 |  Cameos |
Crumbling to the floor in exhaustion, blood from a vicious head wound streaking across his sweat-soaked features, muscles numb from the rigours of the fight, Manfred could just make out the prone figure of the dread Chaos Warrior through his crimson veil. It had taken every last ounce he had left to cut her down, and he had broken his trusty sword in the process. And then, his mind still muggy from the countless blows he'd absorbed, a thought struggled through to the surface of his consciousness. That sword the warrior used, that was one mean sword. Just think of the damage I could do with a sword like that...
Following a tumultuous battle with a Champion and minions of Khorne, the PCs are confronted with a choice: do you take up a chaos-tainted weapon and endeavour to use it yo your own ends? For most bloodthirsty PCs there would not be a moments hesitation, which presents the GM with an ideal opportunity to test just how far the average power-hungry gamer is prepared to go in search of the ultimate weapon.
Make the sword, or whatever weapon you choose, as appealling as possible, emphasising its unnaturally sharp blade and the hot pain it caused as it sliced through their armour and into soft flesh. Bonuses of +20 to WS and +2 to damage, and the magic property of Destroy Magical Weapon, are not unreasonable. But that's where the good news ends. Essentially, the weapon should exert an ever-increasing influence over the PC. Bearing in mind that it has been enchanted by the Chaos Power Khorne, it will have its own very definite agenda (ie. Wholesale slaughter) and will be intent on using the PC to accomplish it.
Exactly how you incorporate this ongoing storyline into your campaign will depend on your players' reactions, but if they fail to see the dangers and persist in using the weapon they should experience nightmares of growing frequency and intensity, a gradual erosion of sanity and loss of humanity, perhaps even temporary loss of control as the weapon goes on a killing spree of its own in the latter stages, as the sword becomes an integrated part of their body and psyche, and ultimately they are confronted by a vision of Khorne in all his foul glory and forced to battle for their sorry soul.
Of course, any player with an ounce of sense would dump the cursed blade after the first couple of nightmares, so you need to give them a few compelling reasons for wanting to keep it. Make the dreams ambiguous to begin with, perhaps reliving previous battles in gory detail, or being stalked by a faceless shadow. Increased strength and combat abilities are always welcomed by bloodthirsty PCs, and in the latter stages you could even throw in an appropriate chaos gift or two, such as Blood Rage or a grafting of the weapon onto the PCs arm itself, by which time it will be very difficult to get rid of the sword even if they want to. And if you time the nightmares and visitations well, they probably won't even realise they are connected with their possession of the sword, until its too late.
To further complicate the issue, you might like the followers of Khorne to take an active interest in the party both while they have the weapon and even after they get rid of it. Somehow I doubt the Blood God likes his 'gifts' being refused.
The purpose of this storyline is to get the players thinking about the nature of the power they wield, and force them to question their own motivations in acquiring powerful magic. It also underlines the dangers of exposing yourself to the subtle workings of chaos, where everything has its price.
Of course, this sort of thing should not be seen as an everyday occurence, even in the Warhammer world. And it should develop gradually; each nightmare, each subtle change in psychology or physique, separated by days or even weeks of game time, to enhance the effect and also disguise the true source of the nightmares. Run this sub-plot alongside your main campaign storyline, returning to it whenever the player starts to get overconfident or boastful about their newfound power. Reveal the weapon's hidden powers one by one, and remember that whenever you give with one hand, you should take in larger quantities with the other. Make the player increasingly aware of the sacrifices they are having to make to gain their power, the fact that they are losing control over their character. And if, after all that, they still want to keep the weapon, you have a ready-made Champion of Khorne with which to plague the rest of the party for many sessions to come.
'What, you didn't honestly think I'd let you keep the thing, did you?'
With the previous blue skies inexplicably replaced by a torrential downpour, navigating the boat through this narrow, heavily-wooded area takes a great deal of skill, not to mention a touch of luck. Especially when you round a tight bend and find another boat has run aground, and is partially blocking the river.
