The Barrow of the Damned

By Jonathan J. Drake

Live Action Roleplaying (LARP) in the dark bowels of the earth anyone? Add some restless dead, an ancient evil and a group of adventurers wielding only foam weapons. Not so appealing now, is it?

The Barrow of the Damned is the latest action adventure phenomenon to delight the eager role-playing enthusiasts at the Wardhope LARP Centre. The barrow is a truly wondrous discovery. Its vast network of dark tunnels and undiscovered tombs stretch for miles below the woodland and make an ideal area to run role-playing campaigns.

Mr Stephens, the owner of the Wardhope Centre, isn’t very particular about whom he sends deep into the darkness below and, oddly, he doesn’t even advertise the event. He isn’t stupid though; he has his reasons. After all, he knows firsthand of the horrors that lurk within and the devastating darkness that’s tainted his soul and continues to haunt him to this very day.

With elements of gore and violence, this book is not suitable for anyone under the age of fifteen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan J. Drake
• Release date: Apr 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301525263

Jonathan J. Drake

I'm somewhere but nowhere but anywhere but here.

Book preview

A BIT ABOUT BARROWS

A barrow is another name for an ancient burial ground. They can vary in size from small tombs to vast catacombs.

If you were to ever discover one, it’s recommended that you leave it alone and contact your local historical authorities. It’s certainly not advisable to venture inside; as well as the likelihood of unintentionally damaging the interior or causing collapse, some of these tombs may also contain working traps or special wards to deter grave robbers. As you will also soon discover, some of them may contain something unimaginably a whole lot worse.

Exploring these barrows for relics, ancient jewellery and precious gems is certainly not recommended. If, however, you cannot resist the temptation to explore and plunder, you may wish to find others to unwittingly do the job for you; unwittingly being the key word here.

THE SISTERS OF FATE

It is not worthwhile to dream of health and fortitude for it is time wasted along a loosening thread. Nor is it wise to seek out the follies of seers or priests for the comforts they preach are perverse and untrue. Yet in the sisters your trust will be acknowledged for they weave and measure each thread of life to hold the garment fixed and true. And, with each stitch of precious thread they know the spindle will reach its end for this is the way of powers divine. But, alas each thread will likely be severed before its time and only the Moirae will know the truth and if this thread is likely you.

In ancient times the three Moirae were once known as the goddesses of fate and destiny. Even the gods themselves feared the Moirae for their powers had no bounds and influenced the very cosmos itself.

Klotho, the Spinner, is the first of the Moirae. She spins the thread of life.

Lakhesis, the Apportioner of Lots, is the second sister. She measures the thread of life.

Atropos, the Executor of Destiny is the last of the sisters. She decides the fate of those who have reached their end.

It is said that no mortal may set eyes upon the Moirae whilst their thread is measured and judged.

Should you be unfortunate enough to bear witness to their true form, it is wise to expect the worst.

CHAPTER 1

The door shuddered with the blow but Vincent didn’t have the strength to force it open. He wiped his blood-smeared brow on the sleeve of his jacket and returned his gaze to the passage behind him. So far so good; nobody appeared to be lurking in the gloom. Returning to the task at hand, he was certain that this door was the one that led out to safety; it had a small, square opening cut in its centre just like he remembered. He tried ramming it again but his efforts were futile. He groaned and rubbed his aching shoulder, wondering what to do next. Kneeling beside his torch, Vincent peered through the opening, but frustratingly the room beyond was in complete darkness. There was no way he was going to give up now. He’d managed to get this far and a lousy, wooden door wasn’t going to stop him from escaping. As he reached for his torch, a desolate moan erupted from the passage behind. A feeling of dread assailed him. Without hesitation, he flicked the switch off on his torch leaving only darkness and the approaching horror for company. He shuffled over to the corner of the door and tried to control his erratic breathing. He dearly hoped that whatever was coming his way hadn’t noticed the light.

Huddled in the corner, Vincent watched and waited as the creature lumbered forward. Its haunting groan was one of despair and frustration and it sent shivers down his spine. As it stepped closer, he could almost taste its putrid stench as if foul bile had been forced down his throat. It continued its advance until it reached the door. Vincent’s eyes were now beginning to become more accustomed to the dark and he could make out its hulking frame as it felt the door. It moaned curiously, probably trying to figure out a way to open it, and began to repeatedly slam its open palms against the sturdy panels. It was then that Vincent realised his left foot was poking out directly beside the creature’s leg and, to make matters worse, there was no space to move it away. He hoped the creature wouldn’t step any closer to the door otherwise he’d definitely be discovered. Not wanting to tempt fate, he hurled his torch down the passage into the darkness. It landed with a clatter and the creature’s head snapped to the side. It snarled angrily and something warm dripped on Vincent’s head; he wanted to wipe it away but didn’t dare move.

