Vladimir Wulfgardt (Bright Order Acolyte), Rolf Zaeschmar (bounty hunter), Aemelius “Burk” Burkhard (Initiate of Sigmar) , Thorsten Udermann (Explorer), Crixus Algarin (Giant-Slayer)
Chapter Thirteen: Morr’s Garden
As I open this next page towards the exploits of our ***** band of adventurers, know many previous pages have been lost to water rot damage—mold and mildew. This cursed place of Stromdorf saturates the very core of everything with its incessant rain, no man alive within a league of this village can claim to have been warm or dry while in the confines of this afflicted fenland the waterlogged yokels call home.
I cannot recover what is lost and my memory of details is not remarkable by any stretch, this is why I journal my accounts to preserve a history of my encounters. I shall, though, endeavour to or recreated previous events as I recall them if possible.
My last recognisable date of noted events is before we returned to Altdorf, so know much is lost in that time. More than a month of journaling and journeying is lost to the ravages of cruel moisture that invades my life and being. We have pasted the Sigmarfest, a marvelous time in Altdorf, perhaps the most enjoyable and freeing festival I have had since being child. I explored and experienced so much, thanks in large part to Nikolaus Kessler, my ward for a time. Through his eyes and his perspective I saw much of Altdorf that I had pasted over and ignored these many years. The great metropolis has much to offer, too much for anyone person to take in yet in my work and daily routine I blotted out that which makes Altdorf a wondrous place. The other evening the lad and I nearly got mugged and rolled by a small band of ruffians but once we escaped that danger we laughed, and I laughed like I never have as an adult. I lost myself to the youth that escaped my own life, as my experiences matured me quickly and I had to act the man at a very early age.
We are now at the end of the first week in Sommerzeit, it is Konigstag the 9th. But let me go back a bit, to when we were still in Altdorf. It was still Sigmarzeit, the oath-bound troupe of ragtag men that formed to aid in the recovery of Saratoga Belmont assembled once again. We had been in Altdorf for nearly a month and our separate lives continued for each of us as we followed our own vocations but as fate would have it we found need to reassemble thus we met at Three-Legged Petes. Nik joined us and upon this visit discovered the ribald nature in the tavern’s name, he laughed and I smiled. But I quickly lost my youthful demeanour as I realised where I was and who I was meeting.
It seemed everyone had moved on since we last met. Vladimir Wulfgardt had gone from Initiate to Acolyte in the Bright Order, I heard the ordeal was quite demanding. He endured much and suffered somewhat but he emerged victorious and elevated. Some rumours say his counseling from his master was more grueling than the mystic and physical tests he faced. His robes were new and he had a belt with a key denoted his advancement. Saratoga would have been proud of his friend I believe.
I don’t know I can adequately describe the changes in Crixus Algarin for he was now a Giant Slayer, his physical manifestation is so pronounced and disturbing but for the life of me I could not tell you how he changed for I found myself not looking at him, not noting details of his appearance, avoiding proximity and familiarity of him. Not to say he is a bad sort, for as Dwarves go he is not too unbearable but I still cannot say what changed but only tell you he has changed.
The squire, Mister Thorsten Udermann had also effected a change in dress and appearance. His casual and dismissive attitude as still evident, he still wore well tailored and fine clothing but the style was less metropolitan and more rustic. He looked less a man about town and more a man of adventure and intrepid intent.
I too, Rolf Zaeschmar had changed. I was no longer in the employ of Burgher Frederick Belmont after he had cheated the men that brought back his nephew. He had sent us on a second, more commercial task boasting proper payment and legal commission but upon our return he paid us less than half of what was due. I had to pay the others out of my share, thus was never compensated. I could not let them my brothers in arms suffer the indignity and shame of being swindled by man of position such as Master Belmont. They would have sought retribution and they may have found ruin to their own careers if they had tangled with the wealthy and very influential merchant. I found new accommodations and decided to find service in tracking down Keila Cobblepot, a notorious and infamous Halfling smuggler. My own investigation found she most likely returned to the Stromdorf area.
I must make proper record here that the most remarkable and noteworthy change was in Burk, one Aemelius Burkhard was now an Initiate himself of Sigmar. He had a shaved head and spoke clearly, seemingly more intelligently, much different than the shifty-eyed, distracted, crazed babble aura he had when we first met. He wore a new tunic adorned with a griffon and carried a new shield bearing a twin-tailed comet, much like the shield he lost in the fire.
There we were in the gods-forsaken tavern. Apparently Vladimir had a undertaking of his own he needed to complete in his new position, visions and necromantic disruptions had given him cause to return to Stromdorf. I, too, relayed my need to return in hopes of finding Keila and getting young Kessler back home. The others found reason and intrigue to join us thus the five of us would form again seeking out evil, chaos, destiny and possible fame. I was only seeking fortune.
