Monster Blood Tattoo RPG: The Peltryman's Behest I

Chapter I: Obsequies

Behest: a final request or obligation placed on a person or persons as part of a deceased person’s testamentary, usually for the completion of some act that the deceased had been unable to complete.  It is considered a great honor to be called upon to undertake a behest and the worst moral failing to refuse to accept one.  The composer Stumphelhose issued what may be the most famous behest, placing an obligation on his arch-rival Contari to finish the great sympothy that Stumphelhose was composing at the time of his death.  Contari spent three years completing the work.  When it was published, the public acclaim was enormous but Contari had refused to take any credit for his part of the work and subsequently died in relative poverty.

Brandenbrass
Seven Years Later
20 Narcis, 1601 HIR

Ussary Accural, one of the more renown patefracts in the whole of the Brandenlands as well as an accomplished falseman, was in his simple file in one of the more anonymous buildings in the well-to-do but not extravagant neighborhood of Four-in-Hand in great Brandenbrass when his clerk, Gregorian announced a potential client to see him.

This was Mr. Runciman, a man-of-business working for a philanthropic group of anonymous patrons who were motivated to see justice done to the deserving.  He wished to engage Accural's services in finding the killers of a simple squire from the Valley of the Use, one Valentine Portent by name, who had come to the city only to get himself killed. What had attracted Mr. Runicman's patrons were the facts that Portent was said to have been making some sort of inquiries of any unknown but dangerous nature and that Portent had been a survivor of the great military debacle of the Battle of the Vab River, seven years prior.  Accural was amazed at this latter point, having heard that the few survivors of that disastrous theroscade had all been driven mad by the horror they had seen that day. Runciman assured him that Portent, in addition to having a reputation of good character, had been reported to be quite sane.  He urged the great sleuth to hasten to Useless for the poor man's obsequies were to be observed in two days time.  There he might learn from the dead man's widow clues as to the reason for the murder.

Two days later, having taken the unenviable recourse of hiring a riding horse, Accural arrived in the small thorp just outside the town of Useless.  Stopping at Portent's estate, he was informed that the household was tending to the late Master's obsequies at the family tombyard.  Arriving at this sad location, Accural was struck by the large number of locals who had turned out, all demonstrating genuine grief.

The one figure unaffected was a travelling reddleman, the man's cart of dyes bringing a waft of pungent odor to the proceedings.

Then the sleuth noted three men emerging from a hired lentum.  They represented a strange mix of a scarred but wealthy soul who bore the appearance of both a laggard and a wit, a large fur bedecked rhubezal with snow white hair and an amply-supplied dispensurists, wearing the humble robes of one of the more benign orders.

In the tombyard itself, the grieving widow, a handsome women in her late thirties, was being supported by a young calendar as well as various friends and servants.

The three strangers approached the widow who seemed to be not at all surprised by their strange appearance, saying only, "There are only three of you, I sent word to five."  The leer/wit responded that they had not seen the other two in these seven years, but were sure they would have come if they could either they were delayed or dead.

The widow  responded that they would speak further after the obsequies were observed.

There were forthcoming and a great wail went up from the assemblage when the good squire's body was laid to rest in a crypt.

As the widow, still supported by the Calendar and now joined by the strange trio, were departing, Accural introduced himself and quickly explained the recent service to which he had been engaged.  Although puzzled by the benefaction from parties unknown, the Widow Portent welcomed the aid of the patefract and invited him to the manor house to hear the reading of her late husband's testimentary.

Upon arrival, Accural was introduced to the significant guests.  First was Sister Angella, the Calendar who had arrived upon hearing of the troubles that had descended upon the house.  Accural was surprised to see she bore the spoors of a fulgar on her young face.  

With even greater surprise, he learned that the leer/wit was no other than Lord Danube Figge, notorious younger son of the fabulously wealthy Figges of Fayelillian, who was rumored to be a most infamous presursor, more for sport and desire than from want.  The young lord introduced the two skolds simply as "Jarl" and "Lorent."  The white-haired Easterner seemed about to speak but then obviously decided not to contradict the prickly aristocrat.  Even more surprising was the fact that these three were, like Portent, survivors of the Battle of the Vab.

Assembling in the sitting room, Widow Portent asked her solicitor to read her husband's behest, indicating that the various bequests could wait until later.

