Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard
[Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard is a short solo journaling game by Amanda P./Weird Wonder 'about quests, temptations and codes. It takes you as a Sun Guard on a pilgrimage to restore the ancient shrine atop the frost cliffs and has you roll 2d8 for prophecies of your journey at the beginning and d6s for the steps of your journey. Each step you have to spend resources, 1 time and 1 other (or you may regain a resource), and if you can weave one of your prophecies into the step you can save one resource. You can find Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard here: https://weirdwonder.itch.io/sunguard
This was my character after creation:
Name: Muzna the Jovial
Background: The Veteran
Code: To protect the innocent as one's own person.
Traits: brave, reserved
Cherished item: A fallen comrade's weapon
Might: 2
Guile: 1
Honour: 2
Time: 6]
Departure
(Prophecies: 2d8 = 4;4 = Resentment and Greed; Tenderness, a look)
While the sound of my horse's hooves is ringing loud against the stone of the outer courthouse, the voice of Swordsaint Azor rings even louder in my mind. The words of his prophecy, ushered during the ritual anointment in the great hall less than half an hour ago occupy my thoughts. I still feel the weight of the Swordsaint’s sword on my shoulders, the cold touch of the tiles on my knees.
You will face many dangers, Muzna. People will come to your aid; they will come to hinder you. Beware the resentments the world will throw at you, the greed and temptation you might meet. But there will also be time for friends and tenderness.
Stay true to yourself and see the pilgrimage to Frost Cliffs done. For all our sakes. If you don't succeed, the Sun Guard may be no more.
Crossing the Desert
(2d6: 1+3=4 = Sand cuts your face …)
I remember well the last time I crossed the vast Crimson Desert that separates the Sun Guard's Hold from the rest of the world. Even though I had prepared myself thoroughly with scarves, gloves and other protective clothes, the stinging heat of the sun was still overpowered by the razor-sharp sand the wind blew on my face, driving my horse Carasan and me to take shelter in a small rock outcropping. There, I found a small shrine to the Sun, vandalised in years past. The rocky table had been attacked with blunt instruments; blood smeared upon the surface. I spend my time waiting for the winds to calm there, cleaning off the blood with the help of some of my water and the coarse sands, scrubbing while chanting silently the prayer of forgiveness. After I was done, I cleaned up the rubble, replaced the stolen candles and filled the small earthenware vessel with fresh incense from my pack.
(Spend 1 Honour; Gain Deed: Restorer of the Sun's Virtue)
(2d6: 5+6 = 11 = Circling Above you a great hawk ...)
Emerging from the outcropping, I led Carasan by his reigns until we crossed an especially loose dune of sand where we constantly lost our footing. On the other side of it, we were greeted by an auspicious omen: A great auburn hawk darting towards the ground, deftly snatching up one of the many venomous snakes of the desert, ruthlessly killing it with its talons and soaring off into the sky. A symbol of the power of the Sun against those that work low in the ground, fulfilling dark deeds and preying on the weak and innocent. Just like the Sun Guard did in the past. Like I did when I was younger and we were still riding the world, speaking justice with a firm, yet iron fist. When villagers yet turned to us for guidance and help, not hid their children in fear of repression and violence.
(Gain 1 Might, No deed)
Luckily, the rest of the way through the desert was calm. While the sun was still beating down us, burnt our skin and dried our throats, we managed to reach the outskirt after several days of travel, and met friendly faces for the first time since leaving the Hold. An ancient hovel, still loyal to the Sun Guard welcomed us, nourished us and gave us shelter for the night, before we set off on the next leg of our journey.
Under the Shadowy Pines
(2d6 = 3+4 = 7 = Heat and Smoke)
I had thought my journey’s next step would be easier. Less marked by the heat and singed horse hair. The vast pine forest that borders the Crimson Desert welcomed us with cooling shade and refreshing water from yesterday's rains.
But as is often the case, appearances can be deceiving. First, there was a single loud pop somewhere nearby, then a rushing of wind and the acrid smell of burning sap in my nose. And suddenly, the forest was furiously popping all around us: The sound of bark getting burned and violently separated from the trees by the burning and exploding sap that has accumulated on it. The forest was on fire, filling my lungs with smoke and ash. Wildly swinging my sword to clear the smouldering underbrush, I forced my way through relentlessly on foot, tightly holding on to Carasan's reigns. He is trained well, but a fire like this spooks even the best horses of the Sun Guard. But after a half hour of nightmarish fires and destruction, we managed to get out of the worst of it mostly unscathed. Carasans skin was burned and blistered, as was my face and hands, but at least we were alive.
