The ongoing playtest of Bodil’s Gap continues! In part sixteen, the party did a favour for the mercenary captain Harun al-Azraq in order to secure his company's services. With their business in Songheim now concluded, they are finally prepared to set out once more to track Kettil Sea-Strider to his lair and deliver justice for the deaths of their kinsmen.
The Cast
Ingvild Scoreslayer, Dýrsark - Ingvild is an old and bitter warrior, cunning but prone to the rage of a berserker. Having fallen in combat with the ancient ghost of a long-dead giant, Ingvild now lives only by the grace of his bargain with that giant's spectral kin, and his soul bears the giant's mark as evidence of the deal they struck.
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.
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
With Harun al-Azraq's corsairs and Arvid the Younger's vikings ready to sail alongside the party's own ship, all that remains is to load up their supplies and cast off. Mundr takes command, manning the steering oar and guiding their convoy in accordance with the directions of his sword-point compass—a glittering shard of steel stained brown with dried blood, broken from the sword of Kettil Sea-Strider when he slew Arnolf, and ensorcelled by Ylva to point back to the sword's other half.
The compass points north, so north the party sails. As they approach the northern shore of the Salt-Cap Sea and enter Kettil's home waters, in the distance they spy what appears to be a small skiff manned by three men, one of whom is leaning out of the bow to apparently speak to a walrus.
From his ship, Arvid calls across to the PCs, warning them that he has heard and believes that Kettil has spies about in these waters who inform him when prey is nearby and ripe for the taking. He expresses his confidence that these men are just such spies, and demands that they be stopped from warning Kettil of the raid's approach. Hearing Arvid's warning, Ingvild takes a harpoon and hurls it in an incredible shot—just as Ylva pipes up that the walrus is an animal sacred to the sea god, Hvalarkyn, and that the man speaking to it probably a priest.
Ingvild's harpoon takes the walrus in the neck. Blood sprays the men in the boat, who fall back into their craft in shock and dismay. As Arvid's ship surges forward under the efforts of his rowers, the man in charge of the skiff angrily raises his own harpoon, and in a clear display of divine power the waves stir against the party's convoy at his command—marking the man as a goði of the sea god indeed. Under the waves' buffeting, Arvid's bow is pushed off-course, while the party's is only saved from a similar mishap by Hrafn's saga of storms, which draws down a wind to drive their ship against the waves that threaten to confound them. Even so, the steering oar groans in Mundr's hands, bending against the side of the hull in the water's grip until its blade snaps.
A battle of storms threatens to break out between Hrafn's wind and the goði's waves. Acting quickly, Ylva conjures a waking dream to assail the man, filling his senses with visions of mermaids calling for his attention. The waves slack, and the party is able to reach the smaller ship before Arvid does.
Hauling the delirious goði aboard along with his two men, Ylva dismisses her spell so the man can be questioned. His ship catching up to theirs, Arvid insists that the goði is loyal to Kettil even though he professes that his only allegiance is to his temple in the city of Egil's Landing. According to Arvid, Kettil is a hero of the people in the city, for his raiding is restricted to party's own southern waters, and Egil's Landing is where he spends his plundered wealth. A sailor of renowned skill, Kettil is certainly a devotee of the sea god, and has likely filled the coffers of his goði's temple on more than one occasion.
Examining the man, the party judges it unlikely that he will run off to warn Kettil of their approach at the first opportunity—the goði claims his only desire is to return to his temple, and in that much the party believes him. If Kettil were to visit the temple, however, the man would almost certainly warn him rather than holding his tongue.
