SWT: Mörk Borg - Chapter Four

Into The Storm

Welcome back to Solum’s Weird Tales - Mörk Borg! Last Chapter, our increasingly battered protagonist found a battle rampaging around a meteor, and decided that was best avoided. He undertook a micro-crawl, decapitated a weird, psionic eye worm, undertook some ill advised parkour and then was brutally attacked by a filthy man with sharpened teeth. He survived, channeling his hatred of worms singing a mysterious song and escaping back to the relative safety of Galgenbeck Road. We pick up on the next day of his journey.

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Börda - Classless Mercenary           HP = 5/7      Omens = 1/2
Agility +1
Presence +1
Strength +0
Toughness +0

Traits: Loud Mouthed, Nihilist

Sack (10 Inventory Spaces) With
- One dose of Red Poison(DR 12 TOU test or d10 DMG)
- 27 Silver
- 4 Rations
- Waterskin [+] [+] [] [] (2 days of water left)
- Tent
- 2 Torches
- Flint and Tinder
Equipped
- Chainmail (Agility Test have +2 DR. Amor Rating = d2 (Damaged)
- Longsword - D6 Damage

Quest - Find out what happened to the 13 missing priests from Schleswig
2 Milestones [] []

Journey is 5 days
[+] [+] [+] [] []

Unnamed Dirt Trails, 3 Days North of Schleswig

Börda woke to the crack of thunder and he felt his blood pounding in his ears as he held his blade up and looked around frantically. Thunder cracked again, and he heard the patter of raindrops on his tent, and he finally allowed himself to relax. He winced as he got to his feet, his wounds still sore and untended from the previous days excursion. He poked his head out of the tent and tested the rain, but it had already stopped. The sky was a deep grey, threatening more rain, and the distant peals of thunder promised a grisly day on the road.

Weather - Crackling Thunder
Calendar of Nechrubel - 8
Road - Almost Forgotten Trail
Presence +1 to stay on trail DC 10 = 10 - Keep the trail

The sun was, at least, visible today, granting just enough light to trudge through the mud and trees. Any road that had been in this part of forest was implied, rather than pounded out, but Börda was able to follow it well enough until he rejoined a more distinct dirt trail a few hours after noon.

Road Event - A Monastery by the side of the road, with chanting within (again)

Another Monastery, hopefully more friendly than the last one…..Christian Georg Schütz View from the Feldberg (Taunus) to Reifenberg, 1808

Börda felt as though he was walking uphill, possibly into the clouds themselves, judging by the growing damp. He passed a large, rocky outcropping and found himself atop a large hill, with a view of rolling fields beneath him. In the distance was a small, fortified building. In the moment of picturesque silence, he could hear the soft sounds of chanting, accompanied by bells. The walk to the small monastery looked pleasant enough, but his pleasant moment was spoiled by a flash of light that cascaded off the rocks above him, followed immediately by a rolling peal of thunder. The rain that followed was a true storm, pelting him with frigid rain drops the size of goose eggs, and he broke into a run down the hill, towards the monastery. The monks must have seen him coming, as the doors were open and a kind, portly man in brown robes waved him inside.

“Quite the squall.” The friar said cheerfully, passing a large cloth for Börda to dry himself.

Reaction - 11 - Friendly
Adventure Move - Gather Information - Presence +1
21 and 18 - Strong Hit with a 20
Have they seen/know of the priests? - Yes
Did the priests go to Fight the Fraternity? Yes, but they have already been defeated
Are they all dead? No. (Still there, possible allies?)
Do they have someone to repair my amor? No, but they do have tools.
Can I repair my armor with the tools available? Yes, but it takes the rest of the day.
Do the Monks have food to spare? No
Adventure Move Omens+1 DC 10 = 11 and 15 - Strong Hit, armor repaired

The friar allowed Börda to refill his waterskin and invited him to dine with them, as the day neared it’s end. Börda saw an old workshop in the stables and asked if there were artisans among them, one who could perhaps repair his armor, but the friar shook his head sadly.

“Our artisans have left this mortal coil, child.” He said sadly. “We’ll likely join them soon, like as not. But still, first we shall feast, before the end comes, eh?” A slight chill went down Börda’s spine at the finality in the Friar’s words, but the monks still allowed Börda to use the old smithing gear for himself. He didn’t need a forge to repair the chainmail, although a true artisan could likely get it as good as new. Any mercenary worth their salt knew how to perform a field repair, especially with tools, and after a few hours, Börda had the armor in a state of repair. Mostly, anyway. No sergeant he had served with would allow him anywhere near a mustering field, but it would do for now. The Friar chatted away while Börda worked on his armor, popping in for a few minutes at a time to answer questions and make strange ominous statements.

“A troop of priests out of Schleswig? Aye, they came by this way. They didn’t stay long, we offered them water and wine, as is our way. They were a secretive bunch, but it’s plain as day what their quest was.”