(Spend 1 Might; Gain Deed: Not even the Fires of Hell)
(2d6 = 5 + 3 = 8 = Gliding on the edges of your vision ... ;Use Resentment and Greed Prophecy to save time)
A day and a half after leaving the forest fire behind me, I noticed something ephemeral between the trees, just at the edges of my vision. At first, I thought it a trick of the shadows but soon noticed it was something more. The ghostly remains of somebody left behind in this world, trying to catch my attention, but as is typical with ghosts, they disappear once one tries to focus on them. But I managed to keep it in my peripheral vision, and it led me to an old, rotting lodge, built out of roughly hewn logs. The musty odour of the wood filled the air around it and I left Carasan outside to check the inside. Immediately I noticed the sigil of the Sun Guard on a bronze plaque lying in front of the door: The rising sun cresting on the horizon. Once, it must have been affixed to the door, but now it was thrown into the dirt, scraped and trampled on.
Inside, I found the remains of a single person, only wearing its night garments, a filled pipe of tobacco nearby. This must have been the resident Sun Guard watching over this part of the forest. Looking through the Lodge, it became all too clear what happened here: All the valuables were gone, armour, weapons, gold coins, jewellery. Even the incense and candle holder that should be here. The decaying body itself had broken bones, the back of its skull caved in by a mighty blow. This was done deliberately, and not just in anger.
Sighing heavily, I carried my fallen brother (or sister? it was impossible to tell by the remains) outside and let Carasan carry them. Once outside the forest, where it would be saved to start a fire, I will be burning their body according to the Sun Guards rites, as should have been done long ago. The fact that the body was still not completely decayed and barely smelled, even though the lodge seems ancient, must be a sign that the spirit has been waiting for a long time for somebody to perform the proper rites.
(Spend 1 Honour; Gain Deed: Keeper of the Dead)
The River Valley
(2d6 = 1 + 2 = 3 = A Strange Beast)
With my journey about halfway done, I was met by the rushing waters of creeks and rivers flowing down from the Frost Cliffs looming on the horizon. Not much longer until Carasan and I would begin our ascend, just like our ancestors did before us. But then, even over the noise of the rushing water, I heard a commotion. Twisting around on my saddle, I spied the source of it: For the first time since leaving the small community of faithful at the edge of the Crimson Desert, there were other human beings. But these were warriors and hunters, riding after a beast that I had only ever seen and heard of in old tales and books. A Chimaera, a mockery of the sun's creation. The head and neck of a snake, combined with the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion and finally the hooves of a hart. A perverse twisting of nature, created by one of the dark magicians of old. I drew my sword immediately and spurred Carasan on, so as to cut off the beast’s escape - and it worked. Riding straight through its path, I cut down onto its right forward leg, it stumbled in its stride and the unknown warriors immediately were on it, bringing it down with their long hunting spears.
When the deed was done, they thanked me for my help, and while they were obviously reluctant to get involved with a Sun Guard - something they themselves must only know through tales and books - they let me accompany them to their village to rest and stock up on supplies, so I might finish my pilgrimage.
(Spend 1 Might; Gain Deed: Slayer of the Fell Chimaera)
(2d6 = 1 + 6 = 7 = Mighty Trumpets)
Out here beyond the desert and the vast forest, humanity still seems to thrive. The warriors I met a few days ago and their village were only one of the first signs of that. I met other travellers on the road, as well as merchants and watchmen. But nothing as grand as the city of Rand and the tourney being held there. Again, it was easy to find due to the noise of trumpets droning over the rivers, but the plentiful coloured pavilions and tents in front of the cities' walls made it easy to find as well. It was a loud and raucous affair, with knights from all over the continent having joined the festivities to prove their mettle and bring honour to their lords and orders. Of course, one order was missing and so I had the bookkeepers add my name and the Sun Guard to the roster of participants. I might be older already, but the joy of presenting the Guard again in a hive of commotion like this gave me back the spring of my youth. I did not manage to take the big trophy, but I did present myself admirably, if I can say so myself. But what really drew my attention were the looks of the really old people there. These weren't full of the suspicions and resentments that one might expect from those who say we turned our backs on the world. These were the looks of those who remember who we were and what we brought the world. The looks of longing and of fond tenderness. Some of them even came up to me to ask me about my journey, about the Sun Guard. Most of them thought we were dead and gone for good.
