Wolves Upon the Coast - Session #7
Welcome, my friends, and lend your ear as I tell you once more about the crew of the Brimuxi! Our search of wealth and glory carries on 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 Seventh Voyage
My mouth pained as my battered gums worked to accept my new “teeth.” I found myself barely able to speak thanks to my botched attempt at surgery. I begged my companion Gripard the Near-Sighted to ask the Witch Edicia for the chance at a cure. She told us it wouldn’t be a problem, but she would need a particular ingredient - the blood of a man to heal the wounds of a man. After an, in my opinion, an unnecessary amount of time wasted defining exactly how much blood we would need, I suggested we offer up Ermelandus of the Christian Court of King Roderik to the witch. Gull readily agreed and after some discussion we brought Gripard around to the idea. Lurg was resistant to the idea, which I found a little upsetting, given my pledge to help him Angvar the Spineless come hell or high water. The bonds of brotherhood appear rather easily broken amongs the Littitians…
Our discussion was without cause, as the Witch told us she would need a day to prepare for such a ritual. This immediately spurred a discussion of traveling to the nearest city, at which point Lurg promised that we’d return. I found myself distrusting his word. Regardless, we set off the next morning, making our way along the coast as Daudi the Faceless used their magic to obscure the sun behind endless clouds and fog. Despite the overcast, Lurg was able to spot a fire along the shore as well as a canoe of sorts and a single traveler - a potential sacrifice. We brought the Brimuxi about, landing not far from the stranger. He stood up and approached us fearlessly. I noted that smiled, albeit wearily, and that he had a nice hat.
Gripard hailed him in Arabic, to which the figure replied in kind (as far as I could tell). They spoke at length until such a time when we overheard me mutter something. Their ears were sharp and they detected my Maryn accent and spoke to me in my own tongue. I immediately changed my mind about this traveler. I asked for their name, but they simply replied that “Friend” would suffice. They told us a tale of their expedition with nineteen companions, who died one by one until only they lived, at which point they left the island and buried a key to an ancient tomb. They offered to sell us the location of said key for the “paltry sum” of one thousand silver.
We confessed we didn’t have such a fortune and parted ways. There was a brief debate as to whether or not we should have attempted to capture him. Gull was unsure, and I didn’t wish to bring harm upon the first person capable of speaking my language after many months. We resumed our journey, once more hugging the coast until, after several hours, we spied the largest settlement I have ever beheld. My people, the Mar, have a considerable skill in architecture, but our style of building blends into the earth - many homesteads built into hillsides and fortresses crafted from shaped earthworks. This city boasted many a great stone buildings, including a towering temple with more columns that I could easily count.
Around the city was a sea of golden wheat, on the other side of which was a smaller village. As we sailed closer to the city Gull stated that we should find someone we “wouldn’t feel bad about killing, like a criminal.” I asked why this was a concern - we were raiders! The last year or more of our lives was spent raiding, killing, and pillaging! Lurg snapped at me and said our search for such a person was my fault. I do not disagree, but I grew tired of his inane prattling and retrieved the grudge bone of Angvar the Spineless and snapped it over my knee before tossing into the water. Lurg Who-Laughs-At-Death clearl only cared for himself, and this made him no brother of mine. He could seek vengeance for his grudge on his own, Pádraig the Skald would be of no aid to him in this.
Gull directed the ship closer to the city. Several small ships approached us and began shouting in Noose, demanding to know our business in the City of Muru. Gripard explained that we were there to trade, at which point they led us to the docks and ordered us off the Brimuxi so they could inspect it. They tore through the meager contents of our ship, upending every crate and barrel and turning up nothing - not that we expected anything else. He excused us with a warning that we needed to follow the rules unless we wanted to be sacrificed at the altar of Kovatu, their ancient and no doubt powerful god. As he turned to leave Gull asked him if we would be able to sell the Roman standard in the city. The harbormaster indicated that few would be willing to purchase it to use as anything more than “an ass wipe.”
Then Gull lost all reason and sanity and asked the harbormaster if there were any “spare sacrifices that we could take off their hands.” I swear the gods must have lent me great strength to stop me from strangling Gull then and there in the City of Muru. I don’t know what possessed Gull to ask such a question, and by his expression (for I could not understand his Noose speech) the harbormaster held similar questions in his own mind. Perhaps worried that he was standing before an unhinged madman the harbormaster simply warned us again to behave or he would have us sent to the altar of Kovatu to be sacrificed to the old gods.
Unsure of where to go next, we wandered through the docks until we found ourselves in the marketplace where Lurg traded the beaver pelts for fifty pieces of silver. Our next course of action would be to make our way to the boarding house in search of a viable sacrifice for the witch and her foul cure.
But that will be a story for another day! Be sure to bring plenty of ale when you return!
