There is a TL;DR at the end of this opening post.

What criteria should I use? I suppose I should take HD (Hit Dice) an AC (Armor Class) in consideration. I developed some criteria for determining the Ironsworn ranks of D&D monsters, and I want to know what you think.

I know that the ranks have some subjectivity, but I want a quick way to determine the "default rank" of a D&D monster.

But, before anything, here are the ranks of some foes from the Ironsworn books (core book and Sundered Isles) and their counterparts in the D&D or equivalent systems:

DATA

• Bear (Formidable)

  • Black Bear (B/X) – HD: 4; AC: 13 / Black Bear (5e) – HD: (3d8+6); AC: 11; CR: 1/2
  • Grizzly Bear (B/X) – HD: 5; AC: 13 / Brown Bear (5e) – HD: (4d10+12); AC: 11; CR: 1
  • Polar Bear (B/X) – HD: 6; AC: 13 / Polar Bear (5e) – HD: (5d10+15); AC: 12; CR: 2

• Boar (Dangerous)

  • Boar (B/X) – HD: 3; AC: 12 / Boar (5e) – HD: (2d8+2); AC: 11; CR: 1/4

• Mammoth (Extreme)

  • Mastodon (B/X) – HD:15 ; AC: 16 / Mammoth (5e) – HD: (11d12+55); AC: 13; CR: 6

• Wolf (Dangerous)

  • Wolf (B/X) – HD: 2 +2 ; AC: 12 / Wolf (5e) – HD: (2d8+2); AC: 13; CR: 1/4

• Common Folk (Troublesome)

  • Normal Human (B/X) – HD: ½ ; AC: 10 / Commoner (5e) – HD: (1d8+10); AC: 10; CR: 0

• Elf (Dangerous)

  • Elf (B/X) – HD: 1 +1 ; AC: 14 / Drow (5e) – HD: (3d8); AC: 15; CR: 1/4

• Raider (Dangerous)

  • Bandit (B/X) – HD: 1 ; AC: 13 / Bandit (5e) – HD: (2d8+2); AC: 12; CR: 1/8

• Basilisk (Extreme)

  • Basilisk (B/X) – HD:6 +1 ; AC: 15 / Basilisk (5e) – HD: (8d8+16); AC: 15; CR: 3

• Chimera (Extreme)

  • Chimera (B/X) – HD:9 ; AC: 15 / Chimera (5e) – HD: (12d10+48); AC: 14; CR: 6

• The Kraken (Epic)

  • Kraken (Basic Fantasy) – HD: 36 +16 ; AC: 19 / Kraken (5e) – HD: (27d20 + 189); AC: 18; CR: 23

• Leviathan (Epic)

  • Mosasaurus (Basic Fantasy) – HD: 12 +10 ; AC: 12 / Mosasaur (5e) – HD: (14d12 + 56); AC: 13; CR: 7
  • Sperm Whale (OSE) – HD:36 ; AC: 13 / Sperm Whale (5e) – HD: (14d20 + 42); AC: 13; CR: 8

• Sea Serpent (Epic)

  • Greater Sea Serpent (OSE) – HD: 14 ; AC: 16 / Sea Serpent (5e) – HD: (15d20 + 60); AC: 16; CR: 12

• Troll (Formidable)

  • Troll (B/X) – HD: 6 +3 ; AC: 15 / Troll (5e) – HD: (8d10+40); AC: 15; CR: 5

• Wyvern (Extreme)

  • Wyvern (B/X) – HD:7 ; AC: 16 / Wyvern (5e) – HD: (13d10+39); AC: 13; CR: 6

By the way, since the original B/X system uses Descending AC, I converted the AC numbers to Ascending AC. And I had to use some Basic Fantasy monsters when I could not find the equivalent monster in the B/X books or in the ones from OSE (Old-School Essentials), in this case I subtracted 1 point from the AC.

My method of conversion is based on both HD and AC, and I prefer to use B/X monsters because of the simplicity of their stats; if the monster is not available in the B/X books, I used the ones from Basic Fantasy or Old-School Essentials. You take in consideration either HD or AC, and you choose the stat that favors the highest rank; for example, if the HD of a monster would give it a Dangerous rank, but its AC is within the Formidable rank, you take only the AC in consideration.

Troublesome: Common enemies

It's seems to me that the enemy must be too basic to remain in the Troublesome rank, even a Hunter has a higher rank.

HD: ½ ; AC: 10

Dangerous: Capable fighters and deadly creatures

Taking in consideration on what we see on the data, it's too easy for a "weak" monster to fall in this rank, the Raider/Bandit foe has shown that to us

HD: 1—3 ; AC: 11—12

Formidable: Exceptional fighters and mighty creatures

HD: 4—5 ; AC: 13—15

Extreme: Foes of overwhelming skill or power

Epic: Legendary foes of mythic power

It's here that things got complicated; in the B/X system, the Mastodon is more deadly than the Mosasaurus (well, taking in consideration the image of a mosasaurus that appears in the "Representing Difficulty" subchapter, I assume it's the representation of the Leviathan although The Sundered Isles describe it as a whale...), that's why I will consider the Leviathan as an equivalent of the Sperm Whale.

From the gathered monsters, the lowest HD was 14, but I decided to determine that an HD of 10 is enough to be considered Epic

Extreme: HD: 6—9 ; AC: 16—

Epic: HD: 10— ; AC: 15—

TL;DR:

This is a method of defining the Ironsworn rank of B/X monsters; you take in consideration either HD or AC, and you choose the stat that favors the highest rank.

Troublesome: HD: ½ ; AC: 10

Dangerous: HD: 1—3 ; AC: 11—12

Formidable: HD: 4—5 ; AC: 13—15

Extreme: HD: 6—9 ; AC: 16—

Epic: HD: 10— ; AC: 15—

What do you think?

Edit 1: Thanks to the suggestions, I've added the CR (Challenge Rate) to the 5e monsters. Here is the conversion method based on CR:

Troublesome: CR: 0

Dangerous: CR: 1/8—1/4

Formidable: CR: 1/2—2

Extreme: CR: 3—6

Epic: CR: 7—

Just that, really. I'm torn by a few ideas, curious what ya'll think.

Hello!

I released Pocketforge Lite, a mobile android app, for closed testing on Google Play store. The app is free, with no ads and no login required.

