Mörk Borg - session 2

Fangs, Flesh, and Fuckups

Fangs, Flesh and Fuckups

Trigger warnings: domestic violence, harsh language, gore

Welcome to session 2 of my Mörk Borg play through! The previous installment can be read here, but if you’re new here, I suggest you start with session 0.

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Day 3

Days left to Valley of the Unfortunate dead: 5
Roll for Nechrubel (d10): 6 => no Misery
Roll for weather (d12): 8 => Soup-thick mist

I woke up with cold sweat all over my fucking face. Panic-stricken, I flailed my arms blindly around me, but there was no-one there. Slowly, cautiosly, I rose up to a sitting position and looked around—in the early morning gloom, I could barely make out the silhouettes of the other beds in the room where the hosts where sleeping—the father, the mother, and the boy. It all came rushing back in an instant; the well, and that repulsive, ugly thing. I had to clasp my hands in front of my mouth to stifle a scream, as a wave of nausea hit me.

It had looked me straight in the eyes, and it had spoken?! I rose from the makeshift bed as quietly as I could, trying not to wake the rest of the family. My clothes had been folded on a chair next to the hearth to dry. They were dry to the touch, but the smell that wafted from them was abhorrent. But I didn’t have anything else, so this would have to do.

As I’d gotten dressed, I tried to lightly step to the door, but the floorboards groaned loudly even under my small weight, and I cursed under my breath as I saw the man of the house open his eyes. The man roused his wife and whispered something to her, then got up and got dressed.

“Leaving already?” he asked, and I nodded in response.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, unfortunately.”

“Where are you headed? Do you need directions?”

For some unknown reason, I didn’t want to disclose my destination to this man—a feeling in my gut told me he wasn’t trustworthy. When in doubt, always trust your gut.

“West,” I said, hoping it was vague enough but not so vague as to prompt more questions.

Now the wife had also gotten up.

“Will you at least stay for breakfast?” she asked, and I didn’t have it in me to refuse, even though I wanted nothing more than get the hell out of this place.

As I waited for the service, I decided to clean my sword so it doesn’t rust. That’s when I saw it—a torn rag of the creature was still stuck on the blade. I shuddered from the memory as I removed it. During the breakfast, I decided against my better judgement to ask about the thing in the well.

“It said ‘mamma’, and seemed to recognize your boy,” I said and nodded towards the still sleeping figure visible through the doorway. “Do you know what it could have been?”

General Adventuring Move (PRE) (2d20-1 vs 10): 2 | 2 vs 10 => Miss with Match

I knew I’d fucked up, bringing the topic up when the man’s spoon stopped midway in its motion, and he shot a quick glance at his wife, before turning his eyes, blackened by pure rage, towards me.

“Just what the FUCK are you suggesting?” he spat through his teeth, words dripping with venom. “That we’d somehow know what that horrible monster in our village well was?” He dropped his spoon into the bowl of porridge in front of him and pushed his chair back with enough force to send it clattering on the floor, waking the boy.

“Stop it, Artos!” the wife said. “You’re waking Thomas.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” the man said, yelling now. “Would’ve been for the better if he’d drowned with that other bastard of yours!”

He turned his gaze to me. “I suggest you get the hell out of here, while you can still manage on your own,” he said through clenched teeth, pointing at the door.

I did not need need another hint. I stood up, thanked the lady of the house for the meal and all but ran outside. Behind me, I heard unmistakable sound of a palm making contact with someone’s face, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who played which part...

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As I got out, I was met with a thick fog—I could barely see a couple of steps ahead of me. No matter, I had places to be and I could not leave this sorry ass village behind fast enough. But I was also painfully conscious about the fact that I was about to run out of food. The fog would not make hunting any easier, but it would also conceal my presence, and so maybe I could do some foraging to bolster my dwindling supplies.

Spending a day foraging (d6): 3 => you find d6+3 = 6 rations of good food or fresh water => 9 rations

I didn’t stray too far from the village, not wanting to get lost. There was a small patch of forest nearby, where I found several days worth of mushrooms and berries, and a stream of fresh water. While filling my waterskins, it occurred to me that I never warned the villagers about not using water from the well, but it’s their own damn fault for being ungrateful. I’d saved the day.

I made camp in the forest, not wanting to show my face in the village again.

