Third post in April. BAMMM! There is a twist in the rules for Lost Songs of the Nibelungs where characters, true to the classic inspiration, can meet "an end far worse than death" instead of dying. It's when the norns get really nasty and the dice betray a character in a way most DMs would shy away from. I know there's folks out there eager to get an idea how Lost Songs plays out at the table. Here's an exemplary play report of our last session to give you all an idea where the game's at. This is a session in which all the boxes got ticked ...
The campaign so far
I'll keep this short, but you should know a bit of what had happened so far to see how it all ties together.
Lost Songs of the Nibelungs is a game of Dark Fantasy in a time right after the decline of the Roman Empire. The setting had been established
some time ago. However, time has past since that last foray and this is a new start (different set of play-tests, different things to test, all that jazz).
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| It is idyllic like that [source] |
This (for now) is the tale of Wigurd the Entertainer and Sylis "Beastsmell", two young men eager to become full members of their tribe with the coming easter festival. However, the gods play their first evil trick at them when the tribe's holy man announces that there are bad omens if the two of them were to stay with the tribe the coming winter.
The chief decides with a heavy heart that they have to be sent away. However, not without support and as the tribe held council about the issue, a traveling merchant visiting the tribe for business offers a quest for the young men: he owns a cottage in the woods, a couple of days north, just behind the holy mountain. A place used for charcoal burning. Some evil befell it and the family living there had to flee because of it. If our two young boys were able to free the place of said evil, they could use the cottage to stay the winter.
The chief and the holy man liked the idea and add that if they succeed to prove their meddle, they could return to the tribe as men. Wigurd the Entertainer held a great speech that day, convincing the tribe to support them even more by throwing in some horses and equipment.
They left the tribe the next day. A nice day in September to travel an old Roman road leading North. They started their journey in good spirits as well as accompanied by good omens. And their luck held up, although it really got tested: they escaped ghosts luring them into doom (twice), got beaten half to death while attempting to revenge a killed cousin, but got rescued and cleared of any charge held against them for the murder they did.
Then, their quest got taken away from them as a political decision from another tribe up North, but not without acknowledging the importance it had for the travelers and a promise of reparation after they had healed their wounds. Time passes and they proof capable guests to their new hosts up North. Capable enough to get a new chance to gain a safe haven for the coming winter and proof themselves as adult members of their tribe. The village elder that hosts them welcomed two mysterious hunters that brought not only an opportunity for our heroes to stay as honored guests, the elder would also provide witnesses of their deeds to their tribe if they decided to help and succeeded.
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| Two mysterious hunters arrive. [source] |
So a deal was made. A couple of slaves had fled their master and were crafty enough to avoid their hunters so far, even came as far as seeking shelter down south. Unfortunately, with some of the character's clansmen, so the whole thing ended up having a political dimension and they couldn't just force it, fearing it would ruffle some feathers. In come the characters: if they can extract the slaves for the village elder and his mysterious visitors, they'd have earned their stay and their witness.
It was October by then, the first snow had fallen early this year, but it wasn't winter just yet. All the Omens had been good, so they took the offer and after a small feast in their honor they saddled their horses to travel south again.
A long and arduous road
They weren't lucky that first day, or rather lucky enough to stay alive, but not lucky enough to stay unscathed. Before they reached shelter, they ended up in snow storm. Wigurd managed to reach the homestead they'd been told to look for, but Sylis got disoriented in the snow storm and was left behind. Wigurd realized only then that he's lost his friend and headed straight back into the storm, hero that he was. Nearly died with the attempt, too, and had to head back empty handed fearing he'd die of exposure himself.
Both survived the night as their dice turned lucky in the end, but a heavy toll was payed and they really didn't have the time to heal it all at once. They'd already seen ill omens for their next encounter and were wary of it. They had a couple of days to heal, but then misfortune hit the family that gave them shelter: their son had been kidnapped by goblins.
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| Snow and the Holy Mountain in the distance [source] |
The bad omens they'd received hanging heavily on them, they nonetheless agreed without hesitation to accompany a rescue party composed of the father, the oldest son and a couple of neighbors. The goblins met them in a fair fight and had been overcome easily, saving the lost child in the process. The father and the oldest son, however, did not survive the encounter.
It was with a heavy heart and two corpses that they came back to the homestead. Funeral preparations were in order and the characters were asked to watch over the dead bodies barred on pyres stacked on a holy hill until the Valkyires got hold of them. So they stood guard with their backs to the corpses and were warned to under no circumstances turn around during their watch.
The cold and the luring temptation to turn around to the melodious voices behind them offering them peace took its toll as well, but they weathered that and lived the night to see the procession come up the hill with the dawning sun to burn the pyres as the sunlight touched them.
They dared not taking more than another night's rest before traveling onward, injured or not. After all, they only had time until the next full moon to solve their quest.
Their first day travel after leaving the homestead went almost without problems. The weather had been nice for a change and they made good progress. It was the gods smiling on them that they realized that someone was following them. From what they could glean, it was another group of goblins circling in on their position. They made a run for it and got away clean, but it was a close call.
