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GURPS Banestorm: Dark Clouds Rising, Book II, Session 6.24

October 11, 2014 Gigermann 2 comments

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Merasiël Alethmist (Melissa)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)

Of Gems and Stones

13 May 2014

Continued… The giant serpent squeezed Rainald, who struggled against it with some success in spite of the creature’s bulk, while the other Heroes set upon it to slay it. Gabriel sprinted forward to engage the serpent’s head with his blade, stabbing it through the eye; he was joined by Merasiël who did the same. Dane loosed arrow upon arrow into the creature’s head as he could achieve a clear shot from the other side. Gestlin, still exhausted, threw a small Fireball or two at the serpent’s hind parts. The creature now blinded in both eyes, its many wounds caused it to lose hold of Rainald, who began to strike it mightily with his hammer where he stood. The serpent attempted to flee, but ceased not far away, dead, or near to it. Afterward, the Heroes noticed as the large black cat that had followed them leapt down from its tree-perch and slinked back into the forest, as if, somehow, disappointed.

The Heroes continued onward along the path, still following Magnifico’s Seeker spell, and crept up to the small village as closely as they could without raising the alarm, up to a clearing in the forest that preceded it. Gabriel and Dane sneaked ’round to scout its defenses, but the village’s sentries had spotted the Heroes’ main force and assembled themselves into a shield-wall, armored and ready with long spears for the inevitable attack. While the scouts circled around the village houses to the rear of the formation, the others advanced openly toward the defenders’ ranks. As discussed briefly at the treeline, Magnifico performed some comedic routine before the village fighters, which received little apparent notice, though it served only to focus their attention upon Rainald, who produced from its wrapping the head of the slain Medusa and held it high; in moments, the entire formation of sentries (and perhaps some onlookers beyond) was turned to stone.

At this outrage, the goddess Persephone emerged from one of the houses and approached the scene, very sorrowful after her now-petrified subjects, and demanded to know why the Heroes had done this. Magnifico responded that they had brought a message, and mimicking Hades voice as if he were “possessed” by his spirit, entreated her to return to him. She was not tricked by this, but became angry, making it known that she cared not for her husband at all. She backed away from the Heroes, knowing Hades had sent them to slay her, though she could do them no harm for the spell he had placed on them; the grass about her grew up thick and tall, forming a tangled barrier against the Heroes, even as Gabriel and Merasiël circled at a distance to get behind her, prepared should they be required to attack. At Brother Mendel’s urging, Magnifico instead told Persephone the truth of their intentions, that they wished not to slay her but to convince her to return and treat with Hades, so they could destroy this false place. But she knew already that this place was not real, and even so, wished it to remain as it is, and would not agree to help them or have anything to do with her husband, whom she declared had not the power to release them as he had said. A tree suddenly sprang up behind her, as it would when she would travel through a tree-portal before. The Heroes instantly sprang forth to prevent her; Merasiël had chanced to notice a gemstone on a fine golden chain about Persephone’s neck, hidden below her bodice, and vaulted over the tangled grass-barrier to seize it; at Merasiël’s shout, Gabriel also tumbled over the hedge and produced his sword to cut the charm from the goddess’ neck; Gestlin had activated his harness and took winged flight, placing himself between the goddess and the tree, and swept her feet from under her with his staff, such that she fell, and the chain still in Merasiël’s grasp snapped from off the goddess’ neck, leaving the necklace in her possession. In moments the Heroes watched as the life in Persephone’s eyes faded away, and she became as the other lifeless, mindless shades that populated this realm. Thereafter, the light in the cavern also faded to darkness, and Brother Mendel cast a Continual Light spell upon a coin to light their way, and they could see that the forest remained, though no longer living and beautiful as before.

The Heroes then began their journey back the way they had come; they took pity upon Persphone, and brought her with them. They made their way through the forest and back up the waterfall-cliff. They passed through the mists of the gorgons’ lair and found the other side. They continued through the marsh, seeing the bones of the undead creatures they had fought before littered about the entrance where they had gathered, now harmless and broken. They picked their way carefully across the room of many stairs, now robbed of its magic, forcing them to climb awkwardly to reach the entrance. They emerged within the labyrinth, which no longer shifted about them; Magnifico cast a Seeker spell to find them a safe path to their boat that Brother Mendel had created, still resting ashore where they had arrived, and they pressed onward, as Gestlin flew above to help guide them along. They found the boat unmolested, and rowed it back across the river to Hades’ city. They traversed the city of the dead, and found Radskyrta there as before, mindless, and brought him also with them, that he might be restored with them.

The Heroes’ will had been greatly drained from them by the time they arrived at Hades’ abode, but they entered boldly and presented the evidence of their victory over his wife, Persephone. He took no apparent interest in the lifeless woman, but immediately demanded the “heart” of them, greedily, and the Heroes suspected they would be betrayed, though they knew it not in truth. Without warning or discussion, Brother Mendel commanded Merasiël to put the necklace back ’round Persephone’s neck, and in an instant, the goddess’ former life and power was returned to her. She was very wroth with her husband for his treachery, and they argued fiercely, and fought together; though neither could do the other any direct harm, their fury was wrought upon everything near to them, both living and unliving, and the temple crumbled around them, in fire and tempest. The Heroes fled from the temple for their lives, taking Radskyrta with them.

They ran as fast as they could to the river below, to the Boatman, hoping they might somehow convince him to take them across to the land of the living while the gods were distracted, but the Boatman would not in any way acknowledge them. Suddenly, mindless Radskyrta suddenly slammed himself into the Boatman and knocked him into the water, and seized the pole; the Heroes climbed in behind him immediately, and Radskyrta began to propel the boat across the river. They believed their old friend’s mind restored, but looked upon him to see that he was now clad in black robes as the Boatman had worn, staring blankly ahead with lifeless eyes. As the boat reached the far shore, Rasdkyrta spoke not a word, but stiffly pointed a finger toward the archway through which they had arrived in this place—whether commanding them to go, or wishing to go himself, they could not say. After they had exited the boat, they looked to their friend once more to take him away with them, but his face was now hooded and covered in shadow, as he pushed the boat away from the shore, and disappeared back into the mist.

Now before them were the heavy stone doors, wide open as before, guarded by the massive, three-headed dog creature, no longer a statue but living flesh; it growled a loud warning. Rainald did not hesitate to once again bring forth the head of Medusa, and he held it high, and the creature became a statue once again, posed just as it was before. The Heroes cautiously walked past the guardian statue, and each in turn passed over the threshold of the doorway.

At once, the Heroes found themselves, as if waking from a long sleep, in and around the banks of the river where they had fallen fighting the many-headed dragon-creature before. The wounds that had slain them were no more, and their belongings remained as they had fallen in battle. They started as the heavy stone doors at the far end of the cavern began slowly to close, as they had when they were trapped with the creature before; the Heroes did not tarry, but scrambled out of the waters of the river to flee, lest the creature catch them up and slay them once more; Dane saw the others through and was the last to exit, but was nearly caught by door except he passed through it as if a ghost, to the surprise of all. They continued down the tunnel as they had entered, and found the rope-ladders still fixed in their place, and each climbed up out of the excavation within the ruined temple, to see the sun once again, as if only moments had passed.

Notes

Merasiël’s player rolled a Critical Success to notice the gem around Persephone’s neck, well-concealed as it was; but in her position at that moment, she could not tell anyone what she had seen without alerting the goddess, until she tried to escape. Of course, once the “heart” was pointed out, we all knew what it really was that Hades was after
We were all in general agreement that we would rather not kill Persephone—assuming we could anyway—but we started piecing things together at that moment that made us wonder if Hades’ motives were true. When we were before him, and he demanded the heart, something in the way the GM phrased it caused red-flags to wave furiously—whether or not he intended it so. The GM had not forseen the plan to restore Persephone to herself, and was caught completely off-guard; he eventually decided to let the players dictate how the story would end after that, and after much back-and-forth, we arrived at a general consensus
Due to the way the post-restoration events were generated, even afterward, there were differing interpretations of the results—mostly revolving around Radskyrta; what I have recorded here is my interpretation
Dane’s having phased through the closing doors is the result of the Quirks of Mendel’s previous RPM casting of the portal, finally manifested

Banestorm, Campaign Logs Banestorm, Campaign, GURPS, Recap

Banestorm: Shadows Linger

October 10, 2014 Rigil Kent 1 comment

It was a lovely day.

The smell and taste of the island air washed away the dullness of his senses, once more reminding Gabriel that he yet lived. Automatically, he flexed his hands, momentarily delighting in the strain and pull of muscles there. Around him, his allies … no, his friends were reacting to their emergence from that Underworld in various, expected ways. Mendel had already knelt in the dirt, his head bowed and his eyes closed as he thanked God for delivering them from such a terrible fate. Magnifico and Gestlin alike gave brief, almost cursory thanks to the Lord as well, but then, neither of them were especially devout. To no one’s surprise, Rainald was laughing, that booming voice of his almost seeming to rattle the ground. Dane and Merasiël were the hardest to read – the archer had removed his face-concealing wrap and was frowning at something no one else could see while the elven woman was breathing deeply, as if she had just finished a long run and was trying to recover. Gabriel watched for a moment, admiring the view, and then turned away. Not for the first time, he did not know what to do or how to honor the lost. His relationship with God had soured to the point that he held nothing but contempt for the Lord so giving thanks to Him despite having lost a good friend felt like hypocrisy at its finest and it had been years since he wept. So he fell back on the one thing that had not yet betrayed him.

