The Devil on the Moor.CG: GM- Thomas

Settings and Time Period: Denmark, November 15, 1863.

Hook: The Society travels to a godforsaken moor on the west coast of Jutland, where ambitious engineers have awakened dark forces in their quest to tame and modernize the landscape. 

Anders Karlsson (Bill) 48yo Hunter. Average physique and unkempt with piercing dark eyes. Thinning hair on head with long beard and yellowed teeth. Ever vigilant for the ‘thing’ (Wolf of Gysinge) that killed his brothers. Tracks with his 85lb hunting dog “Slim” (a Dalbo - Dalsland Mastiff).

Pastor Jon Jonsson (Nell) 42yo Lutheran Priest. 6’1”, middle of five children. His eldest sister went missing at the hands of a coven of witches which he now hunts.

Valentina Mork (Wishmoon) 14yo young Occultist (now 8ft tall) whose mother died on her 13th birthday, leaving her an orphan. A quiet, creepy girl, often frightened by the various beings that lie in her domain; thus, motivated to seek them out, and lay them to rest.

Saga Blott (Annette) 22yo Academic. 5'9”, tall young blonde with blue eyes and athletic build. Quite beautiful but carries many scars. Saga grew up in poverty in a small village in Norway but left home at age 15 and was taken in by a rich patron who understood her ‘Sightedness’. After grooming her with education and training, he sponsored her entry into the society.

Castle Gyllencreutz: Anders had barely returned days ago from his travels north; over a week behind his fellow members from that assignment. He glared at Valentina, “I see you don’t have a wolf at your side.” She calmly replied, “Nor you a wolf pelt over your shoulders.” All the while Pastor Jonsson in the shadows soaking it all in. Saga? Drama within the castle was nothing new. 

Letter of Introduction: “Just who is this Linnea woman? Especially residing in an asylum. But more importantly, who this referenced ‘Sandemann’?!” Valentina could only offer, “I haven’t met Linnea before, but I hear say she is a useful resource for the society she helped forge. Come, the asylum is just down the street.”

Asylum: The orderly let them in and led them down the hospital hallways where they found Linnea’s locked cell. And her lying peacefully strapped upon her bed as the door unlocked, “So soon? My, how quickly mail is delivered. Tea anyone?” As the orderly removed her straps, Anders raised his brow as he silently pondered “Fast mail? The castle just down the street for which a runner could easily deliver. And we call this crazed person a ‘resource’?” But he listened as Linnea explained, “I request they strap me down for I sometimes have, shall we say, frightful dreams I try to interact with. My letter is in reference to yesterday’s telegram from Preben Rasmussen of the Moorland Society branch; foreman professor on a Denmark project to drain the moors for industrialization. Here, you can read.”

Valentina scanned the telegram and summarized for the others, “They are draining near Grimsted Lyng, Jutland. Attacks on their work camp, unnatural damage to equipment, all which frightens the workers. Made worse by foolery from the locals. Preben deems a demonic presence and equates all to G Sandemann’s devil. Expects to meet us at the Grimsted Tavern.” They all looked to Linnea for explanation of the Sandemann reference. Instead, she stared at Valentina, “Pleasure to meet you. Do you know you have an aura about you? Sandemann… well, some believe he might be a Rosenberger.”

Saga recognized that name from her studies, “Mats Rosenberg who co-founded the Order of Artemis Society. Wanted to focus the Society’s efforts on locating and banishing vaesen without thought to study or understand them. When he passed away, some of his loyalists (Rosenbergers) continued his works, seeking out and slaying vaesen indiscriminately despite the Council’s order.” But Anders was still confused, “Yes, yes, but who is this Sandemann who controls a devil?” Linnea silently sipped her tea before offering, “Well, do stop in again. I do like visitors.” As Saga reached to shake the offered hand, Linnea looked deeply into her eyes, “Death on the Moors. Be careful.” A look as if Saga invisible and Linnea in a trance.

Castle Gyllencreutz: They returned and immediately began their own research. “Here’s an article that mentions the Dane, Gabriel Sandemann. Traveled among the peasants and commoners documenting their relationship to the subterrestrial. He collected thousands of legends and eyewitness accounts of underground vaesen and their relationship to mankind. His most remarkable document addresses the wonderous yet fearsome vaesen haunting the famous Danish moors. Our destination! Perhaps he was a spy for the Rosenbergers searching for their next vaesen hunting ground.”

Heather

They found another article about the Jutland project known as the Moorland Reclamation. “After draining, and weeding of heather, they plan use of artificial fertilizers to expedite tree root growth to firm the soil and shelter crops. Mentioned Preben Rasmussen as the renowned steam engineer leading the expedition. His concern only with how the locals react in their godforsaken primitive land. Compares it to the darkest Africa.”