That night at the pub, a minstrel troupe of performers had found the tavern a venue to sing and act out parts of plays. They were well received despite the drunken hecklers and odd trouble maker. Nik enjoyed himself, learning about the less savoury bits of man’s nature. It wasn’t long until Thorsten had made good on his ability to perform as well. He sang a boisterous tale of adventures and daring do, all repetitive to me of course but fresh to his audience. They loved his turn of phrase and bawdy chorus, his ability to seemingly make up bits of narrative and throw them into the next verse, we knew, my fellows and I, that the stories that made his lyrics were real in origin regardless of the outcome or final testament in his closing. He did well and the minstrels too found him engaging and entertaining.
What Udermann failed to tell us was he too had purpose of his own. He was to deliver some wine to the region, for a one Alun Brock and to retrieve the sword of Olaus Stichelm, famed hero of Stromdorf. He was now an explorer and treasure hunter.
Acolyte Wulfgardt had made the travel arrangements and I discovered a seventh man would be joining the troupe. Nicholas Schulman, an Acolyte of Azyr within the Celestial College who was the man researching the piece of lightning stone we had uncovered. It is an Elven Waystone and Schulman believes that if the pieces can be found and assembled it may form a map. I found the elder Nicholas withdrawn, introverted, serious and somewhat elusive, truly an opposite of young Nikolaus who is audacious, inquisitive, extroverted, playful and open to any possibilities.
Enroute to Stromdorf, Burk revealed his own purpose in going to Stromdorf; he too had been sent to investigate skeletal forms walking about in Morr’s Garden outside the rainy, gloom-mired, warmth-stealing, accursed hollow that Nik called home. Burk had been given papers, parchments and scrolls to deliver to Magus Gottschalk the Sigmar Lector in Stromdorf.
Upon our arrival we heard of the imminent hanging of the Holtzes, not just Otto and Marie but also a couple of others – I don’t recall their names. There were allusions that the trial had been too quick, easy, and pre-ordained of outcome. The squire and others were distressed by this and made inquiries on behalf of the Holtzes desiring a more just and equitable resolution. It was not be. As I understood it, Bürgermeister Adler was to hold trial as judge but had been reclusive this past month or so thus allowing another to take his place. A local merchant, as we found out, which would easily profit and benefit from the demise of the Holtzes. This seemed to outrage Thorsten and several of us went to confront this prominent business man, once in his establishment the browbeating and harassment that I have come to understand is standard discourse for Udermann and Algarin began. The Dwarf Algarin let break one or two items of value as squire Udermann pressed his point. I found myself swept up in the fervour of the moment and insinuated that I was still an agent for the wealthy and powerful Altdorf family of Belmont and we had interest in the Holtz estate as well. Why I let myself get dragged into to hooligan tactics is beyond my compression but once removed I realised my error in judgment and participation.
I accepted the fact the Holtzes were to be executed for their collaboration and collusion with the Beastmen. Whether the trial was unjust, illegal or improper made little difference in their guilt. The only point of interest was one of extenuating circumstances but the town did not care one tick for that. The squire got wrapped up in the legality of the judgment as proper procedures were not followed, I relayed to him the further out of Altdorf one gets the further from the rule of law one finds oneself. I guess the locals were offended by my observation, it did not make it any less true.
Burk went to Gottschalk to seek an intervention if possible but the Lector admonished the church’s role in such matters thus he would remain neutral in regards to the disposition of the Holtzes. Burk followed suite and like me allowed what was meant to be alone. He did however recite words at the hanging the next morning when the Brother Grabbe, the local Morr priest did not show up.
I had not realised Crixus’s involvement was anymore than following the path of his superior, the squire, but Burk learned that Crixus had been on the wrong side of an allegation and judgment in his own past thus felt empathy for the local inbred family and their demise. So in this matter he was his own man and not subject to Thorsten.
Before the hanging ceremony the squire secured a mount and rode out to the Garden of Morr seeking Brother Grabbe who had not arrived for the execution. Of course the driving rain and wind were ever present and a hindrance. Once he arrived he found the Tranig River blocking his advance, a small boat was on the opposite shore and no way to cross. He found a heavy bell for announcing one’s presence and rang it fervently without reply. He called out and looked about but no sign the brother was in residence of the cemetery. In the impetuous logic of the squire he dove into the river and attempted to cross the raging currents. He found himself well down stream and forced back to the same shore. He rode back to town but not in time for the local event.
Public executions are a spectacle and cause for townspeople to ‘get out’ of their normal humdrum routine. It almost becomes a celebration in a very morbid sense. Seeing the criminal or evil elements get their just reward is most of it but there is also a tinge of merriment, perhaps because the no one in the crowds is up on public display. Regardless, I avoided the festivity and used the fact the entire town would be ‘shut down’ to investigate in and around the Stew Pot for signs of Keila’s return. To no avail I am afraid but I did leave upon my departure a dusting of ground wheat found in the kitchen all about the floor the inn; the common room, the stairs leading up, the kitchen, the pantry, wherever I thought I might catch activity of occupation.
After the hanging the townspeople followed the guards as they walked the dead bodies of the Holtzes to the edge of town and outside the western gate that leads to Morr’s Garden. Just outside of the walled city the limp bodies of the Holtzes were strung up in public display and pronouncement of their punishment. Not a gibbet woods but a similar effect. The next morning there would be another procession as the bodies would be taken to the cemetery and properly interred.
