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Borderland - Troubles in Auheim

Stephan Hornick

Community Goblin & Master of the Archive
Platinum WoA
Wizard of Story
Wizard of Combat
Borderland Explorer
This is the first of hopefully many adventure summaries in the world of Borderland.

A short notice on what this is in relation to the West Marches campaign:
Unrelated to @JochenL's Dungeon Fantasy (Gurps) West Marches campaign, I am running a Dungeon World adventure for two players, @JSRose and @riderv3. For this, I inventented a world consisting of the Saphire Empire, the Bitter Plains and a borderland region with a last outpost. After I saw Jochen's design for his Borderland campaign, at first I asked him if I could use the name of "Auheim" for that settlement as it stuck with me, later if I could use the actual place. On the other hand, he liked my ideas for that area and adventure and we came to agree to include this part of the world into his Borderland campaign world. So, although we use two different rule systems, it is the same setting. I gave my players the option to convert their PCs to Dungeon Fantasy (Gurps) later on, to try this system also.
For those of you, who are following Jochen's Borderland campaign (including @Rardian, @knoppi, @Morvar, and @cr90) and notice that we will adventure to Auheim also on Wednesday, April 21, 2021, this is intended to be a sneak preview, although I'm sure Jochen's adventure will be very different.
I expect the DW Auheim to be earlier in ingame time than the DF Auheim.

+++

A young bard in exile trying to accumulate "real" stories to eventually make a name for himself, Edwyn pondered long about where to go to fulfill his destiny. Eventually though, he overheard parts of a conversation at a run-down tavern at the outskirts of the peaceful Saphire Empire.

"That's bad luck, mate! If they really re-opened the cursed gold mine in Auheim, they will shore more than they expect, I tell you. My cousin heard from a guard that had been stationed at Auheim that there are unnatural tremors! I will not take any cursed gold from there, by the cold bones of my wife."

So Edwyn decided to follow his instinct and joined a travelling liquor trader named Burned Berek on his long way to Auheim, last outpost of mankind in the borderland to the West (at least from the perspective of the Saphire Empire). They journeyed past fields and forests, crossed rivers and hills and eventually came to the Bitter Plains, a sea of endless seeming grass and windy skies sparsely populated to say the least. Only the nomadic tribe of the Ankhara roam these plains, as everybody knows. Politically neutral these survivalists and enduring people only mingle seldomly with other peoples.

When the two travellers spotted preparations for a great bonfire in the distance, though, this tradition was to change for this evening. Berek managed to sell some of his liquor to the Ankhara, who were preparing for some kind of ritual as it seems. First unsure how to approach them, the two travellers soon discovered the Ankahara tribe to be a hospitable people and they were invited to join on this special occasion. One of their own was having her rite of passage this evening.


Born to the Blue Leaf Ankhara tribe of the Bitter Plains Rhea followed the tribe's tradition of a rite of passage. Usually it only meant to wait until the end of the ceremony, drink some alcohol and later fetch some feathers of a bird or find back to the tribe within 2 days as an ordeal to pass the test. Now though, she could only gasp with all the others as it turned out to be a bitter ordeal for her.
The Old Hag, as everybody called the tribe's wise woman, spoke to the clouds above and read the leaves in the wind. During Rhea's rite of passage the clouds had grown dark and menacing. The rhythmic drums stopped for a moment when the dry wood in the bonfire cracked loudly like thunder. And the Old Hag trembled and spoke in her raspy voice:

"You will find your wind not with the others, young leaf. Danger is coming. To all of us. The clouds speak to me, they speak of a dark mass expanding in terror and hate. You must go, young Rhea, you must follow the East Wind and find the origin of the menace beyond the grass. This is what the clouds say and what shall be your ordeal for the rite of passage. Make us proud, young warrioress, and come back safely. Now, leave tomorrow and trust your feet on the grass and your hair in the wind that the Ankahara will be with you the whole time."

Then it became loud and festivities got bitter. Other members of the tribe tried to overrule this ordeal as it was far away and seemingly much more dangerous than their typical ordeal. The Old Hag had become too old, some said. But in the end, she was not to be overturned and insisted on her reading of the clouds. Reluctantly it was decided that at least someone should join Rhea on her quest that may actually entail going beyond the Bitter Plains. But the Ankhara were reluctant to leave the grass lands of their ancestors. Nobody volunteered.


The sky had spoken of danger far to the West, but Edwyn could only think of adventure and fate. He chimed in and after first irritation that an outsider even volunteered, he underwent the Ritual of Fate Threading with her, which included drinking a drop of the other's blood in a bowl of shared horse milk.
And as the morning sun rose, the three travellers went on their way towards the Borderlands in the West. Dreading with excitement the arrival at Auheim.
 
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riderv3

Member
Gold WoA
Wizard of Combat
Journal of Edwyn, Part 1

Rhea, the dusk skinned steely eyed elf-maid squinted at the bitter wind that flowed across the endless plains of Ankhara like a chill tide, it’s tides and eddies carrying the raptors that stalked our traces. To her boon companions, myself and the stalwart Berik Vintner, the sea of tall grass provided little counsel; but to the lithe elf-maid, the land spoke volumes. Danger, spoke the wind; corruption, whispered the hawk. Something was coming, something sinister.