It is for people like these, not only the Sun Guard that I need to finish my pilgrimage, no matter what it might cost me.
I didn't linger too long, then. A pause in a large city like Rand might have been good for Carasan and me, but time is of the essence now.
(Spend 1 Honour; Gain Deed: Tourneyed for the Honour of the Guard; Save 1 time due to the Prophecy of Tenderness, a look)
Ascending the Frost Cliffs
(2d6 = 3 + 2 = 5 = Your rucksack tore ....)
When we began our climb up the Frost Cliffs, I had to lead Carasan by his reigns again. The footing was far too unstable and treacherous to properly ride without risking life and limb for the both of us. Additionally, this way we were each other’s shelter from the biting winds blowing down from the summit. Nevertheless, I tried to spur Carasan on. It was already getting late in the year and the clouds above the summit were threatening snow, something that I certainly wasn't used to and would have liked to postpone as long as possible, at least until the pilgrimage was done. I would worry about the way back later.
The trails up the mountain became harder and sparser the further up we went, and the journey was nearing its hardest part. Just as I was pushing through some undergrowth, my rucksacks’ straps caught on the branch of a dead tree. With an audible crack, the branch tore off, fell into a chasm and took my rucksack - and most of my remaining supplies - with it.
I do have to admit that I let out a frustrated string of curses. I am not proud of that, but what is done is done. What I am much prouder of is the way I managed to get it back: I still had a length of rope coiled and tied around Carasan's saddle, and I managed to create a kind of hook with that and another tree branch that had the right form to hook around the straps of the rucksack. It was similar to fishing, but on on dry land, and it took me a few attempts before I managed to properly hook the leather straps and pull it back up towards me.
(Spend 1 Guile; No Deed)
(2d6 = 6+4 = 10 = Clattering pots ...)
So far, the ascend towards the summit has been a lonely one, but Carasan and I managed to stumble upon something that can only be described as an old trail, still used by people fair and criminal alike. On this trail we were greeted by a simple peddler, whose loud clanging of pots on his pack alerted us to his presence even before we saw him. We talked for a while and traded some things I would not need for the rest of my journey for food and a warm blanket and he told us of a group of bandits waiting up ahead for other travellers. He also told me of a small goat path that would lead by them so that we might continue in safety.
But that would not be the Guard's way, and I was adamant that such greed needed to be punished. How dare they rob and steal from people, especially up here in such a hostile place, were helpfulness and friendship should reign, instead of base motives like the desire for gold? I climbed back up on Carasan, drew my weapon again and rode to meet the bandits.
Of course, cowards like these are no match for a trained Sun Guard, and I left the stone and first few spots of snow sprinkled in blood, their bodies burned as well as I could manage with the scarce resources of the mountain.
(Spend 1 Might; Gain Deed: The Might of the Sun Guard reaches the farthest corners; Save 1 time due to the prophecy of Resentment and Greed)
The Endless Stairs
(1d6 = 5 = Each day, merchant carts arrive ...
No resource to spend! Break the code and regain resources. 1d6 = 2 = Your feelings drive your decision making. Regain 1d6 = 1 Resource = 1 Guile)
Finally, the goal of my pilgrimage came into view and my heart sank. The way to the halls are stones carved into the side of the mountain, hundreds upon hundreds leading to the summit, which was already getting a lot of snow. Down at the bottom, sleet was falling down hard. Time was running out before the steps would be unpassable. But that was not my biggest concern. It was the large encampment of the Dread Arbiters of Will, not only a fearsome militant order in its own rights, but also the Usurper. The order that pushed the Sun Guard from the minds of the people as well as the world. The enemy, now occupying the way our most sacred and ancient halls on top of the mountain. It was an insult, and it dared to be the end of my journey. There were so many I would never manage to defeat them all, a whole battalion of soldiers and their train. They would also never let me pass, since it is obvious to everyone who or rather what I am. My heart sank and my will started to leave me. With snow starting to pile on my newly bought blanket I asked myself if this would be it? The end of my pilgrimage, so close and yet unfathomably far from finishing what should be finished? No. I will have to do whatever it takes, this oath I have taken upon me. So I did what no Sun Guard should ever do. I took of my surcoat, my marks of rank and honour, packed it all into my bag. Hid my sword and wrapped myself in the blanket to appear to be somebody I am not. And it would work, because there were merchants coming and going all the time, and the watchmen were weak willed, bored and tired. They barely checked anybody. And so I passed through like this. Not as a Sun Guard as I should, but as a nobody. It was the first time in my life I had ever taken off my role as a Sun Guard ever since I joined the ranks decades ago.
