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Rotblack Sludge, part I
Two posts in a month! It’s a Christmas miracle.
Today I’ll be subjecting Hargha and Svind to the delights of The Accursed Den, an infamous underground locale where no free man would willingly go. The adventure is called Rotblack Sludge, and it’s available for free from the Mörk Borg website here. There may be spoilers ahead, assuming this hapless pair survive long enough to reach anything interesting.
Also, I’m going to embellish pretty much everything to my own tastes, so even if you’ve played this adventure already, there should be something here for you I hope.
Also also, content warning. It’s going to get pretty grim, and the language might upset those of a nervous disposition.
Hargha shuffled forward a few more steps and reflexively licked his cracked lips uselessly. The judgement hall was a furnace in the midsummer sunshine, and the last thing he’d had to drink was yesterday, before the guards caught him and Svind. The piss-weak beer had probably been salted, come to that. The thought made him flinch and lick his lips again, still as useless as before; his mouth felt like an oven as the thirst and fever raged through him.
He glanced at his companion and, not for the first time, indulged in a quiet fantasy of brutally murdering the man. Svind had assured him the plan was flawless. An entrance to the catacombs that no-one used anymore. A quick, quiet trip into the old burial halls, and then back out again with whatever grave-goods might fetch a decent price. It would indeed have been flawless, had Svind been able to keep his mouth shut, but that bragging imbecile had mentioned his plan to one too many people, and the guards were waiting for them as they left.
The line shuffled forward again, and a man shrieked, fighting weakly but desperately against the two guards who dragged him away. One for the breakers, by the sound of it. Hargha wasn’t a religious man, but he whispered a prayer to anything who might be listening that he’d just get the hangman. A quick drop wouldn’t be so bad, especially compared to the death that awaited those handed over to the breakers, with their little smiles and hoods and oh so many hammers. Besides, you can’t be thirsty when you’re dead, and that sounded pretty good right now.
When they’d be caught, they’d been beaten until they confessed. Not that it was needed; they were caught with a handful of ancient golden coins that could only have come from a tomb, but the guards had to have their little fun. Then they’d been tossed in the dungeons under the judgement hall. The warders there charged three silver for a cracked cup of water, and the silver he and Svind had been carrying had been taken by the guards as “evidence”.
Only a couple more people ahead of them…then only one…and finally they were both shoved onto the pedestal in front of the judges. Robed in moth-eaten cloth of maroon and gold that covered their faces, the judges nevertheless radiated contempt and disgust at the sight of the men in front of them. Hargha’s head buzzed, but he caught the tail end of what they were saying.
“…found engaged in heretical theft of goods within the catacombs. What do you have to say in your defence?”
Hargha made an effort to speak, but it was hopeless. His tongue was a thick slab of dried meat stuck to his lower jaw. Besides, what would he say anyway? He hoped Svind had enough sense to keep his damn fool mouth shut, or if not that he was similarly parched.
The judges regarded them for a moment, then continued. “The sentence for heresy of this kind is death, to be carried out by-“
“Just a moment.” Another voice rang out, dry and dusty like the slamming of an ancient book, and there was a small stir among the judges. Hargha raised his head with an effort, and saw a small man standing off to one side of the lecterns, his face covered by a wooden mask covered in carvings of eyes. A seer. “I have a use for these two, if it pleases your lordships?” A strange, tittering laugh came from behind the mask.
Of course it pleased the judges. No-one would dare to question the will of a seer. “As you command, seer, we obey.” The judge who’d spoken turned to look at Hargha again. “Your worthless life has been extended by the great kindness of this man, you maggot. Ensure that you do not disappoint him. Take them away.” A toss of the head, and the guards dragged Hargha and Svind off to the side.
A few moments later, they were standing in the quarters of the seer. The whole place tasted of dust and age. The walls were covered in thick books with cracked leather bindings, and the floor was deep with drifts of dust. A jewelled carafe stood on a desk, with two glasses next to it. Hargha couldn’t take his eyes off it, but didn’t dare move towards it either. The seer sat behind the desk, observing them keenly.
