[WFRP] Hunters of Hexensnacht IC

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Magnus is only a few paces out into the river when he freezes. Freezes so still that he can feel the blood coagulating in his veins.

As the Ferryman walks across the water, all he can think of are the two men he's killed. The two men locked safely in Morr's embrace. Or the ones that should be, at least. If this bit of shape and memory can linger on the other side of death, then maybe it's not the only one.

For a moment, he can feel their hands closing over him. Cold and clinging, scraped raw in places where the skin breaks for bone. A scream boils up in his throat but the muscles are locked tight, bottling it down in his core where it writhes like a tortured soul.

We've always been here, Magnus; just beyond the veil, waiting for you to cross. Oh, the things we have planned for you...

When the Ferryman speaks, he doesn't even hear it.

Roll:

Spoiler

Show

(1d100)[60] vs WP 37.

Gaining an IP.

[-Sentinel-]

"Boatman, how is it that you stand here, when you should be with Morr?" asked Bernhard.

The ghost ferryman's lips twisted into an ugly smile. "I've been asking myself that very question for a long, long while, halfling." His smile abruptly vanished. "But my woes are none of your business. Here I remain, and I still have a job to do. Of course, gold's of little value to me, but passage isn't free. Never was, never will be." He pointed at the nearest living person. His gaze was cold and piercing; it felt like an icicle being rammed in one's very soul. His voice became a whisper. "You. What is your fondest memory? The memory that would warm your heart even on such a cold night? I wish to hear it."

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Unfortunately, the nearest living person is Magnus, standing calf-deep in freezing water. The shade points a finger towards him, and the rest of the blood drains from the base of his skull.

Sigmar, how can anyone think like this, let alone tell the thing a story?

He takes a deep breath, ramming cold air down his lungs and venting it back out as steam.

Steady. Steady. It's either this or death by the Carsteins.

Feeling his legs begin to go numb--heat leeched away by the river--he takes another shallow breath and begins.

"My fondest memory?"

It was in the woods of upper Reikland that it happened. He had been rambling between towns and

"I met a blind man on the road. It was on one of those long, empty stretches, where even the bandits don't bother. The only trade that came through was an occasional farmer's wagon, and I hadn't seen one of those all day.

Anyway, when I first met him I didn't know he was blind. He walked with such a sureness that he must have memorized the road. Every roll and dip of it. Every stone. Every trench. He kept his eyes forward and said not a thing as he saw me walking up behind him, although surely he must have heard me.

I had spent a few hungry summers in the last couple of years, and it wasn't completely unknown for me to rob another traveler, especially if I was low on coin and I didn't think they'd be able to tell the authorities until I was long gone. On this day I was low on coin, and the blind man had a big fat pouch jangling on his belt.

I let my hand drop to my sword as I moved in front of him, but when I turned and drew it he just walked right past. That's when I got a glimpse of his eyes. Milky as a cat's breakfast.

He was moving at a steady pace, and I had to run a few steps to catch back up to him again. He still didn't say anything to me, so I cleared my throat and said 'good morning, fellow traveler.'

'Good morning,' he replied, and continued walking.

'I can't help but notice that you're walking a long, empty stretch of road all by your lonesome,' I began. 'I'm a professional caravan guard, down on some hard times, and for a small fee I'd be happy to--'

'I haven't got money to spare.'

I looked down at the large, jingling pouch again, then back up at the old blind miser. I'd be doing him a favor relieving him of those crowns. If he kept on like this, he was bound to draw the attention of people less scrupulous than I, some of which might just drag a dagger across his throat and have done with it.

I was just reaching for my sword again when he dipped an old, weathered hand into his pack and came back up with a slightly squashed pastry bun. He held it out in my direction. 'I don't need guarding, but if you'd like to walk with me a while, I could use the company.'

My curiosity was piqued. We walked together, as morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon sank to dusk, and finally we reached the next town, a tiny fleaspeck village in the back end of nowhere. Along the way we talked about everything from the wills of the gods to why we think a crow can fly and a man can't. We compared our best experiences with street food, and out worst. We talked about life and death, the meaning of family, and the sadness that some people never get to experience true wanderlust. He had given me his only provision for the trip, but I had some leathery jerky and water, and I shared these with him.

