In which our friends begin their long journey east, honour a dead man’s wish, and visit a village under a strange haunting.
Saturday, September 22nd, 2512
On the road again
On the morning after their farewell party on the Red Moon, the adventurers rode out of Middenheim through the South Gate and down the winding viaduct. Everyone was on horseback except Courage, who was driving the cart with Marike‘s field laboratory and other heavy equipment. They also had with them a letter of introduction and a seal from Marshal Maximilian von Genscher to prove they were in the service of Kurfurst Boris Todbringer. The Marshal had instructed them to be careful who they show it to, but here within the Principality of Middenheim, they had no need to be secretive about their mission.
As they rode out, Aenlinn and Kethe were both glad to be out on the roads again – Aenlinn was happy to be on the move again, and Kethe to get away from all the politics and intrigue of Middenheim; Wernhart was paranoid, always looking over his shoulder, and Marike was a little melancholic. It was a beautiful sunny autumn morning.
* * *
They had a long trip ahead. It was about 250 miles to Wolfenburg in Ostland, where they were to report to Baron Heinrich Hohenfels – the Kurfurst’s bastard son, ambassador and unofficial chief of intelligence – for duty, a two-week journey with the slow cart, not counting any detours. And they already had a couple of detours planned, one assigned to them and one of their own initiative.
At first, they were going to take a detour to the village of Uldorf to finally fulfill the last wish of Johann Niederwald, whose ghost they helped bring to rest, to tell his sister Gretel of his death. Johann’s ghost had also instructed them about a hidden treasure in his old chamber that they would ask Gretel to dig up for them as thanks for her help.
After that, next stop would be a detour to the village of Pritzstock on the southeastern outskirts of the principality, famous for the wine grown there. According to the Marshal, there had been vague complaints of strange phenomena of some sort scaring away guest workers and jeopardizing the wine harvest. The adventurers were to take a trip to Pritzstock, see if there was a problem, and if so, solve it.
* * *
The first day’s travel was uneventful. They rode along the well-traveled highway east through the agricultural landscape, had lunch at the Dancing Bear inn (which they visited a couple of times before) and stopped at the next inn, the Broken Shield, for the night.
Sunday, September 23rd
Johann’s last will
Towards noon on Sunday, they turned onto a winding side road and eventually reached Uldorf, a small but seemingly prosperous village. One farm on a hill just outside the village was only a ruin now; according to the locals it was burned down and looted one night last summer – strangely, the robbers didn’t attack the rest of the village.
They soon found the Niederwald farm and Gretel Niederwald herself received them. She and her husband Rolf were of course not happy to hear about her brother’s death, but it didn’t seem to come as a shock to them either – she knew he lived a dangerous life. Gretel asked if he was buried properly and was pleased to have that confirmed.
When Aenlinn conveyed Johann’s wish that they should have a package that was in a hidden drawer behind a certain wall board in his old room, Gretel raised a puzzled eyebrow, but she went to look anyway and indeed found a velvet bag which she handed to Aenlinn. It contained two rubies and a plain silver ring.
* * *
From Uldorf the adventurers rode back the way they came and continue on the eastern high road. Again they rested at an inn for the night.
Monday, September 24th – Tuesday, September 25th
The journey continues
They rode on without encountering anything particularly interesting along the way. They passed Dunfurter Castle, the mining town of Unterfraus and a whole series of villages. They were getting closer to the Midden mountains now, and the landscape was turning higher and more hilly. East of the road were the foothills of the mountains, and to the west the dark Drachenwald forest spread out as far as the eye could see.
Wednesday, September 26th
The crows
On Wednesday morning, an overcast day, the party turned west onto a narrower forest road winding its way between the wooded hills towards Pritzstock. The forest was quickly getting denser and even though it was mid-morning it was starting to feel dark. They passed a few small villages along the way, but they were much less frequent than along the main country road.
About an hour and a half past the last village, everything was seeming a little eerily quiet and still. Suddenly the silence was torn apart by the loud screeches of birds somewhere in the forest, sounding like the cawing of ravens or crows mixed with… something else. The first solitary cry was answered by several cawing screeches. Now there were also whining, rustling sounds. The adventurers looked at each other a little worriedly but pressed on, weapons close at hand.