Six steps carried him far enough away from the others that they would be in no danger followed by another two to factor in Gestlin’s inexplicable clumsiness, and with a flick of his wrist, he drew Misericordia in that long practiced motion. The blade sparkled in the sun and Gabriel stared at it for a long moment. Radskyrta was dead. Anger simmered within him, warring with the usual relief that it was not he who had paid the butcher’s bill, but Gabriel examined his rage, considered it, and then fed it to the mental flames he erected in his mind’s eye. In the Void, such trivial matters held no sway.

The forms came quickly, smoothly, efficiently and with them, his thoughts came just as easily. Two Hares Leaping. Snow in High Wind. Heron Takes a Silverback. Faster he pushed himself. Faster and with more precision. Kissing the Adder became Cat on Hot Sand, which flowed into River Undercuts the Bank. He was aware of the others speaking, but he did not hear their words. Mongoose Takes a Viper became Low Wind Rising. Arc of the Moon turned into Watered Silk.

Radskyrta was dead.

And yet … and yet … Gabriel found that he could not grieve.

The ground was shaking.

Hades’ roar and Persephone’s answering shriek split the air, shattering stone and striking like a physical blow. Gabriel stumbled slightly – it was still so very hard to think, to make decisions, and his mind was yet reeling from the rebirth of Persephone only moments earlier; it had been an audacious move on Mendel and Merasiël’s part, to put the necklace back on the zombie-like goddess, but Gabriel could not blame them, not with how sinister Hades had sounded when he demanded the ruby taken from his wife’s throat. Neither of the two … gods seemed capable of physically harming one another and were thus venting their rage upon their environment. Marble columns shattered into powder. Stone floors exploded, sending broken fragments spinning into the darkness. Concussive blasts erupted from Hades and Persephone alike, hurling the mindless back into walls with crushing force. Ribbons of light and energy coursed through the air from the twin powers raging in the center of the massive building, and one such brilliantly-colored stream slid across the distance and slammed squarely into Radskyrta’s chest, throwing him back to the ground where he slid a handful of yards. Coherence returned to his eyes abruptly and he blinked rapidly, glancing around as if in surprise.

“Wha…?”

“Move!” Dane exclaimed. He was already heading toward the exit as another torrent of light tore through the roof, shattering stone and cracking masonry. A rain of debris fell around them, cracking and splitting. Shocked into action, Gabriel sprang toward the confused-looking Radskyrta and pulled him sharply to his feet. Rainald was there a moment later, seizing the still staggered Radskyrta with one meaty hand and half-pushing, half-dragging him toward the exit. The air was thick with dust and debris which made the going difficult, but Gabriel darted toward the exit, hurdling small chunks of rock or unmoving, listless forms that had once been humans.

Beyond the doorway, he was greeted by another veritable horde of flesh statues, all staring at the trembling acropolis with their blank eyes. The island continued to rock, sometimes so intently that the quakes knocked many of the doomed souls to the ground. Still, there were far too many in the way…

“To the boat!” Dane ordered sharply, gesturing with one hand. “Rainald, open up a path!” The burly Northerner bellowed a laugh – it sounded so strange here, echoing strangely, hollowly, and even some of the dead looked in his direction, an expression of almost recognition on their faces – before lowering his shield and charging forward. Those in the way were knocked aside, some staggering away but managing to stay on their feet while many more fell to the ground. Gabriel paused for less than a heartbeat before throwing himself forward once more. He easily caught up with Rainald, then sprinted past him, ducking and evading around the unmoving bodies standing listlessly in clumps.

Down they fled, past the spirits of those adventurers they had slain in the ruins only hours earlier, through what felt like an entire army of the dead, all unmoving and staring at nothing at all, and finally through the hollow, vacant streets that were surrounded by empty buildings in a bizarre facsimile of a town. There were fewer of the dead here, but enough that it still slowed them somewhat as they raced toward the dock.

Behind them, the roof of the acropolis suddenly exploded.

The shockwave shattered the upper level of the small mountain upon which the acropolis rested, tearing apart the buildings on the lower levels and sending great chunks of rock and debris spinning into the darkness. One of the faceless statues that had been adorning the great building tumbled out of the night, smashing into one of the dead men only a handful of steps away from them and Gabriel recoiled away from the rain of colorless blood and bone that resulted from the sudden impact. Had they been anywhere else, he would have been unable to avoid the blood but here, it dissolved almost instantly into a fine mist that vanished entirely before it even reached him. There was absolutely nothing left of the poor, damned fool …

“There!” Dane pointed toward the boat they had arrived upon and the hooded figure standing at its tiller. It – Gabriel had caught a glimpse of the skeletal features under the hood on their first trip so he could not classify the thing as a He – was as much of a statue as the other soulless standing around and was facing in the direction of the great acropolis that even now boiled and trembled. At their approach, the … thing slowly turned its hooded head toward them. How would they get this foul creature to let them pass? He must have vocalized his question because Magnifico muttered something under his breath and Gestlin scowled. Rainald glanced back to the mountain – Gabriel did the same – and watched as torrents of blue, green and red fire consumed the once great building to its very foundations.

“To hell with this,” Radskyrta snarled. It was the first thing he’d said since recovering and, before anyone could react, he stumbled forward. Covering the distance in three long jumping steps, he reached the boatman.

And then, he punched the thing in the face.

The creature must have been as surprised as Gabriel was because it offered no defense and the blow staggered it long enough for Radskyrta to seize the boatman’s pole. He swung hard – the impact of the pole against the hooded creature echoed loudly and could be heard even over the roar of the twin gods dueling for dominion so far away. The boatman folded over the makeshift staff and, with a roar that sounded more like something Rainald might express, Radskyrta hurled the creature into the black river where it vanished with a sound that sounded curiously like a sigh of relief.

“Get in!” Radskyrta snapped.

“Move!” Dane exclaimed at almost the same time. Everyone crowded into the boat, automatically taking the same places they’d had on the first trip, and Gabriel found himself looking back at Hades’ island before he realized it. Great columns of fire and light were consuming the buildings now, though it seemed as though massive trees were sprouting everywhere as well. Was Persephone winning? Was Hades? How could they even tell? Another building fell apart, this time because of an immense tree that tore through the ground and climbed rapidly to full growth. Beside him, Merasiël stiffened and he gave her a quick look. She was staring at Radskyrta and Gabriel followed the line of her eyes. Icy shock washed through him.

Because Radskyrta was suddenly wearing a black cloak.

It had not been there moments earlier, but from the set of his face, Gabriel suspected that Radskyrta had known this was going to happen the instant he attacked the boatman. Was it because he was already dead, because the strand that connected him to the mortal realm had already been cut long before they ventured into the tunnels? Mendel was querying him, an expression of alarm stamped on the priest’s face, but Radskyrta offered no reply. Instead, he continued pushing the boat forward with his seized pole. His face could have been a mask of flesh for all of the emotion it showed but his eyes glittered with intelligence.

The boat slid through the darkness quickly before bumping against the shore. Radskyrta said nothing, even as he was peppered with a dozen questions, and then, with a single motion, he pointed toward the door where the three-headed dog was crouched. It was no longer a statue, but a living thing, and Gabriel sprang out of the boat, drawing Misericordia even before his feet touched the sand. The others followed suit, scrambling out of the awkward barge in the event that they would have to fight yet another beast to win free of this place. In the instant the last of them were off – Gestlin, of course, who also managed to trip and fall facedown into the beach – Radskyrta used his pole to shove the boat free. It drifted away, allowing them one final glance of their friend in the moment before he drew his hood up over his head.

Strangely, he was smirking as he did.

His arm still quivering, Gabriel held the final form – Heron Spreads Its Wings – for a single, extended moment, aware once more that the others had begun to gather their belongings. Rainald was hefting Radskyrta’s body, now wrapped in blankets seized from the other group who had caused so much trouble, and Merasiël was watching a bird dip and weave in the air while the three casters argued over something with Dane looking on. With a subtle twist of his wrist, Gabriel brought Misericordia to a ready position while facing the shrouded corpse, the sort of salute one would render to a blademaster of superior skill or prestige.

“Requiescat in Pace, my friend,” he murmured before returning the weapon to its scabbard. “I will ensure the path is cleared,” he announced.

He did not look back.

Banestorm, Player Characters Gabery

Banestorm: Breath of Life

October 7, 2014 Mel 1 comment

Life never tasted so good.

Merasiel inhaled deeply as she and her companions emerged from the tunnel beneath the island. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight and breathed over and over again, forcing clean oxygen into lungs that had been still for too long. Her senses were alight with colors, a harsh contrast to the hazy gray dullness of the underworld. The rippling blue of the sea sparkled and caused pinpricks of pain in her vision as her eyes adjusted from the darkness back to the light. The dusty browns and grays of the ruins around them mingled with whatever green overgrowth had taken over the buildings. The familiar tang of the sea teased at her nostrils. She squinted up at a sky pockmarked with puffy white clouds, and took several long moments to process it all.