When we arrived, he offered to put me up for the night and I accepted, expecting at the very least a large cottage from this peculiar rich man. Instead, what I got was a hovel, barely held together by lashings and the momentary kindness of nature. I didn't want to offend, not after I felt like I really knew him, but my curiosity got the better of me again and I asked 'this whole time we've been traveling, you've had a pouch full of money. Why do you live like this?'

Although they were blind as a moonless night, a whole host of expressions flickered across his eyes. 'Because I needed to save up to hire mourners for my funeral.'

And then he told me. About the disease of the kidneys, slowly turning his blood black. About how he had never gotten close with any of the people of this village. About how, to them, he was a crazy old hermit who lived up on a hill. He wouldn't be missed.

He spun stories about all the lands he had traveled, and his own birthplace far away. He told me how he had been blinded; strapped to the sand with his eyelids sewn open, to stare at the sun for the crime of looking at a calif's mistress. He told me about the wars he had fought in, and the two daughters he had buried. He told me about his last journey to the south, after he had been diagnosed by a competent barber, to the bank where he had stashed the last of his coin. And he told me about the man he had met on the way back, who had been about to rob him but for some reason stopped.

He couldn't see it, but I was shamefaced. When I went to speak, to apologize, to rationalize, to explain, he just held up a hand. 'I doesn't matter now. If you would just stay and look over me while I die, it would mean more than any apology.'

I did. And, in the end, when I buried him, I was the only one that mourned.

He left me all his worldly possessions; a category consisting of one falling down shack, a stray cat that occasionally came by for handouts, and a pouch heavy with crowns. I took the pouch, but I never spent a single one of them. Instead, I gave them away. Handed them out like a moonstruck fool. Paid for medicines and surgeries and memorials.

I knew it was a terrible decision, but then I thought about what the old blind man would say, and for a brief time I was the happiest man alive."

[-Sentinel-]

The ferryman listened to Magnus' tale in silence, his insubstantial body eerily still.

"That is... a good memory," he declared after considering it for a moment.

Abruptly, before Magnus could get out of the way, the ferryman reached out and jammed a ghostly finger right through the outlaw's temple. To Magnus, it was like an ice-cold dagger entering his skull. He had the feeling that, if he tried to step back, the ferryman's finger would tear his very soul.

"Are you willing to part with this memory?" asked the ghost.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Magnus didn't nod. He kept his head perfectly still.

"How many of us will you allow to pass if I do?"

[-Sentinel-]

"You will be allowed to pass," replied the ferryman flatly.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

"And will the others be offered the same bargain?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Of course," said the ferryman, "as long as they have memories that make me remember what it's like to be alive." He glanced at the two moons. "You're the lord's prey, aren't you? I heard the second horn just before you arrived. So stop asking questions and decide quickly. I got all night, but you don't."

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

"Alright. The memory's yours." He stands, arms at his sides, waiting for the shade to reach in and take his price.

[-Sentinel-]

The ferryman closed his eyes. The sensation was hard to describe when he reached into Magnus' soul to claim his payment. The memory of the meeting with the blind man flashed through the outlaw's mind, now so life-like that he felt as if he was going through this event all over again. But then, just as Magnus was almost in tears from nostalgia, the memory slipped away from him, the way even the most vivid dream escapes one's mind after waking. When the ghost finally let go of him and took a step back, Magnus frowned in confusion, wondering what he had just been thinking about.

"You have paid, Magnus," said the ghost, though Magnus had never told him his name. "It was... a satisfactory memory. Who's next?"

[DrK]

Kurt

Having seen Magnus survive whatever it was Kurt smiled and stepped forward. I may not have a memory as touch as his the bandit mutters. But if you want a memory to warm your cockles and get your blood racing let me tell you about dear Ingrid, lady in the Suckling Peach in Tabalheim..... He pauses for a moment to see if it will be an acceptable memory..

