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When last we looked in on Stenn & Company, they had only just survived a Red Snow and The Reddening, that inevitable result - at least, for some - of The Undoer’s will directed against their Clan. We rejoin the scene several hours after Chief Hrowaka has revealed that he is in fact not Stenn’s father. It is early evening. The temperature in the frost-den is warm, while outside it is not intolerable.

If you are just joining the story, you have three options: you can go back and read the preceding posts using my index, or you can read a synopsis here and then return to this post. If you’d like, you can download a zipped archive of the first 7 posts by clicking here. Just unzip, keeping the folder structure, and launch the HTML file in your preferred web browser. In the unlikely event that my website is down, that archive is also downloadable using the following links: OneDrive, Box, or iDrive.

The outside temperature is a balmy 37°, not that there are any instruments to measure it. The clan has gathered around the central bonfire, coming from various frost-dens. The Fireless have been gathered, eight of them: the dead lie (except for one), limbs folded, just beyond the firelight. The Clan is reduced from eighty-eight to seventy-nine. Four of those will stand guard over the Fireless this night, so that they make repose in defiance of the Whispering Wind.

Chief Hrowaka emerges from his frostden, leaning slightly on Jenkla as they make their way to the fire. Behind them comes Stenn Bearclaws and Drogan Elkfist, bearing the body of Norda. They proceed slowly so that Ghindar the Shaman may wave his holy rock over the deceased. This he does, repeatedly, and then he moves to seat himself next to fellow clansmen on a log while Stenn and Drogan lower Norda next to the Eight. She makes nine Fireless.

When everyone has joined together around the large fire, Chief Hrowaka accepts a dog’s skull from Ghindar and takes a long sip. As he does so, the fire grows brighter, flames higher, for a ten-count, then returns to its former intensity; the chief begins, remaining seated, and his voice is stronger than usual, resonant.

“In the time before the Grandfather Sun was old, when the Ice-Giants still slept in the far lands, the world was filled with a great, warm breath. The First Fire, born from the belly of the Sky-Stone that fell, burned without end. Its flames kissed the trees, and green life burst forth in every valley. The aurochs were fat, their numbers beyond counting, and their wool thick against the cold. The salmon jumped in every river, their silver scales flashing like chipped flint in the sun.

“The Great Hunter, whose name is forgotten even by the oldest caves, walked the land then. He needed little. The meat came to him, the tools sharpened themselves, and the skins never rotted. He built his shelter of great stones, and they stood firm, never shifting, never letting in the biting wind. The world was a perfect, full belly.

“But then, a whisper began. It was not the howl of the wolf, nor the rustle of the leaves. It was the Whispering Wind, thin and cold, and it came from no direction, yet from everywhere.

“First, the Whispering Wind found the First Fire. It did not try to blow it out, no. It merely sang its cold, quiet song around the edges of the flames. And with each verse, a tiny spark, no bigger than an eye-blink, would drift away, carried up to the vast, dark ceiling of the sky. The Fire did not notice at first, so great was its roaring heart.

“Then, the Whispering Wind found the aurochs. It did not chase them or bite them. It merely breathed on their strong hides. And with each breath, a tiny strand of their thick, warm wool would detach, floating away like a dandelion seed, lost to the great plains. The herd did not notice at first, so many were their numbers.

“The Great Hunter, though, began to feel it. His stones, once so firm, would shift. A tiny grain of sand would fall from between them, then another, then a thousand more. His sharpest flint axe would dull, not from striking bone, but simply from being. His kills, once so vibrant, would not stay fresh as long; the good meat would “turn” quicker, and the bones would crumble to dust faster than before.

“He tried to gather the lost sparks from the Fire, but they were too many, too small, and too swift. He tried to catch the drifting wool from the aurochs, but the wind carried it to every corner of the world. He tried to hold the sand between his fingers, but it sifted out, no matter how tight he squeezed.

“‘What is this magic?’ he cried to the sky. ‘What takes the spark, the wool, the stone-dust, and the good meat, and never gives it back?’

“And the Whispering Wind, everywhere and nowhere, replied with its cold, soft sigh: ‘I am the Spreading Thin. I am the Letting Go. I take what is together and make it apart. I take what is warm and make it cold. I take what is firm and make it dust. I am the Great Ash-Drift, and I am the Bone-Cracker’s Hunger. I must touch all things, and all things must lend me a piece of themselves, to carry to the farthest, coldest corners of the world.’

“And so it is. The First Fire still burns, but not as brightly, for it has lent so many sparks to the Whispering Wind. The aurochs still roam, but their herds are smaller, their wool thinner. The stones still stand, but they crumble slowly, grain by grain. And even the Grandfather Sun, in the highest sky, gives his warmth away, little by little, to the cold darkness beyond.

