Monster Blood Tattoo: The Eekers' Lament, Part I

I'm part of a second gaming group and my turn to GM came up.  So while I am running my "fantasy Cajun" game, I am also running another Monster Blood Tattoo game.  This one again uses the Frostgrave family of games as a base.  It takes place a few months after the events of The Peltryman's Behests (the report on that campaign can be found earlier on this blog).  This is a smaller and mostly new cast of characters, however, one old friend returns. (I will be reporting on both this campaign and The Device Infernal campaign in rotation).

The Eekers' Lament

Part I, An Inauspicious Beginning

Eekers - folk who, because of poverty or persecution or in protest, live in wild or marginal places. There they scrounge what life they can from the surrounding land. Many eekers are political exiles, sent away from, or choosing to leave, their home city because of some conflict with a personage of power. It is commonly held that most have become despicable sedorners so that the monsters will leave them be. They are already mistrusted and despised for their eccentric ways, and such suspicion only makes them doubly so. - Foundling

 

12 Lirium HIR (Horno Imperia Regnum) 1602

The lesser common room in the wayhouse called the Harefoot Dig, along the Vestiweg at midafternoon, all but deserted.  One lone and somewhat forelorn figure slowly ate his meagre repast. This was Schenectady Micajah Throgmorton, a former Vinagaroon from Flint, a mediocre deck hand who hated the sea and so had given up the Gurgis to follow the more financial rewarding life of a teratologist, hunting monsters for pay. 

 Having learned of bit of skolding from his ship's loblolly boy, he took his meager savings and invested gaining tutoring and equipage as a grenado-throwing scourge among the skolding tutors of Worms.  Hearing of the rewards being offered for the services of teratologists along the Wormway after the fall of the Imperial fortress of Winsternill, he spent the last of his small savings on equipping himself with the finest test barrow and potives.  Finding a well-guarded merchant caravan willing to cross the Ichomeer proved elusive and so he did not arrive at Winstermill until after the first frost of Autumn.  Traveling along the Wormway, he was discomfitted by the seemingly ordered state of the road.  When he arrived at the great Lamplighter fortress, he was turned away, being told that their was no longer the need for the services of those such as he, the Lamplighters had things well in hand and the lamps were being lit all along the Wormway. So Throgmorton drifted south with the vague idea of finding berthing as a skold on one of the ships out of High Vesting, much as he hated the thought of returning to the sour wine seas.

So here he found himself, spending the last of his money on a small meal and a cabinet chamber for sleep before the last days journey back to the acrid vapors of the Vinegar seas.  He became aware that a strange figure had entered the common room. The newcomer was dressed in a long dark coat such as surgeons or habilists wear, a odd pack on his back, sickly yellow in color and appearing to occasionally draw breath.  The man was tall and exceedingly thin, evidence of lazharine ravage and the twin metal rods strapped to his belt marked him as a fulgar, a user of the power of lightening in the ageless battle against the monsters of the wild.

The newcomer began rooting through the room's trash barrels with a great intensity. Finally coming upon a scrap of paper, the fulgar thrust it into his pocket.

Throgmorton attempted to strike up a conversation with the man, hoping that he might be in need of scourge as companion on some paid excursion but he was rudely rebuffed.  Throgmorton knew that lazhars, those who had been surgically modified to give them greater abilities against the monsters, could be eccentric but the prickliness of this stranger was excessive.

Before the matter could come to blows, the sound of the arrival of a large coach could be heard outside the well-guarded door.  Suddenly a troop of well armed women entered the common room.  At their head was tall young woman, festooned with begemmed pistols of the finest make. She wore a rich purple long coat and lustrous purple cape flowed about her as she moved.  An enormous thrice-high hat was set upon her head and a large plume seemed to move of its own accord.  A large brooch bearing the image of a dove decorated one lapel, marking her as a member of the Rite of the Pacific Dove, an order of calendars, ladies devoted to the protection of the poor and weak.  Oddly, one of her arms was bare and was covered a number of cruorpunxis, the much-sought-after monster blood tattoos.

The staff instantly came to her service, bringing her and her clave sisters large platters of food and fien wines.  Inviting Throgmorton to join them, she proved to be as accommodating as the strange fulgar had been aloof.  This was all the more surprising when she introduced herself as Sister Brandywine Charcuterie, a name Throgmorton recognized as belonging to the ancient nobility of Hacquitaine.