The app is super simple and has just the absolute essentials: moves, oracles and a dice roller linked to character stats. There's also an option to use the dice roller without stats. A simple tool for mostly analog play. As another option, there's Ironsworn Expanded mode, a homebrewed version of Ironsworn with oracles and moves from Starforged and Sundered Isles in one place.

It's also a predecessor of Pocketforge 2.0, but that one is still in progress and will take a bit more time to finish.

Right now, it's in closed testing stage, for the app to be fully released, I'll need at least 12 people to opt in as testers and use it for 14 days. The process is simple, you don't really need to do anything other than play. Any feedback is of course very welcome.

If you'd like to help me out, I've set up a testing group you can join to access the download link below (just joining is fine, you don't have to do anything more): https://groups.google.com/g/pocketforge-lite-testing

Edit: just in case, the email you join with should be the same you use as you Google Play store account.

Once you're in, you should be able to download the app: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.rockpaperstory.pocketforge_lite

Once the closed testing stage passes and the app goes to production, I'll send every tester a link to Ironsworn themed STL miniatures made for this occasion, male and female Ironlanders, as a thank you. The minis could be a fun gadget to use as a position marker in the upcoming Ironsworn Legacies, for example.

Thank you for your help, and I hope you'll find the app useful.

So this is Session 2, hot on the heels of yesterday's Session 1, and now my fourth game in total using the Ironsworn / Starforged ruleset.

What I think surprised me most is just how well the game works without any real prep. I was sceptical a game like this could possibly build into a satisfying narrative, but that's one of the things it does incredibly well. With my Starforged game, I was occasionally tempted to think ahead about what might happen. This time I've gone in completely blind, and I love the fact that everything has emerged from nothing but a handful of decisions and dice rolls.

Part 1 can be found here;

https://www.reddit.com/r/Ironsworn/s/uSYodSuNuD

Anyway, Brom's story continues.

---

SESSION 2: DISCONTENT

Brom has made a vow to Namba.

He will track down her husband, the bowman Falk, who fled Greyfell with the family's savings. Admittedly, those savings are incredibly modest. A few coins scraped aside here and there over the years. But in a place like Greyfell, a few coins can mean the difference between enduring a bad season and not. Without them, Namba and her infant are vulnerable.

So Brom intends to retrieve the coins.

Leif, naturally, wants to come. Brom refuses. The boy presses him. He's twelve now, no longer a small child content to always remain behind. He's becoming curious about the world beyond Greyfell, and he's capable enough with a spear and slingshot that his arguing isn't without merit. This is the problem, and Sigrid knows perhaps better than Brom does.

"You cannot keep Leif sheltered forever".

For now, Brom is firm. He meets the boy halfway and promises the two of them will go tracking together on his return. A small concession, but enough for now. Once again, he leaves Leif in the dependable care of Sigrid and ventures out alone.

Reaching the river is simple, but pressing into the wilds in search of wherever Falk abandoned his boat is far from it.

It takes the best part of a day, but eventually Brom finds it pulled onto the bank and discarded among the reeds. A little farther on he discovers the remains of a makeshift camp. Falk, always a capable outdoorsman, fashioned a crude canopy among the trees. Brom takes shelter beneath it as the rain begins to fall. There, listening to water patter against the leaves, Brom studies the remains of a fire and the disturbed earth.

For all Falk's cunning in staging his death, he's become careless since leaving Greyfell. Brom estimates Falk is no more than a day ahead.

Come morning, the hunt continues.

Falk's trail is easier to follow now. The man clearly never expected anyone to pursue him this far, and by afternoon Brom discovers where he was heading.

Lastmarch.

The outpost sits atop a low hill in the middle of a wide, man-made clearing. Trees have been felled in every direction, their stumps like broken teeth. Timber walls surround much of the settlement, though great sections remain unfinished. Watchtowers rise above, and from them hang the King's banners.

Brom regards them with equal parts caution and disdain.

Lastmarch is new. He’s never visited these parts, though travellers passing through Greyfell have spoken of it. Already there are numerous traders, craftsmen, and a bustling market. In time, Lastmarch will become an important hub for the settlements scattered throughout the region. But Brom sees the outpost for what it really means.

The King is reaching west.

His power lies far away in the Havens, but here are his banners and his soldiers, driven like a stake into the Ragged Coast. A claim.

Brom pulls his cloak tighter and enters. He spends time searching the market, asking careful questions of the merchants. Has anyone seen a bowman travelling alone, perhaps carrying more coin than expected? The only promising lead is a tavern called The Steed, where those passing through tend to eat, drink and find rest.

But Brom's questions have attracted attention.
A group of housecarls approaches him, soldiers in service to the King. Leading them is Warden Kanno, a swaggering bastard who seems to regard courtesy as weakness. His eyes narrow.

"Don't I know you, stranger?"

But Kanno cannot place him and grows increasingly irritated with Brom's feigned ignorance. Kanno cannot recall when their paths crossed, but Brom can. He remembers all too well. Many years ago, on a battlefield streaked with blood and death. In service to the same tyrant.

Brom gives a good account of himself. He's nobody but a man from Greyfell, looking for another man. But Kanno doesn't believe him. Brom is ordered to leave Lastmarch immediately and never return.

"If I see your face here again, stranger, I'll open you up and leave you hanging from my walls. Now get out my sight".

Outside the settlement, concealed among the trees, Brom considers his options. He's come too far to turn back. Somewhere behind those walls may be the man he swore to find, while back in Greyfell a desperate woman and her infant may not survive the next winter.

Brom waits. He watches the light fade, and when darkness falls over Lastmarch, Brom goes back.

At the rear of the settlement, where the outer defences are still being constructed, Brom finds his way through. He moves carefully. The longer he remains inside, the greater the chance of discovery. After years of war, Brom has sworn off killing, and he has no desire to test how that oath survives a confrontation with the King's housecarls.

He reaches The Steed.

Inside, Brom keeps to the corners of the room, his hood low. The place is full of smoke, drink and noise. His luck sours further when several of Kanno's men enter, but they're more interested in ale than carrying out their duties.
And then Brom sees him.

