"Desolation rolls over Kergüs like a frostbarren wind. The lawless and forlorn trek across its ice-wracked expanse, crawling over the plains or cowering in the cracked earth..."
- MÖRK BORG, page 12
Nick picked something from the E.L.M.B. menu called Cold Dead Fingers (by Will Rixon) which didn't look like much at first, for there's almost no art to speak of and it could easily go unnoticed. Yet it turned out to be one of the most thrilling RPG adventures I've ever experienced.
The premise is that somewhere in Kergüs lies the frozen Lake Basvik, surrounded by quiet shoreside fishing hamlets. A few days ago, a colossal stone came plummeting out of the black void, crashing through the lifeless grey clouds in a blaze of flame and punching a hole right through the ice of the lake, where it now sits half-submerged in the centre of the ice, shrouded by perpetual mist.
Naturally, curious folk from the area went to see it. Those who returned alive brought back fistfuls of gold nuggets, which of course resulted in a rapid 'boomtown' economy springing up around the shores of the lake.
Rather than roll up a character manually, for ease I decided once again to use the clever tool SCVMBIRTHER to pre-generate one for me, as I did in my last adventure. Actually, not quite! This time I used its lesser-known cousin SCVMATORIUM which generates (a limited range of) fan-made, 'non-canon' characters only. A lot of creativity has been poured into these fan-made classes and I do recommend them if you want a change from the 'canon' material. There are a great many not included in SCVMATORIUM, but well worth digging up.
This session's character was a Sun Scorched Zealot, Galgenfrid by name, who has this fascinating background text:
Burnt as a Wytch in Galgenbeck, resurrected in radiance, you have been Illuminated. Amidst the shrouded darkness you glimpsed the gestating Sun-Childe, and have been scorched by the LIGHT. Your flesh has been seared and transfigured and you emit an eerie and discomfiting warmth.
You reject the coming end of all; instead you shall help herald in the birth of a new dawn. Hated and hunted by those of the Basilisk, and tortured by dreams of a howling solar birth, you shall find no respite or succour till all are burnt by the lambent glory of a new god.
I began with a gambeson (-d2) for protection, a sabre (d6) for my primary weapon and used my silver to purchase a rope and a grappling hook. Critically important is that my character only had 1 HP, which influenced some of my choices in the game!
Also important to note is that Nick and I have been using the Star Signs rules from Christian Eichhorn's Apocrypha supplement. This time I had the sign known as 'The Priest', which gives you this blessing:
Your voice commands respect. When you speak, everybody listens. Choose your words wisely.
But most important of all to record is that SCVMATORIUM decided to bless me with a pet! A stubborn tabby cat named Narm (this name randomly determined using the name-generator included in the Den of Disarray supplement by Phillip Teich). I was also given a basket, so I decided the basket would be Narm's means of transportation that I'd carry with me wherever I meant, no matter the personal cost.
Character creation completed, the first thing to establish was Galgenfrid's reason for being at Lake Basvik, determined by a die roll. This was the result:
The stone calls to you in your dreams. You seek a way to silence it.
I felt this corresponded well to the background text for my character, describing him as "tortured by dreams of a howling solar birth". I decided these two things were related to each other, thus the fallen stone was a significant part of the coming of the so-called 'Sun-Childe' whom my character worships. The emerging synergy between my character and the plot was one of my favourite parts of this adventure.
My story began at a fishing-village-turned-gold-prospector-station, known locally as 'Wolf Ridge' (which would prove an appropriate name in due course). At dawn I set out onto the frozen lake on foot and found myself quickly trapped in a blinding blizzard that disrupted my progress and caused me to wander widely off track.
It wasn't long before I found myself cornered by three hungry wolves! The wolves leapt at me to attack, but thankfully I evaded them and even managed to scratch one with my sabre. Rather than press the attack, though, I chose to speak to them in my best 'priestly' tones and offered them food from my rations collection (I just so happened to have three food rations; one for each of them).
The wolves listened to me and, after failing a morale roll, submitted to my authority, regarding me as their new pack leader. This proved highly convenient for me and my 1 HP!
The Crusty Friar, though, was fresh out of food. I'd given my last rations to the wolves, so there was nothing to eat. What do you do in MÖRK BORG when there's no food? Why you EAT PREY KILL of course (courtesy of Karl Druid once again)!
