Iron-Norm, Session 6: Pre-Fight Jitters

 Norm ran fast through the darkened streets, his speed borne of fear. If his best memory recollection came from being intoxicated and hovering near the void, his best thinking was accomplished when nothing but the howl of the wind filled his ears as his legs pumped and churned to propel him forward.

“What if I’m making the wrong decision? Throwing the fight… a lot of people are going to be pissed at me. And if I leave to go after Casey, who is the mob going to go after? Meringue, maybe not, but Lucy and the Smiling Orc almost definitely. So what do I do?”

Norm weighed his options until finally he came within view of the textile factory, closed up for the night and shrouded in darkness. He thought that he could hear a dull roar coming from inside. Out of instinct, he went to the side worker’s entrance and knocked. A small slit in the door at eye height opened up, and Norm could see the interior where some lanterns illuminated the hallway behind the figure at the door. Norm spoke, “Norman Riggs, I’m here to fight.”

“You’re late,” the voice behind the door said, shortly before metal clattered and locks were opened just before the heavy iron door swung ajar slightly. Norm waited for it to open fully, but when it didn’t, he shoved it forcefully to make his way inside. A shirtless man stood on the other side of the door, his body adorned in foreign tattoos and a large club in his hands. He spoke to Norm as he pointed with the club, “In there.”

Norm walked down the hall, catching the sound of a low droning buzz of a rowdy crowd as he approached, full of cheers, boos, and awws. Soon Norm found himself climbing a set of metal stairs looking around at the maze of catwalks over the factory floor, where the machines had been pushed aside to form a fence around the open ground. Two combatants were going at it, standing up and dodging blows from one another as the crowd raged on. Then, overhead someone shouted, “There he is! The main event!” and Norm found the unwanted attention of hundreds of onlookers as the crowd grew quiet. The distraction was enough for one of the fighters to get a dirty hit in, knocking the other fighter clean out. 

A spokesman entered the arena by squeezing through some of the pieces of machinery, lifting high the hand of the victor of the fight, and announcing, “A dirty win is still a win! Victory goes to Markolby!”

The announcement was met with a mixed crowd, half derision and half cheers. Norm found himself transfixed, staring out at the onlookers who had resumed their excited ranting and raving. Norm jumped as he felt a firm grasp on his shoulder and locked onto the stranger’s wrist with the intent to throw them over the edge of the catwalk, but he was able to stop himself when he saw that it was a teenage boy with a scared look on his face.

The boy had to yell to be heard over the crowd, “M-Mr. Riggs, I’m supposed to take you to the backroom to get you ready for your fight.”

Norm nodded and gestured for the boy to lead. He led him over, under, and around the various catwalks until finally, they made it to the factory floor. They walked to the south end of the building, where they climbed one last set of stairs up to a manager’s office with smoked glass windows overlooking the factory floor. Inside was Norm’s blackmailer, the guard he suspected was named Tristandrew, and a rotund fellow with a mustache and an expensive suit. The suited man stood up with some effort and extended his hand to Norm, “Howdyado? Ren McGuire, I manage this mill.”

When Norm didn’t return the handshake, the guard stepped forward and said, “Now, now, Norman. That’s not very polite. It’s a good thing you don’t need an introduction. I hope you’re ready. The folks in Hirsham’s camp tell me that he’s ready to rip your head off.”

Norm broke his silence, “Yeah, well, he can fuckin’ try. I need a drink. Can’t fight without it.” 

Ren gestured at the boy who had led Norm to the office, and he scampered away. The guard spoke again, “There’s a lot of money riding on your fight. Be sure to give people a good show. Folks will be betting on you all the way up to the third round, at which point bets will no longer be taken.”

Norm didn’t react, keeping silent and staring blankly at the wall behind Ren, thinking to himself, “I have to win, for Lucy’s sake. This guard be damned.”

Norm nodded simply. The boy soon returned with a mug with a dark amber liquid threatening to froth over the edge of the mug. Norm gruffed, “Next time, tilt the tankard to the side when you pour, and it won’t bubble so much. There’s some free advice for you.”

The boy offered a weak smile as Norm lifted the mug up and drained it all in one go. Norm wiped the foam from his facial hair and gave the mug back to the boy before turning to the window and looking down and out. A pair of men carried the losing fighter from the arena while mopping some blood from the mill floor.

“Alright,” Norm said, “I’m ready.”

Ren replied, “Go wait by that spinning jenny. You’ll know when to enter.”

Norm wasn’t sure which machine that was, but he descended the stairs, spitting over the edge as he did. He watched as his wad fell down to the floor, where it landed with a splat. When Norm made it to the mill floor, he picked a machine and went and sat down near one of the levers. It was a complex thing, pieces of string connected across some spools and strange mechanisms that he wasn’t familiar with.

Norm heard the crowd's din and tried to listen to what they said but couldn’t make out specifics. They seemed anxious, or at least that was the feeling that Norm attributed to them, that of being on the cusp of something great but not knowing what to expect. Norm twanged one of the pieces of string and found it to be quite taut. He nervously plucked at the string, alone and out of view of the crowd, until something moving in the shadows caught his eye.

Norm squinted and could see that it was the boy who had brought him to the office and gave him his beer. Norm  did his best to whisper, “You there, boy, what are you doing?”

The boy’s face adopted a startled expression, but he didn’t step forward.

“If you’ve got something to tell me, out with it before your boss catches you. You could”

COMPEL

If you lie or swindle, roll +shadow

1d6+shadow(2) = 6 versus 5 / 3, Strong Hit

On a strong hit, they’ll do what you want or share what they know. Take +1 momentum. If you use this exchange to Gather Information, make that move now and add +1.

“M-m-mr. Riggs, I think you’re in danger. There are people here to get you. I heard them saying that after the fight, they were going to make you pay.”

