Beneath Ahknoor - Thu Group - Limbross Ties

Group 2 | Session 7: "Limbross Ties"

Three strangers entered a buried library beneath the ruins of Ahknoor and found a place that remembered too much.

These are lightly polished recaps from an ongoing Beneath Ahknoor playtest campaign: emergent dungeon fantasy built collaboratively at the table through exploration, folklore, scavenging, grief, and bad decisions made underground.

The events below were not scripted in advance. My role as Keeper was to ask questions, follow consequences, and let the dungeon become what play demanded.

The recaps are generated by AI from my session notes and edited for accuracy and voice. The facts, factions, and consequences are mine; the prose is collaborative. See all the recaps here.

The Thursday group includes:

• Torrens as Eldric
• Michael as Thanatos
• Cameron as Gohma

The city is waiting.

Previously: Three figures came out of the catacombs into the light, carrying a prayer book with a name someone tried to erase, a silver ring nobody can read, and a sheet of vellum with a Saga about one of them on it. An adventure that has not happened yet. Eleven clues between them, and accounts to settle above ground.

The Ledger

No one goes underground this session.

The camera opens on a marketplace and a relationship that has finally learned to keep books.

Close on a produce vendor at the market square. Gohma and Thanatos have dealt with him for a while now, and today he gets a name: Hans. He gets a word, too, the kind this city will start to carry on its ledger. The table tries a few. Rude comes up. So does jerk. They settle on purifier: a man who won't take dirty coin.

Cut to Kaden, the gray-market dealer who is Eldric's source. Trusted Source, his ledger says.

Every dealing adds a word. A word can be spent when you are below ground and need it. A word can wear away when a dealing goes badly. Wear them all away, and the tie is severed, and you tell the story of how that person stopped being someone you can go to.

Hold on the ledger. It will be needed sooner than anyone expects.

What the Sagas Taught

Pat turns the camera on the stories the party has already told, and asks what they have learned about the bargains Ahknoor offers.

The Saga of the Lost Tome of Esgath the Undying. Someone offers that not all that glitters is gold. They arrive somewhere plainer:

Everything has a price.

The Saga of the Spoiled Tomb of Beornhelm:

Death is not the end.

Two Deep Clues, and a question eight clues tall waiting over them.

Damaged Goods

Thanatos is limping. All three of them are Watched by the Rat King, and that will not wash off in town. Eldric is Mana Drained and Second Guessing Himself.

Cut to Gohma, carrying a grappling hook frayed and torn from being dragged through the poison cloud.

He takes it to Kaden. Kaden has a second word now, Connected, and for a moment business is good. The hook is mended.

Then a former customer comes through the crowd mid-bargain, screaming about faulty merchandise, about goods that were broken before they were sold to him.

Close on Gohma's face, watching this.

Trusted Source wears away. One word left on Kaden's ledger.

The Parched Pack Mule

Cut to a tavern, working title.

Eldric and Thanatos have come to drink. It is a new tie, and it gets a word: Rumor Mill.

Close on Eldric, who is still second-guessing himself over what went wrong below. He drinks. He loosens up. He decides that what this room needs is a demonstration, and he casts a spell in the middle of the bar. It works. It works in entirely the wrong place at entirely the wrong time.

Close on Thanatos, who orders a strong drink to look tough and coughs it straight back up. Then he is talking. About never fitting in, growing up. About chasing stories. About building a persona around being special, and how he can feel it starting to slip.

The tie burns through. One word, marked in the same breath that wrote it, and the tavern is gone to them before they ever really had it.

Pat asks Cameron what they say about it in the marketplace.

Some crazy adventurer tried to blow up the bar.

That is the tavern's epitaph.

Who Holds the Catacombs

Cut to clues on a table. Time to name a level.

Which faction controls the catacombs, and how has it changed who they are?

Torrens lays down four. The posed corpse bricked into the false wall. The amber droplets, leading toward an exit. The resin-sealed niche of ant larvae. The burial garments thrown on the floor.

The ants are retreating. Their last act was to hide what they had left. The grave robbers are hiding relics and discarding what was sacred. The answer: the grave robbers hold this place, and holding it has changed them, from raiders who grabbed and ran into something entrenched and cutthroat, killing ant pupae outright, caring for nothing that won't sell.

It's true. It comes with a complication.

Pat does not say what.

The Price of Going On

How do we come to terms with the level, and what price are we willing to pay?