How long have I sought death? She mused. Everything I have done since returning from the Crusades, all the lives I’ve taken, the alliances made and broken. For so long I wanted the end of it all. How much time did I waste? And when I finally achieve what I desired…

Her thought was interrupted as the cry of a sea bird echoed across the island. Her sharp eyes caught sight of the creature quickly and followed it on its journey. It twisted and twirled in the eddies of the wind and eventually dived low to the water, beyond her field of vision.

I…I want to live.

Harkwood, Midsummer, 2009ce

He barely noticed the noise of the city around him. Shopkeepers hawked their wares in his direction, but he paid them no heed. His feet carried him forward against his will, and he ignored every passerby that brushed up against him. He probably had been pickpocketed a dozen times over, but he didn’t care. The cold, iron knot in pit of his gut dulled his normally sharp, Elven senses. He didn’t want to go back to the inn. He dreaded the coming discussion with every fiber of his being, yet he could not find reason to tarry any longer. She waited for him there, he knew. Once again, he cursed his stupidity.

Mendelel replayed his own part of the conversation mockingly in his mind as he walked. “I found them! There are survivors, and one of them is a scout in the forest outside the city!” He let out an angry snort. I shouldn’t have said anything until after I knew more.

All too soon, his feet carried him to the inn, and he looked up to the window of her room, his eyes meeting her anxious gaze.

~~~~~~

What is keeping him? If he got himself pickpocketed again…wait, there he is. But something’s wrong.

Merasiel glared out the window, her expression barely concealed behind the foggy glass pane. Mendelel’s usually jolly countenance was missing. The corners of his mouth turned downwards in a frown, and his normally springy step had been replaced by a slow, plodding walk.

“Something is very wrong”, she murmured, and bolted from the window.

Merasiel met him at the bottom of the stairs. Before he could say anything, she blurted out, “He’s dead.”

Mendelel shook his head. “No. He’s not. He is alive.”

She grabbed Mendelel’s arms with her hands, an unusual joy glimmering in her eyes, “That’s a good thing, yes?”

“You need to sit down, Merasiel.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“Mera—”

Merasiel interrupted him, shaking his arms so his teeth rattled against each other. “Tell. Me.”

“The scout I spoke of. Her name is Miratariel, and she…” Mendelel paused, then continued with a sigh. “She is his daughter.”

Merasiel’s grip fell slack, and she sank down to the steps. She couldn’t conceal the look of shock on her face, and in one swift movement, Mendelel seated himself beside her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders in support. “His daughter?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. When we didn’t come back, he and Erianil were married. She is still alive as well.”

“Erianil. I see.”

“Mera—” he began, but Merasiel hushed him.

“It’s alright. It’s like you said. It has been nearly a thousand years. Anything could have hap…” she faltered, no longer trusting her voice to continue.

“I am sorry my friend.”

Merasiel painted a pleasant look on her face and shook her head. “There is no need to be sorry. He survived the destruction of our home. That…is enough for me.”

“Are you certain?”

Merasiel maintained her calm expression and nodded, but within, she was a torment of emotion.

I want to die. Why didn’t I die? Why?

Present day

The cry of the sea bird once more caught Merasiel’s attention. She watched it for a time, and when it flew out of her line of sight again, she noticed she was alone in the ruin. Far below, she saw her companions, all of whom had already begun the long trek down to the Gleaming Endeavor. The stout-hearted Northman, the Fool, the Priest, the Swordmaster, the Archer and the strange Mage. All of them cast long shadows as the sun began sinking towards the horizon. One could not find better companions to live…and die with.

Merasiel picked up one foot after the other and began the long descent from the ruins after them, her mouth parted wide by a genuine smile.

Banestorm, Player Characters none

GURPS Banestorm: Dark Clouds Rising, Book II, Session 6.23

October 2, 2014 Gigermann No comments

Dramatis Personæ

Of Beauty and Beasts

13 May 2014

The Heroes surveyed this new cavernous chamber as they could through the thick fog within; they could see only a few paces away, and naught but shadows beyond. Beholding the many “finely-carved” statues of warriors scattered about the chamber, Gestlin and Brother Mendel agreed that this must be the lair of a creature from Earth mythology known as the “gorgon,” called Medusa, cursed by the gods such that anyone who beheld her formerly-beauteous face would be instantly turned into stone—the two disagreed whether or not she would have the lower-body of a large serpent, but they agreed that she would have hair made up of vipers. Gestlin and Brother Mendel were nearly exhausted of their magical energies, and would rest, but they knew they must hurry through lest they all be caught by some foes between this place and the undead-marsh they had just retreated from. They knew they would have to be as cautious as ever if they were to locate the exit without joining the statues here, so they proceeded inside, with trepidation, following the chamber wall, trying not to look directly upon what shadows might lie beyond.

A sound was heard before them in the mist, that of the flapping of wings. The sound preceded the horrifying sight of winged, severed heads, with vipers as hair, flitting about above the Heroes like some evil birds, attacking them; the Heroes fought back while averting their gaze, lest they succumb to their curse. Brother Mendel conjured an Illusion of a mirror and placed it upon Rainald’s shield, hoping to force the creatures to gaze upon their own reflections, though it had no discernible effect upon them. Magnifico, viciously taunted the creatures, such that they paused in momentary puzzlement, allowing the others to catch up to them; he had momentarily observed the creatures directly, but felt no effect, and said so. The first fell to Dane’s bow, pinned to the chamber wall. The second fell to Gabriel’s family blade; he flicked the impaled head from off his sword. The third eventually fell to Rainald’s hammer, smashed into the ground; after Magnifico’s announcement, Rainald chanced to look at his target, and also was not turned to stone. Meanwhile, Merasiël had drawn forth her captured magical bow, and was nocking an arrow when she caught sight of three more creatures creeping up behind the group; these appeared as horrible women with hair of vipers and the lower-body of serpents, armed with bow and arrow; the Heroes heard the sound of laughter from deep within the mist. The Heroes turned to face this new threat and closed to engage them in combat, but their enemy was joined by another; this one had not the serpent’s body, and was arrayed in a strange red gown, like that of the goddess they had previously encountered—they supposed this to be the one called Medusa—who called out to the Heroes to gaze upon her beauty. After loosing an arrow that struck one of their new foes, Merasiël failed to avert her gaze and was turned instantly to a perfect statue of stone like all the others about the chamber. Magnifico again turned his caustic wit upon the newcomers, though they were merely angered of him as a result, and loosed arrows at him; alas, but Magnifico also failed to avert his gaze, and was turned to stone. Gabriel slipped quickly into the mist to creep ’round behind the enemy, but as he spied the red-clad Medusa, even from behind, he was also turned to stone, though too far into the mist such that the others could not see it was so. Dane, after having slain one of the serpent-bodied women, also succumbed to the creatures’ cursed visage and was magically petrified where he stood. Meanwhile, after having smashed the flying head before, Rainald had been advancing step-by-step in the direction of the sounds of battle, holding his shield up before his face such that he could not see but the ground before him, searching perhaps for his enemy’s legs. Brother Mendel tried to heal those turned to stone, but it had no perceivable affect, and so instead lent his magical energy to the exhausted Gestlin, who turned to Smil-Blam and commanded Merasiël to become once again flesh, and it was so. Rainald found Medusa before him and, still covering his face, swung Gramjarn at her legs, but she dodged away and begged him to look upon her, struggling with his shield to lower it; then Rainald was struck in the side of his face by an arrow loosed by one of the other serpent-women. As Gestlin used what energy he had left to again command Smil-Blam, and return Dane to flesh, Merasiël fell upon the two remaining serpent-women with her blades, and slew them both, still averting her gaze. Rainald, through his wounds, struggled with Medusa as she tried to slip between his self and his shield, and he smashed her knee with his hammer. Dane, now flesh again, was able to loose an arrow into the creature’s side as she collapsed to the ground. Rainald then stepped aside and brought Gramjarn’s pick down upon the creature’s breast in a single mighty blow that slew her outright, though in that instant his shield failed to conceal her face from him, and he was turned to stone, his hammer frozen in place pinning her now-lifeless body to the ground.

The battle over, those that were able rested; Brother Mendel, with a little study, invented a weave that would return those turned to stone back to flesh, and so all were restored, and he healed those that had been wounded. Merasiël made certain all the creatures were dead; it was discovered by chance that those who had been turned to stone before were no longer affected by the creature’s curse. At Gestlin and Brother Mendel’s recollection of the mythology, they decided to cut off Medusa’s head and keep it as a weapon; Merasiël wrapped the severed head in her Wazifi gown and gave it to Rainald to carry. Gestlin cast about for any weapons and such amongst the statues that might have magical properties, and found a few—Rainald was glad to find him a good spear. They would not tarry for long lest they be caught unawares, but as soon as all were recovered enough and ready, they found their way through the mist to the exit.