I set out with the wolves into the snowy woods surrounding Wolf Ridge. Before long we stumbled upon a lone Blubber Gull, isolated from the rest of its flock and sitting in a little hollow. I bade the wolves stay back while I hunted our prey alone. Now, as it happens, despite being small (and alone) Blubber Gulls have a tendency, when they feel threatened, to either flee (meaning no food for me) or attack by swooping at potential predators and BLOWING THEMSELVES UP, dealing d8 damage. With my 1 HP and no other options for food nearby, neither of these options was satisfactory to me. This was a high-risk hunt!
But I had a plan.
As a Sun Scorched Zealot, one of my unique abilities is a random blessing from THE SUN which comes to me each dawn. This day, it was this:
Once per day your flesh transfigures and a SUN walks the earth. All creatures in 10ft are scorched by your stellar fury and take 2d10 damage. Mortal flesh is not meant to contain such power, so afterwards you may not wear armour and HP is halved, until the next dawn.
I crept into the hollow and made cooing sounds to the gull, acting as if I might have a tasty treat in my hand for it to eat. It approached me, falling for my ruse. When I was within ten feet, I ignited my solar blessing, scorching the whole area around my person with a miniature nuclear blast and flash-frying the bird for 18 damage (it only had 2 HP). I hungrily wolfed down the cooked fowl (saving a little for my cat, Narm) and returned to the inn, where I booked a room until the following morning.
The next day, the weather had not really improved, but I had awoken with a new blessing from THE SUN. This time:
Your head is replaced by a burning mote of the sun, and thine enemies must avert their gaze before your glory. You gain +2 to defence rolls.
I spent the rest of the day walking around with a miniature star for a head! I quickly packed up my things, readied my sled and the wolves, and before long we were back out onto the frozen lake. In addition, Nick kindly decided he'd let me Get Better (the MÖRK BORG equivalent of 'levelling up') which took my health from 1 HP to 7 HP, which was very welcome indeed!
This time, despite the extreme weather, I was much better at navigating through the snow and we made great progress toward the centre of the lake where the colossal stone lay half-submerged beneath the icy water. We found a few more frozen bodies, but no sign of life, other than some gulls flying overhead.
An hour or so later, we arrived at the jagged edge of the ice hole. We could not see the stone through the blanket of mist that hung over the water. I bade the wolves pull the sled around the edge of the hole, clockwise, until we found a bridge or perhaps a boat.
About half an hour later I came across a lone figure stumbling across the ice. I ran the sled up to him and called out. The poor guy was crying for help and I did what I could for him. I had purchased a portable pot-bellied stove and some firewood from Fingers back at Wolf Ridge, which I had tied to my sled. I unpacked this, fired it up and tried to keep him warm. He tearfully told me his story. He'd been gold-hunting as part of a group that left from another lakeside settlement known as Lygann's Lookout, on the opposite shore from Wolf Ridge. Unfortunately his party had been attacked by some masked, robed figures, who killed everybody except for him; he'd managed to run away and kept running. Now he seemed to be suffering from exposure and didn't look well at all.
Cold Dead Fingers has you take a test for hypothermia every hour you spend on the ice. Nick and I ran with this, but we replaced the basic hypothermia test written into the game with Frost Fever by Daniel H. Carlsen, which works in a similar way, only with potentially more interesting consequences. Simply put: every hour you check to see if you're suffering from Frost Fever, which gets harder to withstand the longer you're outside in sub-zero conditions. If you fail a test, something miserable happens to you. Unfortunately for Von, which was the name of this poor fellow, he could not be saved from the Fever, and died in my arms.
He did, however, have a gold nugget in his pocket, taking my total up to three!
The wolves and I (as well as my cat) continued our clockwise circuit of the hole in the ice until we came across a campsite. Several tents, crates and barrels were set up near the edge of the ice sheet, with some kind of mechanical contraption with a long chain disappearing into the mist, toward the stone.
I noticed three men, all wearing robes and skull masks, were standing by a burning brazier near the contraption. One of them was significantly larger and tougher-looking than the other two: a real brute by the looks of things. Confident in my Sun Scorched Zeal, I decided to sled right up to them and ask them what they were doing. They were very rude. Using some choice language, they told me in no uncertain terms to back off. I held my ground, continuing to ask what they were doing while preaching boldly about the supremacy of the Sun Childe, which they contemptuously dismissed, though not as vehemently as expected.
