"The Grapes of Wrath" (Session 2)

The next morning, Eduard paid travel fare for the adventurers to ride alongside a farmer heading through Pritzstock by way of a horse-drawn cart. A light rain dampened spirits and the tight-lipped farmer had no knowledge of Pritzstock's supposed curse, but three hours later they reached the small village's outskirts.

Pritzstock was situated in a verdant valley, surrounded on all sides by rich vineyards on man-made terraces that climbed the nearby hills for acres. The village sported no more than a dozen or so farmhouses, each accompanied by a fermenting shed, and the only livestock about were a few pigs, goats and hens. The village had no surrounding wall, but was circled by a ditch that looked surprisingly easy to pass. Just the same, the adventurers took leave of their ride to talk to the lone watchman guarding the small bridge leading in. He asked a few perfunctory questions and directed them to speak to one Parzival Tristan Aschaffenberg, the local militia head. He was presently attending a rowdy meeting in the center of the village.

On the way there, Nicodemus noted that many of the household doors were covered with sprays of flowers which he recognized as the folk ward "nanny's fingers" - arrangements meant to ward off evil spirits. The villagers themselves appeared to be quite healthy when the adventurers approached the crowd, but there were angry shouts and calls for the militia to do more to resolve the problem. The Mayor, a stout man in his early 40s with shoulder-length black hair, eventually called for the villagers to disperse to calm down, intending to reconvene in a few hours. There was no mistaking that he was a Bretonnian, from his thick accent to his olive complexion to his theatrical gestures. Before talking to him, however, the adventurers briefly exchanged words with Parzival, a young nobleman to whom they all took an immediate dislike. Handsome, blond, and in his early 20s, Parzival comported himself with all the arrogance of the upper class. Nicodemus in particular felt the man could use a good murdering.

The Mayor proved much more approachable. Introducing himself as Henri-Phillippe Rocheteau, he invited the three to his well-appointed farmhouse to explain Pritzstock's dire straits. Rocheteau briefly introduced his wife, Elisabet, to whom he frequently spoke quite sharply, then poured some of the local vintage - "Pritzstock Reisling" - and continued. Pritzstock residents had, off and on for several weeks, been both watched by and occasionally attacked by skulls which floated above the ground by some unearthly magic. There were theories that the villagers had not paid enough tribute to the gods or that perhaps a nearby tomb had been uncovered to release them. This latter notion was Rocheteau’s current belief, as he claimed to have no major enemies beyond distant business rivals. What Rocheteau was most determined to impress upon the adventurers was that the wine harvest was to begin in just two days time, and he was certain that if the skulls continued to harass the village, the migrant workers who came to harvest the grapes would flee; the village's sole source of income would be crippled. Rocheteau explained that he had sent for troops, but that they would likely arrive too late, and so he offered a reward instead to Nicodemus, Fimgon, and Bargrimm if they could find the source of the skulls. He offered to put them up for the night, supply them if necessary, and answer any questions he could. Furthermore, he advised them to liaise with Parzival and the militia for maximum effectiveness.

The three decided to make an immediate start. As there was no inn or tavern - socializing in Pritzstock taking the form of frequent wine-tastings at one house or another - the group first visited the general store. The wares were mostly pricey luxury items and the older husband and wife owners were both gossipy and slightly snobbish. The husband, Ludovic, was the only one in the village who claimed to have seen the tomb that some believed to be the source of the skulls. It was many years ago, however, in his more adventuresome younger days. He told them that he had never seen it again, but that he and others had often searched for it in the forest to the northwest.

The trio then set out to find Parzival, and when Nicodemus hit it off with the bridge guard, the guard readily informed them that Parzival was probably off in the vineyards fooling around with his girl. On their way there, they came across Wuder Lechert – simply put, the village idiot. Grubby, portly, and reeking of cheap wine, Wuder watched them with interest but only occasionally seemed to be able to string more than a few words of Reikspiel together. He would lapse into a guttural mumbling that almost sounded like a language, but for the time being, none of the adventurers could place it. It didn’t help that Wuder had no teeth, though he was constantly slipping a small rock into his mouth to help him chew or just to toy with. Still, his mumblings seemed to indicate some knowledge of the secrets of the forest, so Fimgon plied his trust with a pair of shiny Gold Crowns. Wuder was enthralled - it later turned out he was just as excited by brass pennies - but didn’t seem to understand what he was supposed to do.

In the nearby vineyards, the party tracked down Parzival who appeared to be enjoying some company behind a vine-covered trellis. He emerged, straightened his chainmail shirt, and was anxious to lead the party to the source of the trouble. He wanted to prove his merit to his father, who’d set him up as the militia leader in Pritzstock to learn about adventuring before following the path of knighthood. Parzival being Parzival, however, he did little to work with the adventurers other than throw his weight around and toss insults their way. A more pleasant sight was his current paramour, the beautiful blond Isolde Guderian, shortly appearing from behind the same trellis. She flirted with the party, much to Parzival’s chagrin, but took her leave when they resolved to head into the forest to the north of the vineyards. Parzival rode on his warhorse, Friedrich, reluctantly agreeing to allow Wuder to join them after expressing his extreme distaste for the man.