We all retired back to the Thunderwater Inn, I stayed up late as everyone else turned to slumber. I decided to follow the squire should he sneak away again but found myself distracted by the allure of Deidre. She took me into her bed. I became concerned with the noise we were making, feeling a little ashamed of our arrangement when I noticed much of the noise was not ours. In the common room the sounds of trespass were heard. The loud banging on the door and shuttered windows became more pronounced and violent, the inn was not being rousted by vandals rather it was under siege. I called the inhabitants to arms and sounded an alarm as the wood splintered and those outside invaded our habitat.
Those attacking were not villagers rather they appeared to be the recently hung and dead Holtzes. The sight of them so unnerved me I find it difficult to remember the rest. I have witnessed the forces of chaos and seen grisly Beastmen but they are an evil abomination of nature and I have been able to reason them to be part of nature no matter the unnatural state of the being. But seeing the Holtzes, they were people, live people I had met and known. Though inbred and grotesque in shape they were human, to see these unsightly and disturbing people as undead was more than one could handle – certainly more than I could handle.
My fellows rallied and vanquished the evil that had confronted us, some took injury other exhausted themselves. It was not an easy battle I am sure but I could not attest to how my companions bravely and staunchly defended the inn and those within. I am proud that they were in my company for I failed to prove my courage that night. I had run out unclothed to see what disturbed us and retreated back to Deidre’s room to arm and armour myself – that is what I told myself. In truth I cowered away seeking safety, not thinking of the others.
That should catch me up to our current situation. I am sorry I lost most of my tale in Altdorf, though not exciting or full of adventure, my time in Altdorf last month was worthy of a minor tale. I had some ability to sully Frederick Belmont’s favourable reputation and honour. Time will tell if the seeds of my gossip skills will bear fruit.
Captain Kessler found us at the inn and warned us to remain as the others in the village were beset by similar attacks. Many wallowed in fear and doom at the night’s attack. Burk stood to preach that chaos has come to Stromdorf with any local listening buying into his religious explanation rather than trying to rationalise the true cause of what had happened.
Before we were able to recover or retire Capt. Kessler returned to summon us to see the Bürgermeister. Earlier we learned no one had seen Adler for going on two months save the sole meeting I had with him prior to us returning Altdorf about month earlier. The rain has become more driving and forceful as it pelts the ground making visibility very poor. Crixus remains behind as the four of us follow Kessler to Adler’s two-storey gated house that had a guard outside. As we enter it is obvious that a woman’s tending is missing, I notice the dust and debris of unkempt occupation. We meet Bürgermeister Adler, more withered than I recall from our first meeting.
He asks a favour of us as he shows us a small portrait of be young beautiful woman that he holds in his hand. His dear Madriega. Her lifeless flesh rotting body paid a visit to him, she held a silver pendant (a gift from him) in her boney hand, her blue lips whispered to him, “Save me.” Adler is upset that Brother Grabbe is not around to explain the meaning of her visit. Udermann tells his tale of visiting Morr’s Garden and his near drowning for the umpteenth time (and I fear it won’t be his last), it is a short tale that gets longer and more vivid with each telling. Grabbe is nowhere to be found. We ask Adler the details of Madriega’s passing yet he is reluctant to speak of it, mostly out of despair but also of some guilt. Bürgermeister Adler offers payment to look into what has happened this night and hopefully resolving it if possible.
Kessler reiterates that a necromancer named Lazarus Mourn had been placed into Morr’s Garden but a year earlier. He fears there maybe some connection. The squire takes this time to sum up the maladies of Stromdorf: the accursed weather with harsh rain and thunderous lightning, a cursed well, a dead necromancer, the Beastmen, Cobblepot’s complicity in human sacrifices and even possible cannibalism, an unjust trial, and now the undead attack. Adler is more curious as to how Thorsten knows of the cursed well then the unholy chaos that blights the town, he then gets up and departs in a deep melancholy. Burk looks to him, not to offer solace but to see signs of mutations. As he leaves, the small portrait of the woman remains on his desk, I begin to wonder if there be a connection with the suicide in the well of Brenner’s wife and the woman Adler’s morns. The squire is first to ask Kessler if there is a connection but I press a little harder with more vigour and determination as we cannot afford to dance around the issue. It appears as though the innkeeper’s beautiful wife and the Bürgermeister were affinitas infidelis. Thorsten adds a suicidal affair to the list of plagues upon Stromdorf.
As the others seek some rest before we head towards Morr’s Garden at daybreak I find Deidre huddled in a corner of her room, I take a blanket from her bed and cover us as I protectively embraced her. When she finally falls asleep I return us to the bed before I have leave. Nik arrives ready with a small boat, horse and cart, we eat some porridge before I wake the rest. Today is Bezahltag, Tax day; how truly taxing it will be we could not imagine. I also ask travel rations of Brenner for our trek today.
[Game Element: Due to the fight, meeting with the Bürgermeister, and lack of real sleep the characters will suffer a black / Misfortune die on every roll.]