Norm’s mind raced, knowing that he wouldn’t have time to ask the boy questions, so he wanted to ask the right question. Instead, he continued to pluck the strings of the machine.

GATHER INFORMATION

When you search an area, ask questions, conduct an investigation, or follow a track, roll +wits. 

1d6+wits(2)+1 = 5 versus 3 / 3, Matching Challenge Dice

“Did they talk about Vlad? Or Niko?” Norm sputtered out, quickly

The boy nodded, “Yes, for what you did to Niko.”

“That’s a good lad, now run off before they catch you back here,” Norm said to him, “And what’s your name?”

“Bertrude,” he said shortly before disappearing into the darkness.

Norm held the last vibrating string of the textile machine in place, causing it to stop moving. He thought to himself, “So the Denim Road gang is here to get their revenge then, huh? They think the only time they can come for me is when I’m tired after a prizefight. They got a big storm coming.”

Norman held the string between his fingers, pinching and rolling as he wondered how best to deal with this. Lucy wasn’t here and wouldn’t be watching, so there was no way that she could help. Casey was probably halfway to Asnor by now, and Meringue’s wheelhouse was in dealing with investors and bookstores. Norm felt utterly alone but not afraid. 

He plucked the string again, sending it vibrating, but Norm couldn’t hear it over the crowd above. Instead, he traced the string with his eyes to where it went higher up the machine, where the machine had shut down with the strings intertwining and weaving where they had been used to make some sort of fabric.

“This string is just like my problems. They’re all connected and fucked up at the ends. I have to end this. Just like Drezz. Total destruction.”

Norm swore to himself: I will end the Denim Road gang. No loose threads before I leave Rockhome.

SWEAR AN IRON VOW

No Loose Threads in Rockhome, Rating = Extreme

Roll 1d6+heart(1) = 7 versus 9 / 10, Miss

On a miss, you face a significant obstacle before you can begin your quest. Envision what stands in your way (Ask the Oracle if unsure), and choose one. I choose -2 Momentum.

The task before him wouldn’t be an easy one. It was all connected, and the thought of it was nearly overwhelming to Norm: Tristandrew, the Denim Road gang, and their connections in the illicit businesses operating in the shadows of Rockhome. To be free, Norm would have to expose them all, rip the veil off of them and make it to where they could never operate again. It wouldn’t be easy, and every day that he spent here was another day that Casey would be getting further and further away, but it would be worth it knowing that Lucy was safe and that when Norm brought Casey home, he could have a blank slate, too.

Norm’s contemplation was shattered as he realized that the announcer’s booming voice could be heard from the arena, “Spectators, take your seats and turn your attention to the arena. The main event starts in just two minutes!”

Norm inched his way to the gap between the pieces of machinery and could see the arena was clear, and the announcer was walking his way. Norm stepped into the space to speak with him.

“Norman Riggs, the main event,” he said, extending his hand forward awkwardly. 

The announcer returned it, “Philary Hoskins, at your service,” the man said, releasing his hand and offering a flourish.

“Hey, listen, I was thinking that surely a man of your flair and showmanship could really get the crowd going, right? I really want them to be hype for the event, and I’ll put on a better show, and we’ll really feed off each other, you know?” Norm asked

“But of course, sir! Yes, yes, the crowd is quite hype already. Did you have something in mind?”

“Yeah,” Norm nodded, “Yeah, I do. There are lotsa gangs in attendance, and I think that if you challenged them to represent and see who could make the most noise, that would really add to it all. This is a safe zone or something, right? All the gangs know that there’s no fighting in here, so what’s the harm?”

“Well,” Philary said uncertainly, “I’m not sure that Ren would want such a thing, just in case things do turn ugly.”

“Oh, what’s the harm?” Norm asked

COMPEL

Trickery and deceit

Roll 1d6+shadow(2) = 6 versus 5 / 10, Weak Hit

On a weak hit, as above, but they ask something of you in return. Envision what they want (Ask the Oracle if unsure).

ACTION / THEME ORACLE: LEARN & TRADE

The announcer spoke, “It’s not that Mr. McGuire wouldn’t allow it, you see. It’s just that in a cheer-off like that, I’m sure that one gang would be angry if I declared the other the winner. I’m afraid that they’d follow me home and...well, you know, do what these violent gangs do.”

Norm replied, “Well, if you’re really worried about that, I would tell you to stop doing work like this around gangs. Secondly, let me show you a little move that can take down even the mightiest of men. You just…”

Norm took a step back and then brought his foot up forward in a kick, stopping just shy of striking Philary in the crotch, “And then when they’re down on the ground, you’ve got options. You can kick sand in their eyes, give them a kick to the head, or hell, even run away. How’s that sound?”

Philary looked delighted, “Alright, alright, very funny. Yes, I think I could do that. But, not to worry, I know exactly which gangs are here. Oh, heavens, look at the time. The fight starts now!”

Philary ran back towards the arena, pausing just at the edge of the light to straighten himself up, and adopted a booming voice, “AND NOW, THE EVENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, THE UNRESTRICTED FIGHT BETWEEN GAMLI “THE GATE” HIRSHAM AND “STORMIN’” NORMAN RIGGS!”

The crowd cheered. From across the way, Norman watched a mountain of a man, easily 7 feet tall and equally as much wide, lumber into the arena. Norm walked out in the light, doing his best to appear nonchalant.

Philary spoke again, “But first, let me hear the crowd get loud!”

The crowd roared in response, so loud that Norm could feel the sides of his head vibrating as Philary continued, “It’s time for a sound off! Represent! Let me hear it from the Baker’s Dozen!”

A group of gangsters sitting on top a long, cylindrical machine hooped and hollered. The boys from the bakery certainly looked like they never missed any meals.

Philary kept going, “And now, get loud, Denim Road!”