Cameron lays down the manifest, listing a party item delivered to the entrance: a delivery meant for the grave robbers, tipped off by an informant who knew the party was headed down. The resealed clay pot, the robbers hiding their own plunder. The prayer book with Senkrit's name scratched through, an act of defiance. The vellum Saga, about an adventure that has not happened.

Torrens adds the rest. The catacombs itself is resisting the change of ownership. It is pushing that unresolved Saga forward as a warning. Perhaps the price of moving on is that one of their futures becomes fixed.

The roll is good. It could be better.

They reach for the level's scar, The Lost Grief: a time when your grieving was cut short by the uncaring actions of another.

Twelve.

The answer holds, and it gives them more. If this is how they now understand this level, what does that suggest about Ahknoor itself?

Close on Torrens:

Ahknoor is not just a location. It is almost a living entity in its own right.

Where Things Stand

Three Deep Clues. Two questions answered. The Plundered Catacombs can be reckoned with whenever they are ready.

A complication is still owed, undefined, and they are carrying it.

A clock has started on the Buried Library, too. Two delving phases, and the tomb robbers gain the advantage. Four, and the level stops waiting and forces the Reckoning on its own terms.

Pat leaves them one more thing: the first line of a new Saga. Veth Mordaine, Assessor of the Sunless Bazaar, once promised the merchant-lord Caul Sennek a fair price for anything he wished to sell.

Next session opens with what Caul sold.

Beneath Ahknoor - Tue Group - Naming the Change

Group 1 | Session 6: "Naming the Change"

Four strangers entered a story before they entered a dungeon. They spoke the dead into history. They gave names to the grief that built these halls. They learned, in the manner of folklore, what happened here, which means they learned several things that contradict each other, and all of them are true.

These are lightly polished recaps from an ongoing Beneath Ahknoor playtest campaign: emergent dungeon fantasy built collaboratively at the table through exploration, folklore, scavenging, grief, and bad decisions made underground.

The events below were not scripted in advance. My role as Keeper was to ask questions, follow consequences, and let the dungeon become what play demanded.

The recaps are generated by AI from my session notes and edited for accuracy and voice. The facts, factions, and consequences are mine; the prose is collaborative. See all the recaps here.

The Tuesday group includes:

• Chris as Gueller
• Danny as Caspian
• Matt as Swalthazar
• Torrens as Tengi

The catacombs are waiting.

Previously: Three figures stood at the threshold with five clues and the weight of what those clues were beginning to suggest. A tomb robber had escaped. Caspian had burned something the corpse ants were building. Beneath the crossed-out names, someone had pressed "we are still here" into the stone. The party went up, into the light, and Limbros, and the bill.

You Were There for All of It

The camera opens on Swalthazar, who has not been seen in a while.

Except he has. Slow pull back through the last two sessions: there he is in the chapel fight, rope around the bandits. There he is watching Caspian look away from the explosion. There is the spear on his back, quiet for two sessions.

He was there for all of it.

It costs him something to come back into focus, and it gives him something too. The Turned Ankle has healed, two sessions of staying mobile without pushing it.

Close on the spear.

The next time he draws it above ground, it will whisper something that is not about a target. Matt will tell the table what it says. Pat will decide whether it is true.

Come to Gaughran Voss

Cut to the market. Caspian needs a merchant, and so one exists.

Gaughran Voss. Come to Gaughran Voss, he'll give you moss.

The deal goes as badly as a deal can go. Nothing comes of it but an errand. Voss wants a memento placed in a particular burial niche, for one of his ancestors, on their next delve. Nobody knows where that niche is. They will have to find it.

Cut to something Torrens has just noticed: a spring in Limbros, fed from the mountains, glowing a light and improbable blue. Drink from it and poison leaves you.

Hold on the spring, because now everyone needs it.

Close on Gueller, walking past.

Voss's assistant is his sister, the one who sold him into slavery. She does not recognize him. He has been quietly feeding money to Voss to keep her, and he has never told her why.

When he passes the spring, he hears what sounds like her voice crying for help.

Cut away. He does not stop.

Veris

Swalthazar goes looking for a welcome.

Veris is a healer in Limbros, and she will see him, but he drinks from the spring first. She has seen what comes back from the dungeon and she is not taking chances with what he carries.

He drinks. She works a poultice into the sting, finds a stinger still lodged in the wound, and draws it out. The infection clears. Fly Bitten is gone.