Spoiler

Show

And I'll come back later as my wife is serving me beer and pizza

[-Sentinel-]

The ferryman's eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Do go on."

[Thragka]

After Kurt finished negotiating his own passage with the boatman, Bernhard finally gathered the courage to yield a memory of his own. After all, he was a Fieldwarden; he was meant to be used to dealing with the horrors of the Sylvanian night. It couldn't be said that a bunch of furry-chinned longlegs had shown him up.

"My fondest memory ... well, it requires a little context for you to see why it's so important to me. I'd been with the fieldwardens for a few years now, but I was still learning the ropes, so to speak. This older halfling, Odo was his name, he'd been looking after me. And ... well, it went wrong, a ranging we were on. Round these parts - not these parts here, but Sylvania," he blabbered, getting a little muddled in his obvious discomfort.

"We'd heard tales of things in the night, and we, Odo and me, went out t'investigate. Turned out to be worse than we'd thought. A madman, a necromancer, he'd raised a bunch of corpses. Fat, ugly, bloated things. Like a mockery, a twisted black joke at the expense of all living things.

"Weren't the first time I'd seen zombies, mind, but it was the closest we'd gotten. Found ourselves wandered onto his manse, this witch. And, well, what could we do? Started to run, but he knew - had, I dunno, bats watching, dogs, something. The zombies attacked. I got ahead of them, but Odo didn't." The halfling scowled, as though anger could somehow right this wrong.

"They tore him apart. I'll not dwell on it, that's not the good memory. I wasn't right afterwards, for months. Odo'd been my mentor, a good friend. For nearly half a year I didn't go out after that. Finally I realised that I couldn't mope forever, and the only way to feel comfortable ranging again was to get back out and do it.

"Most recent trouble we'd had had been greenskins in the forest. We were worried it'd be a big infestation, so about five of us went into the woods where they'd been spotted to sort them out. Turned out to be nothing more'n a few goblins - well, and one giant spider. Killed that tosser myself with a rock through the head. It's surprising what an old sling can do if you've not seen one before. Rest of the gobbos weren't long in routing. We chased them through the woods and ended up killing most of them.

"Felt like it was a job well done, you know, afterwards? We were all in high spirits, all the lads. Made our way home, and , when I walked in the door, who did I find but my brother Olli. Hadn't seen him in a few years, 'cos he was the adventurous sort, and, I tell you, seeing him again, after I'd missed him, and after wee'd cleaned out the forest, and after I'd just started feeling better after Odo's death - it was the best thing in the world. We got blind drunk, were sick for days, caught up on a lot of lost time, and then he headed off again."

Bernhard glared at the grey boatman, as though daring him to challenge the tale. "So just you know, it's not just my fondest memory, it's the last time I saw Olli in nearly twenty years. That's what you're taking from me boatman, and if that's not worth the crossing then you should never let another soul in your boat again."

[-Sentinel-]

"It's an acceptable memory, halfling," said the ghost ferryman, though he seemed unmoved. "Stand still."

He walked over to Bernhard, put his ghostly finger through the fieldwarden's skull and claimed his payment.

"Who's next?"

Without waiting for Kurt to speak, Albrecht, the young woodsman, stepped forward and told his own tale: his eldest brother Jurgen, recently married, became a father a few weeks ago and asked him, out of all his brothers and friends, to become the godfather of his newborn daughter. Albrecht was overjoyed to hear this, for he had always thought Jurgen only viewed him as an annoying child. "And that's when I knew he really loved me all along," Albrecht concluded. "He teased me when I was little, and sometimes he ignored me... but when little Karla was born, he took me aside and told me I was the best bro he could have wished for, and that he trusted me."

The ferryman just nodded and took the memory from Albrecht's mind; as he did, he seemed to become slightly more substantial, as if taking all these memories gave him strength. Then he turned back towards the river, walked on water and stepped into his small barge.

"I can't take you all in one trip," he grunted. "The others'll have to wait. Don't want my boat to sink, you understand..."

He rowed until the barge bumped against the pier.