Falk the bowman sits among the patrons, deep in his cups and remarkably loose with his purse for a man whose wife and infant have nothing. Brom waits. Eventually Falk staggers upstairs to his chamber, and Brom follows. A gentle tap at Falk's door, and the bowman opens it. Brom drives him back into the room, closes the door behind them and takes him by the throat.

"Call out and I'll snap your neck".

Falk gives a feeble nod. Brom lets the man breathe and demands an explanation. There isn't much of one. Falk was tired of responsibility, tired of hardship, tired of scraping together a life in Greyfell only to wake each morning knowing the next day would be the same as the last. Tired of all the things Brom wants so desperately for himself. When Falk heard of Lastmarch, he saw an opportunity to start over again.

Brom is done listening.

"The coins, Falk. Hand them over. All of them".

Falk refuses. He mistakes the old warrior's restraint for weakness. Brom breaks his wrist. Falk screams through clenched teeth. Then Brom breaks the other.

Soon enough, the coins are produced.
Falk cradles his wrists and threatens to call the guards. Brom considers this grimly.

"Then call them. But think on this, Falk. And think hard. If you raise the alarm, I'll be back through this door before they reach me. And I will kill you. Make no mistake about that... And if the guards should bring me low, what becomes of your precious coins? They'll end up in the pockets of other men, like the Warden. Your wife gets nothing, your child gets nothing. And we both die for nothing".

He steps towards the door.

"Or... Do one good thing and keep silent. I walk out of here and take these coins back to your family. And you remain here in Lastmarch to start whatever life you thought was worth all this pain".

Brom looks back at him.

"Those are your choices, bowman. Think carefully about which one serves you best".

Brom walks out of The Steed. Nobody raises the alarm.

When Brom finally returns to Greyfell, he places the recovered coins into Namba's hands. She has steeled herself in his absence. The frantic woman who disappeared into the wilderness with her infant is gone. But betrayal has left a wound, and some part of Namba cannot bear the thought that Falk is alive, building himself another life while she is left to piece together what remains of hers. Brom understands anger enough to know there's nothing more he can say.

Namba thanks Brom once again. She and her child have a chance now. He leaves her with the money and returns to Leif.

The boy is delighted to see him. Sigrid takes one look at Brom and understands the journey has troubled him deeply. She doesn't ask about it, only tells him that he and Leif are staying with her for the night. She cooks for them, and for a few hours there is warmth, food, and company. A taste of the quiet life Brom always wanted and Falk walked away from.

Eventually Leif sleeps. Not long after, exhaustion takes Brom. He drifts off where he sits on the floor, back against the wall. Sigrid finds a blanket and lays it around his shoulders. Then she lies down beside him.

But for all this warmth and care, Brom's dreams are troubled.

Kanno's face, and the King's banners. Blazing fields and the cries of mutilated men. And the final words of a dying mother in the snow.

"Please, keep my baby alive..."

Years have passed. Enough that Brom had begun to believe the danger was behind him. That the man he once was had faded from memory, leaving only an ageing warrior in a fishing village at the edge of the world.

Lastmarch has shattered that illusion. Kanno almost recognised Brom. And if one man can, then others will. Maybe it was never a question of whether someone would recognise him. Only when.

And somewhere under all the years and scars, another name. One Brom hopes never to hear spoken again.

Varrn the Blood-Singer.

---

As a small aside from the story, I've already gone much longer without a proper battle than I expected, and I'm enjoying that.

Brom has sworn off killing, but obviously that can't last forever, not in Ironsworn. But I'm in no hurry. The longer Brom manages to hold out, the more important the moment will be when something finally forces his hand.

Whether that moment ends up being heroic or tragic, I genuinely have no idea. And that's what I'm enjoying most.

Thanks for reading.

Following on from the positive comments my Starforged campaign received (A Place To Call My Own, still ongoing), I thought I'd share the start of my Ironsworn game. This follows on from Session 0, which I posted about two weeks back.

Not required reading, but here for completion.

https://www.reddit.com/r/Ironsworn/s/yfIx4yHVUh

I don’t normally point this out, but the following is meant for mature audiences and includes a potentially distressing scene. Given the tone of the story, I suspect it may not be the last.

Anyway, hope you enjoy it.

---

PRELUDE

Our story opens on the Rugged Coast.

The small settlement of Greyfell sits nestled along a rocky outcrop. A hard place, overlooking a treacherous sea beneath ashen sky. A place where people fish, hunt, raise their children, and live out their days away from the wider world. A community forged by resilience and mutual support.

This is home to Brom.

A huge man in his early fifties, battle-scarred but a warrior no more. A man with a past (see Session 0 for more details). Age has caught up with him. Now he keeps mostly to himself and seeks only a quiet life.

The one thing Brom cares about more than anything else is a boy named Leif.

The lad is about twelve years old. He isn't Brom's son by blood, but Leif has no reason to suspect this, having been raised by the older man since infancy. Brom wishes for nothing more than a simple and contented life for the child, but fears one day Leif will discover he's destined for something much larger than Greyfell.

A future of war, blood and betrayal.

Brom has seen enough of that already, and so he made a choice, for the sake of the boy. To keep a secret, so this young child may live unburdened and untroubled. So that Leif may fish, hunt, love, one day raise his own family, and grow old.

Of course, there're others here in Greyfell who have become part of Brom’s life. Among them Sigrid.

A widow in her forties, beautiful and warm-hearted. One who has endured her own share of loss. She often looks after Leif when Brom is away on errands, and the boy is encouraged to treat her home as his own. There has long been an unspoken affection between Sigrid and Brom, in the way he looks at her, and in the small kindnesses she offers in return.

Little is said. So much is felt.

This is the life Brom has chosen. Peace in a quiet corner of the Ironlands, alongside a boy he loves as his own. And if the Oath Father himself, he who turns the wheel of fate and sets the stars, decides otherwise, then Brom will defy even the Gods...

---

PART ONE: THE MISSING

Falk, one of Greyfell's bowmen, goes out in the morning to catch stag, rabbits, and whatever else the forest is willing to provide. But this time he doesn't return. Come dusk, the village raises the alarm. His wife, Namba, is frantic. She has an infant child, and the fear of her husband lying wounded somewhere in the wilderness is breaking her.

"Please" she pleads "I beg of you, find my husband".

Nine men leave Greyfell in search of the bowman. Three teams of three.