Schulman has been conspicuously absent from our dealings. He remains in his private room secluded not letting anyone in as he is overly consumed in his “research”. Vladimir tries to speak with him on several occasions but is usually rebuffed. This morning, the Bright Order Acolyte discovers Schulman has had a vision of the Waystone or a piece of it in a cave in the mountains. The former dilettante seeks toast and jam (only an entitled dilettante) from Sebastian Brenner then segues into a question of his former wife, “Did Brother Grabbe perform the Rites of Morr for your wife?” Taken aback by the question, on many levels, he assures Thorsten the proper rites were performed. Brenner is overtaken by grief in a sudden manner.
Before we leave Burk confronts me with the task of discovering who will run Stromdorf should the Bürgermeister be chaos-tainted and according to the order of Sigmar Burk has to destroyed him. Burk’s blunt and obtuse manner may sound more measured and sensible but it still comes from the distant place, the far-off land that is his sanity. Burk must first speak with Gottschalk before we depart. As the Lector is not yet up, Burk relays a message of our mission through Siegfried.
The party huddles under the boat away from the horrid rain, all save Crixus and myself who lead the horse down the road through rolling hills. Just as we exit the town gate I glace over to see the hanging ropes still intact in the trees, they had not been cut, strained or torn apart. It is as though the undead bodies just loosened the noose and dropped down. The weather is as harsh as it has been since we’ve been here if not more so. We arrive at the Tranig, set the boat in the water as Nik who takes me aside and tells me his father refused him to join us any further thus he took the horse and cart back to Stromdorf. Before we launch a small meek disheveled man named Waltrout, aid to Brother Grabbe, came out of the trees; he seems to have followed us from town and hasn’t seen Grabbe for several days but wishes to join us in looking for the Morr priest. He and Crixus row us across as the others act as coxswain.
[Game Element: We decide to use traditional painted /unpainted pewter figures as character representation instead of the colour flat portraits that come with the game. We use an un-sectioned mat to draw our scene, if there are no squares / hexes there is no scale so we can better use distance markers to abstractly identify distances.]
The Garden of Morr stands 5 to 6 hundred feet long and surrounded by an ominous 15' wall with no visible breaks and lined with black iron spikes. Lightning continues to strike the southern wall with alarming regularity. We move towards the gate archway leading to a tunnel underground, under the stones of the 15 foot walls. On either side of the gateway are scythed skeleton statues, acting as guards of the underworld. We follow Waltrout into the darkness as Vlad produces a large flame to light our path. Thorsten is first in to follow Waltrout who is lost to the darkness yet Thorsten hears a whispered voice leading him, as we all make our way in the darkness is consuming if not for Vlad’s flame we could see nothing. As it is, all we see is Vlad’s hand and very dim flame. I use the wall to guide my path tapping with my fingers as I walk along the tunnel.
[Game Element: Here we all make a will power test with two Challenge / purple dice. Again with one black misfortune. If characters have training or fear resistance they can use that ability in the test. Thorsten = 2 failures + boon; Rolf = 1 success; Vlad = 0 successes +1 boon, he had a righteous success so rolled again but it only served to even out the failures; Burk = 1 success and 4 boons (he too rerolled a righteous success); Crixus = 1 success. Those who fail feel the icy cold of death upon them, all are unsettled but those who fail feel deep within their bones. Odd sounds become more pronounced, as the characters can actually hear in some cases water dripping from their clothing and hitting the solid floor. ]
Thorsten become slightly disoriented and hears several odd sounds as though someone is brushing past him and even a voice that may or may not be Waltrout. Calls to Waltrout go unanswered and there is a sense in this foreboding tunnel that we may not get out. Burk knows this feeling of gloom is but a test of devotion, these passages must be a barrier by Morr to prevent the souls of those beyond in the garden from leaving their resting place. Thorsten feels a cool breeze near his forehead and is startled, hearing a shallow voice he calls out to Saratoga, Burk assures him that Saratoga is settled and has spoken in weeks.
I continued my straightforward trek through the tunnel and finally emerge in the light, as though I passed through some unseen curtain. I am in a room that is long and has another archway with a black metal door, decorated with winged death heads, at the opposite end and Burk is beside me. The side walls are strewn with six black drapes hanging tall and flickering sconced torches in between. A checker-board floor in black and white, highly polished at our feet. At the far end, perhaps a dozen or more strides away is an altar decorated with skulls, a low bier stands empty in front of the altar and next to it is a pedestalled stoup with water. The room is cold, though I couldn’t swear the cold was purely by temperature. Thorsten, Crixus and Vladimir appear behind us, Vladimir immediately shivers as he seems more susceptible to the cold. In the corners on either side of the altar are what look to be metal barrels of various sizes and even shapes and tubes. Hanging on pegs next to the archway are various tools and implements.
As a group, we notice that Waltrout is not with us. I mention the sight of an unused bier and Crixus mistakes the metal barrels for a source of beer and is quickly frustrated at me for my perceived deception. Burk follows Crixus but goes towards the locked door. Thorsten steps back into the dark behind us, the blackness we gladly left. He whispers into the darkness hoping for a reply to see if anyone is there, he hears an affirmation but then nothing more. He poses questions, several but nothing more is heard. Crixus is first to notice Thorsten is missing and calls into the darkness to come out, as a scolding parent would call after a child, almost a reversal of the established relationship between the two. Eventually Thorsten returns to us in the long room.