But before the lawyer could start, the widow related with great dignity and obviously holding back her tears, "The Valley of the Use is said to be a sickly place.  Without fail, every seven years some form of sweeps through it. Some say the river Use hides some great threwdishness, the more superstitious say that the land was cursed by the Piltdowners when they were driven out.

"I should have been frightened when my parents arranged my marriage to the Squire of this place.  But the Valley is a pleasant, plentiful land and Squire Reeves turned out to be a kindly man. We grew to have affection for each other and were much delighted by our first born, my son Alecto.  But then, 14 years ago, the Green Death stalked the Valley and took both of them from me.  At the time I was with child, and this proved my salvation from irredeemable sorrow.  For my daughter Albany was my greatest delight and the consolation of my soul.  A more perfect child could not be imagined. 

But then seven years passed, and Death once more came among us.  Albany fell ill and was like to die.  I went near mad with the fear of losing her.  But a stranger who was passing through the valley heard of my plight and showed enormous compassion.  He brought a potive made, he said, from the blood of a some sort of rare wood owl. And it saved my dearest Albany.

The stranger of course was your friend, Valentine Portent.  I offered him any reward he wished but he asked only for employment.  For despite being a peltryman, he said he had made a vow never to go into the deep woods again.  I made him master-parmister of this estate.  He was of such strong character and such goodness that soon all people here about could not but love him.  And I too fell to loving him and asked him to be my husband.  Ordinarily, this would have caused a great scandal but, as I said, all the people thought it only proper that he should come to head this community. To Albany he was a second father and he loved her as his own. 

For seven years we were happier than any have right to be. But seven years is seven years and the Green Death came once more.  Once more, Albany fell ill but this time there was no owl’s blood.  Valentine broke his vow and went into the Woods again but found no aid. So our Albany died and with a broken heart we laid her in my family crypt.

The very night she was laid to rest, corsers came and took her body.  When we discovered it next morn, it was more than I could bear.  To think of her sweet frame mutilated by butchers and her organs sold to ashmongers.  Or worse to be made into a rever-man by some black-hearted habilist, to be the walking unnatural undead.  I was inconsolable. 

As was Valentine.  Without my knowledge or asking, he set off to bring her body home.  He went to Brandenbrass that great dark city.  As always, he prepared well, leaving a new testimenary in case he failed to return alive and instruction for what I was to do in that case.  The last I heard from him was that he knew who had taken our sweet child and hoped to find her remains soon.  The next I heard was that he had been slain, by footpads the authorities said."

Here the good lady paused to hold back her tears.  With a deep breath, she resumed,  

"Over the years, he tried to follow your travels as best he could through rumors and the odd scandal pamphlet.  It was his wish that, if he were killed that I summon you all to hear this, his last behest:

To my comrades of the Azure Aurang, I lay upon you this final obligation, trusting in the bond of our shared misadventures that you will see that justice is done to my memory.

My step-daughter, Albany Reeves, dear to me as one of my own blood, has preceded me in death, bringing ineffable sorrow to me and her beloved mother.  Snatched from her final rest by corsers, the lowest of mankind, I sought to restore her final remains by my dearest wife.  If you are hearing this, I have failed in this endeavor and been slain.  I therefore beseech you on your most sacred honor to rest not until my dear Albany is laid to rest as her mother intended.  May Providence guide you and give speed to your success.

"Whatever you wish, whatever you need, I shall provide it. Whatever reward, I shall give it to you. None of it matters.  My good man shall not have died in vain.  I charge you bring my daughter home!"

"But where do we start?" asked the tall Skyld.

"It takes a special type of corser to come to these lands to seek the dead, one who does not fear the illnesses of the Valley.  Where they have ventured once, they will venture again.  

"I have placed a notice of Valentine’s obsequies in a number of the less reputable daily pamphlets in Brandenbrass. If they showed the same industriousness as they did before, you will not have long to wait for them to return."

That night, Osa Frangelin, corser of many years standing and many more debts, approached the small tombyard near Useless.  Need had made him violate the sacred Hinge, the corsers' code of honour, and approach the same yard twice in less than two months.  He assuaged his conscience with the thought that the limitation was designed to avoid corser conflicts.  Since few other corsers were likely to visit these sickly spots, he determined the violation of a mere technicality was not a terrible thing, especially given the insistence by Moneylender Spleen on payment.

