What Happened Last Session
Blood and Smoke at Valthis
Smoke rose from Valthis as your ship approached the shore. Nine warriors from the Stark Lands occupied the waterline, their armor glinting with stolen gems—the spoils of villages already fallen. “We’re taking this town! Your gods are gone!” one shouted, arrogance thick in his voice. But their bravado faltered when you spotted what lay at the carnage’s center: Signe, the legendary shieldmaiden, surrounded by a dozen corpses she’d cut down before collapsing. Blood pooled beneath her, breath barely stirring the cold air.
Twenty to thirty villagers lay dead among burning longhouses. The survivors had fled into hiding, leaving only the raiders and their impossible prize. With Astrid and Zahlie delayed, you faced overwhelming odds: Hagen, Crixbin, Agaron, and Dolitan against nine bloodthirsty invaders. The tactical reality was stark and unforgiving.
The Bard’s Gambit
Crixbin attempted negotiation through divine magic, but his Zone of Truth failed spectacularly. In that moment of desperation, Dolitan stepped forward with a different strategy entirely. His voice rose clear and compelling across the blood-soaked shore, singing “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher” with every ounce of bardic power he possessed. The Fascinate spell took hold—all nine Nords stood transfixed, weapons lowering as the melody wove through their minds.
While enemies stood mesmerized, Crixbin sprinted to Signe’s side. Agaron followed close behind, channeling Mass Cure with precision. Five points of healing surged through the fallen warrior, and her eyes snapped open. She rose with sword and shield in hand, a legend returning from death’s edge. Then the song ended, reality crashed back, and steel rang against steel as the Nords realized they’d been deceived.
Outnumbered But Unbroken
Hagen struck first with the Axe of Nine Eyes, its Cleansing Weapon blessing sending divine fire through corrupted flesh. Signe finished what he started, her blade finding the gap in the wounded Nord’s defense. But eight remained, and they came in a coordinated rush that forced you behind buildings, using barrels and terrain to survive the onslaught.
Agaron attempted to unleash Burning Hands through the enemy formation but stumbled in his positioning, the spell igniting docks instead of foes. Dolitan’s second Mass Cure became your lifeline—twelve points of healing flooded through Hagen and Signe, bringing them from battered to fighting strength. Crixbin held the defensive anchor while corpses began accumulating. Four Nords fell in those desperate opening rounds, but you paid for every inch in blood and exhaustion.
When the Tide Turned
Zahlie and Astrid arrived by rowboat as combat raged, and momentum shifted decisively. Astrid’s arrow severed a fleeing Nord’s femoral artery with surgical precision—one shot, one kill. The remaining invaders recognized their situation and attempted to break through your lines or escape entirely.
The final Nord won a strength contest against Hagen, muscles straining as he broke free from the combat zone. But Zahlie pursued with long-range accuracy, her arrow catching him in the back. Dolitan delivered the killing blow from distance, crossbow bolt ending the raider’s flight. Nine invaders lay dead. Victory was complete.
But Agaron had fallen during the chaos, his body still among the carnage. Crixbin closed his eyes with quiet respect, another wizard lost to the unforgiving mathematics of combat.
The Invasion Revealed
Signe pledged her life-debt to you, bowing with sword presented: “I will honor you in any way possible.” Her intelligence painted a grim picture. The Nords weren’t random raiders—they were executing a coordinated eight-village invasion, exploiting the divine severance as opportunity. “Ever since the gods have left this land, it has been both empowering and also a time of tragedy,” she explained. Three villages already raided, five remaining including Gandrin.
Adagar emerged from hiding among the drying racks, confirming Dvergheim lay surprisingly close. The entrance required a “worthy sword”—fortunately, your arsenal included three magic blades. He warned about deep trolls stirring beneath the mountain and their peculiar justice: “Trolls eat you alive if you lie.” An oath-binding enforced by appetite.
The survivors emerged cautiously from longhouses, their village saved but forever changed by loss. Signe would remain to tend the wounded and defend against future raids. Your path led onward toward the snow-capped peaks and the hidden dwarven kingdom within.
Looking Ahead
Valthis stands secured but scarred, twenty-some graves fresh in its earth. Signe’s debt transforms a tournament rival into a lifelong ally—one with intimate knowledge of Nordic tactics and motivation. Yet the invasion continues elsewhere across the Isles of Andrik, five villages still targeted by raiders emboldened by divine absence.
Your journey toward Dvergheim promises no respite. Deep trolls with unusual intelligence stir in mountain depths, while Adagar’s warnings about oath-keeping suggest the dwarven kingdom faces threats that respect neither blade nor spell. The worthy sword that opens their forgotten door may also open questions about what alliances cost in a world where gods fall silent and mortals must answer for every choice. And somewhere beyond your immediate path, Gandrin appears on an invasion map, its fate hanging on whether you pursue immediate threats or continue your original mission.
Agaron’s absence weighs heavy—another empty space at the fire, another reminder that victory and survival aren’t synonyms.
The greatest victories often begin with the right song sung at the right moment, but they’re measured by who’s still standing when the music ends.