BLOOD IS FUEL - The Vaults of Torment - [part 1]

[Malkavian Grin]

The realm of King Fathmu IX.

Once a powerful and rich nation, now a plundered and impoverished despot state. Those who fail to pay their taxes or repay compulsory credits, the king's men throw into Schleswig's debtor’s prison. The city dwellers call it the Grøbe, a dark pit nobody escapes.

Many people have found their way to the city, whether for tales of getting rich in one of the many gambling halls, or for the tolerance not shown in Galgenbeck, or perhaps even as just a layover to eastern Lake Onda or to the eminently dangerous Bergen Chrypt mountains to the west.

Downtrodden and poor lined the streets, begging for a handout. "Please, spare a coin, the King took everything I had!" came the same message time and time again. With some effort the words could be blocked out, their visages erased, their plights ignored.

A day became a week; a week a month. Soon, everyone that came to Schleswig found themself short of silver. That was when the king's soldiers came to collect. "A tax for enjoying the great many services to be found in this great city," had said the man from behind a spear, metal armor, and a steel helm. Refusal meant being drug off to Verhu-knew-where.

---

This is where our story begins...almost.

The king's men strode in throngs six and ten thick and armed to the teeth; far too many to fight off alone. So when they came for you--demanding more silver than you had to give by a handful and a half--you were bound at the wrists with thick rope and gagged to boot. They dragged you through the street if necessary.

Or perhaps you never had the silver and resorted to thievery, ending up in a temporary jail cell full of ruff-looking folk. Perhaps you had only the rats as company.

Stranger still, perhaps you walked into the king's throne room alongside the indebted and offered--nay, demanded-- you be let into the pit below.

---

King Fathmu IX sat upon an opulent and gaudy throne made of black stone with a white marbling running through it; each edge held a facet and was lined in gold filigree. The king barely fit on the seven foot tall chair due to his extreme girth. His royal garb was stained with grease in spots and his chin had long since melded with his neck. Short, brown, dirty hair sat crumpled beneath a pure gold crown a foot tall with rubies set into it.

A belch was released by the rotund ruler, a half-eaten leg of meat falling onto floor nearby as he seemed to grow bored with it. The king's men shoved some beggars forward. "These debtors refuse to pay your most righteous taxation, oh lord."

King Fathmu lazily took them in and waved his pudgy hand bedazzled by gem encrusted rings. "Put them in the pit," he spat out in between a yawn.

With strong and determined hands, each person's mouth was forced open and a thick, dark paste poured in. They then held the mouth closed and plugged the nose until swallowing.

The floor opened by hand-cranked gears and the soldiers threw them down in to the darkness.

---

Next it was your turn...

One by one the soldiers shove you forward and onto your knees. Your belongings--carts and animals--are toted in behind. "Sire, these travelers have spent weeks in your great city and now refuse to pay the tax to stay. The tax you rightly deserve."

Some of you fight your bonds, others try to scream through the gag--all for naught.

"Throw them into the pit, of course," comes the king's disinterested reply.

"Yes, my liege. And these?" he motions to your belongings.

"Throw it in as well. The Keeper needs goods as well as blood," Fathmu replies, choking back a hiccup attack unsuccessfully.

And like the beggars before you, several men approach and force your mouth open. A dark liquid tasting of bile and rancid meat is poured over your tongue and teeth. Your mouth is then held shut and your nose pinched such that you can either swallow--or pass out and possibly choke to death. Your reflexes make the decision for you and you swallow. Some of you put a show in fighting back and are rewarded with a hard kick in the ribs, knocking the wind from you.

Then, you are all--very much against your will--throw or kicked into the yawning pit in the stone floor. A deep darkness without end meets your eyes.

---

After tumbling down in the darkness for a half minute or more, the group found themselves unceremoniously dumped onto a floor much softer than stone. In fact, the mushiness of it seemed to have broken their fall and saved them from a nasty end. There was no light, leaving the others sense to carry on. Unfortunately the rank of death and decay was pungent and familiar shapes beneath them suggesting arms, legs and fingers was more than enough to fill in the blanks.

Darkness clung to them as they struggled to get free of the pile of mushy objects, banished only by the promise of torch light at the end of a winding cave.