They continued on in their generally rude manner, encouraging me to leave, but they did at least admit to me during this process that they were 'fishing'. I did not buy this story at all, but thought of a way I might win them over to my side. I drew out the three gold nuggets from my pockets and held them out as potential gifts from the Sun Childe.
I had intended to give them one each in exchange for dealing with me favourably, but instead the brute, whose name was Kurg, decided that all three of them were for him! This I had not foreseen. His two companions did not look favourably on this and a fight broke out among them, which quickly escalated to violence. Before long, the two smaller men had beaten their giant companion to death with their clubs, despite his greater size and his wielding of a spiked flail.
Once they'd realised what they'd done, the two remaining men began to panic. While they'd been fighting, I untied my wolves ready to engage in combat should it prove necessary. The men seemed frightened of me now and just wanted me to let them go. I used this opportunity to question their real purpose and what was going on here at their camp.
It transpired that these were Inquisitors, working, presumably, for the Church of the Two-Headed Basilisk, the dominant religious organisation in the game world. Or, rather, they were irreligious thugs working for the Inquisition. Hired muscle. They said they were part of a group led by an Inquisitor (Vost by name) whose purpose was to destroy the stone in the lake, by means of much gunpowder, which they'd brought a considerable amount of in the barrels and crates scattered about the camp. They didn't know why they were to destroy the stone, as they were merely following orders. I neglected to ask them why they killed Von's team (if indeed it was the same people) because I was mostly interested in the stone itself and their operations concerning it.
Once I had extracted all the information I thought I needed, I set my wolves on them. They tried to run but one was caught and pulled down by the wolves. The other's fate I do not know. I left him running, a wolf on his tail, as I turned away and decided at this point to let the wolves go free. We had found a way to the stone and their service was no longer required. They were, after all, wild beasts, not pets.
I operated the machine which these men were guarding, which turned out to be a winch to haul in a small boat across the water surrounding the stone. I pulled the empty craft back to the edge of the hole where I was standing and climbed inside with Narm in her basket. I packed four barrels of gunpowder into the boat, just in case. You never know when you'll have to blow something up!
I also took the spiked flail from the corpse of Kurg, the largest of the Inquisitorial thugs; a deadlier weapon than my sabre!
Using the winch mechanism, I hauled the boat across the misty water to the edge of the stone. Once we reached the surface of the stone, it became clear there was a fissure in the side of it. The thugs by the shore had warned me that Inquisitor Vost and some more of her cronies were exploring the interior of the stone, so I was on my guard. The area smelled strongly of brimstone. Furthermore, the stone itself seemed to be composed entirely of pieces of broken ecclesiastical masonry, all fused and warped together, as if a giant hand had scrunched up several cathedrals into a tight compact ball. Once reaching the shore, I left the gunpowder in the boat (probably a mistake) and entered the fissure.
The passage in the fissure was completely lightless, but my glowing head lit it up as clear as day. Along this passage I trod — which occasionally shuddered and groaned, with dust falling from above, as if the whole structure threatened to crumble apart — until I came to a junction of sorts.
The junction split three ways. One passage led upwards, to my left: a steep climb. Another passage sloped downward, to my right, and a third passage continued along the same direction, right ahead, from which a light could be seen.
I chose the left-hand path: the ascent. After clambering upward for a while, I began to hear faint music. Pleasant music, coming from a harp. Eventually, after a tiring scramble up the sloping passage, I came to a door leading into an octagonal room. In this room was a large floor-mounted golden harp, apparently playing of its own accord, as if by an invisible hand. Lying at the foot of this harp was a corpse, wearing a robe and skull-mask, just like the men outside across the water: one of Inquisitor Vost's cronies, no doubt!
Flying about the harp on tiny stunted wings were a group of six cherubic creatures: little pale-skinned children, dancing and giggling joyfully in time with the music. It was an adorable sight. Though I suspected there might be a hidden threat here, I thought I'd approach them in the spirit in which I found them, so I clapped my hands and verbally praised the beauty of the music. The cherubic creatures agreed with me and encouraged me to dance with them.