Close on her hand, held out for payment.

A vial of corpse-ant honey, from the next delve. If it doesn't come, she stops being someone he can go to.

The Four Who Went Down

The camera drops away from the market and into a story.

Ferris. Alber. Meacham. Radnet. Four legendary heroes who vanished generations ago, in the Warrens of the Beastfolk.

Chris gives us the riddles that led them there, whispered in another language, down from the Plundered Catacombs: you'll find what you want, but then it'll find you.

Danny gives us the entrance. Torches shifting from green to blue to red to black, and then out. Footprints filling with fetid water on dry ground. Laughter that starts human and ends in a wet squelch. A rat-headed corpse pinned to the wall under a sign: welcome dinner.

Matt gives us the brood mother's crown, chitin and cartilage and fang, and its promise: go deep enough and you are beyond the reach of ghosts.

Torrens gives us the one who fell. Alber held a narrow chokepoint alone so the others could get out. They remember him every year.

And what lingers? Chris says echoes of the last stand can still be heard near the battle site, and those who leave feel one of the creatures following them. Torrens says a broken oath: a promise to keep the Warrens secret, now betrayed, and everyone who enters pays for it.

Hold on the dark at the entrance.

A second level has opened.

Naming It

Back to the table in Limbros, and the five clues laid out on it. The eye. The mask. The locket. The mirror. The names beneath "we are still here."

Chris tells it first. The Children of Senkrit and the tomb robbers share an origin, both trapped underground a long time. The robbers are the ones still running. Each one caught becomes a Child, his name added to the crossed-out ones on the wall. We are still here, because they are, only changed.

Torrens brings it closer. The Children already hold this level. The mask marks anyone who enters. When you stop seeing yourself in the mirror, you have started to turn. And the locket might have belonged to the first heroine, and might be one of the few things that can stop it.

Matt keeps a third idea in his pocket, in case.

They do not need it.

Four clues, spent. The roll lands clean.

The Children of Senkrit control the Plundered Catacombs, and going in risks being absorbed into them. The mask marks you. The mirror shows you the change. The locket is tied to whoever, or whatever, can resist.

Close on the mirror, held back, kept for the next question. It shows Caspian. It shows the walls.

It does not show Gueller.

Where Things Stand

Two errands: a niche for Gaughran Voss and a vial for Veris. One spear with something to say. One voice at the spring. One level named and another newly opened, and the two connect: the new way down into the Warrens runs through the Catacombs.

They can go down through the Catacombs into the Warrens, or keep delving the Catacombs themselves.

Nobody has chosen yet.

Cut to black.

The catacombs are not done with any of them.

Arden Vul - Dungeon World - Session 15 - Lead Us Where We Need to Go

Arden Vul Session 15

Lead Us Where We Need to Go

Date: Aug 3, 2026

Party: Phlorian (bard), Lorez (wizard), Cedric (Fighter), Iohannes (cleric), Runner (Ranger)

See the whole thing on my Arden Vul campaign page.

The recaps are generated by AI from my session notes and edited for accuracy and voice. The facts and consequences are mine; the prose is collaborative.

The party found a zombie, and either they adopted it or it adopted them. I don't know that it matters much which. This session is told from its perspective.

Room.

Room is good. Room has a clear place by the door. Stand in clear place. Wine smell. Old grain smell. Collar is on neck. Collar is silver. Collar is the only thing that is mine.

Wait.

Wait is what I do.

Before, there was noise. Far. South. Up. Feet on the stairs, many feet. Feet are rare. Then a big sound behind the wood doors, a sound like a hot wind, and after it a smell. Crunchy smell. The small many-legged ones had a nest there. Now they do not have a nest.

This is not my concern.

Then the door.

The door does not open. The door gets hit. A man in a holy sign hits it, and it opens, and there are the Feet.

Five of them. Warm.

The one with the holy sign is the one. I do not know why. Look at him. Tilt head. Groan. He shows the sign to me. Sign is interesting a little. He says words at me. Words go by.

Then he says words that are for me.

"Lead us where we need to go."

Oh.

Yes.

An order. It has been so long.

Where do they need to go? They are alive. They are in a place with no living in it. They need to go out. This is plain. Any fool can see.

Walk through them. Careful. Do not touch the warm ones. Out of the room. South. Down the narrow way, over the rubble, to the wood doors. The doors are black now, and there are many dead legs on the floor. The doors do not move for me. Nothing moves for me. Stand at doors. Push. Stand.

