt at fishing. Resupply: 4v1/8. -1 momentum, +1 supply. “Enough,” she says, hauling in a fish for breakfast. There’s nothing quite so good as mountain salmon, caught fresh from the stream and flipped straight into the fire.

With a full belly, she shoulders her pack and begins trotting south east along the banks of the river once more. Undertake a Journey: 8v6/7. Marked progress, up to 10. Progress move: Reach Destination: 10v8/1. Part way through the afternoon, Kalyra hears a sound: a faint rustle. She turns, and finds herself staring directly at the spear held by a figure wearing a wooden mask, seamed with the lines of the wood grain. She raises both hands and says “Greetings, warrior. I am Kalyra Sophisdottir, and I fear to pay my father’s debt.”

The impassive figure waits a long moment; but then the spear head lowers, and its owner stands a little straighter. “Greetings, Kalyra Sophisdottir. I am Sarla, of the clan Bantu. What brings you to our lands?”

“Whew!” Kalyra says. “Sarla. It is an honor to meet you. I need to consult a Kocari on a matter related to my father’s debt — the one that I fear to pay.”

“Interesting,” Sarla says. “So you come in peace?”

“I do,” says Kalyra.

“Very well. Let us return to the village. Be prepared to introduce there as you did to me.”

“Yes,” agrees Kalyra. Following Sarla into the forest, away from the rushing waters of the river, in no more than fifteen minutes of travel — rather uncomfortable travel, for Sarla makes no overtures towards further conversation, and Kalyra deems it perhaps wisest to travel in silence — they come to an elven settlement. For a moment, Kalyra doesn’t even recognize it for what it is. In her experience, settlements are defined by structures: usually a palisade, a wooden palisade around the village to keep out dangerous beasts and raiders. Within them, the thatched huts or larger wood-stave buildings used for communal space of one sort or another. An elven village is nothing like that at all; and so when Sarla stops and says “Welcome to the home of Clan Bantu,” Kalyra looks around in puzzlement until Sarla gestures upwards.

Looking up, Kalyra discovers that there is an entire village that has been built into the trees high in the canopy. Swinging rope bridges connect platforms which look as though they have not so much been built as grown from the trees. The branches that support most of the platforms have clearly grown into the shapes that they hold now. Up in the trees she can see figures moving about: more elves. Most of the adults wear masks of one sort or another, but she catches sight of a few children who look down at her from a good 60 to 80 feet up with curiousity in their pale white faces before their parents hurriedly push them away.

“Go on,” says Sarla.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Greetings, people of the Bantu Clan; I am Kalyra Sophisdottir, and I fear to pay my father’s debt.”

The small crowd — if you can call it a crowd when it is people lining the edges of the walkways between buildings — nod towards her, the masks dipping and coming back up, far above her. Sarla says “You have been acknowledged. Come. I will take you to the elder. This way.”

She leads Kalyra to a central tree, far larger than any of the others. If Kalyra was impressed by the trees she found earlier, this one is even larger, by a lot. It must be a good 20 or 25 feet in diameter — a huge tree. Around the perimeter of the platform that extends outwards from it, Kalyra can see that there are rope ladders, hanging. Sarla takes her to one, and slings her spear across her back through a couple of loops designed for that purpose. She begins to climb up. “You are lucky that I found you,” Sarla remarks as she climbs. “Many of here do not speak your tonge.”

“Oh! That is fortunate,” Kalyra says. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the elves might speak a different language. She flushes a little as she follows Sarla up the ladder. At the top, she can see the layout of the village a little more clearly. The primary dwellings seem to be built along the central trunks, just where the branches split off from some of the largest trees in the area. Bridges spin out to subsidiary trees from this, the tree she is at, which the central and largest tree of the lot.

Looking around, she finds that she is surrounded by all of the elves in the area, who are looking at her. It’s a little spooky; all of the adults have masks on, all of wood. She can see their eyes gleaming through the holes in the masks. Over to one side she can see one child who has not yet been moved away, a little boy who tugs on his father’s shirt and says something in a language she doesn’t recognize. The father leans down and answers him in a quiet voice, and then takes his hand and leads him away from the stranger to the village, who has been polite, but has not been approved as yet.

“This way,” Sarla says, and leads Kalyra partially around the circular platform to the far side, where it becomes apparent that the center of this tree is open and hollow, and has been converted into a room. Sarla pauses by the door and calls out “Sarla Ashmask brings a guest to see the elder. She has introduced herself well, as Kalyra Sophisdottir, and she will tell you her truth.”

“Yes, I am Kalyra Sophisdottir, and I fear to pay my father’s debt,” Kalyra says. There are two guards standing just inside the opening; they nod at her with impassive masks. It’s very difficult to read these people, when you cannot see their faces.

Kalyra is quite unnerved as she walks past them. One of them points at her sword and says something in his own tonge. Sarla turns to her and says “You are required to leave your weapon behind before you may see the elder.”

“Oh! Very well,” Kalyra says. A little reluctantly, but with no ill grace, she unbuckles her sword belt and leaves it propped against the wall by the entry.

