The world burned dim beneath a sunless sky, and the SCVM trudged southward from the carrion woods, the stench of charred bee-flesh still clinging to their cloaks. Börda’s songbird throat rasped with smoke, one monkey limping and the other long lost to flame. Von’s gore-hound padded at his side, fur matted with marrow-honey and blood. And Alwrig—her mind a furnace of her dead god’s whispers—staggered beneath the weight of Öde’s demand: burn it, burn it, burn it.
They came upon a ruin, a chapel skeleton crouched against the plain. From its shadow a man waved with impossible cheer. Ida, he named himself, farmer of vegetables where none should grow, keeper of a wife, Del, and a child, Elga. His garden thrived under a pallid sky that blighted every other leaf. Suspicion prickled their bones, but hunger and quest pressed harder. He welcomed them into the chapel, now a home scrubbed clean and geometric, order strangling chaos.
But Alwrig’s god recoiled. Rusty spikes carved in the stone whispered of Öde’s sanctum, now profaned by neatness and balance. The whispers turned to shrieks. Oil spilled, tinder soaked, flint sparked—yet Von seized her, arms like chains, halting the fire before flame caught. Still Öde’s will burned hotter than lantern oil. Alwrig’s eyes flared, spewing fire into the woodpile. The temple kindled. The family screamed. Von dragged her back, shouting for calm, but Alwrig’s faith drowned reason. She demanded the place burn, demanded the SCVM let entropy feast.
Then Von’s patience snapped. Teeth like a parliament of knives tore her throat wide, drowning her hymns in a flood of blood. She fell across Öde’s threshold, vision dimming with the satisfaction of holy ruin. And there she died—peaceful in her last breath, certain she had restored the Spike’s dominion. Her corpse burned as the chapel collapsed around the family’s wails.
The survivors—Börda, Von, Grin the raven-thing—fled the pyre with ember fungus clutched in their hands, smoke-stained and stinking of betrayal. South they pressed into a graveyard stretching to the horizon, where bone-thickets swayed like forests of spears. Within their tangled limbs, red gourds pulsed like hearts. The SCVM hacked and tore at the growth. Thorns lashed, branches pierced, one of Börda’s monkeys dragged screaming into the thicket’s maw. Von’s hound ripped bones from roots, opening a path. Grin, flesh twisting into feather and claw, lunged with monstrous talons. Together they cut loose the gory prize, a gourd heavy as a severed head, warm and squirming in their grip.
Bloodied but alive, they staggered back toward the road. But the sky turned, the wind thickened, and from horizon to earth fell a storm of black salt, a curtain of razors from heaven. The Butcher’s eleven-legged wagon hunkered against the gale. Grin—mad with bravado—took a cauldron in claw, became a raven, and hurled himself into the screaming sky. Salt shredded his wings, nearly claimed him, but he returned triumphant, pot brimming with the storm’s ash.
Days later, Schleswig’s crumbling walls loomed. They delivered their cursed bounty to Sous, the king’s cook, his toque high, his knives gleaming. One by one, the ingredients fell into his cauldron: ember fungus smoldering like coals, marrow honey hissing and bubbling, lich moss crumbling like dust, the blood gourd spilling its thick crimson pulp, the black salt sizzling into smoke. Sous stirred, smiled, and bade them taste.
Grin dared, and found the flavor exquisite—sweet, hot, bitter with death, the finest food of his wretched life. Sous too devoured it, then twisted, flesh boiling, eyes rotting inward, a cleaver fused to his hand. “It is dinner time,” he roared, and the kitchen became a slaughterhouse.
The SCVM fought like beasts cornered in hell. Von’s axe bit. His dog tore. Börda’s bolts thudded deep. Grin, beak and claw, ripped the chef’s tongue from his mouth. But Sous feasted on their flesh as they struck, carving pieces free, shoving them into his gullet to heal his wounds. Pustules burst beneath every blow, spraying venom and flame. Smoke thickened, walls groaned, the taste of ash filled their lungs.