"You, you and you, get on," he grunted, pointing at Magnus, Bernhard and Albrecht. "The others, you stay where you are."

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

The water is freezing, and it comes nearly up to his waist as he boards the ferry. There's a numbness to his movements, not born entirely of the cold, and he doesn't say a word as he settles down on the uneven boards and begins to wring the water from his trousers and massage the circulation back into his legs.

[Thragka]

Bernhard stayed at the peer, looking almost amused as Magnus slips into the river before clambering over the side of the ferry. Hunching down, he put a hand out. Placing his palm against the boat, there was a moment of hesitation before he kicked off the pier, swinging his legs up and over the side of the boat and coming down on the planks with a crash. He winced as he got to his feet, embarrassed at the noise he'd make, and glanced apologetically at the others. Hopefully, they still had enough of a lead on their pursuers that the sound wouldn't attract anyone or anything unfavourable.

[-Sentinel-]

There was barely enough room on the flat-bottomed barge for all three mortals. The ferryman took his oar —it was a perfectly substantial oar, and how the ghost could use it was a mystery— and began rowing with precise but slow movements, obviously in no hurry to reach the opposite shore. It was a slow torture to just stand there doing nothing with the knowledge that the enemy was coming, but the ferryman seemed utterly unconcerned by his passengers' impatience. At long last the barge bumped into the small pier on the other side.

"There you go," grunted the ferryman. "Good night to you, I've got other people to ferry."

Meanwhile Kurt and the others waited patiently on the western shore, exposed to the freezing wind. As the barge reached the opposite shore and let Magnus, Bernhard and Albrecht disembark, the bandit felt a strange prickle at the base of his neck that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Here they are!" shouted a woman's exultant voice from behind them.

Kurt whirled in alarm. Friedrich, Elsabeth and Steffan von Carstein, each of them mounted upon a half-rotting horse with red eyes and snarling teeth, had just emerged from the woods and were riding along the western shore at a full gallop. Less than a hundred yards separated them from their prey and the distance was closing rapidly.

"Please, this is too easy," drawled Friedrich von Carstein, unsheathing his broadsword. "Not even the good sense to spread out."

"This one's mine, remember," Elsa grinned at her cousins, pointing her rapier at Kurt.


OOC:

Spoiler

Show

The unlucky folks on the western shore must now roll Fear and Initiative.

If you fail the Fear test, you can either freeze in place, run away or swim away. If you are successful, you may take combat actions (draw weapon, shoot, etc). You have two full turns before the vamps can do anything.

Those on the other shore need to roll Fear if they want to go back and help their friends. Otherwise they may act normally.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

"Into the woods! Go!" Magnus hisses, keeping his profile low as he darts from the pier into the trees. The last things they need is to be seen right now. If the others on the far bank have an ounce of sense, they'll swim for it.

[Thragka]

Bernhard spares barely an instant's thought for the unfortunates left on the west bank. We knew we'd have to split sooner or later. They'd do the same to me - and if they wouldn't, they're damn fools. Crouching over, he darted after Magnus as fast as he possibly could.

[-Sentinel-]

The four mortals on the western shore just stared at the oncoming vampires, then glanced at one another, as if trying to decide whether to run or fight. Then Klaus, the big mute with a rope scar around his neck, settled the matter by running north.

"That's the spirit!" laughed Sir Friedrich, spurring his horse after him.

Kurt Vogel turned pale when Elsabeth singled him out. "Oh that's it," he breathed. "Good luck to you all, it's every man for himself now." And with that, he fled along the shore.

Dimzad and Gord ran in different directions, each hoping he would not be the prey of Steffan von Carstein. Sigmar must have abandoned his servant, for it was Dimzad who found himself with the lean, hungry-looking young vampire on his heels.

"I'll show you, young Sigmarite," hissed Steffan, "why your Church fears and loathes witchcraft." He began to mutter arcane words under his breath. His hand rose, dark energy crackling between the fingers...


OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Dramiscius and Blaze, this is the last chance to take back control of Dimzad and Gord.

@ those on the eastern shore: be patient please.