The archway gave way to a long cavernous tunnel as had the others before it, and the Heroes followed it to an underground stream, that they dared not drink from. The stream led them to a new cavern, very large, covered in trees and grass, and flowers, and all manner of beautiful green things. They found themselves atop a ledge at a waterfall that emptied into a pool so deep they could not see its end, and they spotted a village of some sort in the distance beyond, through the trees; Dane’s sight enhanced by his captured magical ring allowed him to see farther, like a hawk, and he told the others of the defenses of the village, guarded by armed men in towers. They determined that they should go to this village to see if their quarry, the goddess Persephone, might be there, and so climbed down the slippery face of the cliff as best they could; Some of them fell into the pool, but swam out without incident, though they felt the presence of something lurking within, and so did not tarry. Brother Mendel weaved for himself a portal to take him to the floor below, but as he emerged, he was sickened as before, but could continue with some difficulty.

As they followed what passed for a trail toward the village, they encountered a large tree that bore the face of a man. Gestlin spoke to the tree, and inquired after Persephone; the tree told him that she would indeed be found in the village, in the garden. Gestin thanked the tree, and the Heroes continued on their way. As they walked, a creature like a large black cat was spotted stalking them; Brother Mendel called out and pointed to the creature, and it recoiled and fled back into the trees; none felt the need to attack it, and so let it go its way. As they pressed onward, they saw that the cat-creature again stalked them, and saw it climb into a tree as if curious to observe their progress. Just then, the ground about the Heroes was suddenly disturbed, revealing a giant serpent, long as a great ship, its coils constricting to seize them. Those that had seen it reacted to move the others free of its coils; Merasiël tackled Magnifico, Gabriel shoved Brother Mendel, and Dane dragged Gestlin away, but Rainald was left within as the serpent’s coils tightened. To be continued…

Notes

It was difficult to separate player knowledge from the characters in this case; it was fortunate then that Gestlin and Mendel are from Earth (or similar), and were familiar with some Greek mythology, otherwise the group would have blundered right through into a TPK
The creatures encountered in Medusa’s lair were not as martially capable as the PCs, and would have been fairly easily dispatched if not for the flesh-to-stone problem, which alone very nearly resulted in a TPK in spite of the characters’ foreknowledge of it
Gestlin had to spend both available uses of Smil-Blam during the fight; it was fortunate that Mendel’s RPM could bring the others back, or the party would be a bit short on available manpower. As it was, according to the GM, even those trapped in stone were subject to the Will-sapping properties of this realm, therefore those statues that were already here (for however many centuries) would be completely lost to it even if they had been restored as well
The GM declared that Merasiël was frozen in an “awesome Action™ pose,” having been petrified in the act of shooting, but Rainald’s pose at the end easily outmatched hers, being at the business-end of a massive hammer swing

Banestorm, Campaign Logs Banestorm, Campaign, GURPS, Recap

GURPS Banestorm: Dark Clouds Rising, Book II, Session 6.22

September 26, 2014 Gigermann No comments

Dramatis Personæ

Of Paradox and Pursuit

13 May 2014

The Heroes proceeded through the archway and down the darkened hall, where it opened into a large, bizarre room, full of stairs and arches leading up and down in all directions, on the walls and ceilings; upside down, sideways and all points between. After some long moments of stunned amazement, and confusion at how they might continue, Magnifico took a chance on a Seeker spell to locate Persephone, and succeeding, pointed to an archway or two across the room. Gabriel was the first to test the strange room by attempting to climb “down” the nearest flight of stairs, and found that the customary downward pull of the earth fell in concert with the stairs and landings, such that one could walk up and down the walls and ceilings as if its orientation were perfectly natural. Gestlin activated his magical harness and took flight into the center of the room, and also found that “down” was not where he expected. The Heroes cautiously crossed the room to the archway on the other side indicated by Magnifico, with his guidance, Dane’s keen sense of direction, and Gestlin’s flying overview to direct them; Gabriel used his magic sai to cut marks in the stone along the way to indicate their path. Through the archway was a long natural cavern that twisted and wound in seemingly random directions, oft in the direction of their quarry and away from it, and after some time, as the tunnel ended, they found themselves back at the room full of stairs, at the same archway they had started from. This time they examined the room more closely, and determined another archway to be oriented to match the starting position, and made their way across the room once again to enter it.

Again, the archway led to a long natural cavern-tunnel, but this time it opened into a vast marsh, foggy, waterlogged and choked with trees and undergrowth. Magnifico’s spell effect seemed to indicate that they must cross to reach their quarry, so they set out cautiously, testing the water’s depth and finding it suitably shallow. Gestlin cast a Walk on Air spell upon Rainald at his suggestion, and Magnifico also, before himself taking flight—the tree canopy was quite high; those airborne followed along with the others. They passed near to a still pool, wherein they saw beneath the surface many faces, corpses of the long-dead though seeming somehow preserved; the Heroes did not give in to fear, but pressed onward.

As Gabriel lead the way, he leapt from one “dry” spot to another, but slipped in the mud on the other side and fell to his hands and knees there. Just then a skeletal hand reached forth from the water behind him and ensnared his foot, using him to pull the rest of its terrifying self wholly out of the water. Just then the other Heroes saw many more of these reach forth from the water as well, rising all around them, naught but muddy, rotted bones held fast by some evil will; in moments, they were beset on all sides, as the undead grabbed and bit at whatever flesh was exposed. Rainald, wielding Gramjarn, knelt in the air to smash the emerging creature holding Gabriel, even as Gabriel attempted to wrest free of it; some grabbed Rainald’s legs and climbed up him to reach his face, but he smashed them all with the pommel of his hammer. Brother Mendel and Dane fought back-to-back near a large tree, smashing and slashing, struggling to free themselves from the creatures’ grasp, Dane with his shortsword and Brother Mendel with his staff; Dane fared rather badly, bitten many times upon the face and neck, and Brother Mendel cast healing spells upon him lest he should fall. Gestlin was greatly unsettled at the sight of the creatures, and flew up higher out of their reach, even as they leapt to seize his feet; from above, he cast a mighty Fireball and blasted one of the enemy to ash. Gabriel and Merasiël broke free and felled some numbers with their blades as quickly as the creatures arrived. Magnifico had risen up out of the creatures’ reach and found himself to be of little aid to the others, and so he called out to Persephone to appear and answer for this maltreatment of guests in her realm. A nearby tree suddenly sprang to green life, and the goddess stepped forth from it, though only so tall as a “normal” woman; Magnifico began to approach her, still airborne, and chided her roughly for her “rudeness,” such that she was taken aback at the brashness of it, and stood dumbfounded. Magnifico intended the others to attack her while she was vulnerable, but the undead did not cease to rise from the waters and set upon them, such that Dane now cried out to fall back to the barely-visible archway beyond, lest they be overwhelmed, and they all did so (though Magnifico was reluctant to give up the opportunity to attack).

Those still airborne were able to remain out of the creatures’ reach as they fled; Rainald picked up Brother Mendel, the slowest among them, to carry him, before Gestlin cast a Walk on Air spell upon him as well. Dane, Merasiël and Gabriel continued on foot, being the most nimble and quick, all the while pursued by the creatures; though Dane fell and was immediately caught up and attacked, the others came quickly to his aid, and they were able to evade the creatures all the way to their intended exit. Once through the archway, the undead no longer pursued them, but returned to their watery rest.

The tunnel leading from the archway opened into another large chamber, filled with mist and lined with stone columns. Amongst the columns were many stone statues of men, arrayed for battle, of such exquisite craftsmanship that one might have supposed them to have been at one time living flesh…

Notes

The “Escher” room is obviously inspired by the Labyrinth movie, as has been so much of this area; we had a bit of a time trying to justify how the characters might proceed, though their players knew (roughly) how it worked
The GM was thinking of Game of Thrones regarding the skeletons, which made them a little scarier than standard Fantasy fare; they were quite fast (Move 7), which made the decision to run away difficult—they’re faster than most of the party. Individually they weren’t so bad, but en masse as they were, someone was gonna die
There was a bit of a pause at the “decision point” of the fight, as we waffled between running for a more tactically-sound position, or attacking Persephone while she seemed vulnerable, or some compromise between the two; in the end, the decision came down to Dane’s in-game leadership, and his tactical instincts that were screaming, “Get un-surrounded!”—he’s supposed to be the “fight boss,” so we deferred to him in this case
We all know what’s coming next session, but given the characters’ general lack of knowledge on Greek mythology, we’re not sure how we can overcome without losing a few of us, at least, to a more “statuesque” future

Banestorm, Campaign Logs Banestorm, Campaign, GURPS, Recap

GURPS Banestorm: Dark Clouds Rising, Book II, Session 6.21

September 23, 2014 Gigermann No comments

Dramatis Personæ

Of Mazes and Monsters

13 May 2014

The Heroes emerged from Brother Mendel’s portal before the “temple” structure atop the hill in the center of the labyrinth without any detectable ill-effect, save for feelings of “strangeness.” They searched for some time about the structure for the expected entrance to its underground, but found none. As they expanded their search, down the hill, they spied a pair of small, ungainly-proportioned men clumsily fetching water from a well in the middle of an abandoned village of some kind. The Heroes observed as these small strangers finally filled their bucket and took it up, waddling their way down a path further down the hill, toward the labyrinth. Gestlin activated his magical harness and took winged flight, speeding to stop the small strangers to inquire of them the location of the goddess, Persephone, that governed this place. At the same time, Gabriel, followed shortly by Merasiël and Dane, quickly crept closer. The little men were frightened at Gestlin’s approach, and dropped their water-bucket to flee, slipping easily through a man-sized crack in wall encircling the hilltop structures, and continuing down the hill as quickly as they could toward a similar opening in the labyrinth’s inner wall. Gabriel lithely squeezed through the first opening and pursued them; their stubby legs were no match for the fleet-footed Gabriel, and as they ducked through a the crack in the labyrinth’s wall, Gabriel caught one by the coat, at the same time Gestlin, airborne, loosed a Fireball at the ground on the other side of the wall-crack, halting their escape. Meanwhile, Dane and Merasiël scaled the first wall with the aid of ropes secured in place by the flying Gestlin, followed much more slowly by Rainald, while the remainder of the Heroes were instead able to wriggle through the crack. At the same time, Gabriel attempted to calm his “prisoners” such that they might be of aid.

