Wolves Upon the Coast - Session #6
Hark, my brothers and sisters, and listen as I regale you with yet another tale of the Brimuxi and her crew! The quest for riches and glory continues in Luke Gearing’s Wolves Upon the Coast! If you you missed out on last week’s voyage check out the recap here. Our system of choice remains T. Thomas Giant’s As Above, So Below, an OSR hack inspired primarily by Cairn and Into the Odd.
The Crew of the Brimuxi
Gripard the Near-Sighted - Hails from Faroe. He willingly signed on to Snori the Craven’s crew to avoid starvation. Understands some arcane secrets.
Gull the Wanderer - Hails from Ruislip, in the northwest. He is of humble stock, but his kin did not appreciate his talents. Their parting of ways was mutual, but it wasn’t long before he was captured by the Norse.
Haoelkbaeolker “Bulkor” the Foul - Hails from Littitie. Also called Bulkor, he was banished by his kin for being a general nuisance and ass. It is a wonder we haven’t killed him ourselves.
Lurg Who-Laughs-At-Death - Hails from Littitie, a faraway and distant land. A proud, barbarian warrior - he is slow to trust others, including members of the Brimuxi’s crew. He has earned a new title thanks to his courage in the face of a horde of reanimated skeleton warriors.
Pádraig the Skald - Hails from Mar, a coastal land to the east of the North Sea. He was betrayed by his mentor, who grew jealous of Pádraig's growing popularity amongst their kin, and sold to the Norse as a galley slave.
The Sixth Voyage
Lurg started the morning strong with cries for a hunt. Given that I was still recovering from my wounds sustained battling the dead I had little stake in such things. I will do my best to recant the events of my compatriots as they said them to me upon their return from the hunt. Well, I suppose the day actually started with Lurg telling us about how his people have a deep history of hunting and trapping beavers. In fact, he told us that there’s an ancient Littitian phrase that when translated to Norse means “to break open a nut.” Apparently it has something to do with the sound of a beaver’s skull being broken.
The Littitians are a strange people…
Anyway, it was Lurg and Gripard who trekked into the wilderness, taking Ermelandus of the Christian Court of King Roderik and one of the oarsmen with them. This left Gull, Bulkor, and myself with the Witch Edicia, with whom we shared no tongue. Lurg spake of a stealthy approach and a dam that dwarfed even the greatest of buildings we had spotted during our time sailing under Snori the Craven’s command. Truly the description of this marvel made me yearn to leave the camp the very night he told the tale to behold it myself!
The story of the hunt continues thusly: knowing that the beavers favor the wood of the poplar tree, Lurg sought out such a tree. Having no such luck regarding the locating of a tree, Gripard instead offered up the solution of fire - burn the dam and chase the beavers out. Lurg was resistant to the idea, as the pelts could be damaged by the smoke and flames. The continued plotting and planning for seemingly hours (by the way they told the story) before settling for some simple but effective snares. Hardly the stuff of legends, but cunning is more valuable than valor in nearly every situation.
Lurg climbed atop the dam and smashed at it with his mighty axe. The beavers fled through the river and Lurg ordered the oarsman to give chase. Misunderstanding, our companion dove into the water and swam after their quarry. I heard the made Ermelandus mocked them with a quiet smirk once more before running alongside the river, watching the beavers from the safety of the bank. Lurg and Gripard followed the rest, racing down the riverbanks until they found the beavers, exhausted and painting on the muddy shores. Their deaths were swift and two prime pelts were acquired.
With the hunt concluded Lurg and Gripard returned as the sun set, each carrying a hefty beaver. We would feast for days upon this bounty and the belts will likely fetch us a nice sum at a proper market.
The next day Lurg and Gripard took Ermelandus and scouted out the witches’ elm. The weather turned against them - the rain ended for the first time in over a week, but chasing it was an oppressive heat. It was Gripard who spun the tale of this venture, so I will endeavor to recant it as accurately as I can: at the base of the witches’ elm was a robed figure, immoveable in their observation. Lurg crept closer and found that the figure was nothing more than a skeleton enshrouded in its ancient tattered cloak. Fearing a foul curse, the duo retreated from the clearing and returned to our camp mere hours after the sun had set beneath the horizon.