Tying his cart to a nearby fence, Frangelin soon got himself into the locked crypt yard, easily disarming the bell traps and opening the crypt locks one by one. He finally located crypt that showed signs of a recent interment. As he worked the locks, he spotted, ill-hidden within the tomb, a large white-haired figure bristling with rough furs, weapons, and potives.  Quickly using a lock-break to jam the lock closed upon the silent guard, Frangelin slipped quickly away, vowing never to violate the Hinge again.

So busy was the corser, however, that he did not notice the sthenicon bearing figure approach from the shadows outside the crypt.

Too late the corser noticed the dark figure approaching, one hand raised to his forehead.  Suddenly, Frangelin felt the great wit-frisson course through his body, pain touching early part of his being and he collapsed to the ground.

As the corser writhed in pain, he was barely aware of the several figures emerging from hiding places throughout the yard.  He was soon bound and tessed.  Despair overtook him as he realized his predicament and its likely fatal outcome.  This is what comes from violating the Hinge!

Led by a soft-spoken falseman, obviously some sort of sleuth, his captors seemed more inclined to inquisitioning rather than torture.  Frangelin quavered under the falseman's gaze and readily admitted that he had been bound on stealing the body of the dead man as he had done that of the girl taken just over a month prior.  The corser readily admitted that he done so to satisfy a requisition from Octavian Scollfyld, self-proclaimed “King of the Ashmongers,” who was seeking ever increasing numbers of corses for some demanding patrons. 

"And can you lead us to this 'King of the Ashmongers?'" asked the patefract.

"Scollfyld is like to kill me for doing so!"

"And what do you think will be our response should you refuse, corserman?" came the reply, all the more chilling for the gentleness of its delivery.

Realizing there was no way out, Frangelin offered to assist in any way he could, swearing upon his most sacred oath to show his captors the way of his trade and those above him, for which, at the end of these inquiries, he would be released.

"But first," the sleuth said with an edge in his voice, "we'll take you to apologize to the good lady whose daughter you have stolen."

Frangelin thought it might have been better had they slain him.

Monster Blood Tattoo RPG - The Peltryman's Behest: Prologue

I’ve begun another RPG campaign using Frostgrave/Ghost Archipelago as the base rules. This one is based on the Monster Blood Tattoo series by Australian author, D.M. Cornish. There’s a trilogy, Foundling, Lamplighter, and Factotum.  There's also a forth book of unrelated novellas, Tales from the Half Continent. It’s an incredibly imaginative fantasy world and Cornish has provided a huge amount of details - there are large glossaries in the back of each book of the trilogy.

Here's a summary of the first session:

The Peltryman's Behest

Prologue: At the Limits of the Great Grass Sea

The world is Harthe Alle.  

Upon this world is the great Half-Continent, Sundergird.

It is a world of Men. The greatest power upon Sundegird is the tripartite Empire of the Haackobins, a sprawling collection of quarreling city-states bound to the Empire only by fear of their enemies.

For this also a world of Monsters.

Humanity has been engaged in an struggle against “monsters,” sentient creatures who inhabit the wilderness between the fortified realms of man. It is an eternal struggle; the worst thing for a human is to be a sedorner, someone who demonstrates the least sympathy for the monsters.

In this world, there is no sorcery or magic but Providence has provided humanity with Reason with which they have fashioned themselves into weapons against the monsters.  Many have learned the ways of the skold, the mixing of strange chemicals that have powerful effects with which to fight the monsters.  Others undergo surgical body modification to give them special powers, such as telekinesis or the ability to manipulate electricity or the ability to sense things beyond normal human limits. Humanity's tools are a blend of mechanical and biological machinery. Many machines are driven by "gastrines," living organisms which produce the energy required for the machine functioning. There are also devices called sthenicons, wooden boxes worn on the face containing biological organisms that enhance human senses but have the risk of embedding themselves into the wearer's face. It is sometimes difficult to be sure which is more horrible, the monsters or what men can become in the battle against the monsters.  And against each other.  

For, although the Empire spends vast resources to wrest lands away from the sway of the monsters, it is often far easier to take lands already settled by other human powers.  


Thus, in the Year of the Empire, 1594, the Emperor decreed that a new campaign would be launched against the landgraves of Stanislaus and Wenceslaus. 

"This was an age-old struggle with the 'sedorner kings' that lived just beyond the grasp of the Haacobin Dynasty, accused of traffic with the monsters and worthy of annihilation.  Centuries had gone and still these realms had refused to be subdued." D.M. Cornish, Lamplighter.