“It appears the door is locked so we will need a sacrifice to Morr. Crixus? It is an honourable death. We need you on the slab,” jests the initiate of Sigmar. When I hear Burk make such statements I sometimes wonder whether his mind is capable of humour or if he is being coaxed by his voices. The Dwarf is unappreciative of the “manling” humour. Vlad looks towards the curtains and pulls back the first one on the left revealing a small chamber lined with symbols and sigils of Morr with a small closed coffin on a bier. Within is a small girl dead and grey, bow in her hair and a small locket around her neck. As Vlad reaches for the locket the girl lurches upon him and attempts to ravage his skull with a snarling, grunting growl.
[Game Element: Initiative is rolled at this point. Also everyone rolls a Will Power test with 1 Difficulty /purple dice as Undead creatures have Fear Rating of 1. Vlad suffers 1 Stress and 1 Fatigue as the Undead girl makes her initial attack and he loses his Free Manoeuvre. We roll a 0, 1, 1, 1, & 3. Though Rolf rolled the 3 anyone can ‘go first’, as Vlad was attacked he takes his turn to move first. Vlad moves back out of the chamber taking a Fatigue for his Movement / Manoeuvre. He still has an Action. For the WP test Burk rolls 5 successes and Sigmar’s Comet, Burk is somewhat invigourated by this ‘test before him’; Thorsten and Rolf get 1 success each; Vlad gets a success as well; Crixus achieves no successes, a Sigmar’s Comet and Chaos Star which cancel one another – he essentially fails taking 1 stress, the player for Crixus is absent so we all tease he gains his stress from the little girl to the point we say he is ‘afeared of little girls especially with bows’ or “Little girls creep me out!” In the frightened mode we convert one less stance die making it harder to go reckless or conservative. Vlad’s action is to throw the girl off of him, he uses a Perform Stunt card and his test is his Strength using 2 Characteristic / blue dice, 1 Challenge / purple die, 1 Misfortune / black die for lack of sleep / condition, and the GM grants 1 Fortune / white die because the wasting undead girl is small, a 2nd Fortune / white is used as Vlad chooses to use a Fortune Point. Vlad fails his roll thus he can’t get to her to toss her off. GM reminds players to set any and all talent cards into their character sheet slots and/or to place such cards on the Party Card so all may take advantage of the Talent.]
Vladimir bursts out of the curtained off room with an undead girl latched to his back scratching at his skull, he whirls around but can’t reach her to save himself. I am the closest and move to his aid drawing my rapier and main gauche and engage the target slashing deep into her back and she crumples to the floor in a lifeless, motionless heap of flesh and bone.
[Game Element: Rolf uses his Melee Strike card using 3 Characteristic / blue dice, 1 Misfortune / black die (fatigue condition), 1 Challenge / purple die, as his Free Manouevre / Movement he draws his rapier, then he moves closer thus he suffers a Fatigue to close and engage plus a 2nd Fatigue to draw a second weapon, also as a Free Action he shifts from a Neutral Stance to the first level of Reckless changing one of his blue dice to a Reckless / red die. The GM determines a 2nd Misfortune / black die is needed as Rolf is attacking someone in close combat with an ally so I have 6 dice to roll (2 blue, 1 red, 2 black, & 1 purple), I achieve 3 successes and 1 bane so per the Melee Strike card Rolf gains a +2 to damage on top of his 3 Strength and Rapier damage rating of 5 for a total of 10. The bane is a wash so the GM with players input describes the resolution. See above. Two more zombies appear and the GM realises two more players should have gone before them so he allows everyone who has not gone yet to reposition their characters, one player wants to take a Guard Position as his action, no problem per the GM. And we begin Round Two at the top of the initiative order. It should also be noted we are playing Conan the Barbarian and Lord of the Rings music in the back during play.]
Two more drapes flair out as more undead move into the main chamber to assault us. I close on the second undead using a Duelist Strike technique learned in fencing lessons. I strike hard forcing the undead to close with his back to my cohorts thus they can take advantage of his new vulnerability.
I dodge its attack using Diestro’s Defense, but he closes up on his stance stressing me out more than I would normally be against an opponent. The third undead moves towards Burk but exposed himself rather than hitting the zealot turned initiate so Burk takes advantage of that fumble to strike back destroying it cleanly. And Crixus lays waste to the second undead that closed on me. Thorsten had leveled his blunderbuss waiting for an opportunity shot but all were destroyed before he could fire his black powder weapon.
With the undead before use lifeless we contemplate how to deal with the remains. Thorsten and Vladimir are quick to suggest burning but sound reasoning comes from Burk that smoke may not escape via the tunnel and affect us. The group double checks the other chambers as I move towards the locked door. I use the tools on the wall pegs next to the metal door but wind up breaking part off in the lock. So we turn to Crixus and his key, that is to say his force and strength. Thorsten finds only one other coffin. Remains for identification are removed from the motionless bodies and placed on the altar for later use. Burk scraps his hammer along the walls of the chamber causing a very notable scratch.