A Boat Handling Test is required to avoid a collision, with a penalty of -10 due to the rain. Collision causes only superficial damage to the PCs boat (unless you're feeling particularly cruel) but it does further damage to the hull of the grounded craft, and knocks over those of her crew who were attempting to unground her. Furthermore, one crewman has become trapped, his leg caught under the boat when it lurched forward. The PCs' help will be required in order to free him.
If a collision is avoided, the PCs may still wish to help fellow river travellers in peril. The captain of the vessel, the Feuerwerke, is Kristian Orff, a slim, softly spoken man of early middle age who sports a voluminous moustache. He will of course be grateful for the PCs assistance, but distressed at the damage to his boat. He confides in whoever is captaining the PCs' vessel that he has been having a terrible day, with poor weather, his food all gone bad, half his crew sick, and now this. And what's more, he has a fee-paying passenger who must get to Altdorf (or any nearby city) urgently. There's no way his boat will make it without repairs, but perhaps the PCs could help with that too?
Captain Orff virtually begs the PCs to take his passenger, offering them the full payment he was given. It is then that the man in question will make an appearance. His name is Fyodor Dmitroskiev, the son of a minor Kislevite aristocrat and an insufferable human being. But he does have more money than sense, and will offer to pay the PCs 10GC for the trip (he can be Bargained as high as 30GC). He also informs them, regularly, that he is a useful man to know, what with his powerful friends, diplomatic connections, etc.
If the PCs agree to take Fyodor, he will insist they depart immediately, as he has important functions to attend. At this point his erstwhile bodyguard, a formidable 300lb monster named Jarmilla, will emerge from the Feuerwerke, carrying her employer's luggage. Jarmilla is mute, with a phlegmatic approach to life and a hangdog expression that speaks volumes, as the players will soon come to realise. She is also immune to the effects of Red Pox (see below). Kristian Orff will be inordinately grateful to see the back of this particular passenger, and confirms that he needs no more assistance. "You've already done more than enough", he adds.
Note: Any PC with medical skill who inspects the two sick crewmen will be in for a shock. They are both covered in red blotches, and are in a weak, emaciated state. A successful Cure Disease Test will determine that they are suffering from Red Pox. There is nothing they can do except let the disease run its course. That PC must also make a Disease Test at -10% to avoid contracting the pox themselves. (see p.83)
Once they are underway, the PCs will find it difficult to shut Fyodor up. He whines incessantly about tedious social functions, court politics, and the latest fashions for the discerning fop about town. Assuming they don't throw him overboard at the first opportunity (which, considering Jarmilla never leaves his side throughout the trip, is extremely unlikely) the PCs will soon begin to suffer the effects of Fyodor's curse: he suffers from unbelievable Bad Luck, the result of an ancient leshy curse on his family, which is so bad it affects all those around him as well.
During the rest of the day, one Boat Handling Test must be made every half hour, to avoid hazards such as grounding, protruding tree roots, mysterious shadows under the surface, small boats seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and any other misfortune you can think of. Any PC on deck during one of these incidents will stand a very good chance of falling overboard (Initiative Tests required) and will find unpleasant things in the water if they do (leeches, tangled weeds, etc.).
Further frustration can be caused by low branches knocking unwary PCs into the drink, a rusty bolt giving way and causing the rudder to fall off, a sudden cross-wind causing the boom to swing unexpectedly across the deck, and the sail snagging on a branch and tearing. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. In addition, a storm seems to follow the PCs' boat wherever they go. Any Ranger character can make an Intelligence Test to realise that the weather patterns are not entirely natural.
By the time he departs, the PCs will be thoroughly sick of Fyodor Dmitroskiev. But he has one last gift for them - he is an unwitting carrier of disease. Everyone must make Disease Tests at -10% or suffer the effects of the Red Pox. But, like he said, he is a useful man to know.