She reported that she was journeying to Brandenbrass to meet with a benefactor who had volunteered to help the Order with any assistance they might need.  Coincidentally, the Order had been informed of some horrible attack against a group of settlers in the Holly Middens.  They were said to be eekers, outcasts from society, for whom on the Order would be willing to provide aid.  By this point, the odd stranger had joined them, more out of curiousity it would seem than sociability.  The fulgar named himself Wyatte Roman of Termaguant to south of Brandenbrass.  On his neck could be seen his own monster blood tattoos, although Throgmorton could not tell how many.  The former vinagaroon felt sheepish at this sight, although having been involved in several fights with sea monsters, Throgmorton was never able to claim the much prized badge of courage.  Sister Brandywine offered the two the opportunity to join her endeavor, it would likely be hard and she could use the services of experienced followers. Although Roman seemed undecided with the offer, he agreed to accompany them as far as Brandenbrass.  

"Who is the benefactor that is sponsoring this adventure," Throgmorton inquired.

"Why Lord Danube Figge of the Fayelillian Figges, he of those that accomplished the famed Peltryman's Behest."

Sister Brandywine generously offered them transport in her carriage for the trip to the port of High Vesting.  She likewise paid for their passage for the short sea crossing to the great city of Brandenbrass.  The trip passed with little event, even though the four hour crossing of the Grume to Brandenbrass was accomplished at night.  Soon after the sun had risen over the great city, the trio disembarked and hired a lentum to take them to Lord Danube's house, Chortle Grove.  Despite the morning traffic, they soon arrived on cannon street and spotted a large red tower looming over the nearby Moldwood Park.

The "humble townhouse" of Lord Danube was enormous, stretching over an entire city block and made up of numerous smaller mansions linked haphazardly together, with a similar scattering of foliage on the grounds surrounding.  They noticed that rather oddly the servants were laying out baskets of vegetables to feed the large number of rabbits that roamed the grounds with impunity.  In Brandenbrass, which had few rats or other vermin, rabbits had become the city's pests.  It was a mark of Lord Danube's eccentricity that here they seemed to be treated as pets. Sister Bradywine showed some distaste at this gaudy and artless display of wealth.  The Figges had only recently come into the nobility, no more than three generations previously and solely due to their wealth.  The Charcuteries on the other hand were hereditary rulers of Vauquelin and related by blood to the ruling family of the great state of Haquitaine 

 

They were greeted fulsomely at the door by Mordhowe, Lord Danube's major domo and de facto factotum.  Mordhowe displayed a gentleness and refinement that belied his enormous stature and athletic frame.  After a lengthy journey through numerous halls and passageways, they came to what Mordhowe described as Lord Danube's ludion.  The sound of uneartly music came from within the training space.

When they entered they found the Great Man himself attempting to play a glass armonium by throwing daggers at the glass bowls.  Lord Danube noticed the visitors after he had smashed several of the instrument's bowls with a single shot.  His oddly colored eyes and completely bald head marked him as that most unusual combination of lazhars, a wit and laggard.  Sister Bradywine remembered some of the dark rumors that Lord Danube worked occasionally as an assassin.

 Before any discussion could occur, Mordhowe suddenly grasped one of the daggers and charged at his master, roaring madly.  Lord Danube adroitly flung a metal tray at the major domo, knocking the big man off of his feet.  

Before the shocked trio could react, Lord Danube and Mordhowe quickly gave their reassurances.  As he wiped blood from his nose with a spotless handkerchief, Mordhowe explained, "My lord was many enemies in the city, some quite powerful.  Several attempts on his life have occurred in just the past few months.  In order to keep himself prepared for such eventualities, he has instructed me top physically attack him without notice, in order that he, as they say, keeps on his toes."

Throgmorton who had been a noted brawler during his searfaring days, hoped to impress his new companions and took a friendly swing at the giant major domo.  Mordhowe easily grasped the striking fist, twisting his arm until Throgmorton collapsed to the floor.

"I hope I'm not inconveniencing you, sir." said the servant as he released the scourge sprained arm.  Throgmorton, wincing at his injured arm, laughed at the situation but then suddenly attempted another blow with his good arm.  Mordhowe easily caught the blow again.

"Much better, sir! You nearly surprised me that time."

The party retired to Lord Danny's library.  He explained that his father, the recently late Lord Gerrymander Figge had left instructions that the bulk of his estate should go to the one of his ten children who accomplished the most charitable occurances, knowing full well that they, taking after their father, were some of the horrible and uncaring people in the Half-Continent.  

"So I need to do good deeds, any that you got! Otherwise, I'll be limited to my allowance which, as you can see, limits me to living like a peasant!"

Sister Bradywine, while not approving of the motive, was gratified by the enthusiasm.  Sher reported that a child had been found by munklers cutting wood in the Holly Middens just beyond Luthian Glee, a small town to the northwest of the great city.  The boy reported that his family and friends, eekers living beyond human society had been attacked by fearsome monsters, some killed, some carried off whose fate was unknown.  The boy seemed to suffer bouts of madness and his tale was barely comprehensible.  Fortunately, an itinerate caladine had been passing by and took care of the boy, bringing him back to Brandenbrass to be treated by a physician to the poor who had developed a unique treatment of the mentally disturbed based upon kindliness.