Camp (PRE) (2d20 vs DR12): 10 | 18 vs 12 => Weak hit
-1 ration => 8
+1 Omen = 2

Who or what contacts you? (d20): 5 => Warrior that changed loyalties
Reaction (2d6): 5 => Angered
Disposition (d66): 41 => Sickly/Gaunt
Class: Fanged Deserter (chose this because, come on, warrior that changed loyalties? Of course he’s a deserter)
Toughness: (3d6): 9 => 0
Strength (3d6+2): 13 => +1
Agility (3d6-1): 8 => -1
Presence (3d6-1): 12 => 0
HP (d10+Toughness) => 9
Weapon (d12): 3 => Shortsword (d4)
Ability (d6): 5 => Ancient Gore-Hound
Name (d6 + d8): 5, 3 => Risten

I’d just nodded off when I heard a twig snap. Someone was trying to sneak up on me. I got up, sword in hand.

“Who’s there?” I asked the darkness, nervously waving my sword in the direction of the noise I thought I’d heard.

“Name’sss Risssten,” a lisped voice came from the darkness. “Time to die!”

“Wait,” I yelled. “What do you want? Can we not talk about this?”

That’s when Risten stepped into the light of my small fire. My eyes were immediately drawn to the disfigured face—sporting enormous, protruding yellowed teeth. They looked sharp, unlike the face they belonged to.

“I... am.. HUNGRY. I haven’t eaten for dayssss....” he lisped. “Not sssinccce I left my unit behind...”

“I’ve got some food to spare,” I said. “If you like mushroom stew?”

Does he accept Felban’s offer? (d4): 1 => Yes
-1 ration => 7

“I’d rather tassste flesssshhhh, but... it’ll do for now.”

Risten sat down next to the campfire and dug in to the mushroom stew I had saved for the next day. He ate like a fucking pig, but then, what can you expect. I tried to initiate some small talk to get to know him a little better—figure out if the man is to be trusted or not.

“So, Risten. Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Asssss long assss I get away from *him*.”

He didn’t elaborate, so I had to pry. “Him?”

“Captain Shitsssstain,” Risten lisped and grinned at me.

“I take it that’s not his real name?”

“It’sss Ssssiebensssstein, but what doesss it matter?”

We talked for a bit more before going back to sleep. I made a point of sleeping with my sword in my hand and one eye open. Risten was fast asleep by the time I finally drifted off.

Day 4

Days left to Valley of the Unfortunate dead: 5
Calendar of Nechrubel (d10): 6 =>No misery
Weather (d12): 9 => Crackling frost
Is Risten still sleeping (d4): No

As I woke up, I was surprised to see that Risten had woken up before me and already had a fire going. Well, at least he didn’t kill me in my sleep. Might’ve been better off that way—I had a splitting headache to deal with. But it told something about his trustworthiness. I figured I could use the extra pair of hands to deal with the “friend” in the Valley.

“So Risten, if you don’t have any other plans in mind, would you like to join me on my travels? I’m heading for the Valley of the Unfortunate Dead. Plenty of flesh to be had there, I reckon, if you’re not picky.”

General Adventuring Move: PRE (2d20-1 vs DR12): 18 | 11 -> reroll: 13 vs 12 => Strong Hit
-1 Omen = 1

“Ssssoundsss good to me,” Risten said.

After a brief breakfast, we set off again, the snow crackling under our feet as we walked.

What’s the road like (d8): 7 => Well-paved road
Events by road (d20): 12 => A religious procession of flagellants and hermits (They seek to see HIM but lost their way)
Crowd size (I’ll use 1-2 of the d4, larger seems unreasonable) d2: 2 => d20+12 = 27

Near midday, we saw a large group of people coming towards us. My first instinct was to hide—the group was so large we wouldn’t stand a chance if they’re hostile. I motioned for Risten to follow me, and we sprinted behind some bushes a fair bit away from the road.

GAM: Try to hide = AGI (2d20+2 vs DR12): 16 | 7 vs 12 => Weak hit
Who? d20 (1-10 = Felban, 11-20 = Risten): 2 => Felban
Damage (d4): 1 => No damage (Armor)

As I dove into the cover of the bushes, I had the unfortunate luck to dive right onto a Dredgehog that was also hiding there. I felt the daggers on it’s cut through my robes, but managed to just catch the fall with my hands enough to not be pricked by them.

“Nechrubel’s balls!” I hissed. “That was too close.”

Risten motioned for me to be quiet. The procession went past seemingly without noticing us, chanting something unintelligible. When they’d vanished from sight, we continued forward.