That is where things turned south. Suspecting a trap, I politely declined to dance, but the cherubs did not take kindly to this at all. Immediately they turned hostile and aggressive and I realised now why there was a dead man on the floor. They flew toward me, mouths open, bearing sharp fangs, and started gnashing at me! I began swinging my flail about to defend myself but found the children too agile, and my flail-craft too clumsy to be much use. I didn't hit a single one of them, but within moments they had torn off my gambeson and taken some serious bites out of me!
My cat, Narm, however, did scratch one of the creatures with her claws, but instead of blood, these creatures seemed to leak ash when injured! Curious indeed.
Given the ferocity of the creatures and their superior numbers, I feared I would soon be joining the corpse on the floor, so quickly dashed toward a door on the other side of the room, which I dove through and slammed shut behind me.
Torn and bloody, I took a brief rest to try and heal from my injuries, but only mildly recovered from the severe biting I had taken! I had clearly underestimated the danger of those creatures! I found myself now at the top of a flight of stairs. I descended these, passed through another door and found myself in a collapsed room, the floor of which had fallen through the ceiling of another chamber below. In this lower room, I could see what appeared to be a baptismal font of some description, decorated with carved images of winged creatures resembling those who had nearly killed me in the room above.
Though there were other doors in the collapsed room, leading off to my left and to my right, I instinctively knew the font in the lower chamber would be full of holy water, so scrambled down the collapsed masonry toward it (though slipped and injured myself more in the process). Picking myself up, I rushed to the font and drank deeply of the water therein. My instincts proved correct; the holy water healed me significantly (though not completely), just as I suspected. There was only one door leading out of this lower room, so through it I went.
I found myself in a cross-shaped room, smelling strongly of incense. In the centre of this room lay a skeleton on a catafalque, dressed in ornate golden armour, decorated with cosmic motifs. I had stumbled into the crypt of a forgotten saint from some ancient bygone religion! The room was, curiously, lit by candles hidden behind a stained-glassed mural at the rear. The mural depicted an armoured swordsman being carried into the heavens by larger, more 'adult' versions of the cherubic creatures who had attacked me in the harp room (these, it transpired, were Pale Ones from the original MÖRK BORG rulebook: creatures which could be interpreted as something between an angel and an alien...perhaps both). I sensed I was getting closer to some holy manifestation of the Sun Childe of my dreams!
Remembering that my gambeson had been destroyed by the cherubs ('palelings'), I decided I would borrow the golden armour of this forgotten saint. After all, he wouldn't be needing it anymore. I carefully removed it from the skeleton and strapped it around my own body. It was heavy and probably wouldn't offer much protection, being more ceremonial than practical, but better than nothing, I reasoned!
I assumed that the saint on the catafalque was one and the same as the man depicted in the stained-glass mural, but noted that, unlike the man in the mural, there was a notable absence of a physical sword in the room. I searched high and low to see if there was one hidden somewhere, but found nothing. In the end, I asked my cat to help me find it. She, clever beast, sat next to the stained-glass mural. Using my flail, I smashed the mural and pushed through into a hidden room behind it! Now we were getting somewhere!
This room was tiny, and thick with dust, but sure enough, sitting on a plinth in the room was a sword! This was just not just any sword, but a holy sword, the hilt sculpted with images of Two-Headed Basilisks being slain by angelic beings. I knew I had found something truly holy and perhaps this was the source of my dreams! Perhaps I was becoming the earthly manifestation of the Sun Childe himself!
The sword, I somehow knew, was called Wyrmslayer, and always delivered maximum damage against serpents, wyverns and basilisks! I took it up and held it aloft briefly, before my moment of holy reverie was interrupted by a voice behind me.
Inquisitor Vost had found me! I turned around to face her. She was armed with an iron breastplate, a shield and a spiked flail. Hostile words were exchanged between us before we engaged in single combat.
Fully believing in the guiding force which had led me to find this sword, I was confident of victory! But, alas, it was not to be. Although I smashed her shield to smithereens with Wyrmslayer, Vost proved a superior combatant. In a few rounds she completely overpowered me, despite my wielding of the holy blade.
My last living memory was of her spiked flail embedded solidly in my chest, having shattered the sacred armour, and, as I lay dying on the ground, she mockingly lit a cigar from the stellar fire that was my head, before it finally fizzled out to darkness and my dreams of the Sun-Childe and the stone from heaven were silenced, forever.
THE END