We made camp near a great stone outcrop, under the shade of an old tree, gnarled like a skeletal hand grasping at the last rays of sunlight, roots like tendons anchoring it to the hard earth we rested on. Even as Rhea’s stalwart allies made preparations for the evening, Berik tending his draft horse with murmurs of comfort and pockets of sugary morsels, and myself strumming my instrument, orderly chords leading charges against the tides of nature’s chaos, Rhea watched the dimming sky, ignoring my dulcet tones for the wild song of the winds. Something was coming. While Berik poured the wine, still Rhea watched - something was coming.

Then it hit us, a noise like the very earth crying out in pain, then the ground moved like a living thing, writhing beneath us, and we were tossed like a petulant child’s toys. But not Rhea, her lissom hips flexing like a stallion’s as she stood her ground. Though the tortured earth flowed like water, Rhea stood tall, still drinking deeply of her wine as though the tremor was nothing at all. Berik and I scrambled for safety, clinging to the great rock as it boomed and cracked against the shaking. Finally the trembling ceased, the ground quieted, and silence returned to the plains. Rhea ran long fingers through silken hair as she stared into the distance,
“Corruption, it awaits our arrival, and the sting of my blades. Something there infects the earth with darkness, I shall be the cure.”
 
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JSRose

New member
Rhea's POV:

Tern tells me the clouds speak to her of the dark mass, expanding in terror and hate. To follow the East wind and find the menace beyond the grasses - land that no ancestor in living memory has left. We keep to the Bitter Plains, raising our horses, racing the wind, and hunting with eagles.

Tern reads the leaves that dance in the air, like pages in a book the foreigners bring, or labels on the free flowing wine made in the Sapphire Empire. My kin protests that my coming of age quest should not be so dangerous, when overruled they then say that I should not go alone. But they are all too afraid to come with me. And then they decide, over my protests, that the human named Edwynne should be my blood sworn companion. Do they even know where this round ear has been? The wind whispers that I must accept, so that my kin will let me go and I sigh in resignation. I am Rhea of the Blue Leaf Ankhara, and I swear the blood oath, and we leave at sunrise. Of course Edwynne is not a morning person. He is like an old stallion, past his prime and gone to seed. Especially the morning after a few drinks.

Tern has taught me many things others of our tribe do not care to know, so not only do I listen to the wind, but the earth also reveals her secrets to me, with little prodding. The scarred round ear has made a haphazard fire, and starts drinking sour rune wine; I take a cup out of curiosity.

I am the first to feel the vibrations under foot. I shout warning to Burnt, the human, and he staggers to his horse. At first it feels like a stampede, so I drag Edwynne over to a boulder, in case we quickly need to get behind something or move up onto higher ground. The foolish round ear pulls away from me and endangers his life by grabbing his musical instrument. If it had been a stampede, his rash action would have killed us both. He clings on to the boulder, while I draw sigils into the earth, to speak to her more clearly, and find out what the danger is.

The unnaturalness is overwhelming. A gaping nothingness in the earth, a darkness moving underground. And then the tremors stop. It takes time to calm the horse. The poor creature deserves better than pulling a rickety cart full of poorly fermented grape juice.

We make it to cursed Auheim, where Burnt seeks his fortune in rune wine, Edwynne searches for inspiration, and I to complete my coming of age quest. There are strange and interesting people here, and not all seem to be human. Half the buildings were originally for those of smaller stature, a guard - Ereska Meerhaven, has cat eyes; the leader of this town, Merwild Dusk of Amber, is some kind of halfling. I wonder what tribe Amber is. It must come from a forest land. We are warned off from the mines, though the wretched alcohol that Burnt peddles, makes us welcome in town.

The rest of the humans blend into one faceless mass of names, that occasionally likes to ask insulting questions, like am I a cannibal. I reassure the twin children who look at me with large eyes that the Ankhara do not eat people. I do not specify who falls under the heading of people. If they're smart they'll pick up on that oversight, and wonder. Tern says stories are always better when there's blanks left for the listener to fill in.

There's an especially belligerent human who stands out, a man named Old Buck from Old Auheim - turns out this isn't the original Auheim after all. Humans certainly have the oddest naming conventions. He approaches, ready for a fight, then breaks down, telling me of the Cloud Devourers, featherless birds that have stolen a foal he has been caring for. They swarm out of a cursed cloud that is moving slowly, a few weeks away from the makeshift town, if current speeds stay constant.

I wonder if I can turn into a foal, and tempt one of those Cloud Devourers to snatch me and take me to their lair, so I can find out where they are coming from, and put an end to them. They might eat me if there's a lot of them, but perhaps I stand a chance. It is something to consider. I wonder if they can sense magic.

One of the twins gives me a bracelet with flowers from the grasslands in it. I am touched at the small gesture. Humans lives are like these flowers, blooming with all they have for such a short time, and then casting seeds every which way in the wind.

It is dark and getting late. Is Old Buck sober enough to take me to the horses?
 
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