On the third day of our recovery Gripard and Lurg set out to scout the final site near our encampment - the hut of a witch hated by Edicia. The details of this excursion were difficult to parse, as our two companions spoke over one another in their haste to retell the story. They spoke of hundreds of talismans, wards, fetishes, and totems - powerful tools for one hoping to practice magic! Not wanting to risk being found by the witch without the rest of the crew but hoping to establish communication, Gripard wrote her a note in Noose and hid it beneath a stone in front of the cottage.
Gripard, perhaps taking on traits of his title, did not notice the opening of the cottage door until it was nearly too late. He beheld an old woman - tan and hunched and well-accustomed to the rigors of living on the frontier. She called out in Norse - a blessing from Daudi, the Faceless if ever there was one! Our companions remained hidden, though Lurg swore the witch spotted him amidst the brush, and when the woman returned to her cottage they absconded into the night, returning to camp. With little else to do around our camp we stayed by our ship until everyone healed from their wounds.
At week’s end we discussed our next steps - Gull the Wanderer mentioned an interest in the hut, which I quickly leapt upon to second. The chance to obtain one of her charms would be a great boon for one such as myself. Lurg and Gripard took point, leading us through the winding wild paths to the cottage. Lurg approached the cottage boldly and knocked upon the door, summoning the witch forthwith. He gave her the tale of our woes thus far and in return she invited us in for stew. The interior of her abode was tiny and dominated by an enormous table that would seat all of us, including Ermelandus, who remained wary.
While we ate the witch introduced herself as Ariadnh the Charmer before spinning a tale of the Yisharu, a foul monster on the western end of the isle that sets out at night to consume the flesh of nearby villagers. Ariadnh begged us to retrieve the violet blood of this creature, and in exchange she would give us a valuable secret. The witch told us of the City of Muru, which rests in the great bay to the south, which is made of bricks and mud. Its main point of interest to “wanderers” (as she called us) is a palace - one such palace with a secret entrance she just so happened to know of. I asked about the Yisharu and its powers - she described a great bat-like creature that will drain the blood of its prey until it is too engorged to move (I confess I looked to Ermelandus when she shared this information - he would make for suitable bait), but also warned that the local Noose venerate this beast.
We left Ariadhn’s cottage and marched past the camp and returned to the witches’ elm. Upon seeing the skeleton most of us (myself included, I must admit) murmured and skittered amongst ourselves, fearing to venture closer to the tree. Gull the Wanderer, having no so fear, walked up to the skeleton and discovered that the skeleton remained attached to the tree by its robes, which were nailed to the ancient wood. Within the skeleton’s mouth were three wisdom teeth, which Gull skillfully removed from its mouth before passing along to me. They were warm to the touch, almost as if they had been in a living mouth. Upon closer inspection it was clear that they were not real teeth, but a cunning facsimile - weathered and yellow. I pocketed them before inspecting the tree more closely.
It was then I realized I do not know much about trees.
We returned to our camp with the intention of asking Edicia about the strange “teeth.” We found her tent arranged in a peculiar fashion, as if she was finally satisfied with the positions of the totems. I presented her with the teeth and asked what they did. Her answer was cryptic, but she promised power, but at a cost. After all “a tooth belongs in a mouth.” Gull tried to ask what power it could provide, but I quickly lost patience with his questions and ripped out one of my teeth to make room for one of the wizard’s teeth. Not wishing to wait and lose face (or momentum) I placed one of the teeth in my mouth, replacing the removed molar.
Over the next few minutes a sense flowed through me - I became intimately aware of the brazier in Edicia’s tent and could feel the wailing of lost souls sacrificed there. Not wanting to be outdone, Gull took one of the two remaining teeth and placed it in his mouth after his own bloody display - he would later tell us he could sense the impending strike of lightning. We both offered the remaining tooth, but none in our party would take it. Gull told me to take the tooth. My second extraction was a success, but I failed to insert the new tooth properly. Already I can tell that it will cause me pain until I had someone treat it. But the powers were quite valuable - I could summon a cloud of fog if I inhaled and exhaled rapidly enough to render myself unconscious.
We would venture out soon, but that tale is for another day!