Travel: After visiting the storerooms of the castle to provision [Resource 1: hurricane lamp], gathering cold weather gear and mucking boots, they journeyed by train south to Stockholm to board a steamer to sail south (a daunting sail thru icy gales) to Denmark and the Jutlands. Where they boarded a stagecoach for the inland ride to Grimsted Lyng and sought out the Grimsted Tavern. Where they met the proprietor, Krowmutter Peterson. “Call me Mutter.”

As they scanned the few patrons, one stood out. A thin, nervous fella dressed out-of-place. Skittish manners as he approached. Stuttering attempt to introduce himself, “You, you, you must be the society members the professor requested. How timely, for the professor is quite excited about something he found. Excited? Well, quite disturbing if you ask me. No, no, I couldn’t possibly tell you now. Too many ears. Unfortunately, it is too late to travel to the camp. No-one travels in the dark. Oh, manners. I forgot to introduce myself, Jinn Ludwigson, Professor Rasmussen ‘s aid.”

“Then perhaps we interview a few patrons.” But Jinn even more nervous, “Oh my, no, no. We are not welcomed here. See those two… brothers… dislike outsiders. Troublemakers. Fat lips to a few workers. No, I’d suggest retire to your rooms for an early start.” The Pastor did exactly that. But Saga and Anders stayed to engage the proprietor, while Val chatted more with Jinn. Anders mostly listened as Saga spoke with Mutter, “No cider? Then whiskey will do. Us? We were called to investigate strange events around the camp. Perhaps you could tell us of legends about the moors? Something about a demon on the moor?”

Mutter almost laughed, “Demons? Oh my. I’ve heard stories of faeries. Then there is the Plague Cemetery. Scary? Does the foul breath and unclean teeth of those two ruffian brothers, Hans and Ejnar Jensen, count? They don’t like change nor outsiders. And quite honestly, most folks don’t like all the noise of construction. As for bumps and bruises, even thou the professor put my tavern off-limits, a few workers have been known to sneak back for a few drinks. Which only rills the brothers, especially when they thought they hear someone call them ‘inbreeds’. As for change… consider the locals who use the moors to raise sheep and harvest plants for remedies. Take the heather flowers for example. The overheard plan is to rid the moors of them, yet we use it in our local medicinal poultice. It seems our Danish king only has concern for the wealthy.”

Meanwhile, Val prodded Jinn for more information. Her looming 8ft shadow most intimidating. [Manipulation 1] Jinn meekishly whispered, “I am just his aid. Professor wants to show you.” Jinn paused to quickly scan the area for any eavesdroppers, “He believes these locals are performing sacrifices in devil worship.” Jinn held his hands chest-width apart, “Professor found a body, this size. What mother would allow her baby to be sacrificed just to conjure a demon to attack our steam engine?!”

Saga was close enough to overhear, “A baby? Just one body? Have the workers reported animal sightings? Anyone see and hear whatever attacked the equipment?” Jinn who HAD been sipping his whiskey, gulped the remaining almost full glass, “Noises in the night. Squealing that sure sounds like a baby crying. And daytime shadows that swoop across the camp yet when we look up, nothing there.” Saga quietly contemplated how to ask around, even look around, for a woman who had recently birthed yet without child in her arms. “I’ve seen a ghost before resulting from a young girl aborting her child. The ghostly mewling cry reminded me of faeries.” Valentina added her own opinion, “Perhaps the baby just a stillborn and the grieving mother chose the moors as its resting place.”

[Wanting to test their involvement] While the table discussion continued, Anders made his way to the brothers’ table. It was obvious them ‘three-sheets-to-the-wind’ (drunk) despite only 2 of their 3 whiskey bottles empty. No glasses. Despite their ‘evil-eye’ stare at his approach, Anders sat with them and took a swig from the remaining bottle, “Tell me boys, what is this I hear about you attacking the camp workers? Any legends of your moors you care to share?” Hans looked at Ejnar with a black-toothed grin before turning to Anders, “Good place to dump the bodies of thieves who steal others drink.” [Anders not an imposing figure; just dressed in woodland furs with his 85-pound dog ‘Slim’ at his feet.] Anders pulled out a Krona and placed it on the table, “Then let me buy replacement.” But Hans only sneered as he pulled out a knife and stuck it into the table, “Outsiders! Think ya can buy your way in and out of whatever ya please. They insulted us and you befoul our air. Best begone before we shank you and yer curd dog.”

