Jim Patching
United Kingdom
Cardiff
-
The Round Table Chamber, Deep in the Heart of Camelot:
Sir Le Beau sits alone at his brand spanking new seat at King Arthur’s Round Table, testing it out for comfort. Does one leg hooked nonchalantly over the arm of the seat look too casual? His name has already magically appeared on the gold plate affixed to the back of his chair. Looking around he sees that there are still some seats yet to be filled and, as always, peers with great curiosity at the empty seat with the words SIEGE PERILOUS inscribed on its gold plate. ‘Should I sit in it?” he wonders idily.
Back in Salisbury:
Our knights are all back home, fresh from their conquests on the continent. The winter of 526/527 has been a time of relaxation, reflection and of appreciating all of the good things of home. It appears as though Sir Lancelot has been busy over the winter period. The ladies at various courts throughout the land are all a-flutter at tales of how he drove the Bronze Swans out of Essex and how he killed a giant white bear in Garloth.
Blessedly it has been a quiet time for our knights, with no unusual threats demanding their attention …. Well, no threats apart from the Magical Mill-Raping Bull that has ravaged Sir Hywel’s manor.
OK, I realise you can’t just introduce a creature such as a Magical Mill-Raping Bull without a bit of an explanation. Part of the Winter Phase of Pendragon requires the players to roll on a luck chart to see if their manor has had good luck, bad luck or luck of an entirely indifferent nature. Tom (Sir Hywel’s player) rolled bad luck so I got him to roll on the bad luck chart and I read out what happened:
“A magical bull visits your herd – good year for cows!”
A Pause.
“That doesn’t sound like bad luck,” said Tom.
Tom was right; I’d read off the good luck chart (curse you, beer!). Looking across to the bad luck column, the result should have been a freakin’ dragon-attack on his manor, resulting in some property destruction. I didn’t like the thought of dragons randomly popping up and burning down houses so I stuck with the Magical Bull, but instead of servicing the manor’s cows, he ‘serviced’ a random building – in this case, the village mill.
Sir Hywel rushes straight down to the scene of the crime to interview the Master Miller.
“You say the mill has been raped by a magical bull?” queries Sir Hywel, a look of confusion on his face.
“Just so sire.”
Sir Hywel spares a moment to order his thoughts. He takes a breath and says “you know, it’s easy enough to say those words but I’m having trouble picturing just how damaged the mill actually is.”
“I’ve investigated the building sire and … well, let’s just say that there’re some things you can’t un-see.”
“So the mill’s a complete right-off?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Sir Hywel naturally decides that the bull must be hunted down and exterminated. He calls on the aid of his closest friends Marshal Arkan, the Grail Templar Sir Breakius and Sir Owen. Marshal Arkan has brought a tracker with him, a somewhat villainous rogue called Henry Hook.
The Hook family lives near Chichester, a town which holds the dubious honour of having Marshal Arkan as its sheriff. The Hooks have had a long-standing feud with another family called the Parneills.
“This is sounding awfully like Azincourt,” says Sir Breakius
Marshal Arkan effectively brought the feud to an end using his usual fair, even-handed approach:
In one fell sweep the feud is brought to an end and Arkan gets a check in pretty much every negative personality trait possible.
As part of the deal of ceasing the feud, Arkan took on the services of Henry Hook (a renowned woodsman) to act as his own personal huntsman. Arkan now sets Henry Hook to work tracking the Magical Mill-Raping Bull.
The woodsman sifts through the dirt around Sir Hywel’s mill, looking for tracks that only he can see, spoor that only he can detect, spotting the slightest disturbance in the earth and examining every blade of grass that’s bent the wrong way. After some time he stands up and says “There’s no sign of it.”
“How can there be no sign of it?!” snaps Marshal Arkan. “According to the reports the thing was twelve feet tall at the shoulder. Here, let me try.”
Marshal Arkan puts his own tracking skills to the test but is also forced to admit that he can find no sign of the beast.
“I told you,” mumbles Henry Hook defensively.
As our heroes trudge back to Sir Hywel’s manor house for a hearty dinner cooked by his mum Gwen, a strange knight approaches them. His shield bears no heraldry, he carries no banner and he wears a full-face helm with the face guard concealing his features.
“Knights of Salisbury,” calls the mysterious knight. “I hear tell you are fellows who live for adventure and who would jump at the chance of a quest. Well have I got a quest for you! Not more than three days ride from here is a cemetery, a cemetery that houses a wondrous item – a blessed altar cloth that has the power to heal!”
“Go on,” urges Marshal Arkan, who is seriously starting to feel his age and very much likes the thought of a magical healing altar cloth.
“In order to claim the cloth, we need only stay overnight in the cemetery. As the first rays of dawn bathe the graveyard the cloth will be revealed to us. Perhaps, praise God, one of us will be worthy enough to claim the cloth?”
“Sounds great, sign us up!” beams Marshal Arkan.
“You can stay at my house for dinner!” offers Sir Hywel.
“Excellent! Also the cemetery is haunted. What’s for dinner?”
The Haunted Cemetary
The knights arrive at the cemetery long before nightfall, led by their mysterious accomplice. The unknown knight refuses to tell them his name or show them his face. The cemetery stands on its own, about an hour’s walk from the nearest town. At the centre of the cemetery is a small, circular chapel. It has two door-less entrances and contains nothing other than old wooden benches and a simple stone altar.