OOC

The current room is very dark. You have enough low-light to clamour clumsily to your feet and get your bearings. The large room ahead of you seems to have much more lighting. The smell is nearly overpowering you by being so close.

I'll describe more if you go to the end of this cave. Until then--take a moment to gather yourselves.

Below is a map of the area and relatively how far you can see without exploration. You are at the "1" in the top left.

You have not taken any damage. Your goods and animal friends are miraculously also unharmed. Perhaps scared and bruised, but no HP damage.

[Vedast]

As he recollected his senses, Vardøger took a few careful moments to assure himself that the drug's effects had mostly been metabolized. He was cautious, not wanting to attract attention until his wits were about him.

Eventually, he had the presence of mind to look for Orph. Vardøger could not explain it, but there indeed was his companion mule, in fact, still harnessed to the cart that had been his perambulatory home ... until these new surrounds courtesy of a corrupt monarchy. Who is The Keeper?

Wary of what he might find towards the light, but nearly overwhelmed by the stench, he decided he had to take stock of his equipment. So Vardøger leads Orph some distance to the SE hoping to have sufficient light to itemize what he has available to him without too much exposure to ... what? The Keeper?

 

[OOC: I posed a question about the stairs to the north in the OOC topic. Is it darker that way? Do we have the impression that we tumbled down from there or did we fall through an opening in the ceiling?]

 

Edited May 30, 2023 by Vedast (see edit history)

[Dixi]

Urminor was one of those who tried - not to resist, that was impossible after days in the jail above the ground - but to at least speak up. A good kick in the guts cut him off and the rest of the "ceremony" he watched through the tears gasping for the air. Funny, as the youngest son of a rich family he was never granted the personal attention of the monarch, yet now, as a convict, he could "enjoy" the front raw view of the royalty and even a glance of the king's very eyes. Urm felt like the wave of bitter anger rose in him again, overpowering the taste of the drag forced in his throat.

When the rage calmed down, Urminor was already in the pit, the thing of which the most seasoned criminals he met spoke with fear in their voices. So far it was not that terrifying but excessively dark. To his surprise, Urminor managed to find his sack with what little he could save in the jail above. Pembruk! Urminor pulled the collar of his shirt and looked inside. In this darkness, he could not see even his hands but he felt the small claws and fast heartbeat of the little rat. Pembruk was here. With a sigh of relief, he finally looked around to find out, Pembruk was not the only animal in the room. A mule? Harnessed to the cart? And here he thought he lost his capacity for astonishment.

Trying not to attract any attention, Urminor tried to stay closer to the back of the cart and not be the first one stepping in the next room.

[XQbitor]

Flee...

It was the wolf again. The one who was flayed and bloodied, the one who had latched itself to him when he was sure his soul was reaching for the hither. The one who dragged him screaming back to this accursed world. The one whispering its animalistic mind into his ear, as it made it near impossible to discern horrific dreams from equally horrific reality. The only company he had when he sat in the cell and waited for a sentence for a crime he wasn't even aware he had committed. Even now he half-listened to the voice coming from the unseen wolf's muzzle.

Flee...

And for once he agreed.

Tizian spat a meaty lump the foul taste in his mouth out as he got up to check his bearings. The air was repugnant. At least he thought it so; his unwanted companion thought it was an interesting smell that filled the cavern.

Dead... Bad eat... it shared with its host. His hand grasped for the swords by his waist; they were still there. Even his shield was still strapped to his back. Tizian smirked at the king's decision. If he found his way out King Fathmu of Schleswig would regret sending Tizian into this wyrmpit. With a trained hand the sound of steel against steel Tizian drew his sword from its scabbard. Using it as a guiding stick he slowly maneuvered towards the light.

[Vedast]

The rasping sound of steel against leather behind him brought Vardøger and Orph to an abrupt halt. Was there an assassin lurking in this pit of death? He drew his knife - the only weapon he owned save for a bow he'd used for hunting (which he had taught himself to shoot using his right hand to hold the bow). Something or someone behind him; the unknown ... Keeper? ... before him.

There was a bit more light here where the passage opened somewhat with a more clear view of what seemed, and sounded, and felt like a much larger space laying beyond: and his eyes were adjusting ... but oh so slowly.