Anders turned and left. Not from their threat but realization any worker being attacked must have said something to stir the boys into action. He arrived back at the table along with the pastor who had been up in his room praying. Pastor Jon surmised, “I saw the end of your interaction. Perhaps I intercede, offer wine to get then drunk and open up?” Anders bellowed laughter, “Trust me pastor, them already drunk and your religion is not recognized here.”

When Mutter arrived with refills, Pastor Jon asked, “Could you share local customs so we can avoid offending?” It was now Mutter’s turn to laugh, “We are not barbarians Pastor. The Jensen boys are from the neighboring village of Grimsted Hus. They lost both their parents killed in the war with Prussians. We hold church services here in the tavern. Monthly traveling preacher. Good Christian folk we are.” Pastor Jon rolled his eyes at Anders but let it go.

Saga rose to approach another table of patrons, “I am quite interested in your local area. I’ll gladly buy drinks if you would share any ghost stories.” No ghost stories of significance. And too much sounding like repeats of the Grimm brothers’ stories written in books. Saga took a chance, “Has anyone recently lost a baby?” Maybe Saga planned to offer condolences, but she came across too blunt. “Maybe in the city you speak freely of such things…” The patrons rose and left the tavern, aghast.

Valentina also left the table to approach the brothers, noticing Anders’ coin still on the table. Hans and Ejnar now sloppily drunk, “And what freak show did you come from?” Val retorted, “Probably same as yours.” Which caused them to lay a crossbow upon the table. The “thud” of Anders’ rifle upon his table in reply. But Hans not concerned, “We’re not here for yer pleasure nor yer money. Think ya can buy yer way.” Whatever Val was hoping to accomplish… she reasoned further interaction would lead to a physical conflict and it too early for a bar-fight. They retired to their rooms for the night. Saga climbed the stairs dejected, “Usually, anywhere you go, there’s a story. And that article about Sandemann said he collected countless stories.”

Morning: Quick breakfast before Jinn led them out to walk to the camp to the west. Sunrise cast shadows ahead such that they saw the shadow of the tavern and a form upon its roof. They all turned to see a massive blackbird, bigger than a crow, it’s eyes a green glow, sitting atop the weather vane. The vane spun as the bird took flight and swooped out and over the moors ahead. “Well, that explains the shadow the workers saw, but how did they not see the bird?!” As they plodded onward, it was easy to see why no-one travels at night. Treacherous bogs (almost like quicksand) either side of the path.

Finally at the camp, Jinn led them to the professors’ tent. Professor Rasmussen excited to show his find after quick introductions, “Come, let me show you my demonic find!” Inside a storage tent, they studied the few bone fragments and crushed infant skull. Val easily determined it a newborn, “The skull of a newborn is malleable and not fused yet. So, no way to tell what crushed it. But I can say it decades old. So, your theory of the locals sacrificing now to thwart construction doesn’t fit.”

But the professor not deterred as he pulled out an old journal and referenced an entry, “Sandemann wrote in his journal. Devil worship practiced for millennia. This one body may be decades old, but there are more out there in the moors. I can feel it.” He stepped over to a landscape map laid out on a table and pointed, “Sandemann referred to Grimsted Hus as ‘the beating heart’ of their cult. Notice it just north of our camp. They don’t want us to uncover the truth! Here, read for yourself.”

As Pastor Jon took the offered book, Val noticed a picture that fell out. She picked it up, “Perhaps this is the young girl Signe Andersdotter, Sandemann mentioned in his journal. His peasant source who revealed the locals’ inner secrets.” Saga added, “Every story has a grain of truth. The picture does give credence to the entry.” But the pastor still uncertain, “What do you know of the local Plague Cemetery? Where did you find the skull? Maybe it just washed out of the cemetery? Perhaps a headstone lists mother and child taken by the plague.” The professor only offered, “I’ve not visited the cemetery, but I hear the kitchen boy Severn has.”

All the while, Val had an uneasiness towards the book (a 6^th sense). Something disturbing as she watched the pastor thumb thru the pages. “Just where did you get this journal? Years ago from a private collector? Ah, your own interest in the occult. Might your friend be a Rosenberger? No. Would it be OK for the pastor to hold onto the book? Thank you.”

While Val and Saga sought out the kitchen boy, Pastor Jon and Anders went to inspect the damaged steam engine. Obvious repairs removed most changes to find the kind of damage written about. They did find several tubes and hoses repaired, and gauges with broken glass covers. Scratches to imply someone tried to pry things apart. And that’s when Anders saw the wood handle barely visible as mostly trampled in the muck. A dagger handle labeled ‘Jens Erik Jensen.GH’. “Jensen family. Maybe their father’s? GH for Grimsted Hus?”