There is some debate as to what to do—Arvid strongly counsels killing all three captured men, while the others are less willing to harm a priest. Hoping to convince Arvid, Mundr draws on the power of the Primordial Realm of Fire to infuse his words with vigour and conviction—but in so doing, he also draws the attention of the dread masters of that plane. The hot gaze of the Jotnar of Fire and Ash falls on him from across the border of the Mortal World, and even as he fills with their blazing power the metal of his bronze shield because to turn molten under their scrutiny. It grows hot in his hand, and its face runs and deforms—though still able to deflect arrows, it is now useless for warding off the blows of swords or axes. In a fit of pique he throws his shield across the deck of the ship, and Arvid falls silent more out of concern than for having been convinced.
Nevertheless, the party settles on releasing the priest—they are not delaying in their pursuit of Kettil, and with the guidance of their compass, they judge that it is far more likely they will come across the Sea-Strider themselves long before he visits the temple again. With their steering oar repaired by Ylva's seiðr, they take the goði's skiff in tow and set off once more.
With the goði dropped off when their convoy passes by Egil's Landing on their way north, the party follows their compass around the point of the Gap and out of the Salt-Cap Sea, into the wider ocean beyond. Hugging the coast, they sail north until they come to an island—circling it, it becomes clear that this is where the compass leads.
Conferring with their mercenaries, the party dispatches Harun al-Azraq and his corsairs to circle the island again, ready to fall on any of Kettil's men who attempt to flee when the attack begins. Then they and Arvid guide their ships inland up the island's deepest fjord, following where the compass points. When they reach the back of the fjord, however, all they are confronted by is a waterfall framed by high cliffs all around—no dock is in evidence, nor any beach on which ships might be pulled out of the water and carried away.
Taking a few of his sailors, Mundr gets into a rowboat to investigate the falls, seeking a hidden way up the cliff face or some passage behind the water—and when he draws near, he does indeed find something. The falls appear to obscure the entrance to a cavern, large enough for a ship to be rowed through. The way is blocked, however, by what seems to be a thick iron chain stretched across the opening, obscured by the falling water—any ship that tried to pass through without removing it would be stopped and badly damage. As Mundr identifies it by touch, however, a too-hard yank on it causes the sound of iron plates clanging together to echo out from the waterfall—quickly followed by cries of alarm from within. The party has lost the element of surprise.
Without surprise on their side, their only hope is to act fast, but the ways is still blocked. Mundr seizes the chain in his grip and brings the strength of giants to bear, parting one great link with his bare hands—only to be forced to duck under a hail of javelins launched through the falls from the other side. Though the rowers are unharmed, Mundr is not quite quick enough, and a javelin wounds him as they race back to their ship.
Clambering back aboard, Mundr advises the crew to take down the sail so their ship can fit through the gap behind the waterfall, and then urges the rowers forward. Bursting through the falls, they emerge through the curtain of falling water into a massive, half-flooded cavern lit to a strange twilight by the apparently-glowing stones of a half-ruined tower that stands on the far shore. Of more concern, however is the longship that lies directly ahead on the surface of a deep pool, its broadside presented as the sailors on board hurl another volley of javelins and arrows into the party's ship.
Wasting no time, the party urges their rowers forward, seeking to slip under the missiles' arc and ram their enemy's ship. There is a terrific crunch as they do so, and both their own men and their enemies are nearly shaken of their feet by the collision of the two ships.
The scope of the conflict is growing, however, for beyond the ship with which they're currently engaged they can see two more ships pulled up on the barely-submerged sandbar which stretches across the back of the pool, while hordes of Kettil's warriors rush out of their nearby longhouse to man them. Arvid's ship, meanwhile, is attempting to maneuver into the cavern to join the fray, but is hemmed in by the stone wall of the cavern and the proximity of the party's own vessel.
As Ingvild leaps to the bow of their ship to lay into the enemies already attempting to board, cleaving three and badly wounding a fourth in a single stroke, Hrafn strikes his harp in the saga of storms once more, conjuring a wind to drive their ship even further up the side of their enemies' and out of the way of Arvid's progress. With a perilous crunch of wood, the enemy's ship begins to tip over precariously while those on board leap for the party's deck to save themselves and join the fight.