"Excellent!" cried Lord Danny, "Just so long as you tell everyone that I am doing good deeds.  And by everyone, I mean the Man of Business handling my late father's estate."

They soon set off to find this unique physician, one Doctor Allucarde by name.  His small dispensary was found in a poor neighborhood called Liberty Folgate.  The good Docter, surprisingly youthful, greeted them with enthusiasm.  He confirmed the facts told to Sister Brandywine.  He added that the boy, named Amory, had occasionally had periods of lucidity in which the doctor had obtained what little history of the boy and his family that he could. The doctor's reason in summoning the aid of the calendars was that some of the boy's community might still be alive.  "These poor unfortunates need all the assistance we can render," said Sister Brandywine, "Even though, as eekers, they have been tainted by the accusation of sedonition.  All are worthy in the eyes of Providence."

The doctor showed them the boy, a thin, frail looking youth, no more than 12 years of age.  He seemed aware of the visitors but little he said made any sense.  "Click, click. Click, click, I can hear them," he said with terror showing in his eyes.  "The yellow flood comes, drowning so many.  The bloat of the drowned.  Polly taken away.  Click, click."  As the boy spoke he became more distressed and started to scream.  Roman reached over to him and the boy's body arched abruptly, the fulgar having sent a striving of electricity through the boy.  As the rest of the party argued with Roman, Bradywine went to the boy.  She pulled her hand away suddenly, a worm had fallen from the boy's body and attached itself to the pistoleer's finger.  The creature was burrowing rapidly into her finger, causing enormous pain.  Lord Danny expertly hurled a dagger that several the voracious thing in two, killing it.  They debated for some time as to it's nature and how the boy had been carrying it. In the end, they agreed they would seek the boy's family or at least find their fate.  They would leave at first light on the morrow.

For the night they returned to Chortle Grove. Roman, who had been reticent throughout revealed that he had another monster to seek.  He held up the scrap of paper he had retrieved at the Harefoot Dig.  It was a tip that a singular contract regarding a monster near Spelter Inning remained unfulfilled.  As that seemed to be along the rest of the group's way to the Holly Middens, he would accompany them in their endeavor if they first assisted him in vanquishing this other creature.  It was agreed.  

After a robust supper, they retired.  Sister Bradywine was provided with a room commensurate to her status but far too ornate for her taste.  Throgmorton was lead to a space so large compared to his usual hammock space aboard ship, he assumed more guests would be joining him.

 

He settled on the window seat which proved far more comfortable than most of his berths.  He was most surprised to wake in the morning to find himself alone.

Roman requested merely to be allowed to sleep in the mansion's basement.  Mordhowe showed him to spaces previously used by Lord Danube's younger brother Ural, who unfortunately was serving a period of incarceration in one of the Archduke's prisons, for the crimes of riot, mahem, and, perhaps his greatest crime, being an actor.  Roman stripped himself naked but with his staves at hand, soon fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, he awoke to a strong feeling that someone was present and watching him.  He glanced over to see a rabbit staring intently at him.  Instinctively, he brought one of the metal stave down upon the unfortunate creature's head, killing it instantly.  He heard a great moan and a feeling of great threwd permeated his whole being.

Much disturbed, he arose and dressed, returning one of the great halls.  Schamery, one of the night porters, built a fire and provided him with a pitcher of Juice of Orange.  Roman slept no more that night.

In the morning a large breakfast was served, Lord Danny enjoying a large pumpkin, well carved.  When Mordhowe informed Lord Danny of the unfortunate incident with the rabbit, the wit-laggard was much troubled.  When asked about his affinity for the verminous rabbits, he put them off, saying he cared for them in honor of a friend who had aided him in a time of need.

Mordhowe informed them that Lord Danny's laundelet was in readiness and that two sturdy horses, Faustus and Maudlin, were in the traces.   Upon exiting the mansion, Mordhowe introduced them to their driver, one Flossie Buckfuss of Cloudeslee.

She proved to be a small woman but with the energy of a taunt spring.  On her back she bore a large composite bow such as the bowmen of her nations used, the famed toxothetes. With a surprisingly deep voice, she expressed her thanks to Lord Danny for again hiring her.

They proceeded on the route by which Lord Danny usually left the city, a series of back streets that would avoid the great western gate of the Twin Sisters, which was heavily guarded by the Archduke's men, whom Lord Danny seemed desirous of avoiding as much as possible. As they reached the suburbs, they turned onto a narrow street known as the Fistduke's Way.

An extremely tardy ox cart blocked their way and slowed the carriage's movement to a crawl.  Another cart was crossing the street behind them, moving even slower.