Stepping into the interior, Kalyra discovers that the room is lit by strange glowing flowers that emit a pale golden light. Each one is about the size of her head, and they curl up from pots which have been shaped from clay and placed at the bottom of the wall. Wooden pegs have been driven into holes in the wall, providing space for the vines to climb up. The light is more than adequate — it shines more steadily than a candle or a fire would. Within, she can see that this is probably a communal space. Whether they were expecting her or not is not clear; but there is an elderly looking elf — as far as Kalyra can see, anyway. He is wearing a mask of ash grey, and his hair is pure white behind it. She can see sharp black eyes peering out of the mask at her. He is seated, cross-legged, on a low stool.

“Welcome, Kalyra Sophisdottir, who fears to pay her father’s debt,” he says. “Why have you come to the Bantu tribe?”

“Greetings, honored elder,” Kalyra says, noting that he has not introduced himself. “I am here in the hopes of speaking with the Kocari of your tribe. I need advice. The woman Aliaanor, the wisewoman who dwells in the Hinterlands northeast of here, recommended that I seek out a Kocari and speak with him or her to learn more about my father’s ... state of affairs.”

“I see,” says the old elf. He demands further details, and Kalyra relates her full story to date, omitting nothing; including the fact that she is deathtouched and owes a great debt to the Black Lady.

The elder watches her impassively as she speaks. Compel, rolled Heart: 4v9/4. Miss. At this point my momentum was at +4, and I really should have burned it to make this a weak hit; but that didn’t occur to me until after the session, probably because I’ve never had enough momentum to actually be useful before.

The elder listens to her declarations in chilly silence, and as she finishes he allows that silence to extend. After an uncomfortable pause, his masks tilts slightly to the side, and his voice emerges from it: “The Bantu Tribe wants nothing to do with one who owes a debt to the Black Lady. You must continue your journey onwards. Perhaps you will find another tribe who is foolish enough to offer you aid.”

“Oh! I don’t have much time. I don’t know how long ...”

“That is none of our concern,” says the elder.

“May I at least stay for the night, and travel on in the morning?” Compel, +heart: 5v3/2. +1 momentum, +1 on next Gather Info.

“Never let it be said that the Bantu are inhospitable to those who present themselves politely, as you have done, Kalyra Sophisdottir.” the elder says. “You are welcome to stay for the night. But in the morning, you must move on.”

As if on a signal, both Sarla and the two guards crack the butts of their spears against the wooden floor. Kalyra gets the distinct impression that that is that. There is nothing more she can say that will sway the elder. She will gain nothing here but a night’s rest.

“Come,” says Sarla. “I will show you to a place where you may rest.”

Sarla takes her outside and leads her along the swaying rope bridges. It must be said: Kalyra has never been so high up in her entire life, barring perhaps looking over the edge of a cliff. But that was not nearly as unsteady as walking along the swaying surface of a rope bridge high in the trees. She eyes the bridge with trepidation. The dim light of evening does little to ease her fears. Face Danger, +edge. 4v5/7. Miss.

Kalyra sets foot upon the swaying rope bridge. She wobbles slightly; takes another step; and then her terror gets the better of her, and she scrambles back onto the safety of the platform, looking a little white in the face. Sarla looks back in amusement.

Kalyra flushes and looks away. Then, determined, she tries again. Face Danger +heart to have the guts to face this even though it scares her. 9v5/2. Kalyra breathes in and out a couple of times, and then closes her eyes and steps out with her arms extended and creeps her way across the bridge. She reaches the far side, feels the platform beneath her feet, and opens her eyes again to find Sarla looking at her. The ash wood mask nods faintly.

“I had thought to put you in one of the further rooms,” Sarla says. “But I do not think I need to torture you that much. This way.”

She leads the way up another rope ladder that has been strung along the surface of the trunk. It goes up to a small wooden room which has been constructed along the curve of the tree. “You may stay here for the evening. I hope you have supplies. We have a strict rule against fire in the houses, on account of not wanting to burn down our village or the canopy of the trees about us. So if you need to cook anything, let me know.”

“I’ll just ... I have some jerky,” Kalyra says. “I’ll just eat that.”

“Very well,” says Sarla, and begins to disappear down the ladder.

“Wait,” Kalyra calls. Sarla pauses. “I wonder ... the elder has said that I must move on, and I will, but — is there anything I can do to increase my chances the next time I find some of your people? I ... have not been deathtouched very long ...” Gather Information: 4v4/10. Miss. Considered burning momentum; chose not to.

“Know this, Kalyr Sophisdottir, who fears to pay her father’s debt: the deathtouched are not generally welcome among my people. Walk carefully.”

Kalyra looks about the room, and discovers that there is a bedroll; it is not even a bed, per se. It is a large, person-length pillow which has been rolled up in one corner. She unrolls it and takes her rest after a cold dinner of jerky.

In the morning she awakes to find that Sarla is there and waiting for her. They are not waisting any time in getting her out of this village. Sarla says nothing, but gestures towards the door. Kalyra nods, gathers her things and rolls up the bedroll and puts it back where she found it.

Getting back down is something of a trial, but is less nerve-wracking in the bright morning sun than the shadows of evening the previous night. Kalyra makes her way down, out of the trees and as Sarla leads her to the edge of the village, she says “I thank you for your hospitality, and I wish you and yours all the best.”

“Go well, Kalyra Sophisdottir,” Sarla replies. But Kalyra gets the impression that that is stiff formality, not a heartfelt wish.

And so Kalyra leaves the village of the Bantu clan and returns to making her way southeast along the river, which soons curves to the west.