Dark Paths and Wandered Roads: Mysterious Tides #1.52

A little bit of a family reunion for Bro Bob played out in a PbP session. On-going GURPS adventures set in the beautiful and evocative Bay of Spirits setting by Randy M. at Roan Studios.

GURPS: Mysterious Tides
Session 001.52

Hanging with D’Nagiens

June 12-25, 2023

Having been away from the family for some time now, Bro Bob decides to remain at the ramshackle compound for a while, at least for the evening, to catch up and hear all the news.

“So, Bobbi, what have they been teaching ya at that Abbey yonder,” Engis asks. Engis is an uncle or cousin or some such convoluted relation, a nice enough fellow, though it was rumored that he had killed at least one person in Merchant’s Gut over a few copper coins.

“Well, Con’l Engis, an’ it jus’ Bro’ Bob now, by’th’by, so’s t’ first few yearn was mos’ly readin, purty writin’, rithmikin, an reckonin’.” Bro Bob had reverted to his childhood dialect rather quickly, and after the third jar of hooch was cracked and passed, lapsed into a jargon that would have simultaneously baffled and appalled his superiors. “After’n I figgered to become a Brother o’te Vine, so’s I’s learnt me a passel o’ churchin an’ attic thumpin. I’m comin on to git purty handy with me bow now’days. Now’days they keeps me right husslin, runnin post tween abbeys n whatnot, ‘times fer some t’ whozits ‘n’ wutzits, all up’n’down t’ bay”

“So what crawled in yer skull to go churchin’ anyhowz?” his cousin Gerty asked. “Knowin’ half’n yer kin’s dew-drippin’ t’ keep bread t’ gawp a-days!”

“Nah, Cuz’n Gert, ‘Nebria ain’ so mean’s t’ grudge a poor boor an honest livin’,” he replied. “Y’all knows she’s t’ only high ‘n’ mighty t’ give us cot-charlies an’ muckers th’ lookout.” Many heads nodded sagely to this. “An’ ‘sides, long as t’ hooch’s pure, it’s still her holy ‘n’ blest sackermint, no matter who ‘n’ where’n it comin’ from. If you don’ b’lieve’n it, I’ll up’n bless t’ still meself an’ see if she gonna stitch me flappers shut fer say’n so!”

A sort of clapping cheer goes up from Bro Bob’s clan at the mention of his “official blessing” of the still. At the far back of the room, Granny Heatherflax rocks quietly in her chair, watching and listening, a long wooden spoon balanced from one kneecap to the other. She grunts as a crowd of family follows Bro Bob outside to the still shed.

As Gert leads the way along the wet and rocky trail toward the still shed, several Frostling Seals bark and hop down from their perches into the narrow rivulet of water that leads back out to the Bay. Their blue-white fur glistens in the sun. A younger clan member tries to grab at one of the seals' rear flipper as it passes. It is considered good luck to grab a Frostling Seal’s tail as long as you don’t hurt it. Being somewhat endangered, the seals are protected by the Baron’s Law in the Bay of Spirits. Hunters from the South nearly brought them to extinction in previous decades, but it seems that they are making a bit of a comeback, at least in more sheltered coves like here at Piper’s Quay.

After a few minutes of clambering through the narrow break in the rocks, the group steps up to where the main still shed is. Smoke and steam can be seen exiting the roof vents and loud clanging and cursing can be heard coming from inside.

“I be tired of this blasted thing and I be tired of you, too!” comes a gruff yet high-pitched voice. The door slams open and a weathered old Goblin, Papaw Clunk, comes stomping out. He stops short when he sees the approaching visitors and his yellow, weathered face changes from a scowl to a wide, maybe not quite happy, grin when he sees Bro Bob in the group. He grinds his sharp little teeth and spits out of the corner of his mouth. It is so difficult to read Goblin’s faces sometimes. Memaw Squint, a thin, aging Halfling, stands in the doorway, hands on hips, shaking her head back and forth. She purses her lips and smiles ever so slightly when she sees Bro Bob and the others.

Papaw Clunk and Memaw Squint

The friar’s face breaks into a wide grin upon seeing the pair, “Papaw! Memaw! How’s you’n the baby? I’m fixin’ t’ give it a proper babtizin’!” He squats down and spreads his arms even wider than his grin to hug the two of them.

Memaw Squint, the Halfling woman smiles as she comes in for the hug. Papaw Clunk narrows his eyes and pulls away from the embrace as quickly as he can.

"Oh ya know, she's good as she can be. She'd be better iff'n this sophead of a Clacker'd keep from pushin' her so hard, ya know. Gotta treat her right, Clunk, she ain't just a couple'a barrels an' piping, ya know," Memaw says, glaring hard at the Goblin.

Clunk's lip curls up in a sneer at her words and he mumbles something unintelligible, probably in the Goblin tongue, though the word 'redcap' can clearly be heard. He looks up at Bob again and flashes a sharp-toothed smile. "Ermm, good t'see ya. I gots work ta do," he croaks out then shuffles off quickly in the other direction. "Don't, uhh, muck her up with yer fancy blessin'er nothing. You ain't to big fer me ta tan yer hide still," he says as he leaves. Bob is quite sure he means it.

“Na’ t’ fret, Papaw,” Bob replies, “‘T’d be sacerlidge, special’ me bein’ a man o’ t’ cloth an’ all. Takin’ me fer a wealbairn nah?” he winks at the goblin. “I’ll jus’ be a couple o’ ticks.” With that he turns and enters the shed. He takes a jar of the recent drippings from a battered crate by the door and walks over to the still. Holding the jar above his head, he pauses for a moment, working his jaws silently as if trying to reshape his mouth before speaking:

“Lady of the Vine,

From the land,
Blessed by your Will,

Rises the grain,

Blessed by your Will.

From the grain,

Blessed by your will,

Rises the Spirit,

Blessed by your will.

By your Will,

May this still be blessed as well.

Before the first abbey was built in this land to honor you, the first folk to arrive were creating your sacraments in your honor. My clan continues, placing you first as we always have; and even as I am their offering to you, may you continue to watch over them, and they grow and prosper.”

With that, he opens the jar of moonshine and pours it over the still and onto the ground in a circle around it.

Everyone “oohs and ahhs” at the Rtiual of Blessing even though Bob winces at forgetting a couple of things. He considers coming back to bless it again, in a month or so after he has gone over some things a bit more from his lessons.

Everyone but Papaw Squint heads back to the common room. There is talking and drinking and singing through the night and Granny Heatherflax even cracks a smile at one point. Finally, Bob curls up and sleeps peacefully near the fire, several of his relations, younger and older, sprawled out nearby.

Session Notes

A one-on-one play-by-post session with one character reconnecting with his clan after a long time away at the monastery. These D'Nagiens are an interesting and colorful lot.