This campaign was to be different, the Empire's finest soldier, Marshal Aubergon, had formulated a plan that would pry open the sedorner kingdoms to the West.  The splendid Archduke of Brandenbrass, the splendid ruler of the largest city in the Soutlands, would lead the main army directly west along the traditional invasion route.  The Marshal, with a picked column of elite troops would skirt the southern edges of the Grassmere, the great Grass Sea and surprise the Lausids from what was presumed to be their undefended North.

The Grassmere was a great rolling steppe, controlled by no state, by no man, the deepest lands of the incolid, the monsters thrown up by a harsh Nature.  The whole land was imbued with threwd, the sensation that all the lands about one are sentient and watching, resentful of the intrusion.  In its worst form, threwd can cause madness and the Grassmere is a most threwdish place.

The Marshal was unconcerned, he had the finest troops of the Empire under his command. Troops from 

 Burgundis,  

Boschenburg, and

Etaine. All supported by the best of the Imperial Guard, 

 And the colorful Lesquin mercenaries, bold to the point of rashness. 

The best of the federmen militias had been selected to round out the column's numbers.

Most importantly, having heard rumors that monster sometimes assisted Lausid armies, he enlisted a company of teratologists, monster-hunters, to act as the spearhead of his fearsome thrust.  Captain Vanderlinden's Companions of the Azure Aurang's mere presence would provide stiffening for the march through the threwdish lands.

Among the ranks of the Companions was Prince Avignon Kestrelle, an impoverished member of an Old Blood family of Etaine, whose nobility predated the Empire. Prince Avignon was a fulgar, a manipulator of lightning and electricity as well as an accomplished pistoleer.

Joining him was Lord Danube Figge of the Fayelillian Figges, a family not as old as the Kestrelles but with far more wealth and power.  Unfortunately Lord Danube had been born as the 12th child and so made his way as a Leer, having had his eyes modified by fearsome chemical treatments to aid in seeing what others could not.  Coupled with a preternatural stealth, he was the perfect scout.

Rounding out the Gentleman Adventurers of the Companions, was Ser Firenze Ottimo, a knight from the sunny northern province of Beneventium.  Like many of the nobles of those lands, he was sabrine adept, using his swords in a graceful dance of destruction.

There were commoners among the Companions, of course. The most valuable of these were skolds, those who used strong potives against the monsters. There was the retiring dispenserist, Lorent, who rarely spoke of his origins but was adept with the arts of healing but also reluctantly capable of bringing death to any that threatened his charges.  There was also Fransalir Thorson, from the Skyldic lands beyond the eastern seas of the Empire, raised in the folk traditions of the rhubezhal, from which all the abilities of the skold derived.  Having studied long in the Gott Empire's great university at Worms, he was also a habilist, expert in the modern techniques of creating machines.  Fransalir also claimed descent from the great Jarls of the Skylds, although no one in the Companions put much store in the claim, even if it were true. 

The majority of the companions were peltrymen, woodsmen of the most excellent calibre and skill, lead by Ambuscadier Sergeant Valentine Portent, a redoubtable and phlegmatic specimen of his vocation.

Marshal Aubergon had estimated that his column would take only two weeks to cross the small portion of the Grassmere he intended.  The Archduke would  launch his distracting attack at that time and it was thought that the Marshal's column would slip into the Lausid lands with barely a shot fired.

When the column entered the Grassmere, they were immediately assailed by the threwd.  After the third day, the men stopped singing.  

At the end of the first week, the horse of the equiteers and the wagon train were kept moving with the greatest of difficulty.  

At the end of the second week, the column was no where near the Lausid lands and it was realized that they were having difficulty in calculating the distance they traveled. Some of the men began to desert and those sent to capture them did not return. Few deserted after that.

At the end of the third week, the horses began to die. After this, most of the heavy wagons had to be abandoned.  Soon thereafter, the cannons had to be spiked and left behind. Several men had to be restrained due to madness.  Only wayfood was left to eat and even that began to spoil.

Finally, at the end of the fourth week, when all hope had gone, they came upon the River Vab, which was believed to mark the boundary of the Lausid kingdom.  Reaching its grass bound banks at sunset, the Marshal ordered the column into camp.  The next morning the banks of the Vab were lined with a thick forest which had not been there the night before.  Beneath the overcast skies, with mist rising among the trees, the sight of an ancient forest that had suddenly appeared chilled the hearts of the entire army.  The Marshal ordered the Azure Aurangs to scout the woods and find a crossing of the river.