When deciding whether to push forward or seek secure shelter, they opted for the second and found a nice little spot with a good view over the white forest below them and only two points of entry. The weather was on their side again that night, as snowfall set in so heavy, they got isolated by a wall of rustling snowflakes illuminated in the warm orange of their fire. They kept watch, but it ended up being a quiet night without incident.
The next day started nice again, good traveling weather and they had hopes to reach their clan territory that day. However, their route took them around their holy mountain and bad weather was bound to get caught on the snowy peaks, as the dice would tell me later. It was around midday that they become aware of a storm brewing up north and closing in. Losing another day wouldn't do them any good and they were pretty sure that their followers from yesterday were still around, so they decided to push their luck and their horses to keep ahead of the storm.
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| Another snow storm ... [source] |
It ended up being another close call. Sylis - again - just wasn't fast enough and they got caught in the outliers of the storm. They even saw the silhouettes of their hunters close by, but they managed to pull through, with the goblins left behind in the storm.
Which is where we left it before that last session.
Wigurd's Tragic Fall
They got away from the storm and managed to make some way as well, although their horses definitely felt that one. Anyway, they knew of a nearby homestead and made it there just before the sun had vanished behind the snow-covered firs. At that point they hadn't been sure if they should play it straight and make themselves known or if they kept it incognito.
They knew some of the residents from fairs and Things and such, this already being border territory to their tribe's land, and Wigurd was a famous entertainer within the tribe. A true natural and a real wunderkind, so it stood to reason that someone would at least recognize him. That, and their exile from the tribe was quite the story, sure to be known by the locals.
But they didn't get recognized, probably because they'd changed quite a lot since they'd left their home. New clothes, new scars, longer hair, and the farmer was a known drunk, never sober when Wigurd was to perform, so who was to say why they didn't get recognized ... Either way, they decided to keep it that way.
It was only when Wigurd sat down with the farmer and offered his name, that they learned why they didn't get recognized immediately: the farmer tells them that his name is good fortune, as they only recently had another guest going by this name, and a famous entertainer at that. They shared a roof for a couple of days and it was something the farmer remembered fondly, so he took it as a good sign that another Wigurd came to visit so shortly after.
However, the revelation shook Wigurd to the core as the dice betrayed him for the first time that session. Not quite a botch, but he had already received severe permanent damage when he had tried to rescue Sylis in that snow storm a week ago and he had rolled bad enough to get to a point where any further damage would result in his demise.
Not right then and there, though. They kept to themselves after that and made it an early night, telling their hosts that their journey here had been quite strenuous. Early next morning they bid their farewell and were on the road again. They knew this area already and if they made good way, they could reach their home town the next day. The story of the imposter had been troubling, though, and they mused about making a detour to hunt the fucker and that troupe down who so shamelessly made a living from their renown.
At least they'd inquire at their next stop, a family of devote Christians living a somewhat isolated life out here. If that would turn up anything, they'd follow up on it, or so they planned.
And while they were heading further south, following an old Roman road leading from the abandoned mines in the mountains now to their left, a weary wanderer crossed their path. An old man, with a staff and a beard and lots of little pouches on his belt. They stop for a chat.
He introduced himself as a wandering scholar, fallen into disgrace among his fellow disciples for a wrong-doing long past. He was well versed in the art of herbalism, among other, more mystical arts. Or so he told them. However, now he wandered from homestead to homestead, soothing sick cows.
He was reading the bones this morning and deduced from them that he'd meet some friendly travelers down this road that might be able to help him with his troubles. Something that might help him repairing his reputation.
It was just a short little thing, wouldn't bother them at all.
A side-quest! they thought, and asked for details. There was a legend in this region, he told them, about a man made of stone with a magical crystal in his chest animating his evil deeds. It took a circle of holy women to bind the stoneman into an earthen prison, stopping him from terrorizing the area. As the old man traveled from farm to farm, he had pieced the whole story together and even found out where that grave is.
However, the place is protected by wind and earth magic and his old body wasn't able to overcome the resistance. A task the heroes young bodies should be easily able to withstand, on the other hand. Now, if they where to enter the place and retrieve the magical crystal, they'd be well compensated for it. The place was a little down the hill, hidden in a depression just out of sight.
They agreed to the short detour and left the road toward the magical place, not questioning the old man any further. It really wasn't far away. The entrance to the enclosed hollow was marked by two small obelisks that showed traces of strange runes. The old man explained that those are magical runes, binding earth and wind to the place. Then he sat down and told them that this is as far as he dared to go.
Wigurd, on the other hand, stepped forward without hesitation. A strong unnatural wind rose from the hollow and twisted his mantle, but he prevailed and pushed forward. Sylis tried to follow, but the dice decided that the magic was too strong for him. The character had been struggling with his sanity ever since he had fallen for the seduction of a ghost only to be confronted with her mummified corpse early in the campaign. He decided that this was not for him and backed away.
Wigurd, however, was already approaching the obelisks, but stopped as he saw movement below the snow covering the path down the hollow. A strange creature made from roots lifted itself from the path and warned him that if he wanted to enter this place, he had to overcome it.