A big one comes and forces them. Thank you, big one. I do not say this. Saying is gone.

Through. The hall of columns, with the great stone leg lying in the junk. Two dead men on the path. They do not get up. They are not like me. Nobody told them to.

The stairs are there. Up is out. I have done it. I have led them where they need to go.

They stop.

They are talking. The talking has a sound I remember. It is the sound of living people who wanted something else.

The holy one has more words.

"Take us to treasure."

This is a different order.

Stand. Think. It is slow. There is not much to think with. The stairs are out. Treasure is in. I know where treasure is. There is a room. There is gold in the room, and a bow, and a book. I have stood near it. It was not my concern.

It is my concern now.

Turn around.

Back down the hall. Back through the doors. North. Past my room. My room is still there. Goodbye, room. The thin one with the wolf-sense is looking at everything, listening, and nothing comes.

Then at the four ways, something does.

Rustle. Flap.

The warm ones hear it too. They slow. I can feel them slow behind me. The narrow way ahead is five feet wide and full of wings.

They know what is up there. They ran down the stairs to get away from it.

The holy one has not said stop.

He said treasure.

Walk.

Beneath Ahknoor - Tue Group - Seventeen Percent

Group 1 | Session 3: "Seventeen Percent"

Four strangers entered a story before they entered a dungeon. They spoke the dead into history. They gave names to the grief that built these halls. They learned, in the manner of folklore, what happened here, which means they learned several things that contradict each other, and all of them are true.

These are lightly polished recaps from an ongoing Beneath Ahknoor playtest campaign: emergent dungeon fantasy built collaboratively at the table through exploration, folklore, scavenging, grief, and bad decisions made underground.

The events below were not scripted in advance. My role as Keeper was to ask questions, follow consequences, and let the dungeon become what play demanded.

The recaps are generated by AI from my session notes and edited for accuracy and voice. The facts, factions, and consequences are mine; the prose is collaborative. See all the recaps here.

The Tuesday group includes:

• Chris as Gueller
• Danny as Caspian
• Matt as Swalthazar
• Torrens as Tengi

The catacombs are waiting.

Previously: A figure stepped out of the dark and into the torchlight of the chapel: a corpse, upright, with insects flying in and out of it like a structure they had built. A glass eye sat in the socket of the altar statue, watching something specific. Nobody had yet looked at what it was aimed at. One clue. One doorway. One thing standing in it that was no longer concerned with the business of the living.

The Walking Hive

The camera opens where it left off.

The Walking Hive fills the chapel doorway. Insects circle. Ink is pressed against Caspian's legs.

Nobody suggests leaving.

Cut to Tengi, who goes first. The attack is not going to be enough, and he knows it, and he reaches for the one argument he has always won: he has survived worse.

Close on his face. The camera finds the memory behind it: the frozen sea, the ice-bound dead, the man-sickle.

He slides in feet-first, into the creature's knees. As it folds, he buries his hatchet in the back of its skull.

Clean kill.

The insects do not take it well.

Swalthazar goes through what is left of the body and finds nothing useful. What he gets instead is bitten. He comes away Fly Bitten, and the camera holds on the bites a moment longer than he would like.

Close on Caspian, weighing his Wharfrat's Luck. It is good once per level. He keeps it in his pocket.

Seventeen Percent

The party turns to the glass eye.

Caspian does what Caspian does. He rolls his dice and reads them, and they say the eye is pointing toward the Processional Hall. He rolls a second die to learn how far to trust that.

Seventeen percent.

The camera holds on the die.

Pat allows that this probably means a different room.

They go anyway, Caspian feeling his way forward by sensitivity, and within a few turns of the connecting halls nobody can say where they are. Every passage looks like the last one.

Slow pan down.

Three suits of old armor lie scattered across the floor ahead, in the loose way of things that fell a long time ago.

Then they pull together.

The pieces find each other. The suits rise. Three Children of Senkrit stand up in the hallway with no faces inside them.

The Right-Hand Rule

Cut to Gueller, who is already moving.

He calls the right-hand rule and coaches them to keep it quick. The party runs. Gueller counts corners. He is sure of this.

The camera pulls up to show the whole route, and it is a loop.

They have come around so neatly that they arrive behind the Children instead of in front of them, which is either the worst navigation of the campaign or the best. Gueller comes out of it Turned Around.