“Now. You two seem like a pair of hardy chaps, and hopefully ones who can keep a secret. I have a small job for you. Succeed, and you’ll be free to go. How does that sound?” Again, that strange giggle sounded.
To his horror, Hargha heard Svind rouse himself. He knew, with absolute certainty, that the big man was about to open his mouth and say something stupid. With the last of his strength, Hargha drove his elbow hard into Svind’s gut, dropping him coughing to the floor.
“We…uh…we accept, your highness” he managed, somehow, then fell to coughing.
“Splendid, splendid!” The seer paused, then slowly poured a glass of water and drank it thoughtfully. Hargha nearly rushed at him to seize the glass, but controlled himself with gritted teeth. He had an unnerving feeling that the little man was smiling at him behind his mask. “Now then, this is strictly between us. The king’s son has been missing for some time, and we believe he is imprisoned in a lair outside of town known colloquially as ‘the accursed den’. Find him, bring him out and above all hold your tongues about this matter, and our bargain will be complete. Is that acceptable?”
Hargha nodded, swallowing painfully. “Excellent! It seems we understand each other, but just to be sure: if you were thinking of, say, running off at the first opportunity or telling anyone that the king’s son is missing, well…I was having a little chat with the master of the torture chambers yesterday, and he was lamenting that everyone seems to confess so quickly these days. No challenge at all, very frustrating for a master craftsman such as himself. Do I make myself plain? Good.”
There is a table of “truths” that the seer can provide at this point, so let’s see what we get. Of course, these “truths” aren’t necessarily true…
“I have tried to scry this place, but it is powerfully warded even for one such as I. All I can tell you is that there is an ancient man living there within a ruined room. You would do well to avoid him. I can sense something else, but it is vague…something that hungers in the depths, some enormous creature like a vast intestine.”
The seer looked off into the middle distance for a moment, then appeared to come back to reality. “Now, go.” He held up an arm, the sleeve falling back to reveal an impossibly wrinkled hand, and snapped his fingers. Immediately a pair of guards appeared behind the two men. “Take them to the place that we discussed. See that you return their belongings, but do not give them any water until you arrive. We wouldn’t want them getting any ideas on the journey, would we? Best to keep them nice and weak.”
Hargha was not a vengeful man by nature. Not because he was particularly noble or forgiving, but simply because he was used to living in Tveland; if you tried to get revenge on everyone who treated you like shit, you’d have no time to do anything else. Nevertheless, as he was dragged from that chamber, half-mad with thirst and with that horrible tittering laugh ringing in his ear, as he bounced and twisted on the rough timbers of the cart under the blazing sun, his hands tied behind him, he swore he’d pay another visit to the seer one day.
The pair were unceremoniously dumped in front of a stone archway leading to rough-cut stairs descending into the earth. A light flickered from somewhere deep below.
Hargha took a moment to check his gear. To his surprise, the guards had done exactly what they’d been told to do, and all his equipment was here. Even his money pouch contained roughly what he thought had been in there before. His waterskin was now empty of course, as was Svind’s. He looked over, and saw Svind examining his sword thoughtfully. When the big man saw Hargha looking over, he grinned.
“Told you I was lucky! The gods themselves smiled on my birth, friend. You just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”
Hargha briefly considered strangling him, but decided against it. There’d be plenty of time for that later if they survived whatever awaited them in that hole.
They descended cautiously into the gloom, and eventually emerged into a small room with a stale smell. A lit oil lantern flickered uncertainly overhead in the draught from the entrance. Running across the floor of the room, there was a small stream of water running from holes in the walls to a grate in the middle, with black-violet butterflies flapping listlessly over it. Both men rushed forward, stuck their heads into the stream and began slurping up the gloomy water like it was the purest nectar.