Norm noted their position, all gathered together seated on a catwalk that spanned across the side of the arena opposite the Baker’s Dozen, watching as they clapped and whistled. Their telltale denim jackets looked crisp in the light. 

Philary flared and pointed to another section of the catwalk, shouting, “And the Copper Hands! Let me hear you!”

The leather-clad gang banged on the catwalk loudly with their signature metal gloves, producing the most ruckus as Norm could hear. But, looking about, he realized that there were plenty of other non-gang members in the crowd, easily two hundred people sitting atop machines, across catwalks, and even some watching from the skylight above. Norm soaked all of this in, knowing that the fight would begin soon.

“Well, alright then, it sounds like the Copper Hands are here in full force! But enough about that, it’s time for the fight! Here are the rules! The most important rule is that if a fighter goes down, the referee, that’s me, will count to ten.”

Philary paced across the arena, continuing, “ If they don’t get up after ten, they lose! This is a three-round fight! If after three rounds nobody has gone down, the crowd decides!”

The wheels in Norm’s mind were placed in motion, “So that’s why I have to throw it, according to Tristandrew. I’m the crowd favorite, so of course, they’ll say I won.”

Philary crossed the arena again, “There are no weapons allowed! Fighters must remain on this side of the arena’s walls! But that’s enough from me! Fighters, are you ready?”

Norm realized that he had been standing there, arms limply at his sides, observing all of his surroundings. He put one foot in front of the other to assume a fighting stance and gave a serious nod to the announcer.

Across the arena, Hirsham put the palms of his hands together and bowed slightly. 

“FIGHT!” Philary yelled, quickly moving out of the way.

Iron-Norm, Session 5: Blinded by the Light

“I’ve got business to attend to. Let’s go back out to the bar. And seriously, Norm, don’t stress about it. Just go to the fight, and we’ll figure it out from there.” Lucy opened the door and walked through, with Norm following right behind her. Norm found himself unable to escape the watching eyes of the table of gamblers.

“I could tell them,” he thought, “I could tell them that they’re all going to lose their money.”

Norm took a seat at the bar with his back resting against the counter, staring back as the table slowly resumed their activities.

“No, no. If I told them, they’d cancel their bets, and then the guard would take it out on Lucy. Best to just stay the course. But still, I’m not helpless,” Norm thought, taking a drink as Lucy offered it to him from behind the counter.

“Say, fellas,” Norm boomed his voice towards the gamblers, “That bookie who was here just now, what’s his name?”

GATHER INFORMATION

Roll 1d6+wits(2) = 4 versus 2 / 5, Weak Hit

The information complicates your quest or introduces a new danger. Envision what you discover (Ask the Oracle if unsure), and take +1 momentum.

 

Ask: Do the gamblers know the guard’s real identity? Unlikely, 76+ : roll 1d100 = 93, Yes!

“Who, Tristandrew?” one of the gamblers who looked like he had too much to drink said, right before being elbowed in the stomach by another.

Another spoke up, “No, no idea, Norm. Should you really be drinking before you’ve got to fight tonight?”

Norm looked him dead in the eye and lifted his glass up, tilting the tankard high until it nearly covered his face. He gulped, downing the drink to the last drop. However, when he lowered the cup, and his vision returned, he found himself seated at a wooden table, and the ground underneath him was rocking.

“Oh shit, here we go again,” Norm thought as he saw his own clawed hand gripping the cup. He realized now that the rocking motion was because he was on a boat. Seated across from him was one of the mates from the last vision he had, at the village on the cliff.

The companion lizardperson spoke, “And we don’t have anything to worry about, Drezz. The saying of the elders, ‘When you go out for revenge, dig two graves,’ you have heard it, yes? Well, we dig no graves because the buzzards will eat them!” 

The companion let out a laughing hiss, slamming his cup to the table. Drezz, or Norm, spit out, “Aleko, have you no respect for the dead? The gods will make us pay for what we did, and”

Aleko interrupted, “It will have to be the gods because there’s no one left to come for us. Besides, remember what they did to you! We couldn’t let that go. They kill one of ours, we kill all of them, it’s only fair!”

Norm felt the tension in Drezz’s muscles, a sort of full-body cringe as she leaned back in the chair.

Aleko continued, “And now, we live in peace. No more war between the tribes. Just as the shaman foretold, you will live a long life, and all of your enemies will be vanquished. It was the only decision that we had. No other choice would have mattered.”

Drezz stood, and Norm felt the pain and effort that it took for her to do so. Drezz looked down at her leg, and Norm could see the multibranched snaking lines of her lightning scar on her leg. She struggled against the swaying motion of the boat and made her way to the grog cask, filling up her mug. She looked at Aleko and spoke, “Just because it felt like what we had to do doesn’t make it right, shaman’s advice or not.”

She lifted the cup to take a deep drink, darkness filling her vision. Norman saw himself again, through the perspective of someone else, seemingly frozen in time, seated at the bar with his mug covering most of his face. 

“What am I supposed to glean from this, and who is telling me these things?” he managed to think before he snapped back to reality, spilling drink down his shirt. He remembered that he had been asked a question.

“I’ll do what I want, and it ain’t none of your concern,” he said, eying the crowd warily.

“They don’t care about me. They only want to make some money. They let slip some truth there, and I’d do best to find out what I can about this Tristandrew, but not from them and not on my own.”

Most of the gamblers looked away from Norm, and after a few more moments, the rest lost interest in him. He nursed his drink, turning the mug in his hands as he watched Lucy go about her business. He reckoned that he had a few hours to kill, and his best use might be to try and find some more information about Drezz, Aleko, and their tribal warfare.

When Lucy returned to the bar, Norm grabbed her attention, “I’m headed to The Light Library to try to figure some things out. Did you hear what they said the guard’s name was?”