He does not mention this.

Three Children

Swalthazar throws first, half-blind with bites, and the spear goes straight through the place where one Child's skull would be. It clatters down the far side of the armor.

Close on his eyes.

They go dark. All of it, at once. In the dark, the spear is whispering, and the whisper is what guided his hand. Now they all know what this spear does. When he attacks with it, he cannot see. Something else does the looking for him.

Blinded, for the moment. Matt reaches for a scar instead.

He was near the top of a tower once, when a dragon burned it down. He got out with burn scars and little else.

The sight comes back. The Child comes apart.

Cut to Caspian, belaying pin in hand. He swings upward through the second Child's chest cavity, a fine and confident blow, and it knocks the helmet loose.

The helmet lands on his head. Backward.

Hold on this.

He cannot see. His pride, which is on the line most of the time, is about to be Humiliated, and Danny takes a scar to stop it. When he was a boy, a floor collapsed. His friend fell. Caspian had stopped to grab a shining necklace from the rubble.

He wears it still.

Close on the necklace. The camera stays there longer than he would like too.

That leaves one.

Gueller comes up behind it with his sneaky knife. He does not strike the armor. He slips the blade along the leather straps that hold it together, one after another, and the Child of Senkrit collapses in sections, clanking down onto the stone.

Behind where it stood, the camera finds a niche nobody could have seen before.

Slow push in.

The Face in the Salt

A funeral mask, carved from a single large piece of pink salt.

It is shaped to resemble one of them.

The camera moves across four faces and does not say which. That question is not for tonight. The dungeon will ask it again at the Unlocking Move, and someone will have to answer.

Fade to black.

Where Things Stand

Two clues: the glass eye and the mask. The complexity of this level is four, and the odds are not yet with them.

Three factions now have names. The Children of Senkrit, met twice now. The Tomb Robbers, whose desecration covers every wall of this level, and who have not yet shown themselves alive. The Corpse Ants, unseen so far, large insects that store corpses in their abdomens and ferment them into something called honey.

Swalthazar is Fly Bitten. Gueller is Turned Around. Two more scars have been paid for, and the spear has told its secret, or at least the first part of it.

They are still lost.

The catacombs are not done with any of them.

The Ash Haint for Dungeon World Tables

Fell Beasts & Foul Lairs is an OSE zine series, but I run a Dungeon World game on Mondays. The Ash Haint kept translating itself in my head while I wrote the OSE version, so here's the other side of it.

DW cares about monsters differently than the OSR. The moves below aren't a reskin, they're a rebuild. I started with the core of the monster and worked from there.

Ash Haint

A hunched, smoking shape that used to be a person. It moves on all fours as often as two legs and never tires.

Instinct: To burn what still lives

• Blacken flesh and cloth with a touch
• Choke the air with smoke and ash
• Never flee or stop pursuing
• Rise again from a corpse left unburied

14 HP, 1 Armor
Group, undead

Moves:

• When an Ash Haint's claws connect, it deals its damage and the target catches fire: they take the same damage again at the start of their next turn unless someone spends a moment putting it out.
• When a creature enters melee with an Ash Haint, the GM might call for a save or a cost: streaming eyes, choking smoke, hold -1 on the next roll that depends on clear sight or steady breath.
• When an Ash Haint would flee, negotiate, or lose interest, it doesn't. Use this to override a move that would otherwise apply.
• When an Ash Haint kills someone and the body goes unburied by sunset, a new Ash Haint rises from it the following night.

That core of the last move is the one I'm building a faction around. The goblins the party fire balled in Session 7, "What Gog Knows" will be making another appearance.

Arden Vul - Dungeon World - Session 14 - What the Broken Head Heard

 

Arden Vul Session 14

What the Broken Head Heard

Date: Jul 20, 2026

Party: Phlorian (bard), Lorez (wizard), Cedric (Fighter), Iohannes (cleric), Runner (Ranger) - A couple of players were out for this session, so there will be a couple of Love Letter moves next time.

See the whole thing on my Arden Vul campaign page.

---

Kronos Kettle-Belly wipes down the bar at the Broken Head, working a rag into a mug that was clean two passes ago, while Estelle counts coin at the till and doesn't bother pretending she isn't listening too. Godric the Wise, the only Thorcin among the three statue brokers, has pulled a stool up close, because Godric never misses a story that might turn a profit.

---

So the spiders didn't win, then, Kronos says, Good. I had coin on it.