“This is why we must always tend the fire, for its warmth is precious and ever-fleeing. This is why we must hunt wisely, for the good meat does not last. This is why we must build our shelters strong, for the stones themselves long to return to dust. For the Whispering Wind is always there, gathering its pieces, spreading thin the warmth and the firmness of the world, until one day, the last spark will be taken, the last bone will crumble, and the Great Ash-Drift will cover all.”

After the chief lapsed into silence, Stenn rose. “The Great Ash-Drift will cover all - but not yet! And not within our children’s children’s lifetimes. We speak defiance to Herd Thinner. We resist Spreading Thin. We fight Spark-Stealer! I, Stenn Bearclaws, am given a Vision Journey by our chief. I will find and slay whatever Cold-Lover has made pact with The Great Devourer, that our people may be safe from the Red Snow for another generation!”

Read onward...

Ursus, the Great Bear

Ursus is one of the most powerful — if not the most powerful — of the Spirits revered by the peoples of Endless Rime. It is said that he resides in the Deepest Cave, and that Gray Coyote carries the spirits of the deceased to him. Ursus is associated with violence, strength, and explosive force.

Recap of the previous scene: the leading men of Clan Moose Rock held a late-night ceremony in which they successfully invoked the powerful intervention of an array of spirits — including Ursus, Valdghar, and Arctos. This invocation ceremony was spurred by recent increases in the frequency of bujant attacks and by the previous night's Red Snow, an ominous event indeed.

At the end of the previous scene, a potent conjunction of spirits' willpower occurred, and a wolf bounded into the clearing, then leapt across the fire at Stenn! It is at this point that the current scene commences...

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Stenn didn't even flinch. Not only was he somewhat disconnected from the physical, in his current trance state, but also that same state of elevated awareness — The Sharphening — allowed him to perceive more quickly, more fully. Even as the wolf jumped, Stenn knew all was well. So he scrunched forward on the ground toward the fire, so that when the wolf bowled into him he was knocked flat on his back rather than painfully into the log he'd been leaning against.

As the wolf made contact with Stenn, only its front paws connected. Stenn was knocked flat, and the wolf's momentum carried it onward; it leapt the log, claws churning icy dirt as it scrabbled to get turned around. Within four heartbeats, it was back and licked Stenn in the face. Drogan, having risen and drawn back his spear, refrained from attacking, his face registering surprise. "Is that the—"

"Yes!" Ghindar said, rising with aid from his walking staff. "That is the bujant that attacked last night, only ... the foul spirit is gone."

"Something is strange, though," said Drogan. "Wolves don't behave this way."

"Some do," interjected Chief Hrowaka. "Remember the wolf that Rhekla and Jenkla had when we adopted them after defeating Clan Lion's Path? You remember, it was a cub. They called it ... Juga?"

"Joora," said Drogan. "Yes, I had forgotten. I wanted to slay it and you stayed my hand," he said to the chief.

"Ordna. Her name is Ordna," said Stenn. "Ursus sent her," Stenn declared, ruffling the fur on the back of the wolf's neck.

"Stenn is right," Ghindar pronounced. "The Spirits have sent us this boon, after driving the evil entity out of ... Ordna. In doing this, they spat in the face of The Undoer."

Stenn paused in petting Ordna, stared thoughtfully into the flames for a moment then he turned and studied Ordna more carefully. "You're right, Ghindar. This is the same wolf I clubbed on the snout last night. I can see the dried blood on her muzzle. Stenn stood, took a step toward the fire for warmth. Ordna pushed underneath his hand, joining him.

Stenn considered the success of the ritual. Had any of them dreamed it would be this successful? No, they had not.

"What does this mean for my vision quest?" Stenn asked. He directed the question to the chief, who in turned arched an inquiring eyebrow at the shaman.

Ghindar sat down on the log. "It means you have gained a staunch companion," he proclaimed.

"Wrong. He has gained two," declared Drogan, stepping forward and tapping the butt of his spear on the frozen ground for emphasis.

Stenn waited five heartbeats for the chief or shaman to object, then clapped Drogan on the shoulder. "Thank you, old friend."

"No thanks are needed," said the hunter. "Someone has to hunt or you'll starve to death." Four chuckles created a bass harmony in response.

"You leave at first light," the chief decided. "Get what rest you can, although I don't suppose Stenn and Jenkla will do much sleeping." This time, only three chuckles but Stenn laughed quietly. Then he turned to Ghindar. "How will we know where to go, what we are looking for?"

The shaman patted the air in front of him placatingly, reassuringly. "You will not need to worry about that. The Spirits are clearly intervening. They will guide you — through hunger and frost, through fight and flight, through—"

"Through life and death!" all four said in unison.

Late Night, Moose Rock — November 07, 35386 B.C.