Then suddenly a whole flock of large and aggressive crows came flying out of the woods to the north of the road, screeching and cawing, and dove at the adventurers. They split into two flocks; the larger fell on Marike and Kethe, who were riding behind the cart, and the smaller on Wernhart and Aenlinn, who were in front.
All was pandemonium as the adventurers and their horses were engulfed in a storm of tearing claws and hacking beaks. Marike and Wernhart were busy keeping their frightened horses under control; Kethe managed to improvise a “shield” out of her cloak to defend herself with – and managed to knock down a few crows – and Aenlinn, who had a real shield, more effectively beat off some more birds with it.
In the middle of the flock, Marike spotted a particularly large and ragged crow with red eyes. It looked very worn, thin and almost… dead? She called out to Kethe, who tried in vain to aim for it in the midst of the chaos.
The fight ended as suddenly as it began – suddenly, the red-eyed crow veered off and flew away into the trees to the north. The other crows started to follow it, but soon they started to scatter, dispersed aimlessly and disappeared in different directions. Half a dozen crows were left dead on the ground.
What the hell was that!? The adventurers began to gather themselves; neither they nor the horses had been seriously injured, but the horses were severely shaken by the experience. Marike was also quite upset to discover her hat had been badly torn up.
The Black Sheep inn
They stopped in the next village, Grubentreich, and had lunch at the inn The Black Sheep. They talked about their experience to the innkeeper, who mentioned that they weren’t the first he has heard similar things from. A wine merchant who came back from Pritzstock the other day told him that people there said the village was cursed and haunted by “ghost birds”. The wine merchant himself had seen large ominous flocks of crows on the road to and from the village. They hadn’t ambushed him, though.
After eating, Courage temporarily repairing Marike’s hat, and Kethe buying a bunch of torches in case they run into more flocks of crows, they continued west toward Pritzstock.
Pritzstock
The winding road eventually emerged from the forest into an open valley between two large wooded hills. The valley was full of large, lush and healthy-looking vines. But there was something strange – no one was out in the vineyards even though it was harvest time.
In the middle of the valley, in a few clusters of farms around the road, was the village of Pritzstock itself. As the adventurers rode in, they saw an agitated crowd gathered in the middle of the village outside the largest and finest-looking farmhouse. People were upset, shouting and speaking at once. When spotting the strangers they quieted down, fixing many suspicious eyes on the adventurers.
A large, well-dressed gentleman, who was standing in front of the gate to the large farm, seized the opportunity and said in a Bretonnian accent: “Look, mes amis, there’s no point arguing until we’ve all calmed down and can discuss things rationally. And there’s no sense blaming anyone without cause. Now everyone go home and we’ll meet again in a couple of hours.” People murmured some more but began to disperse, each one dropping off to their own home.
The well-dressed man greeted the adventurers and introduces himself: he was Henri-Philippe Rocheteau, wine-farmer and -merchant, and owner of most of the vineyards around the village. When he heard the adventurers had been sent here to help solve the village’s problems, he was delighted and invited them into his home. His wife Elisabet and a maid served refreshments – including a decanter of the region’s famous white wine from last year – and they sat down to talk.
Rocheteau’s guests
Rocheteau recounted the incidents that had taken place:
- A few weeks ago, little Seel Baldurich, the young son of one of Rocheteau’s tenants, said he had seen a “ghost bird” in the forest outside the village. The boy has a lively imagination, and no one paid much heed to the matter.
- A few days later, the farmer’s daughter Isolde Gudhoffen claimed that she saw a “dead-looking” crow with red eyes sitting in a tree and staring at her as she was picking berries in the forest. She called for help, but when they returned the crow was gone.
- A couple of days later, a couple of farmhands claimed to have seen a crow “with a skull for a head” flapping around at the edge of the forest when they were out working in the vineyards. This time, they searched the area, but found nothing. Rumours began to circulate that the village was haunted; it was at this point that Rocheteau sent word to Middenheim about the matter.