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| Something like this, really [source] |
They engaged in melee and it looked for some time as if Wigurd might be able to overwhelm the beast. However, he fought alone and fate can be fickle in situations like this. He had dealt the creature a fatal blow, but it withstood the damage and kept fighting.
The battle really was on a blades edge, as Wigurd's Wyrd was still hurt pretty badly. There were no favors to be expected from the gods. If not his wounds would kill him, he might meet a fate worse than death. He was just one roll of the dice away from that ending ... and he failed it. He had nothing to defend against a quite effective attack by the guardian.
But it wasn't his wounds that ended him. You might remember me mentioning this in the beginning: there is a rule in
Lost Songs of the Nibelungs, a homage, really, to the classic tale of Siegfried's betrayal, by which damage that would end up being permanent will be channeled into Wyrd instead (another attribute). Ideally, this means a character will avoid harm while at the same time risking to offend the gods. However, if a character ends up receiving enough damage to reduce his Wyrd permanently to zero, he'd be finished all the same. Just differently.
So there he was, deadly wounded yet still alive. With his Wyrd already severely hurt, the damage he received from that last blow goes straight through the remaining points and beyond. There's no way out and the table realizes: this is final.
As Wigurd falls to his knees, the creature moves forward to engulf him, whispering in a voice only he can hear about how the gods abandoned him and what eternal torture awaits him when the meat rots from his bones. Although fallen in combat, he will never see Valhalla. The terror overwhelming him makes him going down screaming until the earth swallowed him whole.
And that was the tragic end of Wigurd the Entertainer. His soul will never find rest.
ADDENDUM: We began our next session with Sylis seeing his friend die as described above. The screams, the horror of it ... it had to force some dice rolling to see if the character is affected. This was a delicate situation, as the character struggled to keep it together already. One bad roll and he'd be gone as well. I offered him two chances to get out of this: a Stress save to see if he could just shrug it now to digest it later and if that failed, if he was to confront this face on, he'd get one last save to keep his fragile Sanity intact.
It was intense. My girlfriend stopped working on her master thesis to witness the potential end of a campaign.
The first save was difficult. Sylis' Stress value was 8, target was 25, the roll came up with an 11 ... a miss. Nothing tragic and it was a difficult roll. Now all depended on that last roll. A genuine Save or Die moment. The group discussed how to proceed, if a dice cup was to be used and which die to use. Players are a superstitious lot. They decided to use the dice cup, something the player hadn't done for the entirety of the campaign.
That second save was a Sanity value of 12 with a -3 from the damage he had received facing the magic protecting the hollow. Target was a 20. He had a good chance pulling that one off. He shook the cup, everyone was looking in anticipation when the die hit the table, still hidden by the leathery shaker. He lifted it and revealed ... a 1!!! I kid you not. A roll as crucial as it gets and it turns up the worst possible result.
Damn, we play for moments like this, don't we?
Witnessing the horrifying death of his best friend was too much for poor Sylis' mind. He went insane right there on the spot. He rushed forward and tried to claw his way to his friend until his fingers ended up torn bloody. He was denied. After hours of howling, clawing and hysterical laughter, he vanished into the forest ...
Aftermath: this had dire consequences for the tribe. Winter came and both characters where within clan territory, so the bad omens had to come true. An avalanche destroyed most of the village built at the bottom of the mountain, killing almost all denizens and all of the tribes winter stock. The remaining tribesmen and -women had to seek shelter with their neighbors. Many more died. With the end of winter, the tribe was no more.
The End
Analysis
There weren't many compromises possible after those last rolls. Nothing short of deciding against doing the damage or ignoring those last saves, all of which would have rung false, I think. However, that's the game we play and although it was a great campaign with a nicely developing narrative gathering around the characters, it's also a memorable end, underlining the hard truth that we might not end up realizing our full potential. That's a good end to have and true to the Dark Fantasy aspect of the game.
I'm really, completely content with that part of the rules right now. The stories we are able to weave out of the interplay between the sandbox, the narrative generator and the system-feedback from the character's interaction with their surroundings, have a nice epic and magical tone to them without even trying that hard and although it's all random.
Nothing of this had been prepared or planned, it all happened organically from what the game provided and our interaction with that. I hope some of it shines through in my retelling of the parts above. So much more had happened.
What I need to implement with more rigor, though, is the more detailed weather rules I wrote for the game, but actually neglected using, which actually led to characters experiencing two snow storms in short order. I mean, that is why we are play-testing the game and it wasn't that far fetched, but weather carries lots of meaning in the game and should be taken more seriously. It is, after all, nuance that gives a narrative depth. Seasons and Magic need to be done, too.
We had only 3 fights over the course of 12 sessions, yet the game never lacked tension. I'm not sure how much of an audience
Lost Songs of the Nibelungs will be able to gather once I get it out there, but I can say in confidence that it'll offer an unique experience to those who'll give it a shot. It's approach is not so much cinematic as it is literary, it's more about immersion and exploration of the human condition as it is about make-believe. It's also as intense, complex and challenging as it is rewarding.
Well, there's still some ways to go before I can call it done. But I'm getting there, ever so slowly. Thanks for reading.