---

? a line starting with a question mark signals we’re asking the oracle a question.
-> a right-pointing arrow indicates the oracle’s response
> a right-facing angle-bracket shows PC action
:d dice pool roll
=> shows consequences/outcomes
{ Text inside braces is the Star Spirit, speaking in Stenn’s mind. }
Italicized text without curly braces denotes Stenn’s private thoughts.
Bold text indicates player thoughts and explanations.

---

As we enter this Scene, I'm envisioning that the leading men of Clan Moose Rock will now hold a ceremony in which they'll try to invoke powerful intervention from an array of spirits. Chaos Factor has increased to 6, after the bujant attack and the Red Snow.

? Do I need to check the scene for change? 
-> Percentile roll 42 (60% chance): Yes, check
? Is it in fact changed (30% chance)? 
-> Percentile roll 44: No

The scene proceeds as I had envisioned it. Stenn and three other clan leaders will partake in an invocation ceremony while sharphened. The shaman will call upon Arctos; the hunter upon Herne; the chief upon Valdghar, and Stenn upon Ursus.

Most of The People had retired to their frostdens. The bonfire had eaten itself down to a broad bed of hot coals, to which Stenn only occasionally added a stick or larger chunk of wood. No women were present. The only men besides Stenn were Chief Hrowaka, Shaman Ghindar, and Drogan Elkfist — the clan's best hunter. They were wrapped in their furs. Fortunately, it was not windy.

The chief leaned forward to deeply inhale vapor given off by Ghindar's rock which was affixed atop the shaman's staff — a rock that for all the world resembled a moose standing upon a boulder; a rock gifted to the Clan generations ago, the stone was heavy, deeply black, and glossy. It was a rock ... and yet more than a rock. The chief had taught Stenn a decade ago that a thing could be multiple things at the same time.

And so Stenn carefully controlled himself as the shaman brought the rock to him, held it under his nose. He breathed in deeply, relaxed. He sighed as the vapors took effect and his senses sharphened even as tension melted out of him. The stone had no holes, was not porous, but the vapor it emitted was real enough. It smelled like the scent of pine resin in an evergreen wood. Stenn watched as Drogan inhaled, then as Ghindar seated himself on the opposite side of the fire from the chief and dosed himself.

Stenn's thoughts clarified, took on sharp edges. He noticed tiny details illuminated by the campfire: the vibrant hues of the red, orange, and yellow flames were vivid and dynamic, dancing in mesmerizing patterns. The way the smoke curled and wove through the air took on an intricate beauty, almost looking like a living entity — and Stenn felt the vast presence of something ... Other and knew that it was always there even if he wasn't usually aware of it.

Body, Mind, and Spirit are in heightened synergy while one is sharphened (see Terminology), bringing into focus a derived attribute called Forte.

Ghindar loudly intoned, "Arctos the Mighty, gift us your wisdom and strength!" A chorused ululation erupted (boosting Ghindar's effort by adding another die to his dice pool) from men of the camp who were listening near the openings to their frostdens. The People knew that this joint outcry would keenly draw the great stag's attention. At the same time, it allowed the men to vent their anger and grief at Norda's passing. Women grieved in silence, of course, so that only Malachai would take heed, and would receive their tears as rain unto the harvest, blessing the next crops the clan planted.

Let's see how successful is the shaman's invocation. For this, Ghindar's Anima — 5 — is applicable (Ghindar gets +1 die for tribal ululation and +2 dice for his Trait Disciple of Arctos):

That's two Successes, and did you notice the pair of three's? That increments the Twist Counter to 1 (we ignore further doubles if part of the same roll).

Drogan Elkfist raised his voice, "Herne, disrupt the fell spirits of the forest! Frustrate their efforts to sully your children, and grant us your benison against all bujant!"

Drogan's Anima is four, and he has no Traits to help with this invocation. He's not a PC in the usual sense, but since he'll be acting as one (stay tuned), I'm allowing him to have a pool of Adversity Tokens. He recognizes the grave importance of this ceremony, in view of the recent Red Snow and clan deaths, so he spends two of his four Adversity Tokens to bolster his invocation effort — bringing his dice pool to six (4 from Anima + 2 from Adversity Tokens). Let's see how he makes out:

Whew! Good thing he used the Adversity Tokens, too; even with them, he got only a single Success (remember that a 5 or 6 result in a dice pool counts as a Success). But it is a success, and that's what matters. Doubles again: Twist Counter increments to 2.

The air thickens, and the fire — though not stoked — rises higher. Stenn's heightened sense of smell detects the tell-tale odor of concentrating spiritual presence. Ah, there it is. { It's called ozone }. Stenn mentally shook his head: the Star Spirit said some really strange things, sometimes.

From across the fire, the chief gives a perceptible nod. It's Stenn's turn.