A breeze of cool air sweeps down a long flight of stairs leading up, instead of burning the bodies we decide to sever their heads and place them in one of the draped alcoves. Burk blocks our path upwards and outwards, he warns of going out with Morr’s blessing. In my frustration I query Burk to an alternative way to the cemetery for which he suggest reversing our course and scaling the outer wall. Thorsten reminds him of the constant lightning strike, to which Burk says they are in specific areas so they can be avoided—he would rather temp the god of lightning than suffer Morr’s ire. I submit I will yield to Morr’s wrath if he won’t forgive our trying to vanquish the undead roaming in his garden but that I am passing and going up the stairs. Thorsten and Crixus are quick to follow, Vladimir decides to wait to see what happens. To safeguard and protect our ‘souls’ Burk finds a small black onyx raven statue to solidify his faith.
As we emerge from the underground entrance the cemetery before us is indeed a garden, decorated with stray black roses and overgrown with bushes of roses in numerous varieties yet all black. Modest grey and/or earthen-coloured head stones adorn the ground around us with several more elaborate and expensive granite slabs or tombs. We are at one edge in the center, before us is a path cutting the garden in half length-wise. In the center is a low tomb of grey stone encircled by a hedge of black roses. Atop is an obelisk stone. Then past that at the opposite end is the priest’s house, a squat stone building with a sloping slate roof. Burk realises he must follow so with onyx raven in hand he begs a pray to Morr, “Forgive our trespasses into your realm without proper guidance. We seek only to put down the corruption that grows like weeds within your fertile garden.” With that Burk ascends the steps and Vlad follows. When all are atop the stairs Thorsten and I in unison yet not coordinated mention the roses, all of the black roses within the garden are wilted and withered.
Burk is quick to signify the ill omen of the dead black roses as a sign the Garden of Morr is under the control of the undead. As we bicker on the significance and cause of the wilted flowers Waltrout pops out from around one of the larger grave stones. He points to building on the far side and declares it is Brother Grabbe’s house, Thorsten readies his blunderbuss as we encourage Waltrout to lead us to the residence. We ask about the center tomb, it is that of Stromdorf’s hero Olaus Stichelm; Thorsten foreshadows that hero must also be in the realm of the undead as the hedge flowers are also withered. Burk is more interested in the location of the necromancer’s burial site and demands to know where Lazarus Mourn is buried. To break the tension, Thorsten inquires if there are any tombs or graves of little girls along the way as he pokes fun at Crixus. The entrance to the Olaus Stichelm’s tomb has been split asunder, shards of stone lie about the side facing the brother’s house. Parts of the door still bear the dragon crest that is Stichelm.
Vladimir detects a magical presence still within the open tomb, Crixus offers to go in and kill what lies within. Thorsten lets slip, “Hey maybe it’s the sword Requiter that I’m look … I mean, er, that I’ve heard of.” During our first trip to Stromdorf I seemed to be the only one with knowledge of the area and its history. As I hear Thorsten and recall various snippets of conversation since returning Thorsten seems to have learned quite a bit more about the past of Stromdorf, specifically the legend of its hero Olaus Stichelm even to the point of knowing the name of his sword. There is more to Thorsten then he reveals, his secret night-time jaunts and now his keen interest in local history. Thorsten asks Vlad for a light so he might go in and retrieve the sword.
Vladimir has no problem waving his hand to alight the few small torches set into wall sconces along the descending staircase, Crixus and Thorsten enter. I hear Burk continue to pester Waltrout about the location of Lazarus Mourn. I find myself moving backwards towards the priest’s house watching Burk move among the graves looking for the necromancer, Vlad is at the tomb and Thorsten with Crixus are in the tomb. Why they are all consumed with irrelevant matters confounds me, let’s ignore the graves for now and look towards the house for answers. Do they not see the door fragments and stone shards outside of the tomb showing something broke out, the graves and garden are undisturbed thusly the danger must be within the building behind me. It is times as this I consider hunting bounties on my own but I have travelled to much to know I would be safe alone, rational thinking dictates I need to be in the company of others and I cannot yet afford to hire others so I am stuck them. But should I be stuck with any group, I would wish this group for they are impressive men in battle, it is their honour and moral principles I doubt.
Within the tomb the grave is disturbed, an open casket lie in an earthen hole, the headstone is missing as its obvious location is empty, chips of white marble scatter the area as well. The three by the tomb also see a grove, a drag mark leading from the wet earthen floor of the tomb up and out moving towards the priest house. As they glance along the pathway I to notice below me the scar upon the hard-packed soil at my feet. The squire believes it was the headstone that was removed and dragged to the dwelling we are near.