Orph let out a slight whinny of fear.

Edited May 30, 2023 by Vedast (see edit history)

[Malkavian Grin]

Whatever had been poured down their throats, there was no indication of its effects yet.

The dim lighting made it next to impossible to tell what each piece of equipment was without touching it to verify shape. After taking a few moments to right themselves, movement began.

First, Tizian prodded his way forward, sword tip plinking off the ground or wall in asymmetrical patterns. The noise was easily identified as metal on stone. Then came Vardøger leading his mule ahead. The cart's wheels scraped against the floor in protest but eventually moved smoothly. Securing the rear was a perhaps unseen Urminor, keeping behind the cart.

After navigating a twisting passage, a large cavern came into view. The mouth of the cave opened wide here, though partially choked by several bodies on the ground. Their haphazard placement--and general look of decay--gave away their lack of life.

A large statue greeted the group's visage. It was easily twice as tall as any of them, perhaps more. More striking was the female figure it was shaped after; naked and beautiful by Human standards, with six arms, six breasts, and six horns upon its head. Each hand held a decapitated head of stone, though carved with intricate details such that they looked real.

Before more details could be taken it, several of the bodies twitched with activity, springing to life with fervor. Worms writhed beneath their skin and out of orifices. Their voices were gone and replaced with wet, gurgled moans. Three corpses had leapt up, one near each of the group with dirty fingers reaching out.

Begin Combat

OOC

Thrown right into it. This module starts off with a bite!

First I'll roll Initiative. So, that means no advantage to either side and we dice off with highest Agility (two of you have a +2) vs. d20.
16 vs. 7 means PC's take Initiative. When that happens, you'll roll your Attack first, then your Defend. If you happen to kill your foe, you don't have to Defend (but roll it anyways to speed things up).

Remember, movement is tracked in the fiction; if you can justify something within the narrative, I'll usually allow it.

There are no modifiers for this fight, so test vs. DR12. Please test Strength or Presence to Attack (depending on if you try to back away to range) and then test Agility to Defend.

[Vedast]

Orph let out a whinny of fear ...

... just as three of the repulsive corpses of this vile den of death lurched to their feet, apparently sensing life ... and perhaps food?

Vardøger was so surprised and dismayed that he acted instinctively, with no time for tactical assessment: he summoned forth Palms Open the Southern Gate, but to what effect ... ?

 

A bolt of violet flame sped from his outstretched hands, striking the animated corpse nearest him though his aim was not center mass nor the putrid head as he had hoped.

Perhaps stunned at events, the Pale One merely starred in disbelief, barely making an attempt to dodge.

 

PS It looks like I forgot the add +2 (AGI) to the defense test, not that it matters, changing a 2 => 4!

 

OOC

One thing about the mechanics I don't quite follow. We attack with a base DR =12: we hit 9:20 times. But we defend at a base DR = 12: the opponents hit 11:20 times.

 

Edited June 2, 2023 by Vedast
verb repair (see edit history)

[Dixi]

Urminor was silently moving behind the cart and was already thinking to risk it and step into the open when the pit showed its difference from the land above. As terrible as the jail was, the ordinary corpses there remained dead (barring interference from some insane magic wielders). Here, the three sources of additional stench not only raised from the ground but attacked.

Disgust forced Urminor to back off instinctively, keeping a shield between him and the corpse. He would run to make (and keep) the distance, should he be sure the corpse would not jump at his back.

There was nowhere to truly run, of course, and the moment some distance was achieved, he tried to hurriedly find one of his precious "perfect rock" to throw at the thing with the sling.

 

[XQbitor]

As Tizian cautiously navigated the pitch-dark cave, his hands trembling, he relied on his sword as both a weapon and a walking stick. Each step echoed through the damp, narrow passageway, heightening his senses to the surrounding darkness. The misfortunate others who shared his fate followed suit behind him. None of them had uttered a word to each other. It was the only cautious thing to do before they knew of what hell hole they were dropped into. There was an unspoken mutual trust... for now. Suddenly, the path widened, revealing an expansive cave that stretched out before him like an ancient maw. In the center of the cavern stood a peculiar statue, its features beautiful but equally horrifying.

