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Readers will notice pretty quickly that Grim and Peril has not been updated in a long time. Grim and Peril remains as an archive, in this enjoy the story that developed and, if abruptly, ended.

I do invite readers that followed my profile here to visit my blog at Another Caffeinated Day, to read more of my RPG musings since the last post here.

The Mask of Slaanesh

As the witch hunter took leave of his "victims," Martin stepped out on to the mid-deck. The witch hunter walked to the foredeck to disappear below. The party of Sigmar priests continued uninterrupted on the main deck, and even laughter was heard.

On the top deck, two deckhands busied themselves throwing water on the vomit left by Agathe. Ravendil pondered the drama of human affairs briefly, but returned to matters at hand at the call from the bow, "Fog on the river!" Ravendil peered past the mast, in the waning moon and torch light, to see the phenomenon rapidly approach.

Two men deftly bounded the stairs to the top-deck to man the wheel. The senior man, turning to Ravendil and Agathe, then his second, "Leave my deck, elf, there is work to do. Don't forget your woman."

Ravendil and Agathe took their leave and joined Martin on the mid-deck as the boat's bow cut into the heavy fog. Martin told them of the encounter below and Agathe quickly went below to see the brothers.

In the party's cabin Mein, sporting a black eye and bloodied lip, tended to his unconscious brother lying in a berth. Pounding footsteps of crew could be heard overhead as a great deal of commotion was made as the fog enveloped the boat. The boat lurched suddenly as its keel ground across the bottom of the Reik. The shudder reverberated through the very boots of the party. Martin caught his balance on his warhammer; Mein steadied himself on the berth; Agathe crashed into the cabin wall; Ravendil fell backward into the cabin doorway, hitting his head. The boat did not stop, but it was heart stopping moment. Above them more pounding, running footsteps.

Taking leave of the cabin and the brothers, the rest of the party returned topside to see what was going on. The fog had fully engulfed the boat. The once bright torches were muted, yellow orbs against the dark grey night fog. Visibility was reduced to less than 20 feet. Deckhands met each other and yelled, but their voices would not carry. There was fear in their eyes, but tasks had to be done. Above them the "captain" yelled to his first mate, concentration and worry in his face as he tried to yell orders to his crew, but could hardly be heard. Eerie as the silencing fog was, the oddity of other sounds carried to easily. The sail popped in the light breeze. The splash of water. The creaks of flexing rope. 

Ravendil immediately suggested "taking leave" of the boat. The welcome was in question anyway, if not for the brother's beating at the hands of the witch hunter, then the same's display of his trophies on the top deck. It was agreed. They grabbed a oil-cloth bag from the crew gallery and put their cloaks into it. Agathe helped Mein with his brother, Berthold, to the top deck. The plan, scale the side to their barge still tied along side.

In the fog, they stumbled to the starboard side. The visibility was worse now, down to 10 feet. They found the taut, heavy rope towing the barge. Unable to see the river, climbing down this single rope was a certain way to take "a bath and drown." It would be impossible to get Berthold down this way. Agathe left in search of cargo netting to toss over. She returned dragging a heavy net. Ravendil and Agathe tied it off, and Ravendil climbed over the rail onto the netting, following the taut rope down to the river.

Martin followed, while Agathe attempted to figure out how to get the injured Berthold safely down. The fog seems to silence speech and every one was yelling to communicate with people standing 2ft. away. Disturbing splashes could be heard from the bow and stern. Were crew jumping in terror and confusion?

Agathe and the brothers agreed on a plan and Agathe climbed over the railing. The boat suddenly lurched again, coming to a jerking halt for but a second. She lost her grip and fell backward. Her foot caught in the netting, she was hanging upside down and face to face with Martin. Martin climbed back up to see to her foot and freed it. She fell, disappearing into the fog below.

Ravendil had found the barge below. The last grinding bottoming of the boat allowed the barge to "catch up," and if by the hand of a god, Agathe, appearing out of the fog from above, landed on the barge in a heap at Ravendil's feet.