Lucy nodded as she filled some mugs and clinked some of the money into her lockbox, “Tristandrew, it’s a start. I’ll see what I can get from them with some help from my friend, this cask of ale.” 

Norm smiled, “Ah, a friend in drink is a friend indeed. But, just to let you know, I’ll probably be going from the library straight to the mill if you wanted to go watch the fight.”

Lucy shook her head, “Bloodsport isn’t really my style. It was bad enough having to clean up yesterday after your mess, I don’t want to see what it looks like when several grown men beat each other to a pulp.”

“I hadn’t considered that. Fuck, she had to clean up after me in more ways than one.”

Norm grimaced, unsure how to respond. Finally, after a moment, he hopped off the stool and said, “Sorry. Well, I’ll be going now.,” as he walked out of the door in a hurry, not bothering to look back.

“What the hell is wrong with me? One of three people in the world that might give a shit about me, and I can’t even do right by them.”

Norm took off down the street, nearly running in an attempt to blow off steam. The wind blew past his ears, making a swooshing effect that helped to drown out the sounds of the city and whatever voices he might have to share his head with. He stopped running when he made it to the seawall, around the port, and with the Light Library within view. The structure towered over the harbor and most of the city behind Norm. 

Norm walked along the docks, watching as the harbormaster’s dolphins towed one ship out to sea, a crew preparing to fly the sails as soon as they hit open water. Norm made it to the base of the Light Library and approached the glass door. He saw the light pouring out from the eternal flame left by ancient peoples and amplified through a variety of mirrors and lens that paved the entire ground floor in brilliance. A large covering would be removed when nightfall came, and the light would journey to the sky to power the lighthouse.

But Norm turned his attention to the front desk, where a ravenkind sat with a pair of spectacles perched on their beak. Norm approached, “Howdy, I’m looking for a good place to start on some research for a book.”

The ravenkind did not look up from the book they were reading. Instead, they opened their beak slightly as someone’s voice, something with an Elvish accent spoke out, “Subject?”

Norm replied, “Well uh, let’s see... there are tribes of lizardfolk at war with each other. They’re seafaring, probably only along the coast, and they take guidance from a shaman. That’s about all that I know.”

The ravenkind looked up, their eyes an expression of annoyance as they looked beyond the rim of their glasses. Then, they spoke in a different voice, this one with the gruffness of a dwarf saying, “Ancient Peoples, section 27,” before looking back at their book.

It would be questionable whether or not the Light Library had exactly what they were looking for. So many of the sailors that came and went from this port brought and traded books as they went on their travels that the administrators had long ago embraced the chaos of the system, doing their best to put books into appropriate sections but never bothering to keep track of who had any of them. So Norm would have to look for this on his own.

GATHER INFORMATION

1d6+wits(2) = 8 versus 9 / 6, Weak Hit. On a weak hit, the information complicates your quest or introduces a new danger. Envision what you discover (Ask the Oracle if unsure), and take +1 momentum.

Norm browsed the Ancient Peoples section, looking over the collection of bound books, loose connections of papers bundled together, and even a couple of scrolls. Some of the titles were visible. Others had no title and required him to read a bit to see if it was relevant. After more than an hour of searching, Norm finally found something promising in the form of a stack of papers tied with a perpendicular tied section of twine. Underneath the string, there was a crudely drawn black and white triptych-style drawing of a lizardperson. The first panel depicted them standing in front of flames, the middle a lightning bolt bound straight for them, and the last panel depicted them standing atop a cliff. Unfortunately for Norm, this bundle of papers was in a language that he did not know; the script was sharp, full of strange slashes and edges.

Norm took the bundle and sat down at a nearby table. He thought as hard as he could in an attempt to decipher the text. Through exploring his mind in the past, Norm had found that if he opened his mind up to those who came before him, he was sometimes able to channel what they knew. Norm stared at the page until his eyes lost focus, attempting to turn himself into a blank slate.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ RECALL: When you assess a situation, make preparations, or attempt to gain leverage, envision your action and roll

RECALL: When you reconnect with the memories of your past lives, roll +wits.  On a strong hit, add the value of your action die to your Recall track (max 6). You may then Secure an Advantage, Strike, or Face Danger +Recall to channel the force of past lives. If you do, suffer -1 Recall and take +1 momentum on a hit.  On a weak hit, as above, but capturing these energies is harrowing; Endure Stress (2 stress).

1d6 +recall(5) = 8 versus 5 / 5, Strong Hit and Match!

Norms' eyes had glazed over, but now looking at the manuscript, he had the strange sensation of now being able to instantly recognize what the words said. 

“THE SAGA OF THE RED FEATHER CLAN” 

Norm blinked and rubbed his eyes, unable to fathom what had just happened, “I can read this language now? The language of what, the ‘Red Feather Clan?’ This is the closest I have ever come to know exactly the story of one of the people in my head. At least now I know I wasn’t going crazy.”

Norm flipped the pages, hoping to stitch together the story of Drezz and Aleko. Surely enough, their story was written down, although it was compiled here by a lizardfolk historian named Evka. Drezz’s daughter, who was to succeed her as matron of the Red Feather Clan, was murdered by Ice Rock Tribe members because they feared her daughter’s magic powers. Drezz, distressed, sought out the shaman for holy advice. The shaman told her that only total retribution would suffice for what the Ice Rock Tribe did to her. But the shaman spoke to Drezz in secret: if Drezz had her revenge, she too must die, or else the gods would send someone to strike her down. 

Drezz bore this secret, keeping it from everyone, even her mate Aleko. After they had slaughtered the Ice Rock Tribe, Drezz was struck by lightning. Drezz knew it to be a sign that the gods were angry at her, but to her battlemates, this was a sign of power. Drezz and her warriors sailed back home, and the Red Feather Clan was plagued with hardship for many years. Finally, Drezz, knowing that it was all her fault, flung herself from the cliff.

