The ongoing playtest of Bodil’s Gap continues! In part eleven, the party penetrated into the lower level of a giant's barrow, where the bones of slaves and defeated enemies had been piled up to accompany the fallen giant in death. Now they ascend to the upper level where the giant himself must lie, seeking grave goods from the dawn of the mortal world...
The Cast
Ingvild Scoreslayer, Dýrsark - Ingvild is an old and bitter warrior, cunning but prone to the rage of a berserker. He was brother-in-law to the murdered Þejn, Arnolf, and was once a close advisor to the Laxbrynjung clan's leadership. Now things are in disarray, however, with one pretender to the þejnship missing and presumed slain by the kraken.
Mundr Ivaldisson, Óttimaðr - Mundr is a promising but untested young man endowed with the strength of giants by a mysterious incident during his travels abroad. A Laxbrynjung by birth, Mundr is the only child of the late Ivaldi, the youngest of Arnolf's brothers. Since Arnolf's death, he has ingratiated himself to his uncle Trond in an effort to keep the family from splitting apart—only for Trond's ship to fall victim to the kraken's attack on their convoy. Now it is unclear who rules the clan.
Ylva Blood-Cup, Seiðkona - Ylva is a sorceress endowed with the power to see and speak with spirits, and uses her magic to curse her enemies with great misfortune. Though dwelling apart from the clan in the woods, Ylva is an ally of the Laxbrynjungs, having been a close friend and confidant of Arnolf's murderd heir, Steinar.
Hrafn, Skald - Hrafn is a travelling merchant blessed by a drop of the Mead of Poetry. Left with neither trade goods nor coin by an accident on the road that destroyed his cart and belongings, Hrafn has joined the Laxbrynjung raiders to avenge their Þejn and enrich himself.
The Game
Ascending the stairs, the party quickly reaches the upper level. The barrow is shaped much the same on this level as below, with a semi-circular structure extending out from the cliff face and a large doorway cut into the rock of the cliff itself. Here, the larger structure is divided instead of left open, however; two narrow wings are separated from the main space by huge wooden doors. The passage into the rockface itself, meanwhile, is barred by massive stone slabs. Here too the barrow shows its age. The cliff is cracked in places, and dirt from above has sifted in to pool on the floor, while great stone blocks have fallen in from the crumbling ceiling.
The PCs quickly decide that the stone doors must conceal the burial chamber, where the greatest treasures will lie alongside the giant's body, and set at once to opening them. The heavy basalt slabs are difficult to move, but with the combined might of Ingvild and Mundr, the doors are slowly pushed aside, revealing the chamber beyond.
Within, an enormously long bier fills the centre of the room, and on it the corpse of the giant lies. In death, his flesh has turned to earth and stone, still rent by the great wounds of his final battle against the gods at the dawn of the world; within his fossilized wounds, iron bones can be seen laid bare by the swordstrokes of his enemies. Lying beside him is a hewing spear with a steel blade the size of a troll's sword, while around the room other treasures are laid in chests or on low stone plinths.
The party has little time to examine, however, for at their intrusion, a sound of stone clattering on stone grows louder and louder behind them, rising in a cacophonous and arrhythmic din. Turning to look, the PCs see three of the fallen stone slabs skipping across the floor in dizzying circles.
As they watch, the dirt pooled on the barrow's floor flows to join the prancing stones, taking the shape of a massive three-legged horse; standing tall enough to dwarf any one of them, its earthen legs extend down to meet the stone blocks that form its hooves. As it prances in its maddening gait, its earthen skin splits and a ragged mane of human hair spills over its neck, while two milky eyes emerge from its face, weeping tears of rancid corpse-fat.
As the foul and now fully-formed horse creature rears back one its one hind leg to stamp at the floor, a voice from the burial chamber calls out in deep and rumbling tones to greet its steed. Turning now to glance back into the chamber, the party sees the translucent and ghostly shape of a towering giant standing waist-deep in the bier on which his lifeless body lies. The shadow of its presence lies heavy on all who behold it, for it is a walking portent of doom and death without honor.
Knowledgeable about spirits, Ylva recognizes at once that they face two of the denizens of the underworld, the Realm of the Dead ruled over by the phantoms of those giants who were slain in the war between giant-kind and the gods.
Not waiting for any explanation, Ingvild immediately lunges for the spear lying by the giant corpse's side, even as that giant's spirit levels a ghostly version of the same spear and thrust's towards him. Dodging beneath the shimmering, spectral point, Ingvild leaps upon the shaft, snapping the ancient wood and hefting the spear's hewing blade as though it were a sword. As he cleaves at the giant's ghost, it's with some relief that he sees the steel blade bite into its spectral flesh—having lain so long in a tomb, the spear blade has some affinity for the creatures of the dead.
