ICYMI
This week
We meet The Rinnel our exile.
Scene Setup
I wanted to start by getting to know Naar. Before diving into the narrative with Anbrah and O'thwo. So let's go back, to before our Rin became an exile.
We know Naar is an exile. So let’s start by getting a bit more context. I'll try to keep it pretty basic, simple fate question and a few meaning tables.
Did Naar defy her mentor? VL 🎲 8+5+2=15 YES
Action
🎲 36 distrust 9 building
🎲 86 quarrelsome 21 disagreeable
Seems Naar wasn't always the cool level headed one. Let's jump into it.
Defiant and Blessed
The memory of that fateful day lingered in Naar’s mind like a half-forgotten dream. The Spires, their ghostly white forms stretching towards the sky, casting long shadows across the sands of Aamsk. Naar stood at the edge of the karst expanse, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and defiance. The warning of her mentor, Tyahft, echoed in her mind: “Do not approach the Spires, Naar. They aren’t to be trusted.”
But her curiosity had always been insatiable, her intellect sharp and unyielding. She’d argued, and maneuvered until there was no one left to replace her on this expedition. Her mentor’s reluctant consent, her victory, yet it felt hollow now as she gazed at the looming Spires.
“Naar,for once, listen to reason… to me for Eld sake.” Tyahft had pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. “These places are dangerous, magic we do not understand, littered with traps and beast alike.”
She had looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I have to know, Tyahft. I have to see it for myself.”
His sigh had been a mixture of resignation and heartache. “Then sands guide you, and Eld keep you.”
As Naar explored one of the many Spires’ hollowed structure, a vertical labyrinth, she found herself in a room of gears and cogs. Some ancient workshop or other, a possible treasure trove. In this clockwork menagerie Naar was forever changed. Spinning ever so slowly on a small side table an iridescent gold monocle, the seemed to oscillate. She reached out and touched the oddly shaped monocle, its surface cold and smooth, yet humming with unseen power. In an instant, pain seared through her, she screamed, collapsing to the ground. She clutched her eye as he bones reshaped, breaking to reform and grow, leaving a crystalline and chitinous growth in its place. As if a series of small horns replaced her eye.
The journey back to the tribe was a blur of agony and shame. Tyahft met her at the edge of the village, his eyes filled with a sorrow that cut deeper than any reprimand. The tribe gathered around, their expressions a mixture of anger and resignation. They had grown weary of Naar’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, her arrogance, and her constant defiance.
“What did you do?” Tyahft whispered, his voice breaking as he reached for her face. “… Iskt! Naar, what did you do?! ”
“I needed to know,” she replied weakly, her voice trembling. “I thought… I thought I could handle it.”
The ritual to sever the sacred bond between Naar and Tyahft was somber. Tyahft’s voice trembled as he recited the incantations, his hands shaking as he performed the rites. But as the final words left his lips, he faltered, unable to complete the ritual. The bond remained, fragile yet unbroken. She never knew if that'd been a kindness.
Tyahft reached out, his hand trembling, but he stopped short of touching her. “Go, Naar daughter of Kol born of Faþ. Sands guide you, and Eld have mercy.”
The words rang in her ears, each syllable a hammer blow. She turned away, her vision blurred by tears she refused to shed. Tyahft’s eyes met hers one last time, a silent communication passing between them. His eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow, regret, and unspoken love.
As she walked into the desert, the cries of the tribe faded, leaving only the sound of her footsteps and the whisper of the wind. The image of Tyahft’s face remained etched in her mind, what she had lost and the path she had cchosen. She could faintly feel the tug of Tyahft’s heart. She whispered a final farewell on the wind, praying Eld carry the message to him.
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Expected Scene: Naar Introduces themselves in the middle of Irishka Torches harassing Anbrah.
I'm thinking I won't roll a whole bunch of dice this week and just get some narrative down. Beauty of a solo game is being able to speed things up when you want to or go off on tangents. Now to the narrative!
Massive Tensions at the Missive
The midday sun blazed over Missive Square, its heat radiating off the cobblestones, adding to the simmering tension. The southern Bazaar was in full swing, vendors shouting their wares, and customers haggling over prices. But amid the chaos, a darker scene unfolded in the obscured corners and shaded alleys.
Anbrah and O'Thwo, visibly worn from the previous night, were in the midst of a desperate struggle. Iriskha's Torches,his enforcers more like, had them cornered. Blood trickled from a cut above Anbrah's eye, and O'Thwo's labored breathing echoed his exhaustion. They were losing ground, slowly but surely.
“You thought you could pull that stunt and just walk away?” one guard sneered, stepping forward, his torch casting a flickering, menacing light. The malice in his eyes promised pain.
O'Thwo, barely standing, his breaths labored, spat blood from his lips defiantly. Anbrah stood ready beside him, her eyes darting, calculating their next move. The odds were grim, They were clearly out numbered and fatigue was no friend this day. Anbrah cursed her luck.
“Back off!” she demanded, trying to summon authority despite her exhaustion.
The guard laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You’re in no position to make demands, Loathesome.”
One of the cowards swung his cudgel, “Yeah,we make the demands!” He said as he struck O'Thwo in the ribs. The sound was a wet fleshy thud that made Anbrah wince. The impact forced O'thwo to the ground with a groan. Anbrah lunged forward, but a second guard slammed the flat of his halfsword against her kneecaps dropping her to the sand. Blade at her throat, exhausted and battered, Anbrah couldn't help the tears of frustration as she looked up at her attackers.