While Ingvild holds the bow, Mundr leaps from his ship to Arvid's as it slips past to disgorge its warriors onto the shore. Seeking to stop Kettil's men from launching their other two vessels, Arvid's men split, one party boarding the closer ship to battle its crew on the deck while the other races for the longhouse from which yet more warriors are still emerging. Running alongside, Mundr shelters Arvid from the arrows launched from one the beached ships, turning them aside with his half-melted shield.
Seeing this, Ylva turns her magic to cursing the mast of the ship where Arvid's men are fighting, shouting to them to bring it down, disabling the ship and crushing their foes. The fighting is chaotic, however, and when the mast tumbles, some of Arvid's men are crushed alongside Kettil's.
While Arvid's men are taking the ship, Hrafn recites a saga of war, describing Mundr's battle with Kettil's son, Olaf Mangler. Reaching the longhouse, Mundr breathes deep and then exhales a great plume of suffocating smoke upon the enemy, who begin hacking and coughing as they stumble through the cloud. Falling on them with the other half of Arvid's men, he plunges into the smoke and cuts down warriors with a great sword of conjured flame, his blows bolstered by Hrafn's song.
Back on their ship, Hrafn urges the wind to propel them yet further onto their enemy's ship, which begins to sink beneath their weight with a horrible groaning of wood. Those left alive on board are cut down by Ingvild and his sailors as they try to escape, while Hrafn's renewed saga of storms draws lightning down to smite them—lancing not from the sky, hidden as it is by a stone roof, but from the stones of the strange tower.
With their enemy's ship sinking, Ylva orders the men to head for the shore and join the fighting there. Ingvild, meanwhile, leaps off and races across the sandbar to clamber onto the shore at the far side of the bridge, where a commander can be heard shouting orders. Archers attempt to pepper him with arrows, but Hrafn's wind blows their missiles off course while thunder deafens them to further commands. Lightning strikes out again, but it glances off the commander's armour to harmlessly char the bridge.
With the battle turning, a retreat is called, and Kettil's men surge for the bridge and the safety of the tower—but Ingvild has reached the shore, and plants himself on the bridge to cut them off. Drawing on his fearsome reputation and appearance to cow them, he threatens that any who attempts to cross will be slain even as Mundr and his men pile into them from behind, cutting them down as they retreat. Many hurl themselves from the bridge to swim for their escape, while others throw down their weapons in surrender.
With those forces outside the tower either dead or captured, Mundr calls up to where the commander—almost certainly Kettil himself—can now be seen at the tower's shattered parapet. He demands that Kettil answer for his murders, and that the matter be resolved by a duel without need of further bloodshed—a request his captured men eagerly agree with. Kettil responds that he knows who Mundr is, and about the slaying of his own son, Olaf. He agrees to fight, and invites them up to the tower's peak for their battle.
As the PCs and their men enter, Arvid and his own warriors following, Kettil's remaining men can be seen exiting the tower by the side entrance. Passing through the lower floor, which has been converted into Kettil's residence, they ascend a set of wooden stairs clearly constructed by a later craftsman—the tower's masonry is fit together without mortar using pure-white stones that glow with an inner light and which cause the PCs' feet to tingle when they tread upon them, while the steps up are mere oak planks that creak under their tread.
Reflecting on the matter, Ylva recognizes that the tower is the work of elves, for the matter of which it is constructed is the stuff of their hidden realm, Alfheimr. Though the Mortal World was made from flesh of giants, Alfheim predated the war in which those giants were slain, and was made from the snow and ash of the Primordial Realms of Ice and Fire given life by the gods' own blood—the party is now entering a fragment of another world sustained by lingering divinity, and Kettil is apparently the master of this place. As they reach the second floor, however, they see that he is not its only keeper.
The second floor is nearly empty, its floor bare, while the walls are covered in detailed carvings of nine women with skin covered in fish scales offering down swords, spears, and bows to a crowd of elves beneath them—the children of the Goddess of War and the God of the Sea, the progenitors of one third of the elven race, granting their blessings to their descendants.
