Let's Play Lordsworn! Part 2: Faithless
Hello, broken servants of fallen gods. Let’s continue our playthrough moving on to The Journey Home. This phase is divided into four weeks, each with two events.
(...) with these Events progressively becoming more dire and deadly as the world around you crumbles in response to the Cataclysm and the death of so many Gods.
Each week also has two emotions that reflect the world’s and the Company’s state during that time in the journey. The events are rolled from tables corresponding to those emotions.
Week 1 (Events: Unaware and Panicked)
Your journey begins as a bittersweet contrast to the harrowing battlefield. The land shudders, but is not reeling yet from the death of Gods and the shedding of so much blood. People are still humane, wanting to assist where they can, and death seems a far away fear for your Lordsworns.
The first event of Week 1 is rolled on the Unaware table. There are two tables for each emotion to choose from. We should pick the results from the same table (1 or 2), but they aren’t applied in order. We roll 3d4 and assign each result to any entry of the chosen subtable.
Event 1
3d4 Unaware table: 3, 3, 4 = Travellers, Helpful, Appreciating
Lordsworns
Now we draw from our Lordsworn pool which ones will participate in the Event. Solo players have a pool of 5 and should draw 3 cards.
St. Quieteria of Stone, the Fervent Follower
Xoti Apollin, the Scarred Medic
Sven Strider, the Eagle Eyed Sharpshooter
Next, we create an opening narration for the Event.
Opening Narration
After the Cataclysm, the first thing they encountered was peace.
The Company, if they could still be called that, approached the campfire in the distance, the echo of laughter and the smell of burning fat inviting them. Weariness hung heavy on their shoulders and legs, and when the passing travelers waved them over, smiling and biting into the juicy meat, they stayed.
They didn’t stare at their fused bodies, accused them of being failures, or called them murderers. They simply said, “You must be exhausted. Rest a while.”
It hit them with a sense of relief, and the relief became guilt, for they didn’t deserve that kindness. They should be punished, but the world hadn’t caught up to their sins yet.
Resolution
Now we resolve the Event by rolling 3d4 for each Lordsworn and assign values to the Resolution Table:
Again, this isn’t locked in order. The results can be assigned to any of the entries above.
If failures outnumber successes, the Event failed and there are additional consequences.
Each Lordsworn can endure 2 wounds. A third one removes their card from play. If there are fewer than 3 remaining Lordsworns, the Company is broken (just like if Morale reaches 0).
The player is free to choose and detail the precise fate of the Lordsworn: did they perish? Are they now a burden the Company still tolerates? Are they now an unarmed member of the group, unable to help in any Events but still around? Or did they survive only to be abandoned by the Company?
There’s also a wound table:
St. Quieteria of Stone, the Fervent Follower: 3, 2, 1 = Success, 1 Wound (1/3), -1 Morale 3d4 Wound table: 2, 3, 4 = Torso, Could be worse, Barely noticeable
Xoti Apollin, the Scarred Medic: 2, 4, 4 = Failure, 0 Wounds, +1 Morale
Sven Strider, the Eagle Eyed Sharpshooter: 3, 3, 4: = Success, 0 Wounds, +1 Morale
Morale: 8
The event was a success, but St. Quieteria suffered a wound (1/3). Now all that’s left is to write the Closing Narration, describing how the event resolves according to the results. How to interpret the rolls is completely up to the player(s).
Closing Narration
The Company sat around the campfire, except for Sven Strider. He kept watch at a distance, his eyes heavy with the burden he carried, and his heart torn by grief and anxiety. The locket grafted in his chest guided him home, but he feared what awaited at the end of the journey. A loving embrace, or more disappointment?
Fat dripped and sizzled in the fire, spitting tiny flames around. The other Lordsworns welcomed the warmth in a world suddenly gone cold.
The travelers held strips of roasted meat, and laughed among themselves. One of them offered a piece to St. Quieteria. She gladly accepted and bit into it, moved by that simple kindness she didn’t deserve.
She chewed until her jaws hurt, finding her strength lacking as much as her faith. Meat juice ran through her chin.
Xoti stared intensely at the fire. One of the travelers said, “Hard to find game these last few days, but we make do and don’t mind sharing. There’s plenty.”
Xoti squinted hard. She studied anatomy for hundreds of hours as part of her medical training, and those bones crackling weren’t of any animal. She shot to her feet. “Quieteria…”
She noticed the smiles stretched on the traveler’s face, their wide-open eyes. “Today we feast, sister.” A blade flashed, and the man lunged at St. Quieteria of Stone. The dagger grazed her as she yelped and fell back, then Xoti trespassed him with a precise thrust of her estoc.