The manuscript seemed to be full of marginalia and footnotes from the historian Evka. Norm pieced together another curious facet: Evka, the historian, lived in Asnor. Norm returned the manuscript to the shelf and made his way to the building’s exit.

“Maybe gods are looking down on me, smiling with cruelty as I navigate the labyrinth of this life and many others. Now I can finish this book, and on time for once. Just need to piece together a few more memories, and Meringue can edit the hell out of it.” 

Norm was so distracted by his research and surrounded by the brilliant lamps of the eternal flame in the Light Library that he hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was dark when he walked out of the structure. Norm was late for his fight night.

Iron-Norm, Session 7: Fight Night

 Norm inched his way forward, stopping just shy of halfway crossing across the arena. Hirsham stood at least two heads taller than him and had a much longer reach. Norm watched him move with some difficulty, almost waddling forward. Moving his mass was clearly an effort. If Norm was going to win this one, he would have to get clever, and make Hirsham work twice as hard.

ENTER THE FIGHT

Formidable opponent: 1 Progress per harm, inflicts 3 harm

Facing off against your foe

Roll 1d6+heart(1) = 4 versus 7 / 8 , Miss

On a miss, combat begins with you at a disadvantage. Pay the Price. Your foe has initiative.

PAY THE PRICE

Make the most obvious outcome happen. Endure Harm seems the most obvious.

ENDURE HARM

-3 Health

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 9 versus 3 / 9, Weak Hit, Press On

Hirsham cleared the remaining distance with a quickness that Norm was not expecting. Norm tried to evade, but Hirsham caught hold of his shirt before pulling Norm in and squeezing him tightly. Norm could feel the air leaving his lungs and was having difficulty getting more air in. Norm struggled as hard as he could against the giant of a man.

CLASH

When your foe has initiative and you fight with them in close quarters, roll +iron

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 8 versus 4 / 6, Strong Hit

On a strong hit, inflict your harm and choose one. You have the initiative.

+1 Harm inflicted

Norm felt himself being lifted off the ground. Over Hirsham’s shoulder, he saw Philary, the announcer, who was wincing in pain. A thought flashed through Norm’s head, and he kicked, hard, right in the groin.

Hirsham dropped Norm and nearly doubled over in pain as his hands reflexively moved southward. This was a perfect opening. Norm maneuvered to Hirsham’s back side and sought to kick in the back of his knees to bring him down.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

When you Secure an Advantage +iron by engaging in close-quarters brawling (such as punching, tripping, or grappling), add +1. If you score a hit, you may also inflict 1 harm. Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1= 7 versus 5 / 4, 1 harm inflicted
Take control: Make another move now (not a progress move); when you do, add +1.

As Hirsham was already leaning forward, when Norm buckled his knees out from under him, the giant fell forward and landed on his face. Norm was not going to let up. He got a running start and grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, intending to drop an elbow on Hirsham’s head.

STRIKE

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 10 versus 8 / 9, Strong Hit

+1 Harm, You maintain initiative

Norm’s elbow met the back of Hirsham’s head with a crack that Norm could hear over the crowd. Norm scrambled to his feet, and stood over the man, preparing to strike again. However, Norm was stopped when Philary rushed forward and began counting a slow ten-count.

Norm’s vision blurred, and he saw himself again in third person, in the arena over Hirsham. When he blinked, he once again found himself in Drezz’s body, as his hands had transformed into claws. Norm found himself seated at a table, the map of some unknown area spread out in front of him. To his right, Aleko was pointing at one village, and said, “So if we can convince the Darkfang Tribe to war against the Rising Tail tribe, by the time they have done fighting it will be easy enough for our force to move in and take them both out. Trimekt is moving in now, spreading tales among the Darkfang about the mobilizing Rising Tail force, while Dremol is doing the same with the Rising Tails.”

Norm blinked and found himself back in the arena once again. Hirsham lay on his stomach, groaning. Philary was counting, “Three!”

Norm backpedaled to the piece of machinery where the Baker’s Dozen were seated, stretching his arms high above his head in an effort to appear casual. As he did, he looked up at a halfling with a diagonal slash scar across his face wearing an oversized chef’s hat. Norm spoke to him, “Heads up, but I heard that Tristandrew is planning on using the Denim Road Gang to collect debt from y’all as soon as this fight is over.” 

COMPEL

Roll 1d6+shadow(2)=5 versus 2 / 3, Strong Hit, +1 Momentum

The halfling’s face twisted from delight to anger, as he turned around to say something to the rest of his gang. Norm pivoted to face the inside of the arena, where Philary had begun to count, “Fou-” but was cutoff by Hirsham lifting himself up to his feet. Norm waited for Hirsham to make eye contact with him, and once again resumed his combative stance. This time, Norm taunted Hirsham by making a “Come here” gesture with his right hand.

The crowd roared in laughter, and Hirsham looked angry. Norm smirked. Hirsham moved forward, and Norm moved in for a high kick, in order to compete with Hirsham’s long reach. 

STRIKE

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 6 versus 7 / 8, Miss but Burning 8 Momentum to turn into a Weak Hit. +1 Harm, but Hirsham has the Initiative.

Norm has an inkling that what was going to happen would happen, but he did it anyway. When he found him foot firmly in Hirshams grasp, he hopped on his other foot for a moment before jumping in the air and flinging himself forward, freeing himself from Hirsham’s grasp but knocking the wind out of himself as he struck the ground. 

Norm knew he needed to break free, and fast. 

“How much time is left in this fuckin’ round, anyway?”

Norm did his best to put a leg up between himself and Hirsham, doing his best to shrimp away from him and looking for a chance to get back to his feet.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 9 versus 1 / 7, Strong Hit. +1 Harm

Prepare to act +2 momentum

As Hirsham prepared to grab Norm’s foot that was stuck up in the air, Norm kicked hard into Hirsham’s shin, using the force to propel himself away from Hirsham and standing up on his feet as the large man winced and hopped away.

