When Grettir returned to Telemark, he brought with him a fellow with a huge red beard, who spoke with a funny accent. When pressed he would claim to come from Anango and give an entirely false name. This was Bramcheck Ar’Mordhien, an old time adventuring pal of Grettir’s who in a previous life had been an Imperial military engineer. Over the years he had managed a series of construction projects for Sequarl. Now Grettir was employing him for the insights he could provide into Legionary tactics and for his advice on readying Telemark for an impending siege. The Empire generally failed to see the funny side of renegades working for the enemy – hence the elaborate disguise.
Girindor was away on reconaissance with his small band of elven followers spying on the Legionary camps. There were now two camps – the one thrown up initially upon the estuary where the imperial fleet was wrecked, and another a couple of miles away inland. Bramcheck explained that the first was an emergency construction, thrown up by marines (his lip curled slightly as he said the word “marine”). The second was a properly (slight emphasis here) built camp suitable to establishing a safe base in enemy territory.
Girindor was due to report imminently, but instead one of his followers, an elf called Quintell, flew into Telemark with the news that Girindor had failed to report at their latest rendezvous. Grettir at this point was troubled but not yet alarmed. Knowing the elf, it was perfectly possible that he had forgotten where the rendezvous was supposed to take place, or had become engrossed in the study of a particularly interesting plant or beetle. Equally it was also possible that he had decided to go alone and naked into the enemy camp, such was the randomness of his decision making. He dispatched Trevillion, his best scout to join the elves and add a less relaxed human perspective to proceedings. He reported back that there was no sign of Girindor. Security was certainly very high around the legionary base and everyone seemed to be on high alert. Bramcheck thought that this might just be normal for an encampent in enemy territory. They were professionals.
In the end shortly after dawn the next day, when Grettir was starting to plan how he should break the news of the demise of the hero who sank the Imperial fleet and how he should spin it, the elf arrived looking bedraggled and somewhat singed. As he related his tale, it transpired that Grettir had not been so very far off about the naked elf assault on the Legionary camp.
Amongst Girindor’s many talents was shape-shifting. He could assume the guise of many creatures, including a number of different birds. The only problem with this power, was that it forced him to leave weapons, armour, even clothing behind. So when Girindor transformed himself into a cat and snuck into the legionary camp alone at dusk, he left all his equipment behind in a neat pile. As the cat prowled around the camp it was suddenly confronted by a draugr in legionary equipment that sprang from the earth and stabbed him, near-fatally. He transformed into a naked elf and the draugr struck him again.
When he awoke he was hogtied to a post in a dark basement. He could hear his captors discussing him in the room above, saying that he was an important prisoner. The Legate would want to interrogate him personally and that he must be kept alive at all costs until then. This gave him the idea that he could feign death – an old druidic trick – but the legionary magicians that were called to examine him were not fooled. They healed him and drugged him.
When he awoke, he could feel that dawn had arrived. His powers were restored and he could shapeshift again. Transforming into a cat or a bird would still leave him trapped in the basement, so he turned himself into a tree. This burst his bonds and certainly surprised his guards, but it did not break him out of the cellar into the sunlight. Instead he found himself inhabiting a sort of cramped bonsai version of the mighty oak he had envisaged. His captors responded by hosing him down with alchemical fire. He had one more trick up his sleeve, as he reverted into a naked burning elf. In this form he could sink into the earth and walk through it underground. This put out the fire and allowed him to escape the encampment. Fortunately he did not encounter any more legionary draugr guards as he departed, although he could feel them stirring in the earth around him. Equally fortunately for his reputation, he did stop to recover his kit before flying to Telemark to report.
The elf’s account of undead guards set off a train of thought in Grettir’s mind. They had rather suspected that at least some of the Legionaries were not really alive in the normal sense – this certainly applied to the Legate himself. He suspected that it might also be true of the Hand and that they had probably been revived by now. They had strong suspicions that undead oarsman were powering those ramships, corroborated by a complete lack of records in the ships logs they had stolen for any rations set aside for them. Now they learnt that the legionary camp was guarded by undead ex-legionaries. Despite being the Chosen of Osiris, Grettir had never been much of one for theology – he left that to Rendip Rim and Eggo. However, it was his understanding that the role of Anubis was to weigh the Souls of the Dead, feed the unworthy to Sobek and pass the rest to Osiris for rebirth into the Great Cycle of Life or to elevate them to sit at his side. Here was strong evidence, though, that Anubis was diverting large numbers of the dead to his own service – there must have been at least 500 oarsmen propelling those ten ramships, and who knows how many undead legionaries there might be. A few months ago he would have thought nothing of it, but after his experience resolving a struggle between Ptah and Sekhmet, he began to wonder if he were looking at another war in heaven, or some sort of secret betrayal of Osiris by Anubis.
Grettir had been contemplating a decapitation raid upon the Legate, using a powerful potion of invisibility he had found on Magdalen in the hoard of the Sable King (F17 – The Sable King). It was now plain that this would not work for it would be unlikely to shield them from the eyes of the undead. Instead they undertook a reconnaissance in strength in which:
- Ubaron subborned a band of goblins to spy on the Legionaries. He offered a bounty on crows, which he knew often acted as legionary spies.
- With their help they ambushed a mounted patrol. Most were killed; some escaped and two were taken prisoner. The prisoners were both badly wounded but Grettir healed both with his Osiran powers. They gave little away, but nevertheless were released.
- The goblin leader was rewarded for his loyalty, present and future, with horsemeat and enough legionary equipment to significantly enhance his status amongst local goblin bands. Ubaron undertook to meet him for a progress report a few days hence.
G-24
OE Date: May 695
Characters: Grettir, Paradoxides, Ubaron, Jason, Trevillion, Girindor NPCs: Bramcheck, Quintell, Samuel
Real World: January 2012; Where: Surbiton
See also Ubaron’s Diaries
N.B. This was the notorious VomCon in which seven of us struggled with Norovirus in a two bedroom flat with one bathroom. Fortunately not everyone contracted it at the same time, but the baton was passed around to most of thoise present.