As Val and Saga neared the kitchen tent, a heavy thick fog suddenly rolled in, blanketing everything. Mewling sounds rose in volume from different directions… a baby’s cry? They saw flashes of green light strob from distance. What direction? So turned around, who knew? But the fog lifted enough for them to find the kitchen. The cook, Ialsa, perturbed at the interruption, “Severn? Still has work to do. Too busy for idle chatter. You work for the professor? SEVERN! Get out here boy. Folks want to talk with you.”

A tall, lanky teen entered the tent and answered their questions, “Sure, I can show you to the Plague Cemetery. I’ve gone there exploring on my day off. I was curious when getting supplies in town and the villages told creepy stories. Scared the be-jeebies outa me. Built in 1700s during the plague. But other bodies added: the unbaptized, suicides, the un-remembered. All the headstone are blank ya know. Yet there is this one woman almost always out there. Kneeling and crying over one stone. And that black figure perched on a stone… only a glimpse for a second as it winged away. I usually go early morning. Dusk a few times but it is too dangerous to travel if you don’t know the land.”

While Val reflected on last night being a full moon, Saga asked Severn to take them there. “What’s it worth to you? I’ve got me eye on this fancy belt back in the city I come from. Got this skull engraved on it. Figure it would give me a reputation and maybe folks leave me alone. Stop bullying. 5 krona. 3? Well, how about we meet after dinner and at night bells.”

Meanwhile, once the fog lifted, Anders asked a worker, “Does that happen often? No? I thought not considering your camp on this rise. I could understand if the fog grew from the valley below, but it seemed to descend on us. Unnatural.” Pastor Jon also asked, “Did you hear anything too?” The worker answered, “You mean that baby crying?! More than once while I’ve been out here. Shadows passing over the camp… feels like something watching… me shivering as my arm-hairs stand on end. If I didn’t need the money, I wouldn’t be here.” And that’s when they spotted the large black bird perched atop the steam engine. Just before it took flight. “Holy crap!”

They all rejoined and compared notes. Saga suggested, “Pastor, perhaps we should go to the cemetery where you can consecrate the ground and we bury the baby’s bones to calm the unrest. If I remember my lore studies, we have to give the child a name and bless with mother’s milk.” Anders asked, “Would goat or sheep milk do? As for the fog and that bird, maybe them associated with the Jensen boys. Witchcraft? Warlocks? I’ll backtrack to see if they followed us out here to camp. Be right back.”

11am: While Anders left, the others had Professor Ramsussen show them where he found the bones. “The area exposed when we began draining. There, that shallow dig just under the tree root.” Val surmised, “As if purposely placed there to keep it from being washed away.”

They returned to camp just as Anders was returning from the east. All noticed a crowd of workers gathered round the supply tent. “Make way.” They elbowed their way thru the crowd and found Jinn frozen in ice! Dead. And in the distance, heard massive wings flapping and fading away. “Sorcery!” Pastor Jon was already planning another Christian burial as Anders asked what Jinn was doing. “I tasked him with supply inventory.” But it was the pastor who found Jinn clasping a blue flower. Jon carefully pried it out of his hand. “It is a Forget-Me-Not flower that looks like it had been pressed.” Anders was the first to offer, “Maybe it too fell out of the book and Jinn found it.” And Val, who already had ill feelings about the book and picture, felt the same uneasiness about the flower.

“I think it is time we visit this Grimsted Hus and see for ourselves those villagers. See what they have to say about all this. Confront the Jensen boys about their father’s knife found at the engine.” The professor assigned a worker to guide them. The village: maybe a dozen or more huts. Silent with no one milling about. But what did catch their eyes: one hut in particular with flower garden out front. “More Forget-Me-Not flowers.” Their knocked at the door answered by elderly Grannie Freya.

Forget-Me-Not flowers

Saga remembered Severn’s story of a grieving woman at the cemetery and became spokesperson, “What a lovely bed of flowers. Do you have grandchildren who help tend the garden?” But Freya hesitant, “Is there anything of importance you seek?” Pastor Jon was the icebreaker as he had Saga hand over the picture. Which only brought Freya to tears, “Why ask about her?! She died 30 years ago all because of that evil man. The picture fell out of what book?! Get it away from me! Destroy both!” The pastor pressed, “What did he do?” Saga tried to comfort the woman wracked with tears as she sobbed, “Do NOT say his unholy name! He defiled my sweet child. Signe could not bear the sham and wandered into the woods alone. Twas a day before I found her body frozen. Others thought suicide which is why she is buried in the potters’ field of unmarked graves.”