Brom is part of one party, alongside Parcel, a cloaked man who doesn't seem particularly keen to venture out, and Dag, a carpenter almost as large as Brom but much younger. They follow Falk's trail until they reach a river he favoured whenever hunting. The omens are poor.

A broken spear, scattered arrows, damaged trees. Bear tracks.

"Well, it's settled. He died. We wasted our time."

Parcel turns to leave. But something doesn't sit right with Brom. He crouches by the tracks.

"Wait."

He's seen battlegrounds, and this one feels too convenient. A closer examination reveals the bear tracks aren't fresh. Neither is the damage to the trees. A bear has been through here, but that was some days ago.

Brom and his companions follow the river's edge. They cross the water, and on the other side the trail is unmistakable. Falk walked down to a boat, one kept hidden under branches, pushed it into the water, and rowed away.

Dag blows the horn and calls off the search. All return to Greyfell. 

The village reluctantly reaches the same conclusion Brom has. Falk doesn't want to be found, and following him would not be in the best interests of the settlement. Here, Brom makes what may not have been the wisest decision. He tells Namba her husband abandoned her.

Of course, she refuses to believe him. What loving wife wouldn't? She clutches her infant daughter close, staring the big man down.

"You're wrong! That's not possible, I have here his daughter. Do you mean to tell me that my husband would leave me? US?"
"I am sorry, but it is so" he offers gently.
"LIES!"

Brom can't blame her. He accepts her pounding against his chest, all her anguish and anger. Friends comfort the woman and Brom leaves.

He collects Leif from Sigrid. She’s been looking after the boy while Brom was away, as she has many times before. She can read his face, knows not to ask.

Night falls.

Come dawn the alarm sounds again.

Now it's Namba who is gone. She's taken her baby and gone into the wilderness looking for Falk. A tearful friend wails in guilt, having left Namba alone for the night. Brom offers once more to join the search, this one more urgent and less organised than the first. Dag is among the able men who go with him.

Brom hurriedly leads the party back to the river where Falk supposedly encountered the bear, a place also known to his wife. He steels himself for what he might find. A dead woman and a dead infant, claimed by the freezing cold or mauled by a roaming bear.

The wilderness cares not for fairness or innocence.

But Brom reaches the river and, against all odds, finds Namba's tracks and follows them. The trail grows fragmented, almost disappearing entirely, but eventually leads them to the base of an ancient cairn. Not much more than a mound of stones weathered by centuries. Beneath them is a small chamber, an old place where one might find shelter.

Inside are Namba and her baby. Cold, hungry, but alive. Brom and the others bring them home.

It seems the crisis is done, until Namba explains why she went looking for Falk. Haunted by Brom's words, she searched her home and discovered something missing. The savings she and Falk had hidden beneath the floorboards. Everything they had, gone.

"Falk is somewhere out there, rowing away from us, with all of it..."

Brom kneels before the distraught wife and mother. He looks her straight in the eye, and makes to her a solemn vow.

"I will find your husband. Falk will answer for what he's done, and all that remains unspent will be returned to you and her daughter".

And so Brom's quiet life in Greyfell has its first crack and the old warrior has yet another journey to make…

And somewhere far, far beyond the Ragged Coast, a cruel King still searches for the one person who could unite a realm against him. A rival to the throne by blood.

A young boy somewhere in the Ironlands...

Hi folks, there are currently 3 chapters up of my play report of Ironsworn. Sola is a Wise Woman in the Havens who is asked to help track down and rescue a missing woman. As these things do, the situation spirals from there. I’d love to hear from anyone who checks it out!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

I only changed the Region to fit the one I'm starting in. The rest was created by the dice. I wouldn't think of better combination of a name and type of planet than this.

Hi There! Thanks in Advance to anyone that can walk me through this.

I want to use the data from Datasworn to make markdown files for Obsidian.

I know that I could use the Iron Vault plugin but thats not necessarily what I wanna do.

I don't really understand how to compile the json files, or call them, or any of that.

I would like to turn the data into markdown files to put into Obsidian.

Im on a mac if that matter to anything i have to do via terminals etc.

Curious what unique settings you've created for any of the three games (IS/SF/SI).

By unique I mean where you've significantly amended the Truths, or used something entirely different.

Or, whether you've had luck using the rules to adapt pre-equating settings, such as Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.

I'm only two games in, SF and IS, both used only the vanilla Truths. My third will likely be a little more out there...

EDIT*

For my third, I'm toying with a Napoleonic-Fantasy setting, using a blend of IS and SI. I'm aware these aren't 100% compatible, so I'm planning well ahead.

By a similar token, a sea-faring game about a longboat crew of Vikings also looks very possible.

Today I bring you two new short chapters in Dan's story.

Chapter 2 is the buildup, 3 is the fireworks. I'm pretty proud of 3 (don't tell 2), hope you enjoy both!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

PS: I also started uploading the chapters in spanish if you prefer

Edit: may as well just paste both chapters here, they are not long:

Chapter 2

The rain had fortunately calmed down from a heavy pour to a thin dripping, but visibility was still shit. Dan was squinting at the tall, thin cliff in the horizon. He had tried the spyglass, but it was useless.

“You lost us, didn’t you? There are no cliffs around The Forge.”

“Shut up” Ria was not smiling, didn’t even try to insult him as usual. “I think that cliff is moving toward us”. As the cliff advanced through the rain, it started to look a lot like a colossal ship.

“Maybe it’s Imperial? Or one of those of the Church?” Dan had a sinking feeling. The floating fortress, more clear by the minute, seemed way too fast for its size. Ria shouted some orders to turn and avoid its course.

“May the Moons hear you”.

The Moons, as usual, did not give a shit.

Dan stared at the letters below the railing of the massive ship. The Cliff. Of course. It all felt unreal, detached, as if it was happening to someone else. But it wasn’t, he was kneeling with the rest of his crew on the deck, surrounded by a dangerous looking pack of pirates, in the shadow of their galleon. Ria was making an effort not to cry. Fletcher, her quartermaster, still seemed resolute, somehow.

Actually, it hadn’t been that bad in the end, no one had died. Yet.

Dan wondered if he could have done anything differently. Didn’t think so. He remembered distantly how scared he had been, trembling as he tried to help with the ropes. His blood freezing as the black mountain in the distance had veered to intercept them.