In the center of this chamber stands a tall, narrow chair whose back and sides form an almost coffin-like enclosure, into which is wedged an ancient and crone-like woman in the garb of a goði of Bolgmót, the Goddess of War. By her empty sleeve and the one bare foot visible beneath her skirt, it is clear that her right arm is missing below the elbow while her right leg ends at the knee. Across her lap lies a naked bronze sword, its hilt firmly in the grip of her left hand. Most concerning, however, is the clear family resembles she shares with Olaf, Kettil's fallen son.
When the party enters, she gestures with her sword and tells them to halt. Though Kettil has agreed to fight them and has asked that she not interfere, she does not believe it is in his best interests to do so and refuses to permit it. She demands that they turn back, rather than face her son-in-law, and threatens doom on any who attempt to pass her.
Scoffing at the priestess, Ylva says that if the crone wishes to match wills and test power against power, Ylva will happily accommodate her—but that she strongly doubts the priestess' victory. The goði replies that Ylva's petty bargaining with spirits will not avail her against the patronage of a goddess, and she raises her sword again.
There is a surge of divine power as the goði calls down the war goddess' curse upon the room, and madness descends. Hrafn is momentarily stunned by a surge of unthinking bloodlust that overcomes him, but it quickly passes—and he is forced to watch as Ylva transforms into a raven and careens around the room in an animalistic fit of pecking and scratching, while Ingvild and Mundr froth at the mouth and hurl themselves upon any living thing within reach, their eyes glazed by the savage fury of a berserk fit. Unable to distinguish friend from foe, they cleave their own men with frenzied abandon, and those who are not slain flee down the stairs in terror.
When their rage is spent, Ingvild and Mundr find themselves drenched in gore and panting, their limbs trembling with exertion, standing over the brutalized bodies of seventeen of their own allies. Ylva, meanwhile, returns to her senses to find herself perched in crow form on the back of the goði's chair, her feathers wet with the fresh carrion of the slaughter and her beak streaked with the goði's ruined eye, her meal. The goði herself is cloven from breast to hip, one of the first victims of her own malediction, and a terrible omen of the gods' wrath. Incensed, Ylva transforms back into a woman and attempts to bind the goði's spirit, only to hastily give up when her spirit-sight reveals the pale hand of a valkyrie on the crone's shoulder, lifting her spirit away.
With their allies dead or fled and their own cursed deeds sure to haunt them, all the party can do is continue their way up the tower to face Kettil Sea-Strider, there to settle things once and for all.
Behind the Scenes
The war goddess' curse was something I was really looking forward to using, and I'm pleased it got a chance to shine in this session. The party is generally pretty good in a combat situation, and as they go up in levels it becomes harder to threaten them physically—threatening them spiritually and socially is at once a good way to challenge them and to explore the setting itself.
At the outset, I was a little worried that the loss of agency involved in the move would be too overbearing, but we were all really pleased by how things turned out in play, and with the scene that resulted.
It was especially interesting that the effects were so polarized; Hrafn got his 10+, but everyone else failed utterly and then proceed to roll 4 or 5 on their 2d3 RAGE rolls for an especially long and unlucky episode of berserking. When Ingvild and Mundr elected to go for violence instead of animalism, I had them roll their damage without actually narrating what was happening, and then hard cut to the results when everyone came out of their fit—I think it worked really well to have the toll of their slaughter come as a surprise to the players as well as to their characters, and their dismay both in and out of character was really gratifying.
It will be really interesting to see where things go from here, and how the party will handle their relationship with the survivors from both their own crew and their ally's. Ultimately, though, I don't think this is a trick I'll use more than once. I don't think we can possibly get a better result for the evolving story than we did this time, and if you did this kind of thing more often I think it really would become too much of an attack on the characters' agency very quickly.
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