Sir Owen takes a moment to ride out to the nearby village where he visits the local priest to get some background info on the cemetery. The priest knows only too well the cemetery’s ghostly reputation and explains that as night falls the spirits of the restless dead rise from their graves and re-enact an ancient battle. Sir Owen thanks the priest and with his blessing takes a skin full of holy water from the church font.
Back at the cemetery it’s evident that the knights have decided to hold out in the small chapel. They’ve barricade one entrance of the building with the benches and piles of vegetation from the graveyard. Apprehensively they ensconce themselves in the small one-room chapel and wait as the sun slowly disappears below the horizon.
At first nothing happens. Perhaps the whole ‘haunted cemetery’ thing is just a case of tall tales and exaggeration? Such thoughts are soon banished when the restless dead begin emerging from their graves.
At first the spirits seem completely indifferent to our knights, preferring to act out their aeons-old combat with each other. Gradually they start to take an interest in them however. At first just a couple approach the chapel. Our knights have set themselves up within the doorway so that the dead can only enter two at a time but all of our knights can strike at them. Thankfully (or possibly not) the spirits are corporeal and can be harmed with mundane swords. Chopping and hacking, the knights of Salisbury drive them back.
More and more of the undead start attacking the chapel and things begin to get desperate. Several try to break through the barricaded entrance, but the squires and the un-named knight frantically try to keep them out. Breakius, Hywel, Owen and Arkan fight off wave after wave of undead at the other entrance but sheer weight of numbers starts to tell.
Owen is dealt a mighty blow and it looks as though he’s out of the fight, but Breakius manages to drag him back to his feet and bring him round.
Moments later Marshal Arkan is run-through with a spear and collapses to the ground with blood pouring out of the wound.
Undead scramble over the chapel roof and begin breaking through the tiled covering, but the un-known knight and Hywel manage to deal with them.
Just as it seems the chapel will be over-run, there is a lull in the fighting and the undead pull back. During the battle, the knights could sense an extremely strong presence of evil emanating from one of the graves within the cemetery. They decide to take advantage of the brief respite and head out to the grave to deal with whatever is causing it. Arkan is too badly wounded to venture out so he is left in the chapel, guarded by the squires. Breakius, Hywel, Owen and the unknown knight sally forth into the night in a diamond formation, swords pointing outwards.
It’s only 100 yards to their goal, but during the whole journey they are attacked by many undead. The unknown knight is dealt what may be a fatal blow and their diamond formation is forcibly changed to a triangle formation, although they managed to drag the comatose form of their companion along with them. Upon reaching the grave, they discover a stone tomb with an extremely weathered effigy on the lid. Heaving the lid off reveals a mouldering skeleton within. Sir Owen empties his holy water over the remains and almost at once the undead attacking them fade away.
Job done, the rest of the night passes peacefully. At dawn’s first light the knights see a simple cloth has magically appeared covering the stone altar in the chapel. Both Sir Breakius and Sir Owen go to take it but the cloth springs into the air and floats away through one of the many holes in the chapel ceiling. They both merely manage to grab a corner of the fabric which tears off in their hands before the cloth vanishes into the sky. Shrugging their shoulders they decide to test out the fragment they claimed to see if it does indeed have healing powers. They place it on the bloodied form of the unknown knight and – hey presto! – many of his wounds instantly heal over.
“Well done,” he croaks, sitting up. “Now, I shall reveal my identity!”
He flips up the visor on his helmet and – dah dah dah! – it’s Sir Lancelot!
They later discover that the cloth needs to be ‘re-charged’ after each healing by dousing it in a font of holy water.
Our heroes return to Sarum and tell all of their deeds. Earl Robert is impressed and yet looks vexed.
“I’m pleased to hear of your accomplishments,” says Earl Robert, “but in truth there is a matter causing me much distress. You are aware of a knight called Sir Brand? He has a manor to the north of the county. It would seem that his mill has been … desecrated by a magical bull. Can I count on you men to slay this beast?”
“It’d be our pleasure,” says Sir Hywel, cracking his knuckles.
Burgers for Supper
This time Henry Hook picks up the trail of the bull. He follows it to the very edge of Camporcorentin Forest. In a forest clearing they spy the beast from a distance and it is indeed a monstrosity – 12 feet tall at the shoulder, dark red in colour with huge black horns that curve forward beyond its snout.
Our knights send Henry Hook scurrying up a tree and order him to fire arrows at the bull to get its attention. Their plan is to hide in the undergrowth and rush out to hit the beast in the flanks when it charges.
“This tree’ll survive an impact from that thing, won’t it?” asks Henry Hook doubtfully.
“Oh yeah,” the knights assure him.
Hook’s arrows fly straight and true and stick the bull just above its eye. It bellows and thunders across the clearing straight at Hook’s tree. As the GM picks up 8d6 for Magical Mill-Raping Bull charging damage, Henry Hooks says “oh mamma, I’m going to die.” (even NPCs have some sense of self-preservation). Fortunately for Hook, the bull rolls pathetically. Our knights charge out and engage the beast in melee combat.
The battle is brief but very dangerous. The bull does all it can to defend itself and kill its assailants but is brought down by our heroes. They drag its carcass back to Sir Brand’s manor and that night everyone feasts on steak!
*
You can find the previous adventures of the Cardiff Boys on this Geeklist.
-
|
|