Lord Danny looked out of the carriage window and spied a rabbit along the roadside, looking intently upon the carriage.  It rose on its hind legs and let out a squeek.  Lord Danny, seeing this, called out a warning to his fellow travelled.  He then raised his hand to his head, sending a frisson of witly energy into the mind of the ox.

The stricken beast bolted toward the end of the street, its drover being left standing in the middle of the road.  Buckfuss urged the horses forward.  As the ox driver aimed a large heptibus at the Faustus and Maudlin, Bradywine fired a pistol at the man dropping him before he could fire.

Four musketeers emerged from behind a couple of carts placed next to the roadway.  As they aimed at the carriage, Throckmorton threw a loomblaze into their midst. It landed among the gunmen and burst, scorching them but leaving them well enough alive.  Buckfuss turned the carriage sideways to provide what cover the lightly made vehicle could provide.

Two additional men appeared on a balcony above them.  Two more appeared on the second ox cart to their rear.  A volley of shots struck the carriage.  One struck Trogmorton in the chest, piercing his proofing and sending him back against the carriage door.

Bleeding heavily, Throgmortom crawled from the carriage to crouch behind some stone steps.  He hastily poured a dose of thrombis into the bullet wound to stem the bleeding.

 

Sister Bradywine leapt into the street while Lord Danny laid down on the floor of the carriage and aimed his long rifle at the advancing assailants.

He shot one directly between the eyes.

At the same time, Bradywine drew aim at the two men in the balcony.  Her shot hit the barrel of the musket of the first man just as he pulled the trigger to fire.  The force of the shot pushed the gun into the face of the other man just as the bullet was leaving the barrel.  It killed him instantly.

While the first musketeer recoild in horror at the shooting of his friend, Bradywine fired a second shot that killed him as well.

In the meantime, Roman had grabbed the reins of the ox that Danny had witted.  He guided the cart to the end of the street, turning around the corner to clear the road.

Suddenly, three swordsmen emerged from a nearby building.  The thin, glassy blades in their hands marked them as sabrine adepts.

They flung themselves on Danny and Brandywine.  With two skillful slashes, Brandywine fell to the street, the ancient blade cutting through her proofing and deeply into her shoulder. The other two adepts slashed into Danny.  He blocked one with his long rifle but the other sliced deeply into his ribs. Barely conscious, he scrambled out of the carriage.

Buckfuss leapt onto the hood of the carriage, her bow sending out a rapid volley that drove the terrible swordsmen back.

At that moment, Throckmorton flung a Bitterbright in front of them, the blaze keeping the swordsmen back for the moment. He then dragged Sister Brandywind behind the carriage where he might treat her deadly wounds.

The respite allowed Danny to reload his long rifle and fire it at the adept who had so sorely wounded him. 

 The heavy ball struck the man in the head, killing him.  The other swordsmen and the mass of musketeers were preparing to rush the severely weakened party.

Roman, who was used to fighting monsters but had never engaged in combat with men, hesitated.  In the midst of treating Bradywine, Throckmorton,  cast his gaze upon the hesitating fulgar, his eyes flashing with inquiry and entreaty.

Roman drew himself up, aiming his stave at the sky, urging the too mild clouds to bring forth lighting.  Using every ounce of his strength, the stave began to vibrate in his hands.  There was a loud CRACK of thunder.

Lighting hit cut forth from the sky, touching upon Roman's stave.  He directed it at the attackers.  

The lightening arced from body to body, each of the assailants suffering its blast in turn.

All was quiet in the street, save the crackling of the burning bodies and the occasional pop of one of their gunpowder charges.

Realizing that hiring three sabrine adepts was beyond the means of most brigands, Danny admitted that he had been the target of the Archduke's ire these past few months.  He and his companions had caused the Archduke to lose face and the Emperor's favor.  The Archduke could not risk open conflict with Fayelillian by taking direct action and so had resorted to hired assassins.

"Good thing we are leaving the city, let thing cool down a bit."  Picking up the melt ruin of one of the adept's therimoir, "Cool down, literally!" 

They quickly left the scene and soon arrived at the small postern that provided exit to the last of the city's defenses.  The officer in charge of the gate guard appeared shocked at party's appearance.  The ambush had been near enough that the sound of the fight should have reached them here.  The officer undoubtedly assumed that ambush would succeed.  He tried to delay the carriage, claiming their papers were not in order.

"No, my friend," said Danny, "I think we'll be leaving now."

Seeming ready to order his men to arrest the party but then ooking at the bloody mess of the carriage, the many weapons of the party, and the angry, determined looks on their faces, the officer quietly ordered that they be allowed to pass.

And their hunt for the monsters began.

To be continued...