“And what was it?” Börda asked, wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a sip of the proffered wine.

“What else, when a troop of 13 marches under arms? A holy war, albeit a smaller one that most would think of.” He chuckled and shook his head sadly. “We’re cursed with the vision here, of course. Their mission did not succeed.”

“They went to fight the Fraternity in the hills? And they lost?” Börda asked.

“Correct on both accounts.”

“Have they all been lost? How do you know this?” Börda asked, his armor momentarily forgotten. The Friar placed a warm hand on Börda’s shoulder and guided him back to the workshop.

“Worry not, traveler.” He said soothingly. “They still live. We have trade with the hunters from yonder forest. A dark lot, they ply their trade for anyone with coin, even that troop of apocalypse courting rot bastards.” The Friar barked a laugh, and then stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“A battle was had, this we foresaw.” He said with a shudder. “But, the hunters say a few yet live. The battle is lost, but not the war, and all that usual shit.” He waved a hand dismissively. “If you seek the war party, some of it still remains, as of yesterday, at least. You may want to be quick though. The Fraternity of Necrotic Corruption is about as forgiving as you might expect, given their name.”

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The monks were cheerful at dinner, and had staged a relative feast. Through conversation, Börda came to learn that they had emptied their stores, and none expected to see sunrise.

“Stay abed, my friend, and you’ll be fine.” The Friar said somewhat drunkenly as he guided Börda to the guest chamber. “This doom is just for us. You are our witness, as things should be, but we wouldn’t want you to come to harm. Stay abed, friend.” The door closed, and Börda heard the portly man humming a tune as he toddled off down the hallway. Börda was already feeling an intense regret that he had stayed here, for all the monks friendly and cheerful manners, their doomed portents filled him with dread. He held his sword close as he curled into the small cot, and tried to sleep.

Sleep/Make Camp Omens +1 = 5 and 9 Miss

It felt like he just closed his eyes when a single, pained scream jerked him from bed. Silver moonlight crept through the window, and but for the scream that woke him, the Monastery was dead silent. Börda slung his bag over his shoulder and drew his blade, moving cautiously into the hallway. He would be damned if he was going to sit and wait for death. He padded along the hallway and shuddered at the thin trail of blood that led back to the great hall. The feasting had continued into the night, and all of the Monks he had met were accounted for, sat around the large table, each throat slit with a razor’s edge. Blood pooled on the floor and spattered the walls. The friar sat at the head of the table, glazed eyes looking upwards over a ruined, bloody throat. Börda glanced around the room, but he saw no footprints, no sign of an enemy that could have done this. The Monks were unresisting, their arms all limp and their hands clean. A trail of sinew ran from the Friar’s throat and Börda flinched as it moved and twitched, and he finally realized that the murderer was still in the room with him. Chewing on the kind Friar’s innards was a small, fist sized bird. It’s talons left inch deep scratches in the thick, oak table and it’s beak tore through the flesh with almost comical ease. Each gash at the Monk’s throats were identical, all cause by the Throat Cutting Warbler that sat comfortably at the center of the table.

Roll on the Schleswig Local Wildlife Table for cause of Monk's death 
Throat Cutting Warbler HP 1/1 No Armor d10 Attack
Initiative - 6 Börda first
Spend Omen to Lower DC by 4 - Strength+0 DC 10 Attack
15 - Success. 4DMG

Börda stepped cautiously towards it and the bird’s beady eyes locked onto him. It extended it’s wings and opened it’s beak, the cruel edge glistening with blood in the moonlight. Börda shuffled forward quickly and slapped the flat edge of the sword down before the bird could move. There was a splat as the crushed the infernal little fucker beneath the flat edge of his blade, and he lifted it up to observe it. The little monster was dead, but he would be very surprised if it was the only one here. He slung the corpse into his pack, determined to eat the little bastard tomorrow if nothing else. Tired and shaken, Börda marched back to his room and barred the door and windows and then, for good measure, tossed the room. He found a small pouch of silver tucked beneath the mattress and a small note that read.

‘We Thank you, Witness of Our Doom. We go to the End with our bellies full and our eyes open. He and She watch over this cursed place.’

Sleep did not come easily, nor was it particularly restful, after that.

Corpse Plunder as Börda loots the room = 6+4 Silver = 10
Make Camp 50/50 Weak Hit or Strong hit - 9 Weak Hit. 2 HP and 1 Omen Restored.
Journey
[+][+][+][+][]

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Everyone is chasing their doom and Börda’s just trying to stay alive in the middle haha. Somehow, we are still on the road, but we are nearing our destination. I wasn’t taking a chance with that little bird, not with d10 damage attack. I think I’ve engaged with each travel event a fair amount, but now that we are getting near the end of the journey, I’m thinking that I want to speed things along. Unless something really interesting comes up and distracts me or kills me, anyway.