While Ingvild attacks the phantom giant, its steed charges Hrafn and Ylva where they stand in the doorway, its massive stone hooves crushing and stamping even as the unholy sound of its three-legged gait drives them to distraction. As his allies are trampled, Mundr puts his giant strength into trying to grapple the beast, and barely halts its advance. Meanwhile, Ingvild trades blows with the giant, and though he lands a cut with his stolen spear-blade, the giant's backhand sends him flying to smash into the stone wall of the tomb, coughing blood.
As they recover from their trampling, Hrafn chants a saga of war to strengthen his allies, while Ylva attempts to transform the giant's steed, turning its crushing hooves into the ineffectual wings of a butterfly. The magic twists out of her control, however, and a wave of fluttering motion overtakes the spirit as the animate grave-dirt making up its flesh is transformed into a cloud of grey-winged moths. Dissolving into a cloud of fluttering insects, it slips free of Mundr's grasp to cross to the the giant's side, reforming in time for its master to mount its back.
Urging his mount onward, the giant charges the party, spear levelled, and spews forth a breath of pestilent wind even as he slashes with the hewing blade of his spear and his mount's lashing stone hooves cut the air. Those caught in the giant's breath feel their bodies growing frail under the assault of sickness and advancing age, while the point of his spear draws blood wherever it strikes. Hard pressed, Ylva, Hrafn, and Mundr assault the giant with their weapons and magic, but are steadily worn down.
Rising from his collision with the wall, Ingvild feels broken ribs grind within his chest, but nevertheless takes a mighty leap onto the giant's back to lay into it with his weapon. Buoyed by Hrafn's saga of battle and by the depths of his berserker rage, he strikes a terrible blow against the giant even as he's caught in its crushing grip. Ingvild falls, the life squeezed out of him by crushing hands that drive his shattered ribs into his heart and lungs—and even as he falls, the burial chamber goes still and silent, the giant fading away from the back of its mount, dispelled by his terrific blow.
Lying between life and death, Ingvild draws his last breath, and is unable to muster the strength to draw another. In the stillness and silence of the threshold, his spirit waits only for the valkyrie that will surely come to carry him away to the reward for his glorious death in battle.
No valkyrie comes, however.
Instead a looming shadow grows as the presence of yet another phantom giant fills the burial chamber. Towering over the fallen Ingvild, it mocks him and the valkyries that abandoned him, and prepares to drag him away to the Realm of the Dead, which lies so close to this place, where a giant was once entombed. A mere ghost now, his hands unable to hold the weapons he carried in life, Ingvild has no hope of escaping the phantom giant's grasp—until it asks if he prefers to bargain. If Ingvild wishes to remain in the mortal world, the giant will permit it if he agrees to use his murderous strength to kill in the giant's name—to slay a priest of the gods and defile one of their temples.
His business in the mortal world unfinished and freshly resentful against the valkyries that failed to come for him, Ingvild agrees. The giant laughs at his expense, and the cold mark of its hand appears on Ingvild's spirit, spreading from his heart in a spiderweb of dark veins.
Drawing breath again, Ingvild stands up once more, glancing around to find that no time seems to have passed between the moment he fell and his rise. Everyone is relieved, not only at Ingvild's survival, but at the flight of the grim horse spirit, which dissolved into moths and fled at the destruction of its master.
Everyone, that is, except Mundr. His own spirit altered by his exposure to the Primordial Realm of Fire, Mundr is attuned to the influence of other worlds and giantspawn, and was able to sense the presence of the giant that spoke to Ingvild. Though glad to see his uncle drawing breath, Mundr cannot shake his suspicion of what must have transpired between Ingvild and the unseen titan—the giant's presence can still be felt, after all, clinging to Ingvild much like the flames that still cling to the spirit of Mundr himself...
Behind the Scenes
It's always exciting when you get to see a Last Breath roll—it doesn't happen very often, and the results are always interesting. I'm especially pleased about them in this campaign, where the roll has two parts: one very much like the standard version, where a dying character attempts to live but may be forced to bargain for their survival, and one to determine just what kind of spirit attends their death, and with whom such bargains must be struck.
Having fallen in glorious combat against a noteworthy foe, odds were good that Ingvild would be greeted by a valkyrie, but his luck was incredibly poor, and he was confronted by a peer of the same ghostly giant he died destroying. The matter of his clan's revenge was simply too pressing for him to embrace death, so he agreed to the giant's bargain—but coming back to life under a giant's yoke will have lingering affects for everyone. Mundr already knows that something is up, and Ylva could very easily discover the same with her insight into matters of the spirit, after all. Having to balance the desires of his giant backer with the needs of his mortal life will be an ongoing challenge for Ingvild, I think, and one I look forward to playing with.
Next time, the party get to reap the rewards of their adventure into the barrow, looting the treasures of the burial chamber before returning to rendez-vous with their allies and lay their plans against Kettil Sea-Strider and his men.
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