# Superstition and Murder: A Perdue campaign



## Arrgh! Mark! (Jul 12, 2004)

1.	Meleghost the Sneaky

2.	Brutus of Kova

3.	The Attack on Duvik’s Pass

4.	Lupicos of Cleonae

5.	Interlude: The Sorrowful Winter

6.	The Temple of the Demon-God

7.	The Slayers of the Blue Leaf

8.	Interlude: The Gaining of a Kingdom

9.	Interlude: The Slow Death of the Soul

10.	The Temple of a Corporate God

11.	The Crystal Tower of Lust

12.	He Who is a Snake in Human Form


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Jul 12, 2004)

*Ii.*

The Riddle of Wind and Sun

The north wind blew, it's frozen voice:

Why do you come here? No one can pass the north wind.

Sun smiled. 

My black sails make you beautiful. 

Wind cried.

Your blacks sails are no part of you. Let them go.

Sun shook his head. 

Wind said -

If you cannot solve my riddle, then 

Let go my sails.

Sun smiled, knowing all there was to know on the earth.

What is your riddle?

The wind laughed.

Will you die?

Sun smiled, gently.

Of course! I will die in time, as all things. Your riddle is easy.

Wind simply said 

If you will die, and black sails cover the earth,

Why live?

From then, Wind blew coldly from the north, 

stealing life from what it could –

Because Sun could not answer.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Jul 13, 2004)

*Chapter 1: Meleghost The Sneaky*

Chapter 1: Meleghost The Sneaky

“A city encircled by a natural wall of stone a hundred feet high. The priests on the Street of Gods preach that below the city is a demon, bound with a thousand silk strings. The demon burns a single string to ash for every sin. No one knows when it was bound, or by whom. To some, the demon is Set, some Cthugha, some with more unpronounceable names. They say that with our iniquities and sins, and our refusal to believe in the Way of something that it will explode, filling the city with fire and brimstone like it has in the time before time.

Every day, those priests hoard their riches, their silk robes, and the vitalest of waters. So it is said that when one sacrifices to a priest the demon has another silk string laid upon it through the God’s blessings, whoever they might be.

I, however, know better. There might be a bound demon, but as much as the silk-clad priests strut with their money, their horses*, their mansions, I see more so called sin than sacrifice. I grew up with it; the facile serving of those such as the followers of Yig, whom the females let snakes ride around inside themselves and claim the demon is poisoned through their bodies. 

Or perhaps the hedonistic practices of the followers of Baal-sothoth, with their goat demons and bestial rites. No, I see no bound demon in those rites other than the dark things they summon from the outer dark. Nothing below but distant heat.

How would I know, do you ask? For I follow Bel, he who guides my hand. He makes no pretence to anything bar those who have the ability to take, take. His hand cuts through those lies. For I have seen inside all of the temples, the most sacred… or profane… rituals. I have seen under the city, it’s passages and catacombs filled with the death-stink of charnel rites and burning silk. I took what was theirs, and is now mine. When the fat weaklings protested, I was no bound victim to be desecrated. I killed them. My arrows in their heart; my blade through their neck, my hands around their throats. The blood pouring from their fat bellies as they gasp and choke with beckoning eyes. I know it well.

So, that is I, Meleghost. Out people, known archers and woodsmen, but prey to those who steal both mind and body. But I see little else in my travels. The ignorant are misused. 

But don’t get me wrong. I don’t take or kill those who have not done me wrong. I don’t take from those with nothing, not simply because they have nothing. For I was that, once; street kid, orphan, starving. The blue rings under your arms, see behind my ear – the growth of the poor. 

So I was taken in, by a bunch of misfits and prophets at a young age. A woman, possessed of the voice of Bel deemed worthy and me fit; she made me her apprentice. I learned early the skills of the pickpocket and street-thief, but I was too capable. At thirteen, she took me to her bed and showed me the arts of dealing with women; lies and misdirection. And when we stole off to the towers of Set, or many others, she showed me the art of killing. 

Eventually, I killed her. It was her way. I took what was hers and killed her, assuming Bel would choose me as his Prophet. But such was it; her belief made her prophet. I cared little for gods that used me. Bel rejected me; the ritual was aborted, and I plunged to the streets below. But He obviously had plans; for while I escaped the steel and quick, choking death of the streets, I stand here, in the north, because of that. My principles stand; take what I wish, kill those who deserve death, and one day… become something greater than sneak-thief or murderer.”



*Closest approximation to the 6 legged insect one must ride in that region.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Jul 13, 2004)

*Iv.*

To be updated.


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## sword-dancer (Jul 15, 2004)

Interesting SH with a nice and fitting Telling Style.
A Question do you use Sorcerer and Sword ?


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Jul 16, 2004)

*V.*

To be updated.


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## sword-dancer (Jul 16, 2004)

No it`s no d20 book.
It´s a Supplement/genre book for sorcerer, for "pulp" fantasy like Howard, Wagner and such.
The authors of conan d20 used it as inspiration.

http://www.sorcerer-rpg.com/

http://www.sorcerer-rpg.com/product.php/sword.html


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 27, 2004)

*Vi.*

To be updated.


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## The Amazing Dingo (Sep 27, 2004)

Arrgh...err, um, Mark!

You're doing a fine job with these posts.  I enjoyed the first posts but that last post really helped put a the overall mood and feel of the campaign very well into perspective.  Similarly, it helped bring out the PCs personalities and characters even better.

You're doing a very nice job!  Keep it up!