However, before Tizian and his companions could fully grasp the significance of their discovery, the air grew thick with a palpable sense of dread. The silence was shattered by a low, guttural moan, as if the very essence of death had been summoned. Three figures emerged from the ground, their decaying forms lurching forward with unnatural jerks and shambled steps. The stench of rotting flesh pervaded the air, assaulting Tizian's nostrils with its putrid intensity.

Tizian swung his sword with a mix of skill and desperation, each stroke aimed at severing the decaying limbs of the undead. The sound of steel meeting rotten flesh echoed through the cave as he fought to protect his comrades. The melee ensued, the mad dead flailing at the living.

Fight! the wolf growled.

Edited June 2, 2023 by XQbitor (see edit history)

[Malkavian Grin]

Combat Round 1 - Results

A bright ball of purple flame flew out of Vardøger's hand without warning. There were no incantations, no visible scroll in his hands; just force of will. The wormy zombie had gotten closer than the man would have liked. The ball smashed into its right shoulder, quickly spreading over the whole corpse. There was no cry of pain, just another gurgle as its intentions were brought to an end. As it fell, the violent glow intensified and only a pile of ashes hit the floor at Vardøger's feet.

For all his flailing, Tizian's sword cut through the walking dead with ease. The blade struck the chest, shoulder, arm and leg in a desperate fury for survival. It was simply too much strain on the body, causing it to fall with a slow slump. Its bone-tipped fingers drug through the air just before Tizian, ending with a mere slap on his boot as it came to rest again.

Urminor didn't fare quite so well, with no where to run back back into the darkness. He accidentally bumped into a wall as the tunnel began to curve in the opposite direction. His fingers fumbled to find the right stone but in the panic of it all, the sling ended up empty just before the shot.

Urminor heard the plink of stone at his feet a moment before the zombie fell upon his shield. But instead of using its unnatural strength, the creature seemed to lose the will to fight on. Or perhaps the wicked magic empowering them had been dispelled. Whatever the case, the worm-infested corpse fell over at the man's feet--clearly still aware and able to move--refusing to act.

Combat Ended

OOC

Oddly enough, the wormy zombies have Morale! There is no leader here, so I'm using "more than half the group is dead" as the trigger.

Wormy Zombie Morale

The foe is considered to have surrendered. You can either finish it off or leave it alone. It won't fight back.

[Malkavian Grin]

With the sudden need to fight for one's life over as fast as it began, the three companions began to step forward into the larger cavern. Light shown from multiple sconces set into the walls at odd intervals. One nearby indicated it was constructed of iron banding holding a somewhat preserved skeletal arm up at an angle. The boney hand then held an iron bowl that burned a blackened substance.

To their left was a large pool of yellowed liquid. It was not calm, instead bubbling here or there with a current. Upon closer inspection, Human-sized organs could be seen rising to the top only to then catch a separate current elsewhere and be sucked back down. The smell of the pool was lightly acrid and sulfurous.

Along the walls to the left and right were smaller cave entrances. It was impossible to see into them without a closer look.

On the far side of the room beyond the huge statue was another large cave mouth like the one the group had just fought inside of. But in the light they could see that the roughly hewn stone turned to a smooth-worked passage--clearly someone had taken the time to carve out something resembling civilization.

[Malkavian Grin]

From behind the group came more sound, though with much less impending doom. An echoed scream followed by a string of obscenities indicated another survivor.

"How dare he!? I am the QUEEN of this land! I'll have his throat! I'll boil him alive! I'll have his toes ripped off and forced up his nose! I'll--" came a feminine voice.

"My queen, please find your calm. It is--as always--your best weapon," came a muffled male voice.

"Poltroon, I swear to my now-smoldering throne, if you are telling me to shut up... I will personally see you strung up by your guts with a magic keeping you alive so you are in perpetual torment. Do I make myself clear!?"

"Y-yes my queen. I only meant--Oh, what's this? More pris--er--travelers?"

The pair had walked away from the mushy pile and it's horrid stench only to walk almost directly into Urminor at the back of the cave mouth.

The man was dressed like a court jester--though they were more myth than reality in the Dying Lands. His face was covered by a white mask with a slight break along one edge of the chin. Bells adorned his hat and rang just slightly out of tune as if the metal were warped.