It was Fimgon’s belief that Wuder was definitely entwined in the events, and so Wuder was given the lead. Wuder happily wandered in a generally northwestward direction, the wrong way from Ludovic’s remembered tomb. The party periodically discovered bundles of sticks hidden at the base of trees, but couldn’t figure their purpose and imagined they might be some kind of magical ward.

More immediately, Nicodemus sensed that the party was being watched and, indeed, spotted a tuft of bright orange hair protruding from behind a bush some distance off. He informed the group and Parzival charged at the observer only to see him race off deeper into the forest. They lost him for a time, but Bargrimm picked up the trail and, along with Nicodemus and Fimgon, left Parzival and Wuder behind for a time. They managed to catch up with their quarry and found him trying to hide in ambush in the lower branches of a tree.

There could be no doubt: this bare-chested, tattoo-strewn, orange-mohawked dwarf was a troll slayer. Fimgon and Bargrimm knew that this meant he was a disgraced dwarf, ready to die at any moment in hopes of redemption, so when he leapt from the tree with a great two-handed axe held at ready, they tried desperately to diffuse the situation. Fimgon spoke to him in his native Khazalid while Bargrimm turned his back to show that he intended no offensive action. The troll slayer was clearly confused, but perhaps he mistrusted the Kislevite accent beneath Fimgon's dwarven words or perhaps he was just mistrustful by nature. He whistled, as if for reinforcements, then held his ground in a silent stare-off that went on for agonizing minutes. The interminable wait was disrupted by Parzival, who came galloping down a hill and led the dwarf to take flight into the forest where they quickly lost sight of him. Parzival was reluctant to track down a troll slayer and encouraged the party to press westward, towards the tomb Ludovic had described. Reluctantly, and more than a little pissed at Parzival for ruining a potential lead, they agreed.

Hours later, with sunset approaching, they came across a clearing in a dense area of the forest. What they discovered looked nothing like Ludovic’s tomb entrance, but rather a trio of burial cairns with a central stone marker between them. On the marker was carved a series of dwarven runes, but unfortunately, none of the party knew their meaning. One thing was certain, though: the cairns had been undisturbed for years, as attested to be the overgrowth of moss and vines on them. Wuder, too, showed no sign of recognition. Could this possibly have been the same place Ludovic had spoken of?

With light fading, the group began heading back to Pritzstock. Shortly into their return trip, an eerie sight crossed their path – a skull, gliding southward through the forest toward the village. It didn’t seem to notice them, but Wuder raced after it excitedly, and when he approached it, it spun around, flew at him and – to everyone’s shock – simply snuggled up to his face like a cat rubbing against someone. In the gloom of dusk, the party was dumbfounded, watching but holding their actions as they waited to see what would happen next.

What happened next was a voice calling out, “Congress with demons! Your actions mark you as the source of this deviltry!” It came from a man they’d never seen before: early 30s, blond hair worn in a pageboy style, garbed in robes and bearing a quarterstaff. At his side was the dwarven troll slayer they’d spied earlier in the day, and there would be no holding him back this time. His magic-wielding partner began the melee, blasting forth a series of light beams from his hands that impacted cruelly against Wuder. Wuder went flying to the ground, a series of crater-like burns smoldering on his chest, but amazingly he seemed only terrified and exhibited no pain. Parzival moved to attack the skull, which now took on a more combative demeanor. Nicodemus loosed an arrow at the dwarf, creasing his skull and leaving a bloody line. Meanwhile, Fimgon engaged the dwarf alongside Bargrimm’s canine enforcer, Gretta. Bargrimm himself moved to engage the spellcaster, who attempted to ensorcell him but failed in the confusion of battle. He seemed powerful but untried, and quickly fell before the heavy swings of Bargrimm’s pick. The dwarf, who’d both bloodied Fimgon and been bloodied by him, bellowed his rage and made to attack Bargrimm. But his rage proved no match for the team's numbers and he shortly fell beneath a shower of blows. Parzival was more impressed with himself, however, having managed to shatter the skull he’d been fighting.

The party began to search through the belongings of their attackers in hopes of figuring out another piece of the puzzle. They turned up a few coins, the spellcaster’s grimoire and a letter that only Parzival had the schooling to read. It confirmed Fimgon’s worst fears: that the dwarf and the spellcaster were no villains. The letter was in fact from one of Pritzstock’s youngest inhabitants, the boy Seel Baldurich, whom the adventurers had yet to meet but who the mayor had cited as one of the first villagers to see the skulls some weeks ago. Seel had apparently sent the letter to his uncle, Otto Baldurich, a wizard being schooled at the cosmopolitan Middenland city of Altdorf, begging him to come and save the village.

“I thought that haircut seemed familiar...” mused Parzival, for both Otto and Seel apparently sported the same pageboy fashion. It seemed that Otto and his dwarven companion had been on the same trail the adventurers were, only to have jumped to fatal conclusions before they could compare stories.

And now it was too late to do anything for them, too late to make it back to the village before dark, and surely that lone skull Parzival had shattered wasn't the last of them...