When both men had drunk their fill and filled their waterskins, they examined the two doors at the end of the room. Both were ajar, and faint violin music seemed to come from beyond both, just on the cusp of hearing and playing a tune maddeningly familiar yet impossible to identify. Svind looked at Hargha and shrugged.
“You’re the quiet one. See what’s through them.”
Hargha moved quietly forwards and cautiously poked his head into the room.
The room beyond appeared to be a dining hall, with a large wooden table running down the centre. It was lit with four huge oil lamps that blazed and reflected off twenty sets of mugs, plates and spoons running down the table, although no food, Hargha noted sadly. At the other end of the table sat a figure with a long beard, wrapped in a dusty old cloak. Hargha pulled his head back.
“Well?” Svind asked impatiently.
“Nothing obviously dangerous, but…there’s an old man in there.”
“So?”
“So the seer said to beware an old man in a ruined room or some shit, right?”
Svind thought for a moment, then spat. “Crazy old fool. Probably can’t see far enough to find his withered old cock.” He strode forward and barged through the door, hefting his sword.
The man at the table didn’t move. Svind walked over to him. “Hey! You! Wake up! Where’s the food?” He prodded the man with his sword, but got no reaction. “Come on you sack of bones, hand it over!” Hargha came up behind him and smacked his arm away as he prepared a mighty sword swing.
“Give it up. The man’s long gone, even if his body is here. Let’s just move on.”
Svind scowled, but followed his companion. The man still didn’t stir as they left.
There were two doors leading out of the room; one to the north, one to the east. Hargha pressed his ear to the eastern door, then pulled back quickly. “There’s someone in there!” he hissed to Svind.
Svind nodded. “On three then.” Before Hargha could say anything, he moved to the door and hefted his sword. Hargha threw the door open, and Svind rushed in with a war-cry.
The guards on the other side were ready, however. Before Svind could strike, two of them met him halfway across the room and lashed out at him. One carried a sword, the other carried a dirty, broken femur with a jagged edge. Svind parried the improvised weapon, but the sword struck him painfully across the chest.
Hargha hurried into the room and tried to help his companion, but two of the bone-wielding guards moved to intercept him and swung at his head. He nimbly dodged one of the attacks and turned the attack back on the guard, breaking the man’s wrist with his warhammer, but the other caught him with a ringing blow across the temples.
Svind and Hargha struck back furiously. Svind bellowed and swung in a rage, cleaving the man’s armour and cutting deep into his torso. The guard fell backwards with a gurgle, coughing up blood as he died. Hargha tried to hit the guard with the broken wrist again, but he turned nimbly out of the way, clutching his ruined forearm. Hargha kept up the assault, parrying and swinging with his hammer, but the man was slippery, dodging and weaving his crooked form between the blows. His companion tried to strike Hargha, but his attacks bounced off Hargha’s matted firs.
Svind turned with bloodlust in his eyes to his remaining attacker, but his wild blows left him open to be stabbed with the sharp end of the bone under his arm. He fell back, spitting curses, only to explode again towards his attacker with another furious swordswing. He clipped the man on the arm, drawing blood, and grinned evilly.
Hargha finally spotted an opening and brought his warhammer crashing down upon the injured man’s head, dropping him instantly with a sickening crunch as his forehead caved in. The remaining guards showed no sign of giving up, however, and closed in on the pair.
Fortunately, Hargha’s opponent still struggled to find an opening with his makeshift weapon, and Svind smacked away his enemy’s blow contemptuously before cleaving him almost in half through the guts. As his entrails spilled out, Hargha finally cracked the final guardsman across the face, tearing his jaw away. The man stood looking at him stupidly before Hargha finished him off.
The two men were left panting and covered in blood. Svind had taken a nasty cut across the chest, but apart from that they were fine. Svind grinned at Hargha again.
“See? Lucky!”
Hargha couldn’t help but laugh this time.