Upon entering the woods, a loud hooting began, as if coming from some great owl. It soon quieted and they heard a horse whinny.  It appeared to be  normal horse, in the caparisons of Lausid rider.  They heard the sound of a running stream and discovered a fat Lausid knight relieving himself against a rock.

Lord Danube was able to sneak up upon him.  A hurled knife into the fat man's belly eliminated any desire to resist.  The rider, one Abdank Skarbek, surrendered.  He seemed almost sorrowful that the Companions would be destroyed soon, a Lausid army was nearby.  He mentioned that the Duke of Owls had agreed to aid his nation in its defense. Skarbek was sent back to the camp under along together with a warning of the approach of the enemy.  The Companions advanced further into the woods.

They encounter a huge monster in the shape of a walking owl, the creature's mitt open and outreached. Danube stabbed the hand. Although blood dripped from the creature, it seemed unaffected and simple shook its head before fading back into the woods.

Soon a vast host of monster, seeming to be animated trees or bark covered creatures began approaching from among the trees. The companions used their unique skills to strike down the first wave.

Ser Firenze managed to clear a ford of the river single-handedly, his blades flashing as he danced about the lumbering tree-men.

To their left, another horde of the monsters advanced against the peltryman.  Most broke and fled, leaving only the Captain and Portent to face them.  

Seeing the Captain being held by two of the tree-men, Fransalir hurled some Bitterbright against them.  The two fled in different directions.  Unfortunately, they did not release the Captain, whose screams echoed through the woods as he was pulled apart.  The sound of Sergeant Portent's mighty punt gun told Fransalir that at least the peltryman was putting up a fearsome resistance.

Loud trumpets were sounding in the fields beyond the woods and the Lausid army emerged from the mist in all directions.

The army stood firm even though it's only heavy weapons were two tormentums and the casts of the regimental skolds.

The ground rumbled under the hoofbeats of the Lausid horsemen and the booming trod of the ettins, great giant monsters.  The shock of seeing humans in so close an alliance with the monster caused the Marshal's heart to quaver.

The two small equiteer squadrons, for whom that last of the horses had been reserved, showed incredible courage and drove off the elite winged riders of the Lausids.

The Imperials proved less successful against the ettins.

Seeing the army surrounded, the wavering Marshal order the entire army to push toward the river in hope of crossing into the assumed safety of the woods.

A confused, swirling melee commenced as the plunging cavalry rode about the flanks of the foremost regiments only to be struck by fire from those Imperial pediteers who were following.

The Companions emerged from the woods, hoping to single the location of ford to the splintering army.  Prince Avi was confronted by a large ettin.  The fulgar called down a bolt of lightening from the cloud-bedecked skies that blasted the huge giant.

Suddenly, a large owl appeared overheard.  As it spread its wings, it appeared to transform into the shape of a great bird of prey.  Lightening cracked around it outspread wings.  The Companions saw more of the tree-men rushing forward through the woods.

The threwd exuded from the creature reached every corner of the battlefield.  The federmen militia that had been surprisingly successful in holding off attacks on the camp finally broke and were destroyed. The Lausids and their ettin allies charged into the rear of the Imperial army.

Out on the grass, the Marshal and the remnants of his army desperately struggled to make it to the woods, only to see the Companions warning them of the horde of tree-men blocking their way.

The will of the army broke. The Marshal rallied a small group of lesquin troubardiers who made a heroic but brief last stand.

The Companions realized that the only hope they had was to make it down the river to less threwdish lands.  They gathered the broken bodies of the tree-men into a raft and began floating slowly down the river.  

Several tree-men blocked their way.  Portent blasted them with well-aimed shots from his punt gun and doglock pistols.

As they drifted slowly away from the battlefield, a large dark figure appeared on the river bank, the Duke of Owls.  Portent drew a small wooden disk from his tunic and let down into the water, pushing it to the Owl Duke, making soft hooting sounds all the while. The Owl Duke's head twisted slightly in confusion but then it returned the call and waived its hand, indicating that they were given free passage down the river.

As they passed beyond the strange woods, Lord Danny asked the peltryman how he was able to win their freedom.

"I've lived for many years in the deep woods, and things there are not as you suppose as you sit in manor house, my lord." 

Although Danny wished to inquire further, it was clear the peltryman would say no more.