Val pressed a little too hard, “Was your daughter with child?” Freya rose in anger, “Out. OUT I say! Leave me in peace.” They watched as Freya threw the picture in the fireplace. An unholy burst of fire erupted. All stood outside wondering what to do. Angered looks at Anders who suggested, “We could go back inside and ask she show us the grave to bury the baby beside.” Val realized the Jensen boys too young to know which grave; their parents who would know, but them long dead. They settled upon the comment “We could find the grave with most footprints.” The pastor secured the book back in his backpack as Val placed the pressed flower into her own book.

The cemetery was not hard to find, ringed with a stone wall. But as they entered the arched gate to the graves, Val and the pastor stopped in place. As if dreaming. For they were barraged with scenes of the past:

• A  young pregnant woman tugs at the sleeves of a  huge man in a wide-brimmed priest's hat who brushes her aside with scorn, “Not my child, wench!”
• The same woman now sitting with back to a tree giving birth. The mother kisses the newborn on the forehead. The baby gurgles lovingly but the woman weeps.
• The vision transitions to the inhospitable wetlands, the bog near the current camp.
• There the mother lowers the still crying infant into a bog and tearfully watched bubbles rise before the surface calm once more.
• The woman lay back down against the tree sobbing throughout the night. And froze to death.

The cemetery was mostly unkempt. But in the distance, one headstone stood out as a bouquet of flowers decorated it. Even at that distance, they recognized the blue Forget-Me-Nots. But while that tombstone lay ahead, beside them, rows away, sat that same large black bird eyeing them. Specifically, eyeing Val and the pastor. Its eyes following their every more.

Saga did not understand as she withdrew the child’s bones from her backpack and spoke to the bird, “Oh restless soul, we are here to bury your bones. Please let us do this.” Pastor Jon pulled out his cross and vestments and bible which he clutched to his chest as he prayed, “Yes, that we may give her a proper Christian burial.”

And that is when the bird took flight and swooped toward them. Its talons raised!

• The pastor NOW understanding the bird a daemon Mewling, sprinted towards the grave.
• Saga too sprinted while instructing, “Bless the ground with holy water for consecration and hopeful holy ground protection.”
• Val retrieved an arrow and loaded her longbow… “Twang!” (6 success). Feathers flew yet the bird swooped closer.
• The Mewling’s talons sunk into the pastor’s shoulders delivering a deadly blast of freezing cold bog water before continuing its flight in an arching return.
• Anders raised his rifle and shot… (5 success), hitting the bird which looked barely injured. He joined in the sprint toward the grave.

Pastor Jon reached the grave and immediately sprinkled holy water. Saga there too on her knees frantically digging with her bare hands only to realize the ground almost frozen per the November winter cold. Val sunk another arrow into the bird which ignored the arrow as it swooped once more at the pastor. But Pastor Jon failed to dodge as the headstone in his way. [actually fumbled 00 and failed the push] The Mewling sank its claws [3 damage when the pastor only had 2 remaining].

With claws still imbedded in the lifeless pastor, the Mewling turned its eyes toward Val still at range with her bow. Anders ignored the bird oh so close and dove beside Saga with the Jensen blade to help dig. Only when he broke ground (and exposed bones of the original burial) did he release the knife to begin reloading his gun. Saga frantically shoved the bones into the exposed ground, covered with dirt, and began praying, “The Lord is my Shepherd…”

And in that moment, Saga realized Sandemann’s book needed to be destroyed. She pulled the book from the pastor’s backpack, grabbed the knife Anders left, and stabbed the book.

The bird, in flight towards Valentina, twitched as if hit. Valentina now understood. And pulled out the pressed flower and stabbed it with an arrow. The Mewling exploded into a thousand feathers. And as the feathers descended toward the ground, they burst into flame. Consumed into nothingness.

“No, No, NO!” Saga felt for a pulse from the pastor, but the icy layer encased the man. Saga pulled out her knuckdusters and broke thru the ice, but it was useless. The Pastor was dead. Saga’s tears dropped onto his body and froze with the icy layer.

EPILOGUE

Severn played with the 3-krona Saga gave him even though he never led them to the cemetery.

They left Jinn’s body for the professor and his crew to bury. They had more pressing matters to tend. They wrapped Pastor Jon Jonsson’s in a blanket to preserve the icy shield while they waited for the stagecoach to arrive. Then strapped the frozen body topside of the coach, knowing the frosty air would keep the ice preserved. They even left the body topside on the steamer return sail up the coast back to Stockholm. And train ride back to the castle where they interned Pastor Jonsson with proper burial and honors.