Stenn doesn't think he's as connected to the spirit-world as are the chief and the shaman. And damned if he doesn't credit some of Drogan's hunting exploits to Herne. And so Stenn, knowing it will sap him but also that he can soon sleep, pours himself into his invocation (i.e., he's spending three of his five Adversity Tokens). His Anima is four. Adding the three tokens swells his pool to 7, and the Star Spirit, his enigmatic helper, makes it 8 total):

"Great Ursus, whose claws can carve our enemies, we ask your aid and protection. Trample our foes in the world of spirits, and guide our clan out of our recent kulva!"

Damn! A single Success out of eight dice. And of course Stenn's roll has doubles, because that increments the Twist Counter to 3, triggering a roll of the Twist Dice and resetting the Twist Counter to zero. Twist dice result (on 2d6):

Snake Eyes! And another double (Twist Counter rises to one). Looking this up on the Determine The Twist table, I get "A third party appears". Hmm...

Stenn senses how close he came to failure, and he senses something more, something familiar ... getting nearer...

"Valdghar!" shouts Chief Hrowaka, hear your Son! May your axe severe the arms of our enemies, the spirits of our foes!"

The chief has lost his life-mate, Norda. He knows he is dying, diseased. And he knows that if the spirits do not lend significant aid soon, his trible may be decimated. And so, though it requires digging deep, he spends all four Adversity Tokens in his invocation attempt. That's Anima 4 plus 4 tokens, for 8; then he has the Son of Valdghar trait: dice pool is now at 10, and he Pushes His Luck, adding a eleventh die, the Luck Die...

Four Successes! Outstanding! And, the Twist Counter rises to two. The chief's margin of success results in some spirit-world synergy: Ursus and Stenn's Star Spirit are perhaps collaborating. At any rate, what happens next is most unexpected. Its nature comes from Stenn's Twist Die roll, while the magnitude (the reveal will be in the next AP) reflects the chief's margin of success.

The intensity of the illumination coming from the bed of coals in the mostly-consumed bonfire redoubles, and a single knife-sharp wind cuts through the circle of men, and then a wolf bounds from the forest shadows into the firelight, leaping over the fire in an arc toward Stenn Bearclaws!

Read onward...

Sages in later ages would be unclear as to whether Valdghar was a distinct demi-god, or an aspect of Crom acclimatized to southern warrior tribes and barbarians. Valdghar appears as a brawny barbarian with black hair and cold blue eyes. He wields a broad-bladed battle-axe and rides a woolly mammoth into combat. He values strength and brave feats of arms. Sages believe he instills his bravest and most loyal warriors with an inspiring bloodlust. The barbarian tribes that ranged across the most northern climes, many centuries after the days of Stenn Bearclaws, worshipped Valdghar exclusively. The Valdghardt barbarians of that time consisted of a number of small distinct tribes, such as Cougar Claw, Black Wolf, Green Griffon, Three-Eyed Raven, Horned Stag, Great Moose, Blood Moon, and others. They had their own dialect, totems, worldviews, and spiritual beliefs. The tribes were fiercely independent but willing to ally themselves with neighbouring tribes for security or war.

Arctos the Mighty is a poweful enjant, the protector of forests, and co-guardian of Nature with Voltus the Green Man and with Venator Of The Antlers.

Ghindar Moose-Man, Shaman of Clan Moose Rock
Age: 60, d.o.b. 4/4/33,446 B.C

Ghindar has been shaman of the Moose Rock clan for over two decades. He is a disciple of Arctos.

Traits:

• Disciple of Arctos: +2 dice when invoking Arctos
• Stag form once daily for up to one hour
• Elder Wisdom: +1 die when discerning truth/lie & when resisting magic/spirit

Chief Hrowaka of Clan Moose Rock
d.o.b. Thursday, January 11, 35448 B.C.

Traits:

• Valdghar's Charge: +2 dice when charging a foe
• Axe-Arm: +1 dice to any dice-pool for axe attacks
• Masterful Tannery: his self-made leather armor negates 1 Body stress tracker tick per attack
• Son of Valdghar: +2 dice when invoking Valdghar

to sharphen; experience of sharphening

Sharphening occurs when a drug or trance state elevates the senses and expands the mind. A sharphened state is often characterized by enhanced awareness of the spiritual realm, and by the mind making connections and intuitive leaps. Body, Mind, and Spirit are in heightened synergy while one is sharphened (see Terminology), bringing into focus a derived attribute called Forte.

Stenn Bearclaws, the primary protagonist in the Endless Rime campaign. Here is a 12.26.25 character sheet snapshot.

Stenn is Drogan Elkfist's closest friend, and is life mate of Jenkla.

Traits:

• Affable: add +2 when participating in social activities, to reflect poise/bearing/looks
• Thuggishly strong: +1 to break, bend, lift, and in melee combat
• Star Spirit: a powerful cipher for which Stenn is the key; can add +1 to dice pool occasionally