To get you through the holiday travel and the exhaustion of chicken stuffed duck stuffed turkey, I present a little proof of concept encounter for a depthcrawl I’m brewing. In the crawl this would probably be a possible interpretation of: GRAVEYARD [location] + HUMAN WOODFOLK [encounter/event]+ ARMED CORPSE [detail]
Encounter for Medieval Fantasy TTRPGS:
ARRIVAL: Taste of worms and old earth in the air, thumping rhythm of a shovel reluctantly biting into roots. The willow trees gnarled and stooped under the weight of their weeping branches. Through the shroud of honey-white leaves: unmarked mounds (d66) with undisturbed blankets of viscous red flowers. Between the trees in the open air: a haphazard arrangement of stone slabs jutting like the unruly teeth of a sleeping giant.
FOCUS: One figure with rolled sleeves is digging a grave and humming tunelessly. The body he is burying is resting on a makeshift wooden sled, little more than boards given a stern warning to keep together lest they become kindling. The flesh has been completely obscured with a tightly wrapped shroud of discolored animal hide. Spear-gored plate armor of good make has been loosely outfitted over the shroud. The hands grasp a flanged mace and wooden kite shield painted with the Red Lion of Ostrgund beside a Silver Notched Half-Moon. Butchered limbs of a horse are arranged below the feet.
Extra Details: The gravedigger [Baldwin, 50s, human, straight gray-stained hair] has a bow, long knife, and knapsack tossed against a gravestone. His old blind terrier dog is sleeping nearby. He will avoid combat, opting to only defend his life and that of his dog. When his work is complete he will eat a snack and then take a short nap in the stones.
If unwrapped, the body has been made a ruin. The blood has completely drained, and the once rosy cheeks of a young man are colorless and gaunt. Traces of unevenly distributed stubble can be made out on the shattered jaw.
The mounds of the red flower contain the bodies of Ardwyn who were displaced by the WOODFOLK many fathers ago. Willow tree shrouds are sporadically harvested during ceremonies by bands of Ardwyn and traded in the Ward of Ardwynon as a gravegood. Mounds contain bones [100%], decomposed goods [50%], Ardwyn Relics [40%], and broken Gundish Relics [10%]. (SEE EXAMPLE RELICS BELOW)
OUTCOME: If the gravestones are disturbed or the gravedigger is affronted, decrease reputation with the HUMAN WOODFOLK. If the mounds are disturbed, decrease reputation with the Ardwyn.
RELICS:
Ardwyn Relic: Ubhdli or Sweet-Tongue Onion is a durable round accumulation of sunken cartilage. Individual capsules can be snapped off and ingested. This grants three moons of advantage in legal matters and councils as well as sweetened initial impressions from nobles.
Gundish Relic: Wooly Rhino-horn plough-blade. Carved as one self-sharpening blade from the horn. Still sharp enough to draw blood but unwieldly in its current form. Enough material for 2+d6 weapons or 12+6d6 arrowheads.
FROM THE GRAVEDIGGER’s MOUTH:
on why he is here: “boy’s body needed burying, would have been wrong to dump him anywhere else. Made little difference in the end but he fought the wolves all the same. Poor fool didn’t trust to the flame in life and far be it from me to convert him in death.”
on the corpse: “don’t get the wrong idea. If you keel over I’m just as like to let the birds eat you. This was a true knight I suppose, a queer sort of boy brought from the Land of Flame The way he told it, before he got a dozen spears in the back, King Rikard’s honor and sword-arm so impressed him that he swore his fealty in defeat. Said they wrecked somewhere on the coast north of here and he pawned some trinket for a horse so he could find his way to Ostrgund. Seems a waste to bury good arms but I’m not like to let the wolves strip it from me and bare it against my folk.”
on the horse: “the wolves killed the horse, the hungry took the good flesh, and the dead needs a mount to make his way home.”
on directions: if he trusts the asker he will give accurate directions to a monument or village or [REDACTED PENDING DEPTHCRAWL]. if he does not trust the asker he will give accurate directions to nowhere.
on the gravestones: “the stones are local men before they turned to the flame, scrape away the elements on the bigger stones and the carved names are familiar enough. No great lords buried here till now, just farmers and woodcutters.”
on visitors: “few enough make the trip seeing as how good folk burn their dead and ashes keep better in jars than in dirt. Even outlaws are known to keep their distance; some say disturbance wakes mound-sleepers to take their vengeance. Might be the ardwynies come round, some excitable folk claim to see great confusions of hoofprints on nights of the full moon.”
on the mounds: “nothing I can say that a child hasn’t heard from their grandnan, but seems like enough that dead are sleeping within. Not our dead though. Nor that of of father’s fathers. Maybe the dead of the faeries, or the trees themselves when they could walk. Hmm…too mannish for giants I think.”
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
when you joined the great fallen in 1916
well I hope you died quick
and I hope you died clean
oh willy mcbride, was is it slow and obscene
did they beat the drums slowly
did the play the fife lowly
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
(Green Fields of France - Eric Bogle)
(That was secretly just a lore post inspired by Green Fields of France. Another blog post inspired by the Green Fields of France can be found here )
Scriptorium Ludi 