As the sun started to sink below the horizon, we felt we’d walked enough for the day, and as fate would have it, we spotted an abandoned hovel. A quick scouting proved it to be empty, and we decided to camp in it, taking turns who’s on watch. I took the first watch. Risten fell asleep right away, and I spent the time brewing more Spider-Owl Soup and a batch of Black Poison.

Camp: PRE 2d20 - 1 vs DR12: 4 | 7 vs 12 => Miss
d4: 3 zombies

A couple of hours went by, then I heard a faint scratching noise from the hovel door. Soon, it intensfied, and I roused Risten.

“We’ve got company.”

He nodded and palmed his shortsword. I tried to spy from gaps between the wall boards of the hovel but couldn’t see anything in the dark. But now we both could hear the moans. Zombies.

“Ready? On three. One... two...”

“THREE!” I yelled, and ripped the door of the hovel open.

Iniative (d6): 1 => Enemies go first
3x Nodh (zombie, 7HP, -d2 armor, d2 claw/bite (if bitten, Toughness vs DR8 or get infected and die within 2 days))
1-2: Claw, 3-4: Bite
Target d20: 1-10: Felban, 11-20: Risten

Round 1

Nodh 1: 3 = Bite vs 14 = Risten, d20-1 = 2 vs 12 => Hit => -2HP = 7, infected: d20 = nat 1 vs 8 => YES!

One of the zombies had stood close enough to the door, leaning on it and came crashing in, taking Risten by surprise. It sunk it’s teeth deepo into Risten’s hand, and Risten yelled in agony as it tore a piece clean off.

Nodh 2: 3 = Bite vs 20 = Risten, d20-1 = 17 vs 12 => Miss

The second zombie shambled after the first one and also tried to bite him, but Risten managed to avoid it’s snapping jaws.

Nodh 3: 1 = Claw, 6 = Felban, d20+2 = 10 vs 12 => Hit, => 2dmg -d2 = 2 => 0dmg

The third zombie couldn’t make it over the first one that had fallen down after biting Risten, but swiped at me, shredding the outer layer of my leather robe, but otherwise leaving me unscathed. In response, I swung my sword.

Felban: d20 + 3  = 17 vs 12 => Hit => d6 = 1 => 0dmg

My attack was as uneffective as my attacker’s.

Risten: d20 + 1 = 18 vs 12 => Hit => d4 = 1 => 0dmg

Risten stabbed the closest zombie with his shortsword but failed to get any force behind it.

Round 2:

Initiative (d6): 4 => PC’s go first

As I’d seen Risten got bitten, I decided to make a run for it.

Felban: Flee From Combat, PRE (2d20 + 2) vs 11 + 3: 20 | 4 vs 14 => Weak hit => AGI (d20 +2) vs 12 => nat 20 => succesfully fled

I jumped over the zombie lying in front of me, and ducked under the swipe of another one.

“I’m sorry, Risten!” I yelled to the wounded man swarmed by the zombies.

“Don’t leave me, you basssstard!” he yelled back, hacking away at the zombies but I barely heard him, as I had already put a reasonable distance between me and the hovel-become-deathtrap.

After running for a mile or two, I stopped to catch my breath, listening for any sounds. Nothing. I felt like a bastard for leaving the poor sod behind, but what the hell, he’d already been bitten, so he’d probably turn, soon, anyway. I don’t want to be close by when that happens, not with the teeth on that fucker.

I crept in below the branches of a nearby spruce and tried to get some shuteye, pushing away the images of Risten being eaten alive flashing inside my eyelids.

Camping: d20 (guaranteed weak or strong hit after resolving the previous encounter, 1-10=Weak hit, 11-20=Strong hit): 12 => Strong hit
-1 ration = 6
+1 Omen = 1

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Afterthoughts

I tried to draw a picture of the hovel they found, but it looked even worse than my pitiful attempt at Risten’s portrait. Didn’t make much progress towards the Valley in this session, unfortunately. I was really glad about managing to recruit a companion for Felban, but as it turned out, Risten was not long for this world, and being a coward, I think Felban even seeing that Risten was bitten by the zombies, would have ended their friendship right then and there. The whole reason I even rolled for whether Risten was already awake was, Felban would’ve probably tried to kill Risten in his sleep, if he had the chance. Either that or snuck away without waking him.

Let me know what you thought of the session in the comments below, so I can correct if there’s anything you’d like to see done differently:

Other than that, I thank you for reading and I’ll see you in the next one!