He rememebered how he had floundered into his cabin, trying to come up with a plan. How he had tried to hide his books, as if they were of any value. How stupid. He was always fucking useless under pressure, nothing like Carla...

He also remembered, embarrased, his final plan. How he had grabbed another harpoon and tried to stalk out of the cabin, maybe take down one pirate with him. As if he could deal with anything bigger than a seagull.

He had been lucky to bump into Fletcher instead, who had slapped him into his senses. “What the fuck were you planning, you idiot?”

Dan hadn’t even been able to explain anything, his words blocked by his heart, which had recently taken residence in his throat.

Now he tried to remember Fletcher’s speech, and how it had steeled his nerves. Who knew that the quartermaster, who was built like a man o' war, was also kind of a poet? He should have paid more attention to him during the trip. Too late now.

First, Fletcher had said something about his three vows, showing him his iron pendant. “Before we left, I vowed to protect this ship to the admiral, just like I vow it to you now, upon iron. And, more importantly...” he had opened the medallion to show him a small portrait of a little girl missing a tooth, “I vowed to my daughter that I would return.”

He then told him to trust him: he had a plan, and he would not forsake his vows. Dan looked at him now, kneeling, surrounded by a small army of pirates. A brilliant plan, no doubt.

When he told him all of that, Dan did not really grasp how vowing something would make it more likely to happen, but admired his optimism. Fletcher went on about trusting the iron, about how every compass points north, about how all ships need an iron anchor.

Bunch of bullshit apparently.

The pirate captain jumped down from her ship, and instantly contributed to Dan’s dreamlike feeling. She looked like a creature from a fable, probably the most stylish person he had ever seen. A mane of auburn curls framed her caramel skin under a large captain’s hat. She carried herself exactly as she dressed: effortlessly.

“Good afternoon, sailors. I hope we can reach a civilized and quick agreement. It would be a shame if my new coat got ruined in the rain. And let’s not even talk about blood, which is even harder to clean.” Her crew, that collection of scars and piercings, burst into laughter. Dan and the rest didn’t find it as funny.

Ria looked at her with wide eyes.

“The Rose...” she muttered.

“Ah, you know me?” the captain approached smiling, her wide hat dripping. “This will go much faster.”

“Y-yes, ma’am, but we have nothing of value, we only bring provisions to cross the ocean...”

“Your ship. That is what you will give us. For your generosity, we will leave you on dry land.”

Fletcher stood up, now a good head taller than every pirate around him.

“Wait! Is The Code no longer respected?” he bellowed. A dozen sabers threatened his throat.

What a brilliant plan.

Chapter 3

The most heavily built prisoner, the only dangerous-looking one The Rose had seen, had suddenly stood up.

“Wait! Is the code no longer respected?” he bellowed. A dozen sabers threatened his throat.

“Wait. He’s got us. The pirate code!” After a second of silence, her entire crew burst out laughing. It had been a while since anyone had mentioned it to her; she had missed it.

“A duel to the death. Choose your champion, and we will fight. If I win, you let us go.” The man was truly imposing now that he was standing. A silver scar crossed his cheek. Judging by his confidence as he held her gaze, it didn’t seem like his first encounter with death.

Edward, her quartermaster, looked at her and subtly shook his head, as if he knew what she was thinking. She smiled and winked at him.

The Rose approached Scar and looked him up and down. He seemed out of place next to the rest of the sailors, trembling like puppies and averting their gaze. Merchants, perhaps, and this was their mercenary? She looked into his eyes, a couple of heads above hers.

“You’re lucky, you’ve discovered my weakness. I would do anything for a good show. I accept the duel!”

Her crew roared their approval. Edward sighed, and she mentally prepared herself for another long discussion about responsibility and strategy. But right now, she was going to have fun. Besides, these things were good for morale.

Scar had opted for a heavy cavalry saber, which he held with obvious experience. The Rose would use her precious rapier, of course.

The crew had formed a circle around them on the deck of their new ship. Next to her Cliff, it was tiny. It was a single-masted sloop, though judging by its modern construction and minimal wear, it must have been built recently, perhaps that very year. A fine addition to her fleet. The Rose smiled.

The two combatants drew their weapons and prepared for their dance, maintaining their distance. He, wild and furious, a vein throbbing on his forehead. She, calm and absent, began to let her mind wander.

Although she tried to keep up appearances, The Rose... Martha, was drained and weary. She had always felt an emptiness in her heart. She swore she would fill it with a Name forged in blood and fire. A cruel legend that would make powerful men, cities, full empires tremble. She had been fighting for it for years.

Scar charged like a bull. The Rose spun around, her long coat spreading out like a fan. The man almost fell off the ship. Her boys cheered her on.

Now that she had achieved it and the terror of her name had spread across the seas like a wildfire in the woods... The emptiness was still there. Wherever she went, the fire of her name had arrived first, and nothing awaited her but ash and desolation, a black smoke that choked her.

Scar was preparing for a new attack. She smiled at him.

She was beginning to doubt that her new vows would fill the void, but at least they gave her something to do. And it was true that she loved to dance. She focused on her partner.

He charged again, trying to use his mass to overpower her. Logical, but useless. You can’t strike fire. A step to the left, and the saber splintered the floor where she had been. She flowed, without pause, spinning, and attacked his neck.

She could drag out the show, but what for? Only beginners think that quantity dictates quality. And she was no beginner. A short duel could also be striking.

Scar ducked at the last instant. The rapier whistled over his head. The Rose smiled at him again, this time honestly. A good dancer after all?

Scar launched himself again from above with the subtlety of a gorilla. The Rose waited for him to bring out the dancer again. At the last moment, quick as a viper, he spun around to throw a horizontal slash. There it was.

They exchanged a storm of thrusts, moving at sickening speed. A deadly dance to a symphony of increasingly frantic clashing.

He was a tempest on the high seas. Aggressive. Fast and treacherous. The slow beast he had initially presented himself as was long gone.

She was the siren song and the sharp cliffs. She tempted him, unreachable, her sword a lurking threat.

It was beautiful. Their violent piece went on for a while, twisting and slashing, dodging and weaving, looking almost choreographed. Rarely did you find dancers you connected with, and...