Martin climbed back to the railing to look for the brothers. He found no one. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he was not answered. Martin quickly descended the net and found the barge. Cutting free of the boat, they quickly found themselves in the disquieting fog, pulled away from the boat by the current of the river. They were blind in the fog. They found themselves plunged into a directionless, dark, chilly, wet, and silent world. For a brief moment they thought they heard calls for help from the water, but could see nothing. Only the sounds of desperate splashing could be heard. 

Daylight was hours away.

... more to come ... 

Campaign Date set

2523IC, Sigmarzeit 8th. Summer.

The cast

It occurred to me that, as readers, introductions to the primary heroes and non-player characters (NPCs) might be helpful. Being a small regular group of players, there are times when the party becomes NPC heavy. I always try to refrain from unbalancing gameplay. Hopefully the players concur (though there have been mistakes).

Ravendil Shadowstar Elven Hunter

Martin Aulenbach Human, Cult of Sigmar Initiate

Agathe Helermann Human Thief (NPC)

Berthold Menckenberg Human Woodsman (NPC)

Meinhardtus "Mein" Menckenberg Human Woodsman (NPC, Berthold's brother)

Hartungus "Hart" von Roftman Human Mercenary (NPC, Chaos cultist, deceased)

This is the party that set out from Bögenhafen to Holthusen and the Reikwald ruins of the long forgotten elven settlement.

Of Priests and Witches

A breeze cut though the tree tops, blowing loose leaves across the noticeable path to the river.

The party made haste north, behind them a large party of tomb robbers possibly gave chase or continued digging in the forgotten basements of the long abandoned elven settlement. But the tomb robbers were not at the forefront of their thoughts.

Beneath the ground of this elven settlement, a magical prison held Chaos manifest: warpstone. The party was led to prison by a servant of the Ruinous Powers. "Gold and adventure await!" was the promise. Hart Van Roftmann's only true goal was to have the party, enthralled by dark magic, transport the stone to his masters.

The elven prison held the pitch, perfect stone orb on an ornate pedestal at the center of a wide, round, domed room. The walls of the stone's prison were covered in a mysterious, elvish glyph. To be in the presence of warpstone was dangerous enough, to touch it was mind-ripping and, worse still, could render the body deformed.

Hart's death by the mentally strongest of the party released those enthralled. Hart's map, mail and gold were recovered and the party's trail covered.

***

Ravendil Shadowstar, the elf, and Martin Aulenbach, the Sigmar initiate, hastened the party to the river, following the trail of the tomb robbers. If the robbers were part of Hart's plan, he made no mention of them before he died. They were likely just a coincidence, but if the trail told the party, particularly Ravendil, anything, it was that the tomb robbers came from the river. Heavily laden at times were the tale-tale signs.

At the river bank, a large barge was tied to a fallen tree, providing anchor and cover from passing boats on the Reik. They quickly boarded the barge, found their "sea legs" and begin pushing the barge up river to Altdorf, at least three days for experienced boatmen. A quick inspection of a few remaining crates on the barge found shovels, picks and good, hard bread. The heavy, oil cloth tarps would make shelter on the deck in a pinch.

The party caught sight of a large sail boat ahead. Richly appointed, it was taking a leisurely pace towards Altdorf at only half sail. The 200 tonne Marinburger galleon flew the brightly colored banners of the Cult of Sigmar. Behind it, taut from the current and sail, a heavy rope split the ship's wake, disappearing beneath the surface.


The party debated their next action as it was apparent they would over take the galleon within the hour. Martin argued they had surely been spotted by the ship's watch and any evasive action might be seen as a threat worthy of investigation. And if the galleon was indeed transport for the Cult of Sigmar, they should negotiate passage to Altdorf aboard the ship. And if fate have it, the priests aboard, if any, could take charge of the map and grim news of the elven warpstone prison.