- Then everything was quiet for a while – until yesterday afternoon, when the farmhands Sigismund Halsbret and Knud Gräber were attacked by a whole flock of crows in the vineyards. They fled into the village, unharmed but badly shaken; they claimed that “the skull-headed crow” was in the flock.
- This morning, Elisabet’s niece Erietta Surhardt was also attacked by crows when she went out to work in the vineyard. By the time people came to help, the birds had dispersed, except for a lone red-eyed crow that stayed on her for a while longer but then also flew away. Erietta was bedridden at home now, still unconscious from her shock and injuries.
- This morning it was also discovered that Sigismund, one of the witnesses from yesterday, has disappeared.
Rocheteau was very worried: in just two days it would be time to start the grape harvest, and now no one dared to go out into the vineyards! And worse than that, the rumours had spread, scaring away the seasonal workers who would be needed to salvage the full harvest. If the wine harvest this year were to go to nothing, it would be a disaster for the village – and not least for himself, owning more than half the village and most of the vineyards. If the adventurers could save him and the village from this predicament, he would be very grateful and happy to add a generous bonus out of his own pocket to their salary from Middenheim.
While working on the case, they were to be his guests and eat at his table. They were lent an empty loft shed to stay in – there they had their own entrance and could come and go as they pleased without having to disturb the residents and vice versa.
The local militia – all five of them – was also at the adventurers’ disposal. Their leader Parzifal Tristan Ehrenberg at least is a proper soldier, explained Henri-Philippe who promised to introduce them.
* * *
The adventurers asked whether something similar had happened before in the area. Were ghost crows a known phenomenon?
Elisabet, who unlike her husband grew up in the area, added that as a child she heard her grandmother tell about some ancient battle somewhere in the forest, where the fallen – and the birds that feasted on their bones – were said to be able to return from the grave. But no one had actually seen anything like that in living memory, as far as she knew. Henri-Philippe muttered with a half-snort that he was not a superstitious man and had not believed in such stories, but now he was begining to wonder. Maybe there was a forgotten burial chamber in the forest that needed to be walled up again? Wernhart recalled actually reading about similar legends; they spoke of ancient burial grounds or tombs whose inhabitants – the dead bones of men and carrion-eating birds – were not allowed to rest but might arise again if their rest is disturbed.
Marike noticed that Henri-Philippe, in contrast to the almost effusive courtesy and hospitality he showed the adventurers, was curt and cold to his wife, speaking more to the adventurers than to her. Elisabet, in turn, seemed eager to please and help, but didn’t really show any warmth towards him either.
Aenlinn wondered whether Henri-Philippe had any competitors who might want to sabotage his harvest? Hm, no, he didn’t think so. This was the only major vineyard in the area – Henri-Philippe proudly told of how he came here on a trip 14 years ago and realised that the soil and climate in this valley would be perfect for growing Bretonnian grapes. He bought a large part of the land in the valley, settled here and started growing wine – now it is the village’s main source of income. So no, no direct competitors. Any other enemies? The vintner frowned for a moment and then shook his head. “Non, non, I have no enemies.”
Erietta
Wernhart and Marike managed with some effort to talk Elisabet into letting them see and examine her injured niece Erietta, who was bedridden at her home. Elisabet accompanied them and explains to her sister Elene – Erietta’s mother – that they were “doctors from the city”.
Erietta was indeed still unconscious, pale and sickly-looking. In addition to a number of small scratches almost all over her body, she had received two nasty bites, one on the side of her head and one on her neck just above the collarbone. The wounds were cleaned and dressed, but she seemed to have lost a lot of blood and the neck wound looked like it could become infected. With joint efforts and a dose of Marike’s healing elixir, they prevented the infection and hoped to soon bring the girl back to consciousness.