To Norm’s relief, the textile mill’s bell rang out loud and continuously, and Philary announced, “TIME! That’s the end of the first round, take two minutes!”

Norm retreated back to the corner that he had entered in from, but there was nobody there waiting for him. He turned his attention to the Baker’s Dozen, many of whom were staring with visible scorn at the catwalk where the Denim Road Gang sat. In turn, the Denim Road Gang was staring directly at Norm. Once he noticed this, he looked away, and yelled, “What’s it take to get a damn drink over here?”

Norm looked about angrily, pacing in his corner and debating about what to do. Hirsham barely looked as if he was phased, but even after that first hit Norm found himself struggling to breathe. He took a moment to try to steady his breathing.

HEAL

When you treat an injury or ailment, roll +wits. If you are mending your own wounds, roll +wits or +iron, whichever is lower.

Roll 1d6+wits(2) = 6 versus 4 / 3, Strong Hit. On a strong hit, your care is helpful. If you have the wounded condition, you may clear it. Then, take or give up to +2 health.

Norm closed his eyes and focused on his breath, doing his best to drown out the crowd. After a moment, however, he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He looked down and saw the little lad Bertrude standing with a frosted mug of ale poured with no froth. 

“That’s a good lad, “ Norm said, tussing his hair and taking the mug. He turned it up and looked over the edge of it at the crowd. A stir was building, and he realized that they were still watching him. As he tilted the cup higher and higher the noise grew louder, and when he finished, he lifted his arms up to the sky as if in victory. The crowd roared with delight, just as Philary moved back to the center of the arena. 

“It’s time! For round 2! Fighters, are you ready?!”

Norm handed the mug back to the boy and said, “Thanks,” moving forward and resuming his fighter stance once again. Someone in Hirsham’s crew dabbed sweat from his brow and he moved forward, once again offering a bow. 

“Fight!” Philary yelled, quickly retreating out of the way as Hirsham charged at Norm.

“I underestimated his quickness,” was all Norm had time to think before he attempted to redirect Hirsham’s movement.

CLASH

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 5 versus 10 / 8, Miss. On a miss, you are outmatched and must Pay the Price. Your foe has initiative.

PAY THE PRICE

Most obvious outcome = Endure Harm

ENDURE HARM

-3 health

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 6 versus 3 / 5, Strong Hit

I choose: Embrace the pain: Take +1 momentum.

Hirsham charged directly at Norm, and Norm froze. When Hirsham struck Norm, he lifted him off of his feet and slamming him into the vertical column of one of the catwalks. Norm’s head made contact with the steel beam, causing his vision to black out momentarily. When it resumed, Norm had been dropped to his feet as Hirsham backed away. Norm saw an opening and threw a desperate punch as dropped to his back, once again hoping that his defensive turtling would save him. 

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 6 versus 4 / 2, Strong Hit. +1 harm.

I choose: make another move now and add +1

CLASH

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 9 versus 9 / 2, Weak Hit.

Inflict +1 harm, but Pay the Price. Hirsham still has the initiative.

PAY THE PRICE

It’s time for some trash talk. Let’s roll and see what happens

Roll 1d100= 98, A friend, companion, or ally is put in harm’s way (or you are, if alone).

Norm’s punch softly connected as he fell down, but it was enough to draw some blood from his nose. Hirsham stood over him, looking as if he were trying to solve the body mechanics puzzle that Norm had placed in front of him. Hirsham spoke for the first time, just loud enough for Norm and nobody else to hear, as he playfully batted at Norm’s wavering foot in the air, “You thought you were going to throw the fight?”

Hirsham let loose a laugh, clutching his belly as he backed away from Norm in the corner. Soon the crowd began to boo, and Norm heard cries of, “Get up! Fight on your feet! Be a man!”

Norm began to get angry, thinking to himself, “So this whole thing has been rigged more than one way? That settles it. I can’t throw the fight, or else they all might kill me.”

With swift fierceness, Norm kipped up to his feet, taking the fight to Hirsham as he let loose a primal roar as he held his fists aloft in the air, preparing to throw hammer blows at the giant. As he crossed the arena, a curious sensation flew across his body, and he looked around, feeling as if something were dangling behind him and dragging across the ground. Norm’s hand felt funny, and he looked at it, blinking, and realized that his fingernails had somehow transformed into claws. Norm held his newfound weapons in a claw-like grip, changing his fighting style up as he prepared to slash Hirsham. 

TURN THE TIDE

Once per fight, when you risk it all, you may steal initiative from your foe to make a move (not a progress move). When you do, add +1 and take +1 momentum on a hit.

Norm has the initiative!

STRIKE W/ RECALL

You may Strike with +recall to channel the force of past lives. Then suffer -1 recall and take +1 Momentum on a hit.

Roll 1d6+recall(4) +1 = 10 versus 10 / 1, Weak Hit. +1 Harm, Hirsham has the initiative once again

Norm got a few good licks in, his claw grabs inflicting tiny cuts across Hirsham’s face and shoulders. Hirsham managed to grab both of Norm’s hands by the wrists and held them tightly. The two struggled, engaging in a battle of pure strength that Norm knew that he was destined to lose. 

He looked about, trying to find a clock that would show him how long he needed to hold out until the space between rounds, but found no such clock. Norm did his best, but soon Hirsham had lifted him off of his feet, and Norm attempted to find footholds on Hirsham’s chest to climb but was having no luck.

Being face to face, Hirsham once again spoke, “This is pathetic. Once I am done with you, I think I’ll make my way to that tavern, The Smiling Orc. I’ll give Lucy a reason to smile.”