However, Gestlin’s aerobatics had attracted the attention of a distant harpy, one of many here and there atop the high walls of the labyrinth as far as could be seen; Rainald, still descending the first wall, caught sight of it as it approached and called out loudly to warn Gestlin, but his bellowing attracted the attention of other harpies nearby, and the one was soon joined by a few others. They attacked as before, but the foul, flying creatures were no match for the Heroes, and in moments they lay dead upon the ground, skewered, burned, and smashed. During the fray, the captured little-folk had fled through the opening, into the labyrinth—the Heroes were all reluctant to enter and pursue them, knowing the place would shift and change to entrap them, and began discussing what to do next.

Brother Mendel decided to attempt to use his magics to locate the end of the tree-portal, as he had before when Persephone had left through it. Though successful, Brother Mendel felt a wave of sickness wash over him, as if he were aboard a storm-tossed ship, and he could stand on his feet only with great effort; he could still point to their destination—into the labyrinth. So, the Heroes resolved themselves to go into it, in hopes that tracking the little-folk, combined with Brother Mendel’s guidance, would provide a sure route. Again, Gestlin fetched the ropes and secured them atop the wall for those too large to fit through the fissure in the labyrinth’s wall; Merasiël, Dane, and Rainald climbed, as the rest squeezed through.

The trail of the little-folk was easy enough to find and follow. The winding path was narrow, forcing them into a single file, and the walls high, and the way tended to close or change behind them, with the telltale grinding sound of heavy stone, as they passed. Ahead, as their quarry’s trail ended at a wall, Gestlin turned sideways to allow his wings room to span, and he flew to the top of the wall to spy the other side, and verbally guided the others to a detour from above. However, as they moved, the walls began to shift, and a few had to leap clear to avoid being cut off from the others. They pressed on with Gestlin’s occasional scouting, and further detours and close calls. At a dead-end that opened before them at their approach, they encountered a massive beast-man, nearly as tall as the walls, with the head of a bull, bearing an axe and flail too large and heavy for even Rainald to wield; it immediately charged at Dane with a monstrous roar, goring him with his horns and throwing him back. Rainald stood his ground against it; Merasiël moved into the void left by Dane and attacked, while Dane got to his feet; and Gabriel nimbly dodged his way forward from the rear to join the defense, but failed to tumble past the creature, instead striking from the corner. Then Magnifico began to sing a strange song and gyrate oddly, the sight of which caused the creature to pause in stunned bemusement; a lethal mistake, as the Heroes took advantage of its confused state and slew it quickly, lest its wits recover.

Some time later—they could not say how long in this place—the labyrinth finally gave way to a small village, that is, small in height more than apparent population; the tracks the Heroes had followed now mixed with others, and they deduced this to be the little-folks’ home. The denizens of this village shuttered their windows and slammed their doors at the Heroes’ approach, and would not come out for fear of the these tall, menacing-looking fellows. Glad to be rid of the labyrinth, the Heroes took their rest in the village square. Magnifico brought forth his lute and began to play, hoping to soothe the villagers’ fears and bring them forth, that they could speak to them of Persephone; of such beauty was Magnifico’s performance that not only did the villagers finally emerge from their homes to gather ’round, but even a little of the Heroes’ own inhibitions were loosed. Brother Mendel, remembering the dropped bucket of water, cast Create Water and filled all the buckets, barrels and troughs in the village. He then inquired of a more-important-looking fellow where they might find Persephone, and the little-man relented to send a guide with the Heroes to take them to the entrance to her demesne, though these folk were forbidden to ever enter there. And so the Heroes followed their guide a short distance to a wall much like all the others, with an ornate archway, long sealed up with brick—that is, it appeared so, until Rainald tapped it with his hammer and found it to be incorporeal, an illusion (Brother Mendel cursed himself for not thinking of it). They thanked their guide and sent him back to his village, and then boldly passed through the arch.

Notes

The “weaving” magic learned from the Otherworlders is Ritual Path Magic; Mendel’s casting of the portal during last session ended up with a few quirks as a result of failures during the process. This session, the GM informed us of the results: attempts to use Path of Crossroads would result in some hours of dizziness (which occurred), and random “incorporeality” (which did not occur, yet)
Gestlin made a great deal of use of the magical harness recovered from the previous fight with the adventurers. The GM said the wings would take on an aspect of the user’s personality, and Gestlin’s player decided they would be the wings of a parrot/macaw, bright red, blue and yellow. As he tried to sneak atop the walls, to avoid notice by the harpies, he rolled a Critical Failure—a brightly-colored, flapping silhouette
Magnifico’s new “Confusion/Awe” power completely turned the minotaur fight from a potential PC bloodbath to an almost-sad beat-down; we’re pretty certain that minotaur could’ve done a lot of damage, but it never really got the chance
The little-folk and their village were clearly inspired by Willow, but talk of little-folk and clowns (Magnifico) and dancing conjured the inevitable “Safety Dance” references. Again, Magnifico saved the day with a well-rolled Performance; so good it was that even the cold-hearted (and incompetent at dancing) Merasiël could not keep from tapping her foot, at least

Banestorm, Campaign Logs Banestorm, Campaign, GURPS, Recap

Banestorm: Murky Waters

September 23, 2014 Rigil Kent No comments

He hated swamps.

The smell, the lack of solid footing, the treacherous waters that hid all sorts of unseen dangers, not to mention the vile creatures that slithered and swam and crawled … all of it combined to create an environment seemingly crafted by a cruel and malicious God to humiliate him. Gabriel was a man borne and bred for cities, accustomed to the comforts afforded by civilization, not an insane explorer intent on viewing the very armpits of the world. There wasn’t even a single flat, solid surface here! How was a civilized man meant to fight in this slimy mudhole?

He pushed the errant thoughts away as he paused, exchanging a quick look and nod with Merasiël before stepping closer to help Dane to his feet, which was not an easy task in this damnable bog. The archer was grimacing with pain – the skeleton only just dropped by Mera had caught Dane by surprise and had somehow torn a vicious chunk of flesh from his face. Blood was gushing forth freely and as Gabriel pulled him upright, Dane wobbled. This was not good. If he slowed even more, they would not make it.

“Push through the pain,” Gabriel murmured, glancing up as he tried to locate Mendel. “You’ve had worse.”

“Gyns’Vail Swamp,” Dane said by way of agreement as he staggered forward. Gabriel nodded.

“We survived that nightmare,” he said as he pulled the archer toward more steady ground. “We’ll survive this.”

Eight Years Ago, The Otherworld

The situation had just gone from bad to worse.

Muttering darkly under his breath, Gabriel scrambled over the soggy terrain and crouched alongside Dane. The archer was kneeling in the muck, peering over an overturned, half-rotted log and staring into the mist-shrouded swamp. For a change, he’d pulled down his face-concealing cloth mask, though Gabriel had no idea why, not with the horrid stench all around them. On the bright side, he did not have to guess at Sardock’s mood, not with the dark scowl stamped on his features.

An eerie-sounding horn rolled out of the mist and was quickly joined by another and another and a third, all sounding from different locations around them. It unsettled the men and elves on this bank – even that pretty one with the cold eyes and lethal grace they’d found in that … Mortuturesihad, wasn’t it? – but Dane simply held up a hand and they quieted.

“And to think,” Gabriel murmured, “I almost stayed with Wallace.” Dane grunted in reply before glancing briefly at the small group of warriors arrayed around them. Numbering a little over fifty, they were visibly exhausted from the forced march, especially the three Huallapans who generally served as translators or local guides. One of them was also a fairly capable spell-weaver, though he was nowhere near as competent as Patch. Getting these three to the Bear Clan had been the primary objective but somehow, the damned Vasar had tumbled onto their plan. For the last three days, they tried to shake the pursuing bugs and Dane had finally opted to try this swamp, hoping that the Vasar’s inability to float would prevent them from pursuing. Unfortunately, it seemed that too had been anticipated.

“We have too few to hold long,” Dane growled. His eyes flickered to Gabe and then away. “We need reinforcements.”

“Rainald is closest,” Gabriel replied with a frown, “but he’s on the other side of this swamp with the Bear Clan.” Again, Dane grunted. Almost at once, Gabriel caught the line of his thoughts and flashed a grin. “You do not have to ask,” he said before gesturing for the spell-weaver to approach. The cold-eyed elf beauty – damn. What was her name again? It was so close to Miratáriel’s name – drew closer as well and was studying him and Dane. Of course she’d likely overheard … all of the elves probably had. No matter. “Friend,” Gabriel began in his halting Huallapan, “Need weave. Point me to … Bear Clan.”

“You mean to leave us?” the man asked rapidly. Another horn sounded and he visibly jumped.