***********

Kurt's lungs burned as he ran. The heavy snow impeded his flight, and there was no way he could outrun a woman on a horse... Yet Lady Elsabeth von Carstein remained some distance behind him, never seeming to catch up.

She's toying with me, he realized. She wants me to run before she kills me.

If only he could use this to his advantage... If only he found a stream, or a building, or a cliff, or some other obstacle he could use to gain an edge... But there was nothing. Nothing but snow and trees.

Laughing like a hyena, Elsabeth drew her pistol and fired it at Kurt. The outlaw threw himself to the ground in desperation, but took a moment to realize he was not hit. He scrambled to his feet, sword in hand... just in time to block the vampire's descending rapier.

The vampire slid down her saddle, her fangs gleaming. "You got some fight in you... I appreciate that."

Then she thrust her blade at him with blinding speed, and he only barely dodged the attack. For the next minute or two they duelled in the snow. It was a clumsy, frustrating fight, and again Kurt knew he was being toyed with. Every time Elsabeth had an opportunity to skewer him, she just lightly prodded him with the point of her rapier... drawing a few droplets of blood here, a few others there... cutting tendons and nerves, slowing him down, blinding him with pain... but never hitting anything vital. Her maniacal grin widened as she fought; the more desperate her prey grew, the more she enjoyed herself.

"Get it over with!" Kurt screamed eventually. He threw himself at her in a last-ditch attempt to kill either her or himself... he did not care.

"Really?" said Elsabeth in mock surprise. "I was only starting to have fun... but so be it."

She easily danced out of the way, somehow got behind him, then hamstrung him with two nonchalant flicks of her rapier. Kurt collapsed face-down in the snow. Oh gods, the pain, the pain... Every inch of his body was burning, even though his wounds were light. He was almost paralyzed; he could barely move his fingers.

"You gave me a good hunt," the vampire complimented him, wiping her bloodied rapier on the outlaw's pants. "But really, you mortals value your survival far too much. You'll see that death, while fearsome to one who's never been through it, is much easier and less painful than life."

She knelt by Kurt's side, took his chin in her gloved hand and brought his face mere inches from hers. "See... you are in terrible, terrible pain right now," she breathed. "Let me take it away. Your spirit will thank me."

Very gently, almost lovingly, Elsabeth sank her fangs into Kurt's throat. It was painful at first... but then she began drinking, greedily and messily like a thirsty animal, with blood streaming down her chin and all over her coat. And as she drank, Kurt's pain receded, replaced by a feeling of pleasure and peace and the wish that this moment would never end. Soon he no longer felt the cold of the snow or the aches of his body, only the delightful embrace of Lady Elsabeth von Carstein.

His last thought was: She's right... Death is less painful than life.

[-Sentinel-]

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Real sorry about the delay, my mind's been on other things lately (such as the story I'll write for NaNoWriMo). I decided, after all, not to bother describing the other characters' deaths, since their players have left us. I'm letting you guys post again before I move the story to the next step.

Oh, and I'm giving 100 XP to everyone left. I know I said there would not be any XP handouts in this short game, but see this as a reward for sticking with me.

I appreciate your patience.

Magnus, Bernhard and Albrecht ran as fast as the deep snow allowed. They were glad to have the river between themselves and their pursuers, but it was only a matter of time before the vampires killed the ones on the other shore, boarded the ferry and came after them.

A bloodcurdling scream -Dimzad's scream- suddenly rang out behind them. It went on and on... then it stopped, as if the Sigmarite was out of breath... and then it started again. Never had the three mortals heard so much agony out of a human throat.

"Steffan von Carstein must've caught up with him," said Albrecht, his voice trembling. "It's said he's the most cruel of the three."

Dimzad's screams sounded like they would never stop... Steffan, if indeed it was him, was in no hurry to kill his prey.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Magnus' feet are still freezing from the river. His cheeks are chapped from the wind, and his blood is ice in his veins. For now, his mind is equally numb to the threat of the Carsteins. "I could care less which one is the most cruel. They all intend to kill us. What we need to concentrate on is putting as much distance between us and the river as possible."