The creature moved more quickly this time, intent on investigating the source of the disturbance. It staggered forward, its arms outstretched in desperation. Vincent watched with relief as it became lost in the darkness but he knew it wasn’t over just yet; the creature could return at any time and he needed to either escape or be prepared for the inevitable. He wiped the wet gunk from his hair, no wiser to what it might’ve been, and clambered to his feet. His thoughts returned to the door, the only barrier to his escape. It was then that a sudden realisation struck him; there was no keyhole. The door must’ve been bolted on the opposite side. He checked again, this time brushing the wood with his hands trying to find a keyhole, but he couldn’t locate an obvious lock. Trembling with anticipation, he reached through the opening in the door and fumbled around searching for some form of locking mechanism. With his head against the wood and arm outstretched fully, he sighed with relief as he felt what appeared to be a large bolt near the bottom. There was a sharp crack as he flipped the bolt open but his only reward was intense pain as a sharp blade was released. It instantly lopped his arm off. Vincent jerked backwards and screamed in agony, clutching his vicious wound, trying to stem the flow of spurting blood.

He didn’t hear the creature’s intense wail of pleasure as it discovered its prey, nor did he notice it lumbering towards him until it was too late. The creature slammed against him forcing him towards the door. It ripped open his shoulder with its teeth and savagely chewed on his flesh. Vincent turned to face his foe, unintentionally spraying it with blood from his sliced arm but the smell of blood seemed to excite it more. He screamed with pain and terror, trying to push the stench-ridden fiend away but it was no good; his strength was sapped and his opponent’s continued assault was too fierce. As it viciously pummelled, bit and clawed him, Vincent collapsed in a heap on the cold, stone floor. All thoughts of escape were now lost. He’d failed miserably in his attempt to escape and his last thought before darkness consumed him was a desperate plea that he wouldn’t return as one of them.

CHAPTER 2

Using both hands, the hulking orc raised his battle-axe high. He roared in defiance and swept the huge weapon towards his opponent. Anticipating the attack, the cloaked defender deftly dodged the blow and stepped back into a defensive position to consider his next move. As the orc recovered, the man reached for his round shield that he’d lost earlier in the wet grass. He gripped it firmly and held it close to his chest and away from his sword arm. Grinning slyly, he taunted the orc.

Come on, is that the best you can do? You need to stop eating all that greasy junk food. Look at you. You’re sweating like an overweight beast.

The orc wiped his brow, coating the back of his hand with thick, green face paint. Hey, who are you calling an overweight beast? I’d rather look like this than a disease-ridden skeleton like you. Vegetarians – you’re all the same.

Hah, get your facts right. I’m a vegan, not a vegetarian. Anyway, perhaps if you decided to change your eating habits you’d lose a few pounds and finally be able to best me in battle.

The orc gripped his axe and studied his opponent carefully. Hey, I haven’t been doing this for as long as you and you know I’m not used to all this physical activity.

The defender smirked and took a cautious step forward. Yep, that’s what Jane was telling me last night when you got completely drunk and staggered to bed without her, you loser.

The orc snarled and raised his axe again. I’ll tell you something, Gavin. Once I’ve finished with you, I’m going to ram this axe handle where nobody will ever find it.

With that, he advanced, swinging his axe wildly from side to side, hoping to break through Gavin’s strong defence. Gavin staggered back, trying frantically to block the blows with his shield but eventually he succumbed to the orc’s determined assault. A heavy blow caught his sword arm.

Hah! The orc yelled triumphantly. You’ve got no protection there so that’s a three-pointer. I reckon you should lose feeling in that arm now. Drop your sword.

What? You hardly touched me. That was a skim and definitely just a one-pointer.

Utter bollocks! That was a clear strike to your puny pinkie.

Did you take into account my dodge bonus for being a bard?

What dodge bonus?

If you hit a bard, you should always deduct one damage point from each hit. It’s their natural ability to dodge the worst of any blows.

The orc groaned. Absolutely no way are you going to spring that one on me now. It’s the first I’ve heard about a dodge bonus and anyway, if you dodge a blow it should mean that it misses you completely.

It’s true, honest. I just thought to mention it now as you were still learning the ropes earlier in the week.

Nope, I’m not playing along anymore. That blow should be a four-pointer considering how skinny your arm is. It’s a clear amputation if you ask me.

Aw, come on, Dale. Please be serious.

Dale shook his head. I am being serious. I hit that pretty damn hard. It’s definitely a lopper.

What? You really don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?

Ooh, have I hurt your pride or just your arm? he mocked.

I’ll tell you something. This is the last time I’m ever going to invite you and your crummy sister to a live role-playing event.

Dale frowned. Now you’re just being an arse, Gavin. I knew it was a bad idea coming here, especially without a Game-Master monitoring the event. I’ve had it for the day.