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 28, 2004)

*Vii.*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 28, 2004)

*Viii*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 28, 2004)

*Ix.*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 29, 2004)

*X.*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Sep 30, 2004)

*Xi*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Oct 1, 2004)

*Xii.*

To be updated.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Oct 4, 2004)

*Xiii.*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Oct 6, 2004)

*Xiv*

TBU


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## TDRandall (Oct 12, 2004)

I'm not too familiar with Conan, so thanks for the extra info marked with asterisks.  Is every unknown a "demon"?  I like what I've read so far - I've subscribed the thread and will keep up with it as I can.

I like your writing style, Mark.  Putting in the over-the-top ... er, dramatic storyteller is a good break from the actual adventure posts.  Good descriptions - seems like you've introduced at least some for all senses.  And good pacing so far - enough combat to know generally what happened and bypassing the possible mind-numbing details.

That said, could you post some more in-game details too?  Not here - don't want to spoil the mood and story line.  Probably to your "character" thread in the rogue's gallery that I found (so perhaps a renaming of the thread?).  Nothing that will tip-off the future for us or spoil the game for the players.  (although you said you're six months after the actual game play)  For instance, I'd like to see what Calcryx really was, maybe NPCs like Erichl or Ainann too if they were fleshed out?  If it's not straight out of the Conan book, maybe a link to a map (rough, character-knowing like) of the general area?

Wow, two characters dead already.  How in the world did it "take care" of Avarillar without waking the others?  Or was that too part of the illusion, effectively removing the character because the player wasn't present?  Although he's not back and the group is in the city ready to strike out for another mission so I assume the death was "real".


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Nov 27, 2004)

*Xv.*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Dec 3, 2004)

*Xvi.*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Dec 20, 2004)

*Xvii.*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Dec 24, 2004)

*Xviii.*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Jan 9, 2005)

*Xix*

TBU


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Feb 1, 2005)

*Working on it.*

Update, for whoever might glance. You may note I took down the whole story; this is because I've decided that my way of writing (Epic prosody or whatever) simply isn't what I was trying to do. This way I'll write a full story, not simply write the exploits of the characters. 

You may note a new technological note. This was always there in the game, but I simply buggered up when writing it all down, and would have seemed like some cheap stunt I put in. So, we'll see. 

Regardless, our characters are still uneducated barbarians in a world of feuding cultures under a dying sun. I'm simply re-writing this with (Hopefully) better grammar, spelling, philosophical sort of things and more... something. 

Better, stronger, more improved and all that. Hope you like the slight change from S+S to a more Dark Fantasy cross, but lets see if I can actually pull it off.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (Feb 3, 2005)

Added one of Cu Chulaind's riddles, though not one close to his heart. Interesting character he is. Pity what happens to him.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (May 25, 2005)

Hate to bump myself, but this rewriting old posts won't get me read again. Comments and critiques welcomed and desired of course. I'm trying to get some feedback on my writing.


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## Arrgh! Mark! (May 26, 2005)

*Chapter 2 - Brutus of Kova*

The fire blazed and crackled, it’s meagre light illuminating nothing but the dirty and bright-eyed faces around it. There was a brief, contemplative silence. 

A deeper voice followed. It’s harsh note cut clearly through the icy valley in which the hulking, muscled figure sat. The occasional scrape of stone on metal emphasized his words. 

“I come from a city of yellow walls, called golden by those who swear to its beauty. The houses, roofed with thatch or yellow stone, reach up to three floors. Outside the yellow walls and the Gate of Skulls lie the slums, a shifting wilderness of thieves and murderers. Before it all, on the west lies the shining filth of the Dead Sea, it’s black waves pushing along the fire-driven fleets of my people. The great plains of the east with their travelling horsemen, grass higher than a standing man. To the south begins the demons-forsaken forest. Beyond those, the blackened parts, the blasted lands. 

I was once a great man in Moderost. I, of the house Kova had it in me to rule that place and it’s great navy. And yet, there was one who was jealous of my might. I was to be married to the princess of that place and my family promoted to the upper reaches. I struggled hard, taking land and riches to guarantee the survival of my house. While young, I was the leader of that place in all but name. 

But there was one, who I counted my most steadfast ally. We worked together, Julius and I. I gave him titles and land and thought him satisfied. But always, always, his jealousy burned. We would have ruled equally. But when I was married to his love against my will, he burned with the heat of a thousand suns and challenged me to a duel. 

I cut down my brother. I thought him dead; and so I would have committed a crime in my society that cast me from my house, and all chance of nobility. Nobles in my land walk untouchable by normal people, living in a city at one time a different level; their own walled and gardened walks blossoming with the smells of oranges high above the normal roads of the people to better block the scent of the street. He who walks upon their paths has the thousand cuts, even an accidental step. He, who touches the nobility decorates the gate of skulls. After years. 

All night, to hear the mournful screams of those who have been given the glance of the nobility. To be before their attention is deadly – but for some, who aid their wars and politics, one may be promoted to their ranks. For to have their attention is to have power; perhaps they ennoble those who are a threat. But regardless, it is what I was cast from – a life of luxury and pleasure. 

I found, later, that he lived past that scything blow. He took what was mine, and rules now with the greatest army in the world.

So I travelled, wandering, and finding that the skills of my youth were ill suited for anything but killing. I west east, seeking my fortunes in the land of Leone with their olives and their wasted, tired lands. I was unable to enter their towns, neither slave nor master. Friendless I came here, to the north, the land of bitter snow and the smell of past betrayal.”


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