Burk is walking to the south wall, more south east. The rain is drowning out the sounds around him save the crashing lightning strikes that reverberate next to him. He moves among, around and past the engraved markers of those buried until he reaches a small barren patch of ground, it is void of headstones and tombs, yet within the small clearing is a small, insignificant wood placard with a small hole of recently moved dirt beside it. A boney, flesh decayed hand surfaces and grabs Burks leg and ankle. The sound of splintering wood and splashing mud reaches an odd singular crescendo as bodies from other graves materialise from all around. Dead, decaying, flesh rotted corpse grapple with the ground and rise from their resting spots to walk the cemetery intent on making us victims of their unnatural carnage.
I yell to the others to make for the priest’s quarters, the house’s doorway is a defensible spot. A group of zombies surround Burk sending him into a state of fanatical berserking fury. The passion of his faith consumes him channeling his might to slaying the undead around him. I see a crazed man yielding to his insanity but Burk would claim it is his god that directs his actions. Vladimir has to choose, he closer to Burk and he is in danger or Vlad can chose the farther route to the safety of the stone house. His courage and dedication lead him to Burk, for without his aid Burk will sure be consumed by the undead. The explorer and Giant-Slayer exit the tomb and make for the Grabbe’s abode where I watch in repulsion the events unfolding around us. Is my move to the structure sound strategic thinking or am I again running from the undead to save myself? I am clear headed in my action so I have to believe cowardice does not direct my motives or tactics.
The aberrant groans and howling of the undead are frightening enough but to see the shambling masses of ill-formed bodies shifting and sliding towards us too unnerving. I don’t know Dwarfs well but it seems Crixus is more alarmed and affected by these unholy cadavers. Out of the corner of my eye I spy Burk’s hammer glowing in mid-swing, I reason it is the reflection of the lightning all around us as the strikes seem more frequent and pronounced as if it is the orchestra to the undead theatre before us.
Waltrout freezes in panic and is overwhelmed by the hungry zombies. No one notices him by the tomb door until we hear his wails and cries of consumption. I try the door yet it is locked but Crixus uses his momentum to charge through the barred threshold. Thorsten is at his heals, still at the portal I look to the Initiate and Acolyte hoping against odds they too can make it to the priest’s dwelling. The wizard is aflame with the powers of Aqshy and the man of religion, his swinging appears wild and unfocused, where are his gods now I wonder? In my distraction several of the undead approach from my flank and claw at me causing wounds and distress, I stumble back into stone structure. The Dwarf moves forward filling the funnel point and takes on all the incoming zombies. I stand at Crixus’ back and attack over him but it is his skills that vanquish the approaching hordes.
By the fates, by sheer luck, or perhaps by the wills of the gods, Burk and Vladimir make it to the house alive. In the wake of Bright Order Acolyte many of the nearby zombies explode or are consumed in a fiery explosion. We are able to barricade the entrance after Crixus wedges the door back into place thus slow the approach of the massing undead. Thorsten finds the residence bedecked in bones, every conceivable space or item inside the Morr priest’s chambers are made of bone. It sends an eerie chill down my spine after I finally notice our surroundings.
[Game Element: It should be noted that the player running Burk-The Initiate of Sigmar has had piss-poor luck in rolling his dice. He is rolling several Reckless / red dice to reflect his current stance. Due to multiple stress and fatigue conditions / cards / etc. he is also rolling lots-o-dice of misfortune or challenges. The only die, the only favourable outcome he has managed is getting Sigmar’s Comet on his Expertise die. The group just laughs and teases that Morr is shunning him, blocking him, fighting his every move, and only the grace of Sigmar has helped remain alive. It is hard to “Chronicle” these mishaps and poor rolls within the confines of the character journal but the players are enjoying the irony of the situation. You gotta feel for the player but you can’t help but mock him too.]
Once inside, Burk discards his symbol of Morr and tosses the onyx raven in to an empty corner. A dark archway reveals descending steps and thankfully the darkness is natural and not impenetrable. Burk sees a small light source at the base of the stairs and proceeds down. Vlad produces a light. Crixus, Thorsten and I continue to shift and place objects to block our retreat. I manage to find a skull shaped lantern that radiates light out of the sockets, I use Vlad to light it. The basement area more resembles a crypt than a root cellar with its low ceiling and granite walls. There are lamps on the walls here that easily illuminate the large room perhaps 40’ by 50’. An elm-wood table with a large leather bound book lies open next to an intricately carved human skull inlaid with lapis lazuli, some moldy cheese and dark bread also occupy the table. Four dark drapes hang on various walls, the north wall without wall hangings has two doors each is ajar.
Once we are all down, I cut around the mold then serve myself some bread and cheese. Burk stands in the center. I offer Thorsten some food but he is more interested the finely illuminated manuscript as is Vlad. Crixus stands at the base of the stairs ready to guard against attacks. Burk is still looking about then moves north towards the doors, out of the door on his right-side a stout man emerges in black robes; obviously Brother Grabbe. He collapses before us as a strange purple energy leaves his body and jets towards the standing corpse of Madriga. Burk takes a swing at the form that was once a beautiful woman. Vladimir yells not to approach but it is too late.