The woman wore a long purple dress of silk and gold threads. On her head was a golden crown, tarnished and dirty with age. A deep-blue cloak with white fur and black diamonds was draped over her shoulders. Heavy cloth filled in the gaps as a makeshift armor. While regal, her clothing all was stained and looking more ratty than royal. Her platinum blond hair was woven into two large braids tipped in golden caps. Her face was smudged with old makeup.

The woman stood with arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as she stared at the group. "Make your intentions clear--now," she demanded. "Or else my sword have to do the talking--and believe me it has a great many things to say."

[Dixi]

Urminor jerk-turned to the sound of new voices. Having a wall behind his back already felt good now, with the threat in front of him gone and he tried to get out of it as much as he could, slowly moving along the wall away from the newcomers.

He glanced at two others, those he was transported here with. They looked equally dangerous but so far did not threaten him or each other. If he had to choose the choice was clear and Urminor shifted - still silently - his position away from the woman and preferably to get the two others between her and himself.

From this new position, he watched the strange pair (the even stranger paire) suspiciously and attentively, like mice or rats do, that always prepared to dive underground. Yet, aside from manners, nothing in that young man, practically a boy, reminded of a wild animal. The look - from the distinct delicate features of his face down to the clothes (thoughtfully simple, obviously tailored for him and of high quality) screamed of a high birth. Though, both the body and the clothes saw better days. Grime, tears, scratches and bruises underlined the boy's fragile constitution. Jail education is the hard one, and he clearly paid a lot for it.

He kept his distance and his silence.

Edited June 6, 2023 by Dixi (see edit history)

[Vedast]

Vardøger had thought his being cast down into this world was traumatic, but this tableau was surreal: first, attacked by worm festering zombies and now confronted by a pair of characters out of an opera bouffe. He must be mad. If it be so, he thought, then embrace the madness.

This one is called Vardøger, he said to the three, four others, oddly pointing to himself with his maimed left hand (OOC: missing thumb and forefinger - he fires a bow from the right). That one is called Orph, he continued, pointing to the mule and cart. The cart seems reasonably supplied with mattress; tarp; tools; and other gear. You might gain the (correct) impression that the one called Vardøger lived in it.

The creature known as Vardøger may appear as odd as the other inhabitants in this place: pale; thin; gaunt; whose movements are oddly elastic.

My intention? Escape.

He goes to his cart to equip a shortbow and a quiver you note holds only four arrows. He seems to be wearing a gambeson along with ordinary and well-worn traveler's clothing.

OOC

The character image is pretty close, really, and there is a picture of Orph & cart on my character thread)

Edited June 5, 2023 by Vedast (see edit history)

[XQbitor]

As the undead creature crumbled to the ground under Tizian's relentless assault, a sudden chill filled the air. The echoes of battle gradually subsided, leaving behind a tense stillness that seemed to cling to the walls of the cave. With the adrenalin still ringing in his ears, Tizian went on to attack the remaining dead. If the three of the dead could get up and attack them with what sort of mockery of life they had, it only seemed fitting to finish the rest lest they get up on their feet when he at least expected. Separate head from neck seemed like good medicine against unlife.

As he was mid-swing to finish off the last of the dead, he stopped up. And listened. From the same passageway through which Tizian and his companions had entered, emerged an unexpected pair. Tizian's gaze narrowed, suspicion etching lines of caution across his face. He had learned the hard way that appearances in these desolated realms were often deceiving, and the sudden appearance of this enigmatic duo only heightened his wariness. His grip tightened around his sword, his eyes never leaving the "Queen".

"My name is Tizian. And as my... moon-faced fellow prisoner himself so elegantly presented his explanation, I too only seek to escape these dreaded halls." Tizian's voice was laced with an undercurrent of suspicion as he eyed the "Queen" and her jester companion. His mind churned with questions and doubts, unwilling to accept their presence at face value.

"Now excuse me", he said as he turned towards the yellow pond. "I will have to relinquish the "gift" the King gave me. I doubt it would be pretty, so cover your eyes, 'your highness'." He walked over to the cesspool and inspected it for a moment before placing two fingers in his throat and vomit up whatever concoction they had given him.

Edited June 7, 2023 by XQbitor (see edit history)