Gavin watched as Dale flung his axe to the ground and stomped away in a huff.

Oh, come on! Gavin yelled. Don’t be a sore loser. Come back and I’ll agree to a three-pointer for you; anything to stop you crying like a baby.

Dale didn’t respond to his taunting and instead, headed up a nearby hill towards the player accommodation. Gavin decided to follow him in a last ditch attempt to convince him to stay but, after a few steps, he felt something thud against his chest. It was a plastic arrow with a sucker on the tip.

Woo-hoo! he heard a girl shriek. Turning to his right, he noticed his friend Katie standing by some nearby bushes jumping up and down with glee. In her right hand she waved a wooden bow and Gavin thought she resembled a giant walrus that had just caught its first fish and was holding it out triumphantly for all to see.

You were so nailed by my arrow! she yelled. That has to be my best shot of the week; a definite four-pointer. It went straight through your heart.

Hey! Gavin replied. That’s not fair – I wasn’t looking. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be on my side?

Nope, not in this campaign. I’m a mercenary working for the orcs.

Well, you obviously caught me off-guard. I was too busy trying to console your over-emotional brother.

Yeah, well sucky for you then. That’ll teach you for being so nasty to him. Now, go on, play dead and I might think about resurrecting you if you’re nice.

Gavin shrugged and shook his head; he didn’t feel in the mood to play anymore. Nah, I’ve had enough for today. It’s no fun without a Game-Master watching over everyone. People just cheat.

Katie looked disappointed. She approached him and half-heartedly retrieved her arrow. Fine, but you can’t deny it was a great shot. I really got you there.

Gavin managed a smile. Yep, you did indeed. Without a doubt, you certainly make an interesting elf ranger.

Katie shook her head. Nope, I’m an elf cleric-ranger, Dummy. Get it right.

That’s what I meant! You’re doing it all wrong.

Eh?

Well, you shouldn’t be allowed to use a bow and arrow. Clerics can’t use them. This is exactly why we need a Game-Master in attendance.

Oh! That’s silly. Why can’t clerics use bows? It’s not difficult. All you have to do is plonk the arrow on the string, pull it back, aim and release it. Hey presto, the job’s done.

Well, I don’t know – they just don’t like sharp or pointy objects. It’s something to do with the ethics of their religion.

You’re such a dummy. This bow definitely isn’t sharp or pointy.

Give me strength, Katie! You’re seriously missing the point here.

Eh? Katie replied, genuinely looking confused.

Gavin reached over and grabbed an arrow from her quiver but he tried not to get too cross or frustrated with her. From past experience he’d reached the conclusion that she was just a little bit slow on the uptake to understand the obvious.

Look, he said, holding the arrow to her face. The arrow is the point.

No it’s not! It’s got a plastic sucker on it.

It is! The plastic sucker doesn’t really exist - it’s make-believe. A real arrow is supposed to be a sharp and pointy.

Katie folded her arms, defiant to the very end. Well, I saw Gerald, who’s a rank twenty cleric, using a sharp object the other day.

Gavin sighed. Gerald wouldn’t use any sharp objects. He’s been doing this since you were a baby. He’s the most knowledgeable guy here and I know for a fact he completely understands and follows all the rules.

He was! I saw him. He was sitting outside at the camp fire using a knife and fork to eat his dinner.

Gavin dropped the arrow and, with another long sigh, he continued walking up the hill, shaking his head in disbelief. Whatever. That’s completely irrelevant. It’s a super dumb argument and I don’t want to indulge you any further.

Anyway, Katie continued, grabbing his arm to stop him, tomorrow Mr Stephens has a special treat in store for us. Has he told you about it yet?

Gavin stopped walking and turned to face her. He didn’t think too highly of Mr Stephens, the event organiser. The whole week away at the Wardhope centre had been completely disorganised to the point that they even had to make their own adventure modules on Tuesday to prevent boredom settling in.

What? You mean, Mr Freaky Scar-Face Stephens who burns a hole in your very soul with his evil stare?

Yeah, that Mr Stephens.

Nope, I haven’t heard a thing but I bet you whatever it is will involve us giving him more money. He’s such a tight arse.

Actually, you’re wrong. No extra cash is required. He’s mentioned something about a special dungeon event and, as it’s the last day of the week, he’s even providing us with a real Game-Master to oversee everything.

Gavin laughed mockingly. I’ll believe it when I see it. What’s the dungeon event called?

Hmm. I can’t remember. It had a weird name. I think it was Tunnels of the Dead or something. Cool, eh?

I guess so. We’ll see. I’m not putting my hopes up though.

Katie smirked. She was just happy that there was going to be another opportunity to role-play and, if things worked out and it was a good event, all the better.

Oh, and no matter what you think about clerics, I’ll be bringing along my bow. I feel naked without it.

Gavin