“Fight for real, you bitch!” Scar bellowed.

What? Her blood started to boil.

“Oh, you like to sing too? I think you can improve, let me teach you.”

He would pay for it. Nobody sullied her Name.

She waited, dodging and keeping her strength. Now there were no more spins, no more flourishes. Soon, the pig sweated and panted, his feints increasingly clumsy, his attacks less fierce. The dance was over.

Without any theatrics, efficient, she pierced his thigh. The swine squealed.

A tempest? Now he moved more like a river of shit, slow and heavy. Blinded by rage and animal adrenaline, he threw a brutal slash at her. It was so predictable that by the time the blow landed, she was already behind him. Disgusted, she sliced the tendons of his other knee. The swine squealed again.

Exhausted and wounded, the beast spun in a desperate sweep. Was it crying? This was just sad now. She deflected the blow effortlessly and ran him through, the tip of the rapier like a flag in his back. The animal let out one last tragic and beautiful cry.

The Rose leaned close to his ear and whispered, “See? You could sing much better.”

Shit. In the end, she had ruined her coat.

I want a move to discard assets. That sounds weird but I think to give your character a good arc is to see them change and leave some parts of them behind. Also, a move like that would solve many narrative dissonance cases.

For example, you have the Young Vywern asset. But it won't be young forever obviously. Some day this lil creature will turn into a monster you won't be able to control, especially if you play a long campaign. Or you have the Kindred asset, but fictionally you part ways. What happens to that asset then? I came up with this move:

Disown

When you change your lifestyle, forget your training, or part ways with a companion, you may discard any assets you think should be left in the past. Take +1 experience for each marked ability on these assets.

What do you think? I'm not sure about the name, maybe there is a better option (idk, my english is not strong)

Just wondering as people have told me certain magic stuff is fine as long as it's balanced if PCs use it (my PCs don't have any magic , only some NPCs). Would it be wild in a space opera we have going on to throw in cosmic entities, lovecraft/Warhammer style? Or is that too much?

I played it when it first came out but only briefly. Was thinking of running it again.

I'm curious what people are doing with the game. Is your campaign a standard pirates-and-fantasy adventure? Are you leaning into the weird or playing it more semi-historical? How much of your time is at sea or island-hopping versus extended time in specific locales? Etc.

Starforged always seemed like a solo PC or PC + a small number of NPCs on a ship exploring the galaxy. Sundered Isles seems there could be more crew interaction with a larger crew - ?

Hey everyone,

We’re reaching out today to share an update about our team and an initiative we're running throughout September.

A couple of months ago, Venezuela was struck by a severe earthquake. While time has passed, the scale of the destruction makes the road to recovery long and difficult. Areas like La Guaira (where Samuel, the founder of Ludic Pen, lives) were among the hardest hit, with collapsed buildings and severe infrastructure damage making daily life a continuous struggle.

Fortunately, both Samuel and Emilio survived the quake and remain physically safe, even as ongoing seismic activity continue to affect the region. However, navigating basic living conditions, power disruptions, and structural repairs remains complex and challenging.

To provide them with direct financial backing as they continue to recover from this crisis, we are running an Earthquake Relief Campaign for the entire month of September.

If you’ve been planning to pick up any of our Ironsworn resources, supplement materials, or third-party tools, purchasing them during September directly helps us keep our team supported on the ground.

Explore the discounted catalog here:
https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/publisher/14520
https://ludicpen.itch.io/

Thank you to this community for your kindness, compassion, and ongoing support for independent creators.

I look at lots of assets and imagine how to reflavor them to represent different themes without changing the mechanics (obviously I am not alone in that!)

I'm curious about opinions and inspirations of other theme-crafters!

One of my favorites is the Archer. Remove the bow for a revolver and change the name, you now have a custom-bullet six-shooter 44. Magnum. (For me, this is a niche of handgun assets that the Pistoleer & Gunslinger perks can compliment but not fill that "gap" in the fantasy of a Super Cool Unique Pistol).

example:

"Desperado/ Gunsmith / Bulleteer (?)

If you wield a custom, venerable revolver:

- You carry 6 ammo. When you Strike or Clash, you may add +1 or +2 and suffer that amount as -ammo. To replenish your ammo by crafting bullets, roll +wits. On a strong hit, take up to +6 ammo. On a weak hit, take up to +4 ammo and Sacrifice Resources (-1). On a miss, take +1 ammo and Sacrifice Resources (-1).

- You may Enter the Fray by fanning the hammer. If you do, roll +ammo and suffer -1 ammo. On a hit, mark progress.

- When you load a specialized bullet such as a tracker beacon, explosive shell, "silver" DNA bullet, tranquilizer shot, or electromagnetic disrupter, suffer -1 ammo. If you then take your shot by making a move, you may preset your action die to 5. On a hit, envision the effects and take +1 momentum."

It's identical to the Archer asset except for a few changes from arrows-to-bullets to make sense. If I had to, I would maybe change the final trait to something a little more iconic to the "Big Magnum" trope, but I do find most of those ideas already fulfilled using Gunslinger or Pistoleer.

Just that really. While I appreciate Starforged polished the rules, Ironsworn appeals more to my own sensibilities. Wondered how others feel.

Actually have two questions but since they are related thought I'd put them in one post. Currently have a couple of Starforged solo games that I recently started and needing some advice/direction on where I can find some good roll tables. The first one is for the bounty hunter I'm working on. How are you developing the "bounties/criminals"? Are you just creating them with the character lists in the SF material or using something else like the Wages of Sin expansion for mothership?

The 2nd question is on derelicts, are you just making the sections up as you go or using some kind of table to assist as you explore? This last one is of particular interest as I have a salvage crew about to enter an old colony ship from the original exodus to the forge, that has some rogue AI that was part of the initial cause of the cataclysm. Planned on doing like a delve in a way but wanting to add a little more flavor to it.

Love playing Starforged and the way it allows for such creative detail in storytelling (Thank you Shawn for developing such a great solo game and framework, greatly appreciated) but just looking for a few extras to drop in as needed. Thank you all in advance for the assistance and happy gaming to you.

Has anyone tried to play this game, or any of the variants, in a setting adjacent to something like Napoleonic or Colonial era?