Agreed, they hailed the ship as they neared its starboard side. Martin's hail and primer of news of Ruinous Powers at work in the Empire was enough to secure boarding. The party was welcomed aboard by a formidable priest of Sigmar that introduced himself as Gustav, Chief of the Guard to the High Priest, whose vessel they had just boarded. Across the deck, beneath the shade of a richly appointed leanto, a heavy man in rich cloth enjoyed wine, cheese and meat, holding audience with other priests of Sigmar.

Gustav took leave of the party to tell the High Priest news of Chaos. They were immediately given audience and ask to tell more. Learning of the warpstone, the High Priest offered that the party join himself and his entourage for supper on deck. The party was shown, below the middeck, musty, yet clean, guest quarters amidships.

Dinner would hold introductions where first impressions might be the razor's edge of life or death.

Update

Dinner was held top side on a low table surrounded by heavy pillows emblazoned with embroidered medallions of the Order of the Torch. The High Priest took a leisurely seat on a low couch at the center of the table. Servants poured fine wine, clean water and set rich foods and fresh fruit. A praise of Sigmar signaled the start of dinner and small talk was made. The High Priest asked more of the adventures of the Martin and his friends and was interrupted by a man at the far end of the table. Grimly visaged and serious in tone, he steered the conversation asking for details of the adventure, the "prison," more about Hart. He expected cooperation and got it, at the risk of heresy. When learning of a map held by Hart he asked for it. It was handed over. Agathe spoke of meeting Hart and learning his full name from contacts in Bögenhafen. The forceful man immediately dismissed himself and went to quarters unknown.

The depressed tone of the dinner found the rest of the party excusing themselves. First the brothers, then Agathe and Ravendil. Martin was asked to stay and talk more about his adventures. When these stories tired, Martin excused himself below decks to the party's quarters.

Ravendil and Agathe remained topside on the stern deck overlooking the river and the rope that remained taut, bisecting the wake.

Below deck, Martin found some off-watch crew uncomfortably avoiding the guest's quarters partition of heavy cloth. A thud, grunt and whimper greeted Martin. Parting the curtain, Martin found the grim man from dinner delivering a forearm throw to Mein's throat, pinning Mein to the berth wall. Berthold lay on the floor, bloodied and unconscious. The man released Mein, who collapsed to the floor on his knees, coughing. He had few words for the initiate of Sigmar, but words of caution that the Ruinous Powers held sway where lest expected and were to be rooted out by any means necessary, and followers of Chaos would get know no quarter. The man dismissed himself, seemingly satisfied that the brother's had no useful information for him. Martin tended to the brothers, questioning the purpose of the man and the methods.

Topside MartinRavendil spoke briefly to Agathe about the Hart before they were joined by the grim man from dinner. He carried himself differently, as if he had recently exerted himself in some way. The man wasted no time with small talk with the elf and woman. He told them that the wages of Chaos were death and explained by example. He called over two nearby, and reluctant, deckhands. They were instructed to pull the rope out of the water. With each haul the angle of the rope increased until it was perpendicular with the water and the stern of the boat. In the dim torch lit night, it was hard to immediately see what weighted the end of the rope. Braided into to the rope were nets, stones, and six waterlogged bodies. Flesh pulled away from bone, legs or arms had by been cleaved, pulled away by the currents, or made food for unknown fish or reptiles. At least one could be recognized by all as a beastman by its cloven feet and horned skull, more grotesque from the currents and water. Agathe lost her dinner at the sight and Ravendil swallowed his bile. The man smiled at the reactions.

A Welcome and Forewarning

Welcome to Grim and Peril.

I'm Joe Caffeinated. A gamemaster. Like the dungeon master of old, a gamemaster is the game neutral description of the game leader. A story craftsman. A world builder. A referee. And much more.

This is the blog of an ongoing, sometimes sputtering in regularity, Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay campaign. Grim and Peril will serve as the game record for players and gamemaster alike. As a blog, it will be a narrative for visitors.

Welcome and enjoy. Be forewarned: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay is a game with a rich, decades long, sometimes retconned, sometimes bizarre, "world history." But more importantly, it is a game of grim and perilous adventure.