The others went for her, but quick shots boomed across the plains. Sven was ready. He slayed them in a heartbeat, spreading gore and brains around the camp.
St. Quieteria buried her face in her hands and wept. “Why?” she screamed between hiccups. “Why have you forsaken us? We devoted our lives to you, and this is what is left for us?”
Xoti knelt by her side and embraced her. “It’s not your fault. The mightiest of the Pantheon fell. Now it’s up to us to carry her will in this madness.”
Sven approached and helped them up. “Let us leave this behind. We survived the end of our Goddess, and now we have to suffer the end of the world. Maybe together we can see this through.”
They left without looking back, the smell of cooked meat still following them.
Event 2
3d4 Panicked table: 4, 4, 2 = Cleric, Frightened, Rescuing
Lordsworns
After the previous Event, all Lordsworn cards used go to the discard pile and we draw new ones. Of course, we only have 2 left. For the third, we shuffle the discards and draw one.
This ensures that all Lordsworns are used. However, I don’t like how it basically locks your picks. I’m doing this way for a week’s Events, but whenever I start a new week, I’m shuffling all cards and going for a fresh draw, then doing the discard for the second Event, and so on.
Athalos Gallant, the Noble Knight Jor’ilt Chekrov, the Wandering Spellblade St. Quieteria of Stone, the Fervent Follower
Opening Narration
The Company came across frantic shouting on the road. A cleric seemed to hold back a terrified and aggressive group of people, looking like a pillar in a storm.
She prayed and harangued at the crowd as it grew increasingly more maniacal. And then a powerful aura surrounded the cleric. When the first punch came her way, she blocked with her forearm and countered, dropping the attacker. This had a calming effect better than her prayers.
St. Quieteria of Stone recognized the energy working through the cleric. It was Mavos’ blessing.
This didn’t make sense. Mavos had been slain before her eyes. Her energy vanished from the world and left her soul an empty vessel. How could the cleric invoke the Goddess? Was the problem within Quieteria herself?
Athalos had their warhammer ready as Chekrov read the scene with his eyes and mind trained for magic.
Resolution
Athalos Gallant, the Noble Knight: 4, 4, 4! = Success, 0 Wounds, +1 Morale Jor’ilt Chekrov, the Wandering Spellblade: 4, 4, 2 = Success, 0 Wounds, -1 Morale St. Quieteria of Stone, the Fervent Follower: 2, 3, 3 = Failure, 0 Wounds, 0 Morale
Event resolution: success
Morale: 8
Closing Narration
“Do you see any spell work?” Athalos asked.
Chekrov searched for the shape of magic beneath the chaos. “The crowd is clean. If it’s a curse or magic, it comes from the cleric, but I don’t think so.”
“She’s actually summoning Mavos? How is that possible?”
“No, she’s… she’s channeling her own faith.”
St. Quieteria listened quietly to Chekrov’s assessment, and watched as Athalos stepped between the cleric and the mob to calm things down. “Hold your ground!” they commanded, voice steady and fierce. “Panic is the only enemy here. Look around you. There’s nothing against you but yourselves. Don’t feed this fear, for this is how you die. You and you,” he pointed, “help him up. Good. Now stand strong and breathe. You are better than this. We all are, or should strive to be.”
Their eyes hardened for a moment, then they hung their heads low and slowly shuffled away.
The cleric thanked the Company. St. Quieteria approached her and asked, “How? How could you still work through Mavos?”
The cleric blinked, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I? Mavos’ presence is strong in my heart.” She smiled. “My faith does the rest.”
“But Mavos has—”
“Perhaps it is time we move on, my lady,” Athalos said, gently wrapping an arm around Quieteria’s shoulders. “May your faith guide you well, cleric.”
Chekrov nodded at her. “Safe travels.” It immediately made him reach the wooden fist fused to his flesh, reminding of his beloved. Faith didn’t need truth, so maybe they could, indeed, persevere, and the Eagle could fly again.
St Quieteria, however, learned a different lesson. As her failures in this new world accumulated, she wondered if she still had a place in it. Could faith, once lost, ever be found again?
Notes
I might have gone a little too hard for the first week. My interpretation of ‘unaware and panicked’ was that people didn’t know that Mavos died, but the consequences of a godless world were already showing.
I’m leaning into this roll:
What effect has your God’s death had on the world? D4: 3 = Where once sagacity governed, now blind folly reigns. Humanity, bumbling through a darkness without Her guiding hand, staggers towards their own self-destruction.
Also, the hateful d4 are being suspiciously benevolent to me. But that’s how they get you. I will not fall for their fake friendliness. Let’s not humanize these beasts.
In any case, I had a lot of fun playing and writing through this first week. I hope you enjoyed it as well, and I’ll see you next time.
Lordsworn is available on Itch.