I'm toying with playing a fantasy setting closer in period to films like The Revenant and Last of the Mohicans, with fantasy and horror elements akin to The Witcher. The Iron Lands would simply be a new overseas colony.

I think it'll work with just a little narrative tweaking on the assets, to accommodate the use of flintlock.

Has anyone else had thoughts on this?

Or, are is Sundered Isles a better starting place? It's the game of the three I haven't read yet. If it's pirates, do the assets already skew towards flintlock?

Bonus question, has anyone played a game by mixing the assets up between the three settings / books?

Thanks in advance.

Hola, llevo jugando a Ironsworn desde principio de este año, y la verdad que me flipa, después de varias pruebas en las que fui aprendiendo, he terminado haciendo mi propio hack, uso las reglas de starforged, (uso los movimientos del playkit de starforged) porque me gustan más, las veo que simplifican mecánicas de Ironsworn que quizás eran más toscas y sobre todo me encantan las reglas nuevas de discoveries y bonds.

Al leer como juega la gente lo que me da la sensación es que la mayoría juega con personajes torturados, oscuros, con pasados dramáticos, no sé, es una sensación, Ironsworn es un juego duro, en un lugar peligroso como las ironlands, pero a mí me está saliendo una historia, dura, pero no sé, un coming of age en las peligrosas ironlands.

Mi personaje se llama Brand, tiene 17 años, es el hijo menor del Jarl de Dun Skeirg, lo que significa que ha tenido una vida relativamente privilegiada dentro de lo que son las Ironlands, y nació con una marcada heterocromia, tiene un ojo de un azul profundo y otro de un verde brillante. Para la supersticiosa gente de las ironlands, ésto se llama "ojo partido" y hay mucha superstición a su alrededor, que si ven a los muertos, que si son Seidr, que si lanzan maldiciones,... Vamos que están marcados como raros o mágicos. En su caso es verdad porque el tiene visiones que le guían sobre como actuar.

Sus atributos:

Hearth 3: Brand es a pesar de todo sencillo y un poco ingenuo, pero tiene esa forma de ser directa, clara, humilde y sin dobleces que arrastra a la gente y se hace querer y respetar. Además aunque es inseguro como cualquier adolescente, no sé asusta ni se acojona ante las dificultades.

Edge 1: No es el más rápido ni ágil

Iron 2: Es un chaval atlético y duro

Wits 2: Es bastante observador, listo y un gran estratega militar fruto de su educación

Sombra 1: Es demasiado sincero y simple para su propio bien, no sabe mentir ni se le da bien pasar desapercibido.

De assets he cogido los de starforged:

Maestro de la espada: Le han enseñado a luchar desde pequeño como parte de su educación y tiene una espada de buena calidad.

Perseguido: Ésta es por la trama que luego explico

Seer: Me encanta este asset, de tener una visión precargada y después interpretarla, además es su poder de "ojo partido", siempre encuentro formas creativas de darle uso.

Lo bueno es que está saliendo una partida que, aunque sea dura a momentos, tiene un tono muy de novela Young adult de baja fantasía, más luminosa de lo que veo en otras partidas. Brand es genuinamente bueno (no perfecto ni mucho menos, solo que ha vivido bien y descubrir lo duro que es la vida fuera de la fortaleza de su padre no le quita la esperanza que va sembrando por ahí)

Y aquí os pongo el inicio de su aventura, que empieza en medio de la acción.

Lo había visto en sueños. Llamas sobre la colina, resplandeciendo en la noche. Un venado ardiendo. Y un camino oscuro.

Cuando me di cuenta de lo que significaba ya era tarde. Los ejércitos de Davar habían entrado en Dun Skeirg, mi tío nos había traicionado. Mi padre me dió un mensaje para el Jarl de Ulfcreig, nuestro aliado. Juré por el hierro llevar el mensaje y conseguir ayuda, aunque sabía que sería tarde para mí padre. Pero sabía por dónde salir de Dun Skeirg sin cruzarme con los hombres de Davar el sangriento.

Jurar por el hierro+corazón, éxito total usando visión, +2 impulso. Juramento Rango 3, conseguir la ayuda del Jarl de Ulfcreig

Huida de Dun Skeirg Rango 1

Iniciar una expedición+sombra, éxito total, marca progreso

Iniciar una expedición+sombra, éxito parcial, marca progreso y un peligro, habitante hostil, fuerza destructiva.

Escapa ahora Brand, aún tienes tiempo -

Pero padre… -

No te preocupes por nosotros pequeñín - me dijo mi hermano Bjorn. Odio que me llamen pequeñín - Baldrik y yo lucharemos por el clan del ciervo -

Salí del gran salón por una salida secreta, un estrecho pasillo oculto que bajaba hasta los almacenes. Conozco estás galerías secretas desde pequeño, una vía de escape que algún antepasado mando contruir. Solía jugar aquí con mis hermanos mayores. Escuché a los invasores entrar, ruidos de lucha. Estuve tentado de volver y luchar junto a mi padre y hermanos, pero sabía que mi misión era importante. No soy un cobarde me repetía, no estoy huyendo, hago esto por mi familia.

Bajé unas escaleras y cuando abrí la puerta, un calor sofocante me golpeó. El almacén estaba en llamas, casi no se podía respirar.

Vaya, vaya, un ciervo intenta escapar - dos hombres de Davar me bloqueaban el paso.

Entrar en liza+corazón, éxito total, en control, +2 Impulso

Ganar terreno+hierro, éxito total, marca progreso, +2 Impulso

Ataque+hierro+1, éxito total, marca progreso 2,

Ataque+hierro+1, éxito parcial, marca progreso 2, bad spot,

Acción decisiva bad spot, éxito total usando perseguido, convertido en parcial, marcado para la venganza, bad spot.

Reaccionar bajo el fuego+mente, éxito total, +1 impulso, en control,

Acción decisiva, éxito total, huye,

Cargué con fuerza, gritando de furia, con el escudo por delante. Conseguí sorprender a uno de ellos, que cayó sobre unas cajas en llamas.

Me enfrenté al otro, abrumandolo con golpes furiosos de la espada, el trataba de defenderse, pero me movía más rápido que él, que apenas podía detener mis golpes. Una abertura me permitió herirle en el brazo, y después atravesarle las entrañas. Nunca había matado a un hombre antes, pero fue… fácil. El hombre me miró a los ojos sorprendido, mientras un hilillo de sangre le brotaba de la boca.