[Thragka]

Bernhard shook his head. "Poor buggers." Then, as though his duty to the dead was now excused, he swung his head around, gazing along the east bank, alternating in each direction.

He frowned. "If I recall, we're stuck now between the two branches of the river. And I think we should move away from it - who's to say there isn't a way they can cross somewhere nearby."

He nodded his head in the direction away from the sounds of slaughter. "What if we go east, make for the mountains? We might have an easier time making that ground than they do. There's a chance we get far enough ahead and hide out 'til dawn."

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Magnus takes advantage of the momentary pause to strip off his sopping boots and bind his feet and legs with dry rags from his pack. It won't save him if he steps on a sharp rock or a caltrop, but he'll move quieter and he won't have to start deciding which toes to keep.

"I think we should follow the far branch. It's a little longer, but if we go to the mountains, the Carsteins won't be the only things hunting us tonight. Besides, we might be able to find another place for a crossing, and that would put us surely out of their reach."

"Albrecht?"

[-Sentinel-]

Albrecht was very pale and had the look of a stalked animal.

"Me, I don't care where you go," he said, his voice trembling with barely concealed terror. "Run wherever you want, but they'll catch up with you and kill you. It's pointless to flee... all we can do is hide and pray. Good luck."

The young woodsman turned and strode southeast with the look of someone who knew where he was going.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Well, that decided it. Magnus set off after the woodsman. Some guidance was better than none at all, and they could always divert towards the mountains or the river later.

[Thragka]

Bernhard shrugged. There was safety in numbers. For now, his best option was to stick with the others.

[-Sentinel-]

Albrecht did not seem overjoyed to be followed, and from his confident stride and the way he looked only straight ahead, it was obvious he did not care whether Bernhard and Magnus could keep up. The snow made it very hard to advance for all of them, but on the positive side, their pursuers would be slowed down as well.

Magnus shivered. The cold wind grew stronger and seemed to pass straight through his coat as if he were naked. He could hear it wailing in the hills, so loud that it drowned out even the howls of the wolves.

Bernhard hurried after them, but his small size made it even harder for him to walk in the snow; he was almost up to his knees. His bare feet were starting to freeze despite their strong soles and thick fur. Halfling were not made for this kind of climate.

So loud was the wind, Bernhard did not hear the attack come. He barely saw movement on the corner of his eyes before something clawed at him from behind.

Spoiler

Show

WS 42: (d100)[17]
Damage: (d10+3)[9]

Roll a -10 Toughness test or lose 2 additional wounds due to poison.

Roll Initiative. Bernhard is already in combat. Magnus is within charge range.

A hot pain burned his ribs and he spun in surprise. A hunchbacked, human-shaped creature was facing the halfling, its lips peeled from its pointy yellow teeth in something that looked like a grin. It was stark naked in the snow, and so lean that Bernhard could count its ribs. Its sallow skin was entirely hairless from head to toe. In place of fingernails it had curved brown claws that dripped halfling blood and something black and sticky.

A ghoul.

The vile creatures were said to be peasants who had been twisted into a mockery of humanity by many generations of inbreeding, cannibalism and necromantic corruption. They were more beast than man, and were known to haunt the cemeteries and dig up corpses for sustainance. When they grew hungry enough, in the winter, they would even prey on the living, preferably isolated or wounded animals. That this one would attack a group of armed men spoke volumes about just how desperate it was.

The ghoul ran its blood-red tongue over its teeth as it contemplated its next meal.

[Thragka]

Bernhard gasped, moving one hand to his chest in something like a daze. Wordlessly, he drew his shortsword and raised it to defend himself.

Spoiler

Show

This is really just flavour until the initiative order's worked out, but if by chance Bernhard ends up going first, it's a free action to ready his shortsword, then Defensive Stance.

[Kuma Da]

Magnus Holt

Magnus unships his sword and steps forward through the snow. A long time ago, he would have been afraid. But the wind is cold and there's only meat in front of him now.

He lifts his blade and plays the butcher.

Spoiler

Show

Charge and execute attack on ghoul. (rolls rolled in OOC thread)