At last Grin’s beak punched through Sous’s eye and into his brain. The chef fell, pots boiling over, steam choking the room, his death-rattle drowned in the hiss of a thousand fires. The SCVM fled as the building erupted in a storm of stone and smoke, their bodies battered, their shields shattered, but their prize complete.
Out into the empty streets they stumbled, their godforsaken wagon gone, their quest fulfilled yet their souls hollowed. They had gathered every cursed flavor of this dying world, fed it to a monster, and nearly fed themselves as well.
The feast was ready for a king. And the SCVM walked on, black salt still clinging to their flesh, knowing they had given this world one more reason to end.
Approaching the ruined chapel: Meeting the chapel family: The man introduces himself as Ida; he invites the SCVM to lunch and mentions his wife Del and their daughter Elga. Conversation points: Del and Elga appear: Ember fungus lead: Alwrig identifies the defiled temple to Öde and chooses violence: Perception checks: Alwrig resolves to “cleanse” the defilement with fire: Von tries to stop her; Alwrig openly pours lantern oil onto kindling/tinder by the kitchen stores, then uses her eye-fire power (successful attack roll) to ignite the oil-soaked pile. Del screams; Ida panics; Elga flees with Del. Von bear-hugs Alwrig to drag her out; Alwrig struggles and keeps invoking Öde. Firefighting attempts: Alwrig exits and dies: Securing the ember fungus: March to the graveyard for blood gourds: Landscape shifts from forest to open plains and into an immense, disorganized graveyard with overgrown thickets. The blood gourd is said to be “the fruit of the bone thicket.” Grin shapeshifts into a raven to scout: Closing on the target thicket: Thicket fight details (to obtain the blood gourd): Hostiles: one large thicket with the blood gourd visible; several smaller/other thickets (some “big,” some “small”). Early exchanges: Party actions and notable rolls: Von (armored, shielded) tanks repeated lash attacks; his gore-hound charges and deals steady damage. Börda fights at range with his crossbow and closes to cut down smaller thickets; he destroys one outright with a heavy hit. Shields sacrificed: to avoid lethal hits, Börda smashes his shield to negate a 2d4 burst; later Von also breaks his shield to negate a heavy 2d4 hit. Gore-hound crit: the dog lands a critical bite (2d6 = 9), tearing large chunks from the gourd-bearing thicket. Extraction: Retreat: Party flees; thickets pursue briefly, then stop once distance is gained. Grin (in raven form) scoops up his dropped gear via an agility check and escapes alongside the others. Aftermath: Encounter with the Butcher and the black salt storm: Near the sign where they first met him, the Butcher waits with the Meat Wagon: “Sous is waiting. It’s time to leave.” The wagon travels several days. A distant storm forms: a curtain of black salt (sky to ground), driven by strong winds. The Butcher turns the wagon to use it as a windbreak for the eleven-legged mules. He judges the storm “unpleasant but survivable.” Collecting black salt (risky maneuver): Aftermath of the storm: Delivery to Sous and preparation sequence in the royal kitchens: The wagon enters the king’s compound unchallenged. The party carries ingredients into a large stone kitchen filled with active hearths and cauldrons. Sous (toqued chef with knives) greets them: “Just in time—do you have all the ingredients?” Ingredient assembly (exact in-play order and handling): Tasting: Sous transforms and combat ensues in the kitchen: New form: boil-covered, mouth agape, giant cleaver in hand; snarls “It’s dinner time.” Initiative: enemies act first; the fight proceeds in the kitchen amidst multiple hearths. Early rounds and environment checks: Sous’s abilities observed: Party tactics and notable moments: Kill: Exit and aftermath: The party immediately evacuates: Explosion: Moments later, the kitchen explodes; large stone fragments rain down. Agility saves: The survivors—Börda, Von (and his dog), and Grin—escape into the streets of Schleswig as the session closes. Alwrig remains dead at the burned chapel’s threshold. Inventory/state at session end (per transcript events):Session Notes