“Get help,” Gabriel replied in the same tongue before giving Dane another look. “I hope you’ve been brushing up on your Huallapan,” he added in Anglish, earning yet another grunt.

“Alone?” the Huallapan asked, his eyes widening. Gabriel shrugged – based on personal observation, he was the only one who could outrun a Vasar on solid ground and, as much as he loathed swamps, they provided plenty of places to hide if he got himself into a tight spot. The spell-weaver added something else that Gabriel could not begin to translate before shaking his head. “I will add another protective weave to help.”

“As long as they don’t have an Alpha,” Dane murmured, “I think we can hold this spot for a few days.”

“Right.” Gabriel shucked his travel pack – it would only slow him down – and checked the straps on his armor. He gave their surroundings a foul look. “Have I mentioned how much I hate swamps?”

He set out an hour later, his skin tingling from the bizarre magics woven around him. The six elves tracked his departure, their bows strung and nocked, and he felt more than heard the whistle of twin arrows flash by him, thunking heavily into a Vasar warrior creeping through the swamp toward their tiny island. It recoiled, stumbling back into its equally hidden comrade, and the two made such noise that Gabriel was able to slip by them without notice. He paused briefly, looking back at the island – the mist shrouding everything made it nearly impossible to see anything, but he thought he could almost make out the shapes of the elven bowmen. With a grin, he tossed off a jaunty salute in their direction and turned away.

When the sun began its descent some hours later, darkness set in fast. Gabriel’s progress, already slowed due to the absolutely terrible footing – he ended up doing more swimming than walking or running – came to an almost standstill. He knew which way he needed to go thanks to that Huallapan’s weave, but being unable to see a damned thing made for slow going. Thankfully, the other weave worked marvelously: the lizards and snakes and other swamp denizens gave him a wide berth.

He crept along for hours, pausing to rest or to wait until the moons provided enough ambient light to illuminate his path, but after nearly breaking his neck for the tenth time, he sought out a suitably solid land-mass and settled in to wait for dawn. The many long hours of effort demanded their price and he quickly slipped into a light doze. It was far from restful – the noises of the swamp kept startling him awake and as tired as he was, his instincts could not ignore the danger he was in – so he was up and preparing to move the moment the sun began peeking over the horizon.

And to his absolute horror, he realized that he’d somehow managed to camp out in the middle of a fairly large Vasar contingent.

Most were simply collapsed on the ground, though if they slept, he knew not, but a handful walked the perimeter of the landmass. There were dozens present, most of a hundred perhaps, far too many for even a would-be blademaster to handle alone, but they had not appeared to notice him just yet. Strange-looking boats were shoved upon the shore and he wondered how in the name of God he’d failed to see the damned things the night previous. Gabriel slowly climbed to his feet, wincing at the sharp protests his muscles made, and quickly calculated the best escape route. It would take him … there, right past the Vasar … the awake Vasar who was looking right at him.

Reflex took over. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he sprinted forward, drawing his father’s sword even as his long stride ate the distance. Already, the Vasar was beating its wings in that too familiar sound of alert and it was scrambling for its glaive. Gabriel reached it a heartbeat later, slipping around the creature’s wild swing. The forms came smoothly, instinctively – Kissing the Adder, followed by Snow in High Wind – and the Vasar fell with a hideous gurgle. Its brothers were moving.

So Gabriel ran.

Later, he would never quite be able to remember the running fight in the swamp and would instead recall only momentary flashes. Five Vasar in hot pursuit and a nightmare sprint over partially submerged crocodiles. The sound of insectoid screams as the reptiles, startled awake by Gabriel’s steps upon their broad backs, bore the Vasar under water. Another trio of bugs trying to corner him and the sword forms flowing into one another. Apple Blossoms in the Wind. Mongoose Takes a Viper. Leopard in High Grass. Bundling Straw. Blood and ichor splashed – one Vasar would fall and two more would take its place. The fierce swamp creatures became his unwitting allies – the Huallapan weave rendered him invisible to them somehow but they perceived the bugs well enough. Even the water was useful as the Vasar seemed incapable of traversing it easily. And always, Gabriel kept moving. To stop, to slow, even for a moment, that was death. He used every trick in his repertoire, took advantage of any misstep or hesitation by the Enemy, and somehow, someway, he won free.

He stole one of the smaller boats and used it to put as much distance between himself and the Vasar as possible, but this quickly became a losing proposition. They crowded onto their skiffs and pursued frantically, nine or ten or more strong rowers to just him, so Gabriel grounded his boat on the nearest landmass and sprang out. Once again, luck was with him as the ground was solid. They were not yet out of the swamp, but this was most definitely the periphery. The magical weave that acted as an internal compass tugged him in that direction and he threw himself forward. Now, more than ever, he needed speed.

How long he ran, he knew not. The bugs were still there, hot in pursuit and making so much noise that surely the dead could hear them. He stumbled, tripping over a concealed root, but managed to roll back to his feet just as the Vasar reached him. There were too many. Gabriel grinned then, fiercely, madly, and drew his rapier. If he was meant to die here, then so be it. But he wouldn’t be alone.

And then, he wasn’t.

Rainald charged past him, bellowing that ground-shaking warcry of his, and a wave of Huallapan barbarians followed, howling their own challenges. There was no precision to their attack, no grace or beauty, only raw strength hurled at the Enemy. Gabriel shook his head slightly, took a long moment to reclaim his breath, and then joined them.

“Running like rabbit, lítillbróðir,” Rainald said with a laugh as soon as Gabriel reached his side. Snow in High Wind felled another of the bugs and he gave the Northman a foul look.

“Dane sent me,” he hissed. The Falling Leaf redirected a glaive into the dirt rather sloppily and Rainald took advantage, smashing Gramjarn through chitin and carapace. “Surrounded and need aid.”

“Hah hah!” Rainald smote another of the Vasar, though this one mostly parried … which left him wide open to Kissing the Adder. “Many much fighting to do then!” He powered forward, laying about with that hammer and shield. “To swamp!” he roared and the Huallapan barbarians cheered, though it was likely they didn’t have a clue what the burly Northman had said.

And despite his bone-deep weariness, despite the heaviness of his still sodden clothes, despite how utterly filthy he felt, Gabriel followed. After all, he had promised Dane that he would be back.

God, he hated swamps.

Banestorm, Player Characters Gabery

Banestorm: Three Dances

September 19, 2014 Rigil Kent No comments

It was a surreal experience. He was dead – they were all dead, though somehow they yet spoke and breathed and bled – and even still, in this impossible place, there were these moments of exquisite beauty. The melodies drifting from Magnifico’s lute were both haunting and ethereal, tugging at the parts of him not entirely rendered callous by the experiences of life, and the urge to dance was overwhelming. Merasiël was at his side, her expression pinched as she forced herself to sit still even as the others – Rainald, Gestlin, even Dane – swayed alongside the music the one-time hunchback crafted.

“I do not dance,” she had said in that flat, irritated tone of her’s when Gabriel had urged her to join him. She’d explained briefly that others had attempted to teach her but all had failed, which frankly surprised him. In combat, she was so very graceful.

“My first instructor with the blade was also my dancing master,” he said with a smile. For a moment, he almost mentioned Harkwood, but at the last moment, wisely held his tongue. He had some pride, after all.

Twelve Years Ago

The urge to draw his father’s sword and simply murder the incompetent fools in front of him was hard to suppress.

Fidgeting slightly, Gabriel shifted awkwardly, a false smile plastered upon his face as he tried very hard to determine how best to say what he was thinking without insulting the four fools in front of him. They were all nobles of sufficient rank that he was, ostensibly, supposed to bow and scrape to them, but this identity Miratáriel had devised for him, this Maestro Gavriel Costigan was just quirky and difficult enough to avoid that sort of thing. He was an artist, after all, and nobility of any real standing vied for the ‘pleasure’ of his time. Thus, his Megalan accent was thick, his gestures grand and his temper short. He wore strange clothes and carried a strange (to Caithness eyes) weapon on his person at all times. Why, he even lived mostly with the elves and to these provincial fools, nothing was stranger. And because of those foibles, these Harkwood nobles would smile, nod, and inwardly laugh at him.

Gabriel hated Maestro Costigan.

“No, no, no,” he said crossly. “You must move faster, yes? Be the air!” He tried very hard not to look at the ridiculous hats that were the latest fashion – thankfully, this identity allowed him to scoff at such things, but he had little doubt Miratáriel would try to get him in one later simply because she could see how much he disliked them. How she had convinced him to playact as this chattering fool continued to elude his comprehension. “Like this,” he added before flowing into a heavily modified version of Willow Embracing the Breeze. One of the noblewomen frowned, something resembling recognition flickering in her eyes, and Gabriel stepped closer to her, elbowing her idiot husband and his feathered hat out of the way. “Count begin,” he ordered the musicians along the far wall before leading the woman through a couple of steps. Her dress made it difficult to judge her footing but of the four, she was the only one with anything resembling grace.

“Maestro,” the feathered fool began, a frown turning his already plain face ugly, and Gabriel stepped back, allowing the man to retake his place.