Just as Norm was preparing to lash out desperately, the textile mill’s shift change bell rang out once again.

“Saved by the bell,” Norm thought, as Hirsham released his grip on his wrists and Norm fell, landing on his feet. He backpedaled to his corner once again, where the lad Bertrude stood once again with a cold mug of ale.

“Mr. Riggs, I know that you can do it,” said the boy, as he handed him the ale, “And when all this is done, do you think that you could teach me to be like you?”

Norm started to open his mouth, started to begin a tirade about, “Why the hell would anyone want to be like me, a miserable bastard with a drinking problem and friends that he can count on one hand?” but he stopped himself, turning up the drink without fanfare.

In between gasping breaths, Norm spoke, “Sure thing, Bertrude. I’ll start right now. Here’s your first lesson: find friends and people that will always be there for you, and do everything that you can to be there for them.”

The boy looked up at Norm and nodded. It was clear that the lad was taking things to heart. Norm spoke again, “I’m not going to lie, kid. I could use some help right about now. I don’t have anyone else that I can count on, and you’ve come through for me. How about a little more help?”

SOJOURN

Roll 1d6+heart(1) = 5 versus 9 / 4, Weak Hit. 

I choose Recuperate: +2 health

“Sure thing, Mr. Riggs,” Bertrude looked across the arena and saw that Hirsham’s crew was daubing him with a towel.

“I’ll be right back!” the boy said, going around the corner and returning with an almost impossible quickness with a pail of water. 

The boy dumped the pail of water on the ground and flipped it over, pointing at it for Norm to sit down on. He then began pawing at Norm’s shirt, lifting it off of him and using a dry spot on it to soak the sweat off of Norman’s face.

The boy spoke, “He’s a big man. He likes to grab people and do what he wants with them. What can you do?”

Norm replied, “I’ve fought bigger men. I’ve just gotta be quicker than him, that’s all. If he falls to the ground, he can’t get back up. It’s like knocking a cow over, you ever done that?”

Bertrude shook his head no.

“We’ll go do it some time, as part of your training. Hey, listen kid. Things are going to get really ugly. When this fight ends, you gotta get out of here, there’s going to be a war. You know where Aetheridge Park is?”

The boy nodded, wringing out Norman’s wet shirt and trying to hand it back to him. Norm motioned, “No,” with his hand, and spoke again, “There’s a tavern near there called The Smiling Orc. There’s a lady that runs it. Get to her and tell her that I’ve been set up, and if she can’t find me, look for me at Stanley’s. You got all that?”

The boy nodded, just as Philary entered the arena once again. With a flair of showmanship, Philary spoke, “AND NOW, THE FINAL ROUND! After a strong opening, Stormin’ Norman has fallen into the meaty clutches of The Gate. There’s no more time for bets, let’s get this fight on! Fighters, are you ready?”

Norm stood up from the pail, grabbing it as he did so. Norm let loose a yell and flung the bucket to the outside of the arena, not bothering to assume a fighting stance this time. Across the arena, Hirsham did his best to stifle a laugh, which only further compounded Norm’s rage.

“Fuck this fight. Fuck Tristandrew, and fuck Denim Road. Fuck everything. If I don’t win this, I’m going to die.”

“Fight!” cried Philary.

Norm took a few steps forward into the arena and began circling about, Hirsham’s belly jiggling as he stood in place. Norm found himself on the side of the arena where the Baker’s Dozen was seated atop a piece of machinery. Norm waited for Hirsham, but he kept laughing.

Norm yelled and reached down, pawing at some of the dirt on the factory floor and throwing it up in the air, before looking up at the gang seated nearby. He once again addressed the halfling, “I’m with you, if you want to kick the shit out of Denim Road.” 

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead opting to run headlong at Hirsham before spinning off of him at the last second, hoping to reposition himself behind the big man once again before trying to lumberjack the tree.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 5 versus 6 / 6, Miss with matching challenge dice

Burning 7 Momentum! For a Weak Hit, Inflict 1 harm, gain +1 Momentum

Your advantage is short lived, take +1 Momentum

CLASH

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 2 versus 9 / 10, Miss

You are outmatched and must pay the price. Hirsham retains initiative

PAY THE PRICE

Rolling on the table because I don’t know how this is going to go

Roll 1d100 = 98 (seriously)

A friend, companion, or ally is put in harm’s way (or you are, if alone).

Hirsham stepped out of the way just as Norm came in for a low kick, and with a swiftness that once again surprised Norm for his size, forced Norm into a corner of the octagon formed by the pieces of machinery.

“I’m going to savor this,” Hirsham said, as the colossal shape of his being cut off any avenue of retreat for Norm, “You’re like a little piss ant. You bite and it annoys me. I’m going to break off your antennas, little piss ant.”

Hirsham reached forward and took hold of Norman’s ears, wrenching them hard. The pain was nearly unbearable, and Norm could see nothing except darkness and Hirsham blocking his every move.

ENDURE HARM

-3 health, now at 0

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 8 versus 6 / 10, Weak Hit. Press on.

Norm did the only thing that he could. He lashed out, kicking, punching, and even headbutting, just trying to make Hirsham hurt in any way that he could.

CLASH

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 4 versus 9 / 4, Miss. Pay the Price.

ENDURE HARM

-3 health at 0 = -3 momentum

Roll 1d6+iron(3)= 7 versus 2 / 1, Strong Hit

Take +1 Momentum 

There was nothing Norm could do besides defend himself. None of his punches were connecting, but at least Hirsham was taking his time in torturing him. Time meant that the clock was going to run out, and the fight would end, and maybe, just maybe, Norm could escape. 

"No way in hell I'm throwing this. I've got to be on my feet to get out of this pickle jar."

