This is my first of hopefully many posts detailing my solo play through of the game Ironsworn by Shawn Tomkin. This post goes over my world building and character creation session, and I should have a post going up soon with my first session of actual play. If any of you are curious about the game, you can get a copy for yourself FREE at https://www.ironswornrpg.com/. You can view the rest of the sessions at https://typhosgames.com/index.php/tag/ironsworn/.
Prologue
You would be excused for believing that nothing had changed in the last ten years. Lago lays against a rock, much as he always had, down in a green valley surrounded by his flock of sheep. His flock is smaller, his lunch more meager, and his hands are scarred and missing fingers, but otherwise it feels much like it did all those years ago. Visions of the past play behind Lago’s closed eyelids; the verdant hills of Delenzena, the wide river Whitefire, the distant white peaks of the Kilthorn mountains. A black haze cuts across the vision and Lago wakes with a shout. His brow is drenched in sweat, and he looks down at the iron blade gripped in his white-knuckled fist. Lago’s daydreams always ended this way, with the veil breaking before him.
Lago grits his teeth against the memories and turns to assess his flock. All sheep are accounted for, but the sun is getting close to the western horizon. With a groan of tired joints and the stretching of old scars, Lago stands and turns toward the town of Davenza, which stands just on the other side of the Westfallen river. Lago heads north, and soon can hear the sounds of the river ahead of him. The small town spreads out below him as he crests over the top of the southern hill. The sun highlights the tops of the trees and homes like a halo of flame. Lago does not immediately notice the group of people at the base of the hill, their torches obscured by the glare of the setting sun. His heart immediately falls into the base of his stomach. Lago’s home is the only one on this side of the river.
Hurredly Lago runs down the hill, bouncing and skidding along the rocks and stones of the barely worn path that leads to the back of his paddock. Lago ignores his sheep and, hearing the shouts and cries from around the front of the house, runs to the back door and pulls on the door. It is locked, and he was sure he hadn’t locked the door on the way out.
“Lona!” he shouts, banging on the door. “It’s papa, let me in!” The voices from the front get louder in response to his shout and he bangs on the door again, “Lona!”
The latch clicks open and Lago quickly pushes it open to see his daughter standing before him. “Papa, what’s happening!? Why are they here?” Lona is a tall, incredibly thin, olive skinned teenage girl with short black hair. Her baggy clothes were clearly made a long time ago for someone much older and more filled out than she is. Her small, brown eyes are streaming with tears, and a two-inch black spot is spreading from the center of her forehead. “What is it!?”
“Oh child, you have to leave. Now!”
Lona starts to say “but papa,” but Lago is already pushing past his daughter into the deeper parts of the house. The banging on the door gets louder, and Lago can start to hear the villagers calling his name. He rushes around as fast as he can, grabbing food and clothes and stuffing them into his rucksack. The rucksack full with whatever he could grab, Lago shoves the bag into his stunned daughter’s arms.
“Lona, listen to me. You can’t stay here, they’re going to kill you. You have the witches mark and I can’t do anything to stop them. But I can get you out of here. Here,” Lago says and holds out his dagger. “I want you to swear with me.”
“Papa, I can’t!”
“We don’t have time. Swear with me!” Lona reaches out her hand and grasps the iron pommel of the dagger. As the metal touches her, the skin of her hand begins to burn and sear. Lona cries out in pain and looks to her terrified father’s face. “Swear with me that you will survive. You will reach the town of Redhall. You will find a way to remove the mark. Swear with me!”
Tears streaming down her face, Lona manages to choke out, “I swear with you.” Lago immediately pulls the dagger away and puts the handle in his daughter’s unburned hand. A heavy slam on the front door makes them both jump, as if someone had hit the door with a great hammer.
Lago quickly shouts, “go, now!” and pushes Lona towards the back door. “Run east, toward the rising sun. Redhall is the great city of the eastern shore, there you will find people who could help you. Go!” Lago shoves his daughter out the door, and she stumbles out. “Go! And know that my love goes with you!”
Lona can’t choke out anything in response. In her fear and confusion, the terrified girl stumbles through the paddock, past the panicked sheep, and into the darkness of the woods beyond.
Game Mechanics
My Truths
Nearly ten years ago, the deomon hordes broke through the veil separating our worlds. The monsters came endlessly through the rifts, and we were powerless to stop them. Those few of us who fled are the only ones who survived, protected by the salt seas and our iron weapons. Iron is our guardian, our protector. The metal is common enough, but the weapons of the highest purity and quality are prized and valued for their efficacy in killing deomons. Weapons of other metals cannot kill the monstrosities, and so we keep iron on our persons at all times. We live in constant fear of the veil breaking again, and so we burn our dead, salt our doorways, and perform rituals to strengthen the veil around our strongholds.
We arrived in the Ironlands to find that we were not the first to come. The humans that were here before had succumb to the wilds of this land, and have been dubbed “the broken.” Even older than them, there are ruins of the first peoples still standing in the wilder parts of the Ironlands. These wild places are filled with terrible monsters, treacherous geology, and mysterious secrets that we are too weak to seek out. These monsters roam ever closer to the budding cities, and the tentative security we have enjoyed will not last forever.
Those who came to the Ironlands are few and far between. We are still recovering from the chaos that displaced us, and no leadership has risen to unite the peoples of the Ironlands. The few bastions of civilization in these wild lands are disparate and self-sufficient; each keeping their own governance, defense, resources, and trade routes. Supplies are scarce, and strength is necessary to maintain what few resources you obtain.
We had gods in the old world, but they did not protect us in our most desperate time of need. Just as they abandoned us, so too have we abandoned them in this new world. Magic has always been frowned upon, and treated as deomonic witchcraft.
Character
- Name: Lona the Forsaken
- 2 edge, 1 heart, 1 iron, 2 shadow, 3 wits
- Vows
- Remove her witch’s mark – Epic
- Survive – Dangerous
- Bonds
- Lago – her father. A successful shepherd in the town of Davenza
- Davenza – her childhood home. The name means “Place of Rest” in the old tongue. Located in the green, southern end of the Havens.
- Assets
- Ritual – Scry
- Path – Outcast
- Compaion – Raven (Knowing)