“Again!” Gabriel declared loudly. He caught sight of Miratáriel lurking near the doorway, her eyes dancing with glee, and gestured toward her in the imperious manner that Maestro Costigan favored. For a moment, their eyes locked and he could see her brief irritation, but he only smiled again. This stupid job had been her idea, after all, and Gabriel had gone along with it simply because he had not wanted to deal with finding other work. He hated the necessity of it – he’d had a need for money enough to live on and a place to recover from his injuries that was large enough to practice the forms, and nothing good had come of him selling his sword in recent years – but if he had to suffer, then he would share his misery. “Come, Mira!” he said loudly. “Let us show them how it must be done!”

“You will pay for this,” Miratáriel hissed in Elven as she joined him, but he only flashed her a grin before reaching toward her hand.

And then, they began to dance.

They twisted and spun and twirled, their feet constantly moving. She was a feather in the wind, a doe bounding through the woods, or perhaps a falcon swimming through the sky, and it was so much better that the heavy footed stomping that the nobles here called dancing. Back and forth they went, never actually touching because that would thoroughly ruin the tease. The four nobles watched, sometimes laughing, sometimes frowning, but never silently, and finally, Gabriel let himself spin away from Miratáriel, arresting the half twirl so he stood before the nobles.

“Much better than the clumping around like horses, no?” The other nobleman – not Feathered Fool, thankfully – scowled and Gabriel once more donned a fake smile. “Tomorrow, we shall increase the tempo, yes? Speed and grace!” He gave them all a bow that was only a half shade away from looking totally insincere and waited until they and the musicians had departed before rounding on Miratáriel. She was leaning against the wall and grinning.

“You look ridiculous,” she said in Anglish and Gabriel had to grunt in agreement. He tore his lacy jacket free and tossed it aside, not really caring where it landed.

“I do not think I can do this much longer,” he said as continued to strip the accoutrements of Gavriel Costigan off. Clad only in his pants, he drew his father’s sword and stared at it for a moment. “A dancing master,” he muttered darkly. “My first fencing master called himself that, but he never dealt with fools like that.”

“How do you know?” Miratáriel pulled two of the sparring blades from where they were cleverly concealed … on the wall, in plain sight where fools like the ones who had just left would barely glance at. She gave him a questioning look and Gabriel nodded. He placed his father’s rapier atop the nearby table and caught the sparring stick she tossed toward him. Almost before he’d even accustomed himself to its weight and balance, she slid forward aggressively. Their blades clashed.

And for a second time, they danced.

In this, Gabriel knew himself to be far better, so he stayed on the defense, calling out pointers and corrections to her stances. Her inability to connect clearly irritated so Miratáriel did as she always did when she was losing: she played dirty.

“My father wishes to speak with you,” she said and Gabriel grimaced slightly. He batted aside her clumsy thrust before twirling around her follow-up swing.

“How lovely,” he lied before falling into The Grapevine Twines. Miratáriel’s sparring sword clattered the ground. “We must work on your grip, my dear,” he said. She smirked then and he read the thoughts in her eyes. When she pounced this time, he willingly offered no defense.

And for the third time that day, they danced, though this one was more pleasurable than most.

Banestorm, Player Characters Gabery

Banestorm: The Crusades – The Fall of Hive Ri’Tal

September 15, 2014 Mel No comments

2007, March. Hive Ri’Tal

Deep within the bowels of the Vasar hive Ri’Tal, Merasiël, Gabriel and Dane wandered among strange company. The Huallapan they had freed a short time ago now led them unerringly through the endless maze of tunnels that seemed to continually twist and turn back on themselves at random. Merasiël occasionally glanced at the silent people, her unease very apparent. Despite the events of the earlier fight, Merasiël still distrusted them; how easy would it be for the liberators to be abandoned in the tunnels and left hopelessly lost, or worse, to be turned over to the first Vasar patrol they encountered? Yet, none of the others shared her concerns. Gabriel followed along in his usual easy stride, and Dane ghosted along behind them, his bow ever held at the ready and an arrow nocked. The few remaining Crusaders that had originally joined this mission were scattered throughout the growing pack of Huallapan. Those who were too wounded to continue had been sent back in search of the way out. There are so few of us left. Even if the Huallapan do not betray us, what good will all of these empty hands do? Merasiël had little faith now that they would succeed, but Dane insisted that his plan would work. And so they pressed on.

Occasionally they would be brought up short by a motion from Eli, the Huallapan who had overcome his fear and rallied the prisoners to action. After a brief conversation with Gabriel, he would send a pair of armed Huallapan down a side tunnel. A few minutes later, they would return, accompanied by more prisoners. Merasiël grated at each delay, however her protests were largely ignored, and they continued at their slow pace, freeing more and more prisoners as they went.

As those in front of her stopped abruptly once more, Merasiël expelled a frustrated sigh. She elbowed her way to the front where Gabriel, Dane and and Eli stood. Upon reaching the front of the group, she saw Eli gesturing at some sort of ventilation shaft in the side of the tunnel. From what she could tell, it was wide enough for a single person to pass through at a time and seemed to lead upwards at an angle. Gabriel scratched his chin and stared at the small entrance, a somewhat bemused look on his face. Eli continued to speak hurriedly to him, gesturing more than once at the portal.

“What is it?” Merasiël asked when she was within earshot.

Gabriel’s glanced at her briefly in acknowledgement, then his gaze shifted back to the tunnel. “It seems that here we are to part ways with our friends. This shaft will lead us near the main entrance and we should be able to see the gate when we reach the other end.”

“And what will they be doing?”

“I don’t know the exact words he’s using. But it seems that there is a large group of prisoners further down this passage. They are well-guarded, and he wishes for us to move on to the gate while they try to free their friends. They will be a…rivodza…whatever that means.”

Merasiël shook her head. She had not bothered to learn any of the Huallapan language, believing it too rough for Elven tongues to bother with. She turned and dropped down to a crouch before the the shaft entrance and muttered in Elvish, “That will be a difficult climb.” The walls were smooth and waxy, just like the rest of the tunnels, however the angle wasn’t too much to climb if one were careful. She buried the rest of her complaints, dropped to her hands and knees and disappeared into the small passageway. A soft grunt from behind let her know that the others had joined her in the slow, painful ascent. The silence was marred only by the sound of feet, hands and knees gaining purchase in the tunnel behind her, heaving the men onward. The sounds paused, and Gabriel’s voice drifted from just behind her.

“Lovely view in here,” he murmured, amusement fairly dripping from his voice.

“How can you say that?” Merasiël grimaced as her hand sought another secure hold to grasp. “There are no windows.”

Dane’s soft laughter drifted from below Gabriel’s feet. Merasiël stopped and glowered over her shoulder at them, beginning to suspect some sort of joke. Gabriel’s knowing smirk and brief glance at her posterior was all she needed to see and she turned back to her task. “Very funny,” she said, without a trace of amusement.

After several minutes of climbing, the dim light around them lifted as daylight filtered down from the end of the tunnel. Merasiël turned to look over her shoulder once more, a finger placed on her lips to caution the others to silence. She wormed her way up the last few feet to the end and found herself peering out of a grate into an large, open courtyard. As Eli had promised, she had a clear view of the main gate and the mechanism to open it. She also had a clear view of the large number of Vasar guards swarming the courtyard in between themselves and the gate. An iron fist clenched in her gut. We must continue, for good or for ill, she thought grimly and tested the grate, only to find it locked. She twisted herself around and planted her back against one side of the tunnel and her feet against the other to hold herself in place, allowing her hands the freedom to begin working the lock open.

The tell-tale sound of the lock opening seemed loud to her ears, and Merasiël froze. A glance out the grate showed that none of the nearby guards had heard. In fact, she saw that there were now fewer guards in the courtyard. Much fewer. Many were leaving swiftly, accompanied by the sounds of angry clicks and snarls, but couldn’t see where they were going. But now, the way to the gate was clear. She felt a tap on her boot, and she looked downward at Gabriel.

“Many guards,” she murmured low. “But they are leaving. The way is open.”

Gabriel looked as confused as she felt, but some sort of buried knowledge came to light and his face lit up with understanding. “God. Rivodza. Diversion. The Halluapan are sacrificing themselves so we can get the gate open. We need to move. Now!”

One by one, they scrambled out of the tunnel and tumbled into the courtyard. Merasiël immediately sought some sort of cover, praying to the Eternal that they had not been noticed. Whatever diversion the Halluapan were causing was working, and all of the Vasar eyes were turned elsewhere.

“Dane? Are you ready?” Gabriel asked curtly.

Dane had already returned his arrow to the quiver on his back and had withdrawn a new one, the point of which was wrapped in cloth and coated with oil that would burn in a bright flash. They would give a signal to the army camped outside that they were in the courtyard and would open the gate soon. Dane nocked the arrow and took aim as one of the elves lit the cloth with a spark from a flint and tinder.

Outside the gate, the Crusaders waited. Rainald, Magnifico and Brother Mendel stood just ahead of the lines of warriors, their eyes trained on the Hive walls. The setting sun made it difficult to see, but they shaded their eyes as best as they could and continued to keep vigil.

“Have faith, my friends,” Brother Mendel broke the silence. “The LORD is with them. They will succeed.”

“Is strong, yes,” Rainald agreed.

A flash briefly lit the sky above the Hive, and Brother Mendel smiled as cheers began to sound out around them. “And the scriptures say, ‘Arise, shine; for your light has come, And the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.’”