While passing through the encampment and setting a first tentative foot on the lowest steps of the Endless Stairs leading to the summit, I heard a voice in my head. The voice of Swordsaint Azor, speaking words from what feels like a lifetime ago now.
Stay true to yourself.
I bit down on my teeth, hard. I was afraid I might crack a tooth, but I endured and ventured ever upward. I would not let fear grip me again. On the way down I would be a Sun Guard again.
No matter what it was going to cost me.
(Spend 1 Guile, Gain Deed: Tricked the Usurping Enemy)
The Declaration of Deeds
Carasan and I walked up the stairs in a brisk pace, getting as far away from the camp as possible before putting on my Sun Guard's regalia again. I did not want to appear as a poor merchant in front of the hallowed halls.
And my first look took my breath away, even though Carasan and I arrived in the night. I have never been here before, but even in its ruined and dilapitated state, these ancient halls on the top of the world emanated power and conviction. The remains of the timber structure and stained glass windows still stood resolute against time and decay, even though the upper floor was broken down and uninhabitable. Suddenly, a young voice, yet filled with weary wisdom called out to me.
Pilgrim, do you come to offer your deeds? Let us regard your countenance. It is time for the judgement.
Slowly, I made my way through the giant doors into the hall, my steps and Carasan's hooves echoing from the stone walls. Through the falling snow outside, the sun was rising and illuminating the hall through the windows, ice cold wind blowing in by the cracks of the hall's walls.
Now, music swelled inside the hall, though no musicians appeared, and I was flanked by the spirits of ancient brethren, young and old alike. Sun Guards who have made the pilgrimage before me, in times long gone. They encourage me on, and one of them smiles at me knowingly - might he be the spirit of the Guard I laid to rest in the forest? They acompany me down into the inner halls, to the sanctum itself and the Last Guardian waiting there, illuminated by a roaring fire from a giant brazier standing in the middle of the hall. Suddenly, a voice echoes through the halls.
How have you fallen low? What are your failures? What did you learn?
Thinking back on my journey, there was only one time I truly failed. I recount the moment I have disguised me as a merchant and walked through the Enemy's camp instead of standing proud as a Sun Guard, just mere hours ago. The voice cries out again.
What deeds have thou wrought Pilgrim? Declare them.
And I recount each and every deed I have done throughout my pilgrimage to the halls atop the frost cliffs. And with each recounted tale, the assembled spirits let out a great shout, and the fire in the brazier roared with furious joy.
In the Crimson Desert I was the restorer of the Sun's Virtue.
In the Pine Forest, not even the Fires of Hell could stop me and I was the Keeper of the Dead for a long forgotten brother.
In the River Valley, I have slain the Fell Chimaera and I tourneyed for the Honour of the Guard.
On the Frost Cliffs, I have shown the world that even today, the might of the Sun Guard reaches the farthest corners of the world.
And on the Endless Stairs, I have tricked the Usurping Enemy to reach the destination of the Pilgrimage.
And with the last deed recounted, and the last shout's echoes dying down, I feel a warm embrace. Not from the brazier's fire, but from the sacredness of the ritual completed. The voice rings out again, this time merely a whisper.
It is finished.
The spirits depart, and while they depart, the halls start to take on a new form. Repaired and made whole again. Stone by stone, and glass pane by glass pane. It has been sanctified by the holy pilgrimage.
The time of the Sun Guard will come again.
[I had a lot of fun with this one and would definitely recommend it if you're looking for a short journaling game that won't take up as much time as, for example, Koriko would. It was interesting filling in the world asI went along, since the game prettymuchjust throws you into it, without giving a lot of background. Hats off in this regard to Amanda P., because everything she wrote was very evocative and made it very easy to get into the flow and the story.
I rolled very poorly at the beginning, and only with luck I managed to only break my code once to regain resources (and only got exactly how many I needed to get to the end), so at the end my character hadexactly 0 resources left, but gained 7 deeds in total.]