Norm paused his swiping for a single moment, feeling the warmth from Hirsham's breath as he laughed. Norm threw a punch straight for Hirsham's throat, hoping to get a bigger gap to act in.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1= 9 versus 10 / 10 Miss with doubles, Pay the Price.

I'm going to skip the Endure Harm and go straight to getting a condition: Wounded. I'll still suffer -3 momentum, too. 

Norm did his best to stifle a scream, but he couldn't contain it. He cried out in pain as Hirsham twisted harder. 

Then, suddenly, there was no noise. Norm only felt the vibration of the crowd against the piece of machinery that he was backed up to. He opened and maneuvered his jaw about, experiencing the uneasy sensation of being deaf. Norm yelled out, as loud as he could although he couldn’t hear it, “I’m not throwing this fight! You’re going to have to beat me forreal, you big stupid motherfucker!”

And Norm gnashed his teeth in an effort to bite Hirsham with a feral drive.

CLASH

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 9 versus 6 / 9, Weak Hit. +1 harm inflicted, Pay the Price.

The most obvious thing is that Hirsham continues to hurt Norm, Endure Harm

ENDURE HARM

-3 health (I’m already at 0, so this is -3 momentum)

Roll 1d6+iron(3) = 8 versus 2 / 3, Strong Hit, +1 Momentum

Norm ripped a chunk of Hirsham’s arm off and spat it directly into his face. Hirsham yelled something, but Norm couldn’t hear it. All Norm could see was an opening, and one that he needed to take an advantage of. Hirsham was looking in horror at his arm. Norm braced his arms against the machinery and kicked as hard as he could, hoping to once again create an opening to try and fell the foe.

SECURE AN ADVANTAGE W/ BRAWLER

(because it’s been working so well for me so far)

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 10 versus 3 / 4, Strong Hit. Inflict +1 Harm (10/10 progress on Hirsham’s track). Make another move now and add +1.

CLASH
(someone helpfully reminded me that I need a strong hit in order to End the Fight)

Roll 1d6+iron(3)+1 = 8 versus 6 / 1, Strong Hit. +1 Momentum. Norm has the initiative.

Norm pushed Hirsham with his legs so hard that he fell backwards, toppling over. Norm hopped off the corner and delivered a strong kick to Hirsham, right in the face. Still, Hirsham was moving. Norm knew that it was now or never. Norm couldn’t hear anything, but the need to end this fight was the loudest thing that he had ever heard in his own mind.

END THE FIGHT

When you make a move to take decisive action, and score a strong hit, you may resolve the outcome of this fight. If you do, roll the challenge dice and compare to your progress. Momentum is ignored on this roll.

Roll 2d6 = 4 / 4 versus 10 Progress. Strong Hit with matching challenge dice. 

Norm found himself being pulled off of Hirsham, as he pounded the big man’s face into the concrete floor of the textile mill. Hirsham was dead, so very dead, and Norm looked up to see the face of the halfling from the Baker’s Dozen tugging at Norm’s shoulder and pointing. Nearby, Norm could see some of the Denim Road Gang climbing down from the catwalks, making their way to the arena. 

Norm stood up and tried to make out the words that the halfling was saying, but instead opted to see the Baker’s Dozen crew taking a defensive stance in front of Norman, between him and the approaching Denim Road Gang. Norm knew that he had a choice. He could stand and fight and possibly die, or he could flee and hope to live another day.

“It’s all or nothing at this point. Besides, with the Denim Road Gang gone, I could lay low a little bit easier.”

The textile mill was a flurry of activity, but Norm could neither hear it nor see past the crowd that was quickly filling the flat arena floor. Norm yelled, “Don’t let any of them walk away from this!” as he moved alongside his newfound friends.

BATTLE

When you fight a battle, and it happens in a blur, envision your objective and roll. 

Norm is sort of depending on the Baker’s Dozen so…

Fight depending on your courage, allies, or companions: Roll +heart.

Roll 1d6+heart(1) = 7 versus 5 / 8, Weak Hit

On a weak hit, you achieve your objective, but not without cost. Pay the Price

PAY THE PRICE

Roll 1d100 = 47, 42-50 A new danger or foe is revealed.

Norm stayed true to his word. As the Baker’s Dozen worked together to fight the Denim Road Gang, Norm ruthlessly moved about, breaking all of their legs, one after another, with powerful kicks. He couldn’t hear the sound of their tibias shattering, nor the screams uttered as they rolled about the ground, with some clutching the exposed bone before passing out. Norm had just finished one of these moves when the halfling repeatedly tapped him on the waist.

Norm looked and saw that the had lost his oversized chef’s hat in the ruckus, and that he was pointing at the factory’s main door which was now flooded with guardsmen armed with sticks and nets, surely here to put an end to the chaos that Norm had caused. Norm yelled, “I will find you later!” to the halfling, and Norm ran, hoping to escape from the factory without being caught.

A notion occurred to Norm, as he saw himself very briefly through the familiar yet unfamiliar third person eye of another. Norm blinked, as he was becoming used to these helpful reminders of his past lives. When he opened his eyes, he found himself as Drezz, stuck in a small confined space. He realized that Drezz was hiding inside of a hollow tree trunk, with Aleko looking right back. Aleko placed a finger in front of his mouth in a, “Shh” motion, as dust fell from the top of the inside of the trunk. Norm realized something was walking directly over the top of them.

Norm blinked again and found himself in the chaotic conditions of the factory floor, with more people scrambling about and trying to escape. Norm looked for a good place to simply lay low, hide, and be quiet. 

FACE DANGER W/ RECALL

Roll 1d6+recall(3) = 5 versus 2 / 3 , Strong Hit. -1 recall, +2 Momentum.

It wasn’t a treetrunk, but Norm found a tall enough piece of machinery and simply crawled under before finding a section of machinery that could accommodate him sitting under it. 

This ain’t so bad. I could almost just...sleep…