Within the hive, Merasiël kept to the shadows as much as she could and moved swiftly to the gate’s locking mechanism. Their time was short, she knew, as the Crusaders would begin their march as soon as the signal was sent. Dane’s arrow, while bright enough to be seen by the approaching army, was also bright enough to alert the Vasar that something was amiss. In the confusion, she and one of the other elves with them were able to reach the gate and begin the slow process of opening it. The sounds of fighting broke out behind her, but she tamped down the urge to join them and stayed at the gate.

She heard the elf next to her cry out in pain and she then realized that she was alone. He lay in a pool of blood by her feet, felled by a hurled vasar glaive. But still, she worked the gate as quickly as her strength would allow.

A black blade nicked her shoulder and she stumbled to the side, narrowly avoiding a thrust through the center of her back. A huge Vasar towered above her, poised to deliver a spear strike into her heart. Instead of delivering the killing blow, however, it shuddered oddly as the tip of a rapier thrust through its body, and the spear fell to the ground with a clatter.

Merasiël heard the song of the Crusades echoing over the wall. The army would be at the gate in moments.

“Merasiël! Get that gate open!” Gabriel called out as he turned away, holding his blade ready. He joined Dane to stand against a large, writhing black mass of Vasar.

With as much effort as she could muster, Merasiël threw herself on the mechanism and forced it to move. As the gate opened, a blow from somewhere behind her left a loud ring in her ears and a film of hazy darkness roiled around the edges of her vision.

The last sight she saw was that of Rainald barreling through the opened gate, bellowing his trademark, blood-curdling war-cry, and then everything went black.

“…will be fine, she just needs to rest. That was a nasty blow she took to the head.”

Merasiël stirred as voices disturbed her slumber. Her eyes flickered open and her vision swam as she focused on Brother Mendel and Gabriel standing nearby. No, not standing, lying down? Are we dead?

The ever-patient Brother Mendel tended to Gabriel’s many wounds. Gabriel, for his part, was not happy about his situation. “I should be out there. Fighting. There are still bugs to kill!”

“You’re exhausted and have more holes in you than our LORD’s brow as it was pierced by thorns. You will go nowhere until I am done with you!”

Not dead, then. Merasiël smiled at the idea of Gabriel’s discomfort, but the effort sent pain shooting through her head and she groaned.

“Ah, she’s coming to. How do you feel, my dear?” Mendel approached and settled down with a sigh. He looked exhausted, but he didn’t pause, laying a cool hand on her forehead. He then held up his other hand with all of his fingers extended. “Tell me. How many fingers do I hold before your eyes?”

“Caer.”

“Beg pardon?”

Gabriel’s answered for her, his tone impatient. “Ten. It’s Elvish for ten.”

Mendel frowned down at her. “Still need some time off your feet, I see.”

“What happened?” Merasiël forced her eyes to focus on the two Mendels that swam before her.

As Mendel spoke, he lay hands on her bloody shoulder and blessed it with healing power. “Well, after you three opened the gate…ah, I won’t bore you with the details. While you slept, the Crusaders took the Hive, Magnifico danced on the wall and the Vasar have been routed. Those that escaped have fled towards Hive Ves’qal. Although it will take some time to clean out the tunnels beneath us, I’m afraid.”

Gabriel interjected, “It would go a lot faster if I was there with them.”

Mendel glared over his shoulder, but Gabriel was spared the priest’s rebuke by the tent flap flying open. Rainald entered, Radskyrta’s arm draped over his shoulder as he drug the warrior to one of the empty spots beneath the tent. Radskyrta’s leg was twisted at an odd angle, and it didn’t seem to be working properly. Both of them were covered nearly head to foot in insectoid goo.

Gabriel sounded somewhat bitter when he spoke. “Having fun Rainald?”

“Hah! Yes, lítillbróðir! Killing much bug-mans today.” With that, he departed, the tent flap snapping closed behind him.

Mendel rested his face in his hands as Radskyrta began to curse from where he lay. “LORD help me, it’s going to be a long night.”

In the days that followed, the Crusaders solidified their hold on Hive Ri’Tal as the last of the Vasar that hid in the tunnels beneath were flushed out. The Huallapan that had provided the distraction that allowed the opening of the gates had suffered grievous losses, including the brave warrior Eli. There was little time for sorrow or rest, as the Crusaders soon turned their sights on the last of the Vasar strongholds.

Banestorm, Campaign Information, Player Characters none

GURPS Banestorm: Dark Clouds Rising, Book II, Session 6.20

September 7, 2014 Gigermann 1 comment

Dramatis Personæ

Of Gods and Prisons

13 May 2014

The Heroes stood before the towering God of the Underworld in appropriate awe. Magnifico strode bravely forward to address Hades, with Brother Mendel close behind, and declared that they were ambassadors from the God of Heaven bearing a message; Hades struck his staff on the ground, knocking them over with a blast of wind, and expressed disinterest in hearing any message from above. Magnifico tried again, entreating Hades that there would be no harm in hearing this message, and Hades, amused at the man’s bravery, allowed him to continue, and Magnifico bade Brother Mendel recite The Great Commission, along with some other supporting Christian scripture, of such things as “freedom” and “everlasting life.” Hades found it ironic and amusing, and quipped that the Heroes should go free if they had the power to do so; he revealed that he was himself a prisoner in this realm. Magnifico encouraged Hades to continue, and the god revealed that this realm was created by some long-gone people to gather souls for an unknown purpose, but over the eons, this traffic had ceased—until the Heroes’ recent arrival—and he had grown ever weary of his station here and longed for release, though it would surely mean his destruction. Magnifico pointed out to Hades the sign he had seen of another throne beside his, and the god told of his wife, Persephone, that she had gone mad, and now lived on an island some distance across the water—he pointed to the place. Seeing an opportunity in the Heroes’ presence, Hades declared that he would set them free if they would perform a task for him, to destroy the object that generated this realm, guarded by the very creature that sent them here; but before he could release them, they must first kill his wife, bringing her heart to him. Hades then cast a spell upon them all, that Persephone could do them no direct harm, and sent them on their way.

As they stood at the river, Brother Mendel used the “weaving” magics taught him by Pachacuti in the Otherworld—travel to the Underworld had given him a clarity of thought such that he now sufficiently understood those techniques—and created a magical effect that would automatically heal each of the Heroes a little, should they be injured. They all dared not set foot in the river, lest some spell befall them, so Brother Mendel wove for them a row-boat. The isle was some distance, taking an hour to reach.

Now ashore without incident, the Heroes disembarked. Before them were high stone walls, surrounding the isle as far as they could see; a mile or so distant, atop a high hill, they could see the “temple” at the isle’s center. All they could see was covered in degrees by vegetation of all kinds; the goddess was undoubtedly close to nature and its green things. As they examined the vine-covered walls for an entrance, they were suddenly set upon by a number of flying creatures, screeching and stinking of filth; their appearance that of a haggard old woman, with wings for arms and claws for feet. Some of the Heroes were caught by surprise as the creatures descended upon them, clawing at their heads or faces; injuries were healed by Brother Mendel’s spell. Gabriel set about skewering the creatures with blinding speed as they approached. Magnifico fuddled the creatures’ minds with ridiculous song and dance—with magical effect where there was none before. Brother Mendel cast a Spasm on the wing-arms of one or two, causing them to flop to the ground, setting them up for Dane’s bow, or the fast-approaching Gabriel. Gestlin produced two Flame Jets, one in each hand, and with them set afire his attackers. Rainald wrested himself free of one that tried to haul him to the ground, and smashed it with his hammer, and sprinted to the others’ aid. As the fighting ended, Brother Mendel tended the remaining injuries.

Gestlin activated the magical harness taken from the strangers they had fought with above, and sprouted wings, and took flight to see what lay beyond the walls. He returned with dour news, that inside was a massive labyrinth that shifted about randomly—anyone entering would surely be forever lost. As they discussed how they might circumvent the labyrinth, Magnifico decided instead to call out to the Queen of the Underworld by name, that she might come to them instead. Suddenly, a great tree sprang up from the ground, and from it, emerged a giant, beautiful woman, bearing strange dress. Immediately the goddess, Persephone, saw the slain creatures beside the Heroes and became exceedingly angry, and tried to smite Magnifico with her staff when he attempted to explain their actions, but the staff stopped short of him, and would not touch him, nor any of the others. At this, she knew it must be her husband that had sent them; she supposed they had been sent to slay her, but Magnifico spoke poetically of Hades’ love for her, and his desire for her return to him. She scoffed at Magnifico’s words, and instead picked up the slain creatures, and cradled them as if her children or cherished pets, and disappeared back into the tree just as she had come.

Brother Mendel wove a spell to trace the other end of the tree “portal” before them, where the goddess might have exited, and he determined that it was not atop the hill as they had expected, but inside the walls just beyond the labyrinth, possibly under the ground. Without being able to see the destination, they could not Teleport there; but they could see the structure at the top of the hill. So, Brother Mendel wove a portal, like Pachacuti had done so many times in the past, and they all walked through it to emerge atop the hill before the “temple.”

Notes

This was the first full session using the new “rebuilt” characters, so some new capabilities were featured
Gestlin is from Earth, brought over in the mid ’80s at the age of 10 or so; at that age, his knowledge of Greek mythology was pretty basic, so he wasn’t able to help sort things out quite as much as we originally supposed
In the course of the dialog with Hades, the players worked out that this Underworld is actually a construct—like the Matrix—fashioned by the early men that lived on the Keyhole Bay island above, and that the hydra that killed the characters is likely sitting atop the artifact that fuels it

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Of Gods and Prisons

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