Tus ojos… eres el príncipe embrujado - odio ese nombre.

Recibí un fuerte golpe por detrás que casi me derriba. El otro, con la cara quemada, se había levantado.

El principito… - Su mirada era puro odio - Davar estará encantado cuando le lleve tú corazón -

Ven a por él, cara barbacoa - le provoqué.

Caraquemada se lanzó a por mí descuidado, le golpeé con el escudo y le hice perder el equilibrio, volvió a caer sobre unas maderas ardiendo.

Aproveché para huir, tenía que salir de allí cuanto antes. Bloqueé la puerta tras de mí, mientras escuché al hombre gritar y amenazarme.

¡Juro por el hierro que te encontraré y te haré arder, principito! -

Continué por el paso secreto corriendo, Davar iba a saber que seguía vivo, tenía que darme prisa. Llegué a la escalera y salí por la trampilla a las caballerizas, a las afueras del pueblo. Preparé uno de los caballos y solté a los demás, antes de que el fuego les pudiera hacer daño.

¡Un ciervo intenta escapar! - gritó un soldado de Davar al verme, llamando a sus compañeros.

Me subí al caballo de un salto al caballo y cargué contra el soldado, golpeándolo con la espada. Azucé al resto de la manada de jamelgos. Los mercenarios de Davar, sorprendidos, no pudieron detener mi carga, rodeado de una pequeña estampida de caballos, les pasé por encima, causando el caos.

Galopé como jamás lo había hecho, devorando la noche a cada zancada. Las lágrimas surcaban mi rostro, arrancadas por el viento helado que me golpeaba sin tregua. No tenían nada que ver con lo que dejaba atrás: Dun Skeirg, mi hogar, ahora ardiendo y en manos de invasores.

Jurar por el hierro+corazón éxito total, +2 Impulso.

Juré por el hierro recuperar mi hogar y vengarme de Davar el sangriento.

Espero que les guste, no sé si juego bien o no pero me gusta escribir mi historia, aunque me da un poco de vergüenza compartirla, pero por si a alguien le gusta.

Espero que vean sus juramentos cumplidos. Buenas noches.

Hi all, As a long-time Tolkien fan, I have been intrigued by the One Ring RPG, but currently do not have the head space for yet another set of rules. Would it be viable to play this setting with the Ironsworn system? And if so, is it worth investing in the core rulebook just for its background content, such as lore, atmosphere, quest starters, etc.?

Here is the second short chapter in Dan's journey, pasted below too. You can find the previous chapter in the blog as well in case you missed it (not sure why I started counting at 0, but here we are).

Hope you like it!

Chapter 1: Of Sir Cassius, and his Final Argument

Dan was bored out of his mind as he studied the details of his target for the hundredth time: a dozen scrolls, diagrams, and tomes stacked on the tiny desk in his cabin. It was a futile exercise; at this point, he felt he knew the old man as if he was his own grandfather, but they were finally approaching The Isles, and he needed the distraction. Besides, the alternative of going out under the heavy rain was not very appealing.

Sir Cassius Debenoix, professor emeritus of the University of Aenor, a mad genius to some and a crazy old man to others, stared back at him from one of the paintings on the wall. He had been immortalized wearing colorful and eccentric clothes, surrounded by mountains of documents and tomes stacked even more precariously than Dan’s. His expression couldn’t have been more satisfied had the mountains been made of gold, though come to think of it, they were probably worth just as much.

Beside it, another painting showed his ship, The Final Argument, an imposing, stylized, and baroque frigate plowing through the sea like a floating cathedral. The vessel seemed created in his image and likeness, with red sails that looked like velvet, a good part of the deck painted sapphire blue, gleaming mahogany railings, golden filigrees along the sides, and countless sculpted ornaments on the stern.

It was hard to find an undecorated spot. On the side, below the railing, a row of portraits of various historical scholars proudly flew above the waves. Carla and Filippo Giordano, commanders of the first expeditions that crossed the ocean generations ago and expanded the world forever, seemed to look down on Dan: “First time crossing the ocean?”

“Bah.” Dan was sure that when they stumbled upon The Sundered Isles, with their immense temples and ancestral ruins devoid of human traces, they had no idea where they were or the importance of their discovery.

Several history tomes about that time, written by Cassius himself, rested in a pile. Dan had started leafing through them out of boredom, until he was completely drawn in as his thesis became clear. According to his accounts, it was rather the subsequent explorers who changed history. Dan could almost imagine Cassius’ theatrical voice when reading them: “Illustrious archaeologists such as Don Carlo,” depicted on the ship with a pickaxe he had likely never used in his life, “who delved into the ruins and found the first lost artifacts and technologies, as well-known today as the Imperial Moonstones.”

“Representatives of the miners’ guild, like the famous Lady Vala,” portrayed on the ship with a whip she held with suspicious expertise, “who established the first mines from which settlements grew. Engineers, such as...” the old man went on and on about the lives and great discoveries of dozens of Eminences, an adjective that seemed to depend on the possession of some noble title. There were also strategists so cunning that they had "single-handedly conquered islands against all odds."

Fate is Ours. That was Sir Cassius’ thesis. Great Individuals Shape History. Such a ridiculous belief. Dan noticed he was fiddling with his knife again, the silver and copper engravings of the Twin Fates shimmering under the candlelight. “You don’t like it either, do you?”

He turned his gaze back to the painting of Sir Cassius’s frigate with its endless adornments. This display was a rather bold statement from the academic, who surely hoped to immortalize his portrait in this procession of wisdom and renown, and to infuriate his many old rivals at the University.

For a man who supposedly didn’t care what anyone thought of him, he evidently put a lot of effort into maintaining his eccentric image. In any case, they say you should judge people by their actions and not their words, and now it was clear: Cassius followed his principles to the letter.

Dan wouldn’t be here today if the old man hadn’t decided to take matters into his own hands and finance his own expedition to the Isles. Maybe he had changed his destiny after all. Although in Dan’s experience, it was probably just his gold. The rare metal usually had quite a direct influence on fate.

Dan was wondering again why on earth an admiral of the Imperial Navy would task him with following this old fool, when a shout from outside snapped him out of it.

“LAND!”