Parzifal and Isolde
Meanwhile, Aenlinn and Kethe had accompanied Henri-Philippe to be introduced to the head of the village militia, Corporal Parzifal Tristan Ehrenberg. They met him walking in the company of Isolde Gudhoffen, one of the other witnesses and apparently the beauty of the village. Parzifal, a tall, broad-shouldered and handsome young gentleman, clearly of noble birth, presents himself courtly and properly: he was a reserve corporal in the Middenheim cavalry regiment, but currently on leave, and had undertaken to organise and lead the village’s defenses. He seemed more excited than worried about the haunting, but had to admit he hasn’t seen any of the ghostly crows himself.
Isolde had, though. She didn’t seem overjoyed to see the adventurers – Aenlinn, standing back and observing, noted that she was paying very close attention to how Parzifal and Kethe were talking to each other – but did tell them about her sighting of the red-eyed crow. She had gone out to pick berries at the edge of the forest north of the village when she saw the bird in the tree; at first she thought it was dead, it sure looked like it, but then it moved its head and stared at her. She was frightened and hurried back to get Parzifal, but when he and the others came along they found nothing.
Could she show them where it happened? Isolde was not happy about going out across the vineyards, but with Parzifal and the adventurers along she dared it and showed them to a clearing at the edge of the forest. “It was somewhere here,” she says, pointing vaguely around her.
Sitting crow
Aenlinn looked around a bit and suddenly spotted something high up in a tree. Half hidden by a branch, a ragged moth-eaten crow was perched, unmoving and facing the valley. Half the head was just a bare skull and a dull red glow could be glimpsed in its eye sockets.
Aenlinn took aim and shot it with her crossbow. It was speared on the bolt, dropped to the ground and lay motionless – no blood was visible and the bolt seemed to have mostly just knocked it over, but its neck and spine were broken and the glow in the eye sockets had gone out. Parzifal raised his eyebrows, impressed at the difficult shot. Aenlinn believed there might be more of these out there, and he agreed.
* * *
They returned to the village with the bird carcass still impaled on the crossbow bolt. It caused a stir of interest in the village, but no one seemed to believe that the haunting would be ended so easily.
Parzifal also introduces Kethe and Aenlinn to his “soldiers” – three young men and a woman, all children or unmarried younger siblings of farmers in the village – and instructed the latter to keep a watch around the village borders. He himself was clearly willing to take a more active part in the operations.
Erietta’s story
Meanwhile, Erietta had woken up, and after her mother and aunt had gotten to fuss over her for a while, Wernhart and Marike got a chance to ask a few questions. She didn’t have much more detail to add than what they’d already been told: she was among the first out in the fields this morning. She heard the screeches and suddenly crows were everywhere around her; she glimpsed a crow with glowing red eyes, and then everything went black.
Regrouping and planning ahead
The adventurers gathered at the loft they’d been quartered in; Rocheteau’s servants and Courage had arranged straw beds there already. As they settled in and packed their things, they updated each other and discussed what the next step in the investigation should be.
- All the crows seemed to have come from the forest north of the village. Should they look around there for old battlefields or graves? There’s quite a lot of forest up north, though, and they quickly figured they’ll need more to go on.
- They hadn’t talked to all the witnesses yet either. Both the farmhand Knud and the boy Seel remained.
- Find some old-timer who knew the old tales properly?
- The adventurers were also not entirely convinced that Henri-Philippe had no enemies. Who had the most influence here before he took over? How popular was he really as a “boss”? Might there be personal grudges? And speaking of that, why were he and his wife Elisabet so cold to each other?
The Enemy Within: Remixed 
I like your Hitchcockian take on the scenario.
I think Groppenfrotteur is a characteristically silly Carl Sargent concoction with sexual connotations from the English words “grope” and “frot”. It’s not the only jokey name in the adventure. Seel Baldurich might be a pun on the Blackadder character Baldrick, and it’s surely no coincidence that the local sources of gossip are the Reuters.
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I love the region map, where is it from?
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I drew it in Photoshop, based on a mixture of Andreas Blicher’s maps (the detailed b&w lineart maps found at https://www.windsofchaos.com/?page_id=27) and squinting at the low-res version of Andy Law’s master map, probably with some interpretations and modifications of my own. Of course for my own game the map legend was in Swedish, the translated version is for the blog.
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I think you did a great job! (And thanks for going to the trouble of doing an English version)
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