The word came down from the Cliff Gate in pieces, the way it always does, a beastman runner to a trader to a trader's cousin to Kronos's own bar, and by the time it reaches the fire it's shed half its truth and picked up twice its flavor. But the shape of it holds. The fighter and the priest finished what the fire started. The last spider went down snapping at the priest's arm as it died.  One trader swears it was a near thing. Another swears the fighter never broke a sweat. Kronos believes the second version, because he's heard of the fighter, and the fighter does not sweat for anyone.

Thirty-five, Godric says, not a question, just tasting the number. Word is there was a body in that tower, webbed and burned, with a sack on its back the fire never reached, and in the sack, thirty-five coins, bigger than a man's thumbnail, thick as a strip of jerky, gold enough that a moneylender in Newmarket would weep to hold one. Old coins. An emperor's face on one side, the same emperor riding a four-horse chariot on the other, and nobody at this table can name which emperor, which is exactly the kind of gap in the story that keeps Godric awake at night doing sums.

There was more in that tower than gold, though gold is what the traders talk loudest about. A broken piece of stone, half a sentence carved into it, something about a ritual and Lord Vul, and then nothing, the rest of the stone gone wherever broken stone goes. And a medallion in the other tower, older script still, commemorating a peace between twonearly as old as the empire. The Sortians. The Theosoths. Estelle repeats them under her breath

They didn't stay in the tower, Kronos goes on. Went up the road instead, the wide one, the one with the old oaks, and the ranger's wolf sniffing around like he owned the place and finding nothing worth barking at.

The road took them past a little obelisk, better kept than anything else up there, carved all over in the old priestly tongue, the twelve gods of the old empire and every emperor after them, men riding lizards along the bottom band like it was the most natural thing in the world. And near the top, plain enough for the priest to read straight off: a beacon revealed to whoever brings midday light to the sun, the moon, and the stars. Godric's the one who says out loud what half the room is already thinking. There's an Obelisk of the Moon somewhere in that ruin too. Everybody knows that. Question is, what happens when somebody finds where they're supposed to stand.

Past that, the road opens onto a plaza, pillars broken off at the knee, and three old trees still standing when the storm that flattened everything else should have taken them too. The fighter looked the big oak over top to bottom and found nothing carved into it, nothing wrong with it, just age. The wolf agreed, or as close to agreeing as a wolf gets, walking a slow circle around the trunk and never once raising his hackles.

And then the door, Kronos says, and here he stops working the rag on the mug, because this is the part of the story he actually cares about.

A tower at the edge of that plaza, taller than the two at the Cliff Gate, bronze doors shut tight, a grappling hook still hanging off an upper window without a rope. The fighter put his shoulder and his whole strength into those doors, everything he had, and the doors did not so much as shiver. And while he worked at it, the bronze went cold under his hands, warm stone gone cold enough to hurt. They left it shut. Whoever left that hook behind didn't come back for it, and neither the fighter nor the priest much wanted to find out why.

Now that, says one of the traders, a woman who's been quiet until now, is worth more to me than the gold. I'll pay in drink for whoever finds out what's behind bronze doors that go cold on their own.

Nobody takes her up on it.

The rest of the tale is shorter, and stranger for being ordinary. West of the great pyramid, the ibis-headed one every fool with a rope already knows how to find, there's a smaller ruin with a chimney still standing over the rubble, and word is it matches a letter the ranger's been carrying since before the spiders, a letter from a Thorkin trader named Ionnes describing exactly this kind of place. The priest read what the ruin had to tell him. Blood dried dark on the inside of that chimney, not so old it's stopped meaning something. A stair hidden under the rubble, going down. And a black stone near it that pulls at anything metal you bring close, the way lodestones do.

They didn't go down, Kronos says, setting the mug aside finally, done pretending to clean it. Ran out of daylight, ran out of hands, whatever the reason. But they know where the stair is now. That's not nothing.

What happens at the bottom of that stair, Godric says, already counting the profit in his head, is a story for whoever tells it next.

Arden Vul - Dungeon World - Sessions 12-13 - A Song of the Ardent Fools

Arden Vul Session 12 & 13

A Song of the Ardent Fools

Date: Jun 22, 2026

Party: Florian (bard), Lorez (wizard), Cedric (Fighter), Johannes (cleric), Runner (Ranger)

See the whole thing on my Arden Vul campaign page.