5 Leagues - Turns 4 and 5 East to Ironvein and the Weight of the New Moon

 

Turns 4 and 5: Goodbye Mirefield Farms, hello Ironvein Trade Hub

If you missed it, Turn 3 Cruel Deserters at the Crumbling Inn is here 

The Blightburners would leave Mirefield Farms under a sky the color of old bruises. The fields behind them looked a shade less rotten, the people a shade less broken. They had cut the Curse of War down a peg—threat reduced to a low growl of 2—and the village breathed easier for it. But the note from the dead robber captain still burned in Sigrid’s pouch: Deliver the strong ones and the hunter alive to the shrine in the Hollow before the new moon. The Womb hungers. More meat means more coin.

The new moon was coming fast. No time for rest.

They would ride east. First stop: Ironvein Trade Hub. Then the blackthorns and the sink beyond.

No Hard Times bit them this stretch. Bringing Bren Carver home alive had bought goodwill and full bellies. While the warband saddled up, Grimwald drilled like a man trying to outrun his own bones. The old mystic’s spells came sharper afterward—his casting stronger by a full step. Finn and Dust ranged ahead, slipping through the wild like ghosts. Nothing on the road smelled of ambush. The way stayed clear.

Before the dust of departure settled, Bren Carver approached them in the muddy yard. The farmer pressed two gold marks into Sigrid’s hand, eyes steady. “More than thanks,” he said. “You pulled me out of hell.” The coin went straight to a battered but serviceable shield for Garric. The big man strapped it on without a word, testing the weight like an old friend returned.

 

 

Brenn Says thanks 

 

Scouting the way 

The journey passed quiet. No blood, no screams. Just the green river sliding beside them, thick and watchful.

Ironvein greeted them with open gates and wary respect. Tales of the Blightburners had already reached the smoke-choked hub—the ogre’s fall, the inn slaughter, the rescue of Mara Reed. Supportive locals meant open doors and loose tongues. One more Adventure Point slipped into their tally just from buying drinks and listening. Sigrid paid the crew two gold marks from the purse. Small wages for hard steel.

They earned a little more by swinging blades with the town guard—two fat sacks of rations for their trouble. Grimwald buried himself in old ledgers and whispered lore but came up empty. No new secrets from the books. The warband felt well-equipped enough; they left the traders alone.

 

News travels, welcome Blightburners 

 

Then came the research.

A quiet word in the right ear led them to a secretive knot of men in a back room thick with pipe smoke and iron dust. They had a contract: recover an item from an unexplored site northwest of town. Dangerous work. Worth it. Three more Adventure Points hit the ledger, and a fresh mark appeared on their map—unexplored ground in the direction they were already riding. Toward the Hollow. Toward the new moon.

Sigrid didn’t hesitate. “We take the contract.”

 

 

contract offered 

The decision was made.

Now the Blightburners gear up for blood at a forgotten treasure site. Lurking foes wait in the dark—giant bugs scuttling through the ruins, and a handful of imps twisted into the mix. A site battle with fat loot rolls on the line. The shrine in the Hollow still calls, but first they sharpen their steel on whatever Ironvein needs dead.

The green river flows on. The Womb still hungers. And the Blightburners ride straight into its teeth.