Out of the left door a skeleton clad in a greenish, weathered breast plate appears, the armour is labelled with the dragon crest of Olaus Stichelm and his has both a glowing greatsword and a shield. The shield does not bear his coat of arms but looks like the Lightning Stone or Waystone, white marble-like. He misses with is first swing upon Burk. The Initiate rages again with the berserking fury I saw in the cemetery and strikes back at Sir Olaus.
[Game Element: The player running Burk-The Initiate finally rolls very well achieving maximum damage of 19 pts with his hammer and Berskerking strength. Throwing the onyx raven away earlier is pure coincidence I am sure.]
The blow is a loud and mighty strike slightly deflected by the Waystone shield causing stress upon the hammer that the Initiate wields in the name of Sigmar. The breast-plated skeleton staggers back ever so slightly so the impact of the swing had to have been impressive.
Inspired by the tales told by Thorsten and the daring do of us all and hoping to once and for all get past my hesitation or fearfulness I make a bold move, not calculated as is my manner, not orthodox as is my training but a wild, brash, reckless attack. I, with drawn main gauche, run to the nearest drapery and slash at its ropes cutting it free from the wall and in a fluid motion use my free hand to pull back the fabric to cover the skeletal champion as if it were a net.
The body of Madriega pronounces her form is merely temporary as the sinister mechanizations of the necromancer are revealed to us. It holds tight a medallion pendent with its hand as the silver emblem softly glows with an amethyst brightness. He declares, “I am Lazarus Mourn and I shall never die!” He then incants some malicious spell towards the squire while continuing to pull out Brother Grabbe’s life force but fails to achieve much of an effect upon Thorsten, I suspect he did not expect all us thus is having to change his intended tactics. The explorer’s blunderbuss hits Madriga’s body squarely in response. Crixus quickly closes upon the covered knight landing a solid blow. Vladimir turns his attentions towards the mystic necromancer casting a blinding flash to disorient Lazarus’ actions.
In an eruption of necrotic energy the room is filled with shafts of foul rays hitting each of us, I suffer a shallow but searing wound upon my chest. He mocks us and taunts us through his undead vessel, prideful in his power. Crixus strikes a second blow, “Back to the grave, **** you!” upon armoured warrior ignoring the attack by Lazarus. The false Stichelm takes the hit and counterstrikes hitting the Dwarf. Burk swings his hammer again connecting with Madriega’s frail body though it hold the power of the necromancer. My strength or weapon skill is no match against the mighty hero of Stromdorf, thus I appeal deep within its conscious to remember his former glory and true purpose, to protect Stromdorf against the ravages of evil that he now fights for instead of against. Though his physical body is long dead it is animated, I can only hope that some trace of Olaus’ legendary valour remains to hold in check the actions of the necromancer.
The skeleton freezes for a mere moment then continues its rampage. But I spy the pendent upon Madriga’s body glimmer and glint in purple radiance. The form that is Lazarus winces in agony at my words. Thorsten noticed the necromancer react to my plea upon its minion and attempts to swipe the heavy-chain necklace, he instead is mystically petrified by noxious green energy and is held motionless under is Mourn’s power. As Crixus finally dispatches his undead adversary the suit of armour crumples to the ground, I find I can bypass the knightly antagonist to assault the necromancer. Again I find my actions not my own, I lunge upon Madriga’s neck using the rapier and main gauche to cut free the pendent. My left hand drops the small defensive blade and grabs the falling medallion, “This power is no longer yours Mourn!”
The body that was Madriga stolen away by Lazarus Mourn instantly withers and implodes forcing the lethal green energy out into a swirling whirlwind of mystic power then it gets sucked back into the medallion. By sheer fortune I felt as though Thorsten and I barely averted a mortal blow or possible possession of our own bodies. But the pendent with its Arabyan markings and translucent stone holds firm the churning power within. Grabbe is thankfully still with us though his condition is serious, Vladimir attends him. The priest of Morr recovers enough to regain consciousness, disoriented by our company and concerned about his garden, we inform him of the circumstances of our presence. He asks for his tome, from which he begins to read a pray to begin the restoration of his charge.
Olaus Stichelm’s tarnished breast plate, his mighty sword Requiter and the Waystone shield are before us as well. Upon examining the shield it shape is odd and it likely served as the headstone found missing in his tomb. There is also an inscription recounting his deed in vanquishing the vampire, “Olaus Stichelm, Saviour of our town. He met his end vanquishing the vampire Count Shrek at the Battle of Frothing Ford.” On the opposite side are faint High Elf runes and marks suggesting of a map. Being near this piece of the white marble-like Waystone is somewhat unsettling, I find the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end but I don’t mention this to the other, mainly preventing any taunting at my expense. What do we do with his possessions? Will the town of Stromdorf relinquish this part of the Waystone which was his shield and is his gravestone? How much can we ask for in addition to the coins given to Thorsten as payment?
I double check the rooms beyond, in one a kitchen where I find some wine to help calm Brother Grabbe. He continues his task to recover and restore Morr’s Garden. Now we must decide how we can help our fellow Crixus for he too has suffer exhaustion in the execution of our duties. This concludes my tale thus far; I shall endeavour to continue the narrative in my next journal entry.
Your faithful servant,
Rolf Zaeschmar