“Look she's crying.” one said laughing loudly.
“Let them be,” a cold, firm voice cut through the din of the bazaar.
The guards turned, and so did Anbrah and O'Thwo, to see a tall, hooded figure emerge from the crowd, the crystalline and chitinous growth around her left eye catching the sunlight, creating an otherworldly glow.
The lead guard narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”
Naar's voice was steady, unwavering. “I am of little repute, simply a Rin looking for work. But you may call me Naar, of Tribe Yarhen, daughter of Kol born of Faþ. Blessed of the old world,” she pulled her hood back revealing the whirring almost liquid chitinous gear of her left eye. “ I saw their bout a few nights ago. You fight like rat-hyenas, no honor, hunting the strong when they sleep, a pity really.”
There was a murmur among the torches. A Rinnel's presence was not to be taken lightly, and even in exile, Naar carried an air of authority and danger.
“We don’t take orders from a Rinnel,” another guard spat, but there was a tremor in his voice.
Naar took a step closer, the crystalline growth on her body glinting ominously. “Order? Who said anything about an order? No,no friend this is about how cowardly you are.” Naar said with a grin.
The lead guard hesitated, his grip tightening on his sword. The air was thick with the potential for violence, every eye in the square now on the unfolding drama. The crowd sensed the tension, a collective intake of breath as they waited for the next move.
One guard, braver or more foolish than the rest, drew his weapon. “We’re not scared of you, Freak.”
Naar’s expression didn’t change, but the air around her seemed to crackle with latent power. “You should be,” she said softly.
The guard lunged, but in a fluid motion, Naar sidestepped and from beneath her cloak, the but of her weapon slammed into his chin. The guard cried out, dropping his cudgel as Naar kicked him back into his comrades. Naar stood her Zefyr at the ready the barrel pointed at her attackers head.
“Zefyr ballista, they say, a bolt can rip through four men like hot steel. Personally never seen it, I've been itching to find out if it's true. You boys want to help me scratch that itch?” Naar asked her voice unwavering. The Torches looked at each other debating their chances, one started creeping his foot forward.
“Enough!” the lead guard barked, stepping forward to pull his fallen comrade away and keeping the others at bay. He looked at Naar, his eyes filled with barely concealed fear and anger. “This isn’t over, Jeiore will pay its due.”
“Not today,” Naar replied coldly. She motioned for them to get moving.
With muttered curses, the guards retreated, disappearing into the crowd. Naar kept her weapon drawn until the tension dissipated, and was replaced by the hum of resumed commerce and whispered conversations about the confrontation.
Anbrah turned to Naar, her body still taut with residual fear and adrenaline. “Well met,”she said helping O'thwo to his feet, “A debt the Jeiore Lodge owes you. Not, many would throw their lot in with the Loathesome and her dishonorable ilk. What makes you differnet?”
Naar shrugged, a faint hum escaping her lips as she considered her words. “That might be, but I know well the outsiders life. Your plight is one shared, I am no Blooded Yarhen.” Naar lifted her hood again, the whirring gear of her eye clicked in time with the soft humming as she thought. “Your bout, it reminded me of a good friend. The Eld would have eaten me had I not offered a hand…Outsiders only have each other…right.” The question seemed to be more for herself than Anbrah. N
Anbrah nodded, recognizing the potential ally in front of her. “Thank you, Naar.”
Naar gave a nodd and began to turn to take her leave.
“Wait! We dont have much but can offer food, drink and a warm place from the nights frost. If you are in need the Lodge of Jeiore extends itself.” Anbrah said. She knew a Rin was needed for her Lodge to even begin to be taken seriously, she couldn't just let Naar slip through her fingers. Even if she was an exile.
Naar stood humming and thinking. Before looking at Anbrah with a wide grin. “A Yarhen never declines a meal and hospitality!”
The crowd began to disperse, but the sense of unease lingered. This small victory felt fragile, a temporary reprieve in a world of constant conflict. They had won this round, but the larger battle was far from over.
Breakdown & Bookkeeping
That is where we will end it this week. I do hope you all enjoyed it!
Threads
No Thread to add this week since most of the action took place without Anbrah’s input.
Characters
I think I won't add Naar's mentor as that was a flash back and not sure he'll pop up anytime soon so for the time being no further characters to add.
Removal
Nothing to remove this week either. But we do bump our Chaos Factor back up since our Dry was not the main focus of this session.
[CF]:8
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Next week
Things are getting changed around on this end as you may have noticed, with new sections, layout, and updates to titles and a few other things. I have wide varying interest and want my newsletter to reflect that so expect to see some new things over the next coming weeks.
Thank you again for taking the time out to Brave the Sands of Aamsk with me. If you care to join the world of Wyze, and contribute to the Reader Lodge, make your character, HERE! Drop the results in the comments below.
Another quick update! Be on the look out for my newest Audio Project The Bone Brew where I'll be posting Audio versions of the news letter, worldbuilding, Duo games and more!
Fellowship
If you enjoy this format of game I highly recommend checking out the amazing The Peoplz & Dragons YT channel. The director recently started a new Play by Video Campaign where you can watch your character come to life.
Don't forget to check out my fellow compatriots on the Stack!
If you are in need of some levity in your fantasy
the writer of will have you rolling! There is also a treat from yours truly in his Audio version of his newsletter. I had so much fun recording for him, make sure you give it a listen! writer of has his Proper Villians game underway do yourself a favor and check it out.If you enjoy the world of Stonetop,
the writer of has begun his own story and I must say it is such a captivating tale!