Vampires and such ilk

From: Erik Sieurin <BV9521_at_bhs.utb.hb.se>
Date: Mon, 10 Aug 1998 18:27:44 +0100


Convulsion was great; it was my first, and I hope there will be another so that it does not have to be the last.

Massive THANKS to Lewis and the other guys and presumably dolls, both organisers and guests, which made it possible!

Vampyres:
The 'classic' vampire has a number of troubles in Orlanthing settings.

1, As shown in V:tM, vampires and other monsters who live off poor humans really thrive in the communities where you can hide among the masses.

In good ol' Sartar, as in most Glorantha, communities are small and everybody knows everybody else. Killing off people, or merely just weakening them, is going to be harder to do without being noticed. The two solutions I can come up with are to

 A, keep on moving, exploiting the universal Laws of Hospitality to prey on people. Now, breaking the rules of Hospitality is going to piss off most Higher Powers, but since you are already a soulless abomination, do you care? This could be a new way to explain the hatered the elements feels for vampires (killed by running water, weakened by the sun's rays etc), btw. And it lends new strength to the idea of vampires not being able to enter a building without being invited.

B, kick out the fairly modern (in the RW) idea of the 'urban' vampire and go back to be a hideous monster of the desolate places, attacking unwary travellers. It can be combined very well with B, if you wish, since a bloodsucking corpse always on the run is bound to encounter travellers when travelling, if you see what I mean. Otherwise you just haunt a place and gobble up the poor suckers who happen to get there.

2, The classic vampire comes back from the grave, but most Orlanthings end on a funeral pyre. No coffin filled with the earth of your grave here. You don't get the 'oh, but the worst thing was that the horrible but very sexy monster which tried to drink my blood looked exactly like poor master William - but we buried him a month ago!' in such cases - or

A, vampires resurrect themselves from the ash and smoke of their funeral pyre - this very nicely explains the clouds of vapour they are supposed to turn into, now being rationalized as clouds of ash and the thick smell of human flesh being cremated.

B, vampires are created/born/uh? from people who never did get a
'decent burial equivalent' ie was drowned, lost in the woods, etc. Is
there already some sort of stigma about not having a real burial among Orlanthings? Among others? Or should we create one?

3, Where do the bats and wolves come from? Any nice mythic connections to explain them? Don't know if there were any other in the real world other than that they were considered generally nasty. And good ol' folkloric vampires could become many other things as well, including lumps of straw.

Well, anyway, here are some critters that partially preserve some ideas about the Classic Vampire which I think would fit in a Sartarite or else vaguely similar Barbarian Belt setting.

The Ghast*
As told by an old crone to her grandchildren. "The Ghast is an 'orrible beast, 'e is. All Ghasts are folk who has sinned against the 'oly laws of 'ospitality. When such folk dies, nowhere 'ave they to go, since no Stead will let them enter: 'ow can them god an' goddesses, bless 'em, be expecting these vile oathbreakers to behave 'emselves? So back they goes to the world of the living, an' the ash of their pyre takes on a life o' its own, an' forms a new body, looking just like the old un'.

A Ghast looks like any born man or woman, it does, but 'e 'as no real living blood in 'im, just dead blood 'e 'as stolen from living people, an' 'e smells evilly of burnt corpses. Them Ghasts walks at nights along lonely roads, an' preys on poor unknowing people. It can never enter a 'ouse, or sit down by a fire, unless it is invited, an' for this it will lie grievously an' make the stranger's greeting, an' in all manners act as a lonesome 'onest stranger asking for
'ospitality from folk. But although 'e will drink all you give 'im,
'e never gets drunk, 'e does, an' neither does 'e really gets
unthirsty, since only blood can do that. An' although 'e might eat, if you look closely it will be just a tiny morsel, since he has no real 'unger, an' couldn't use the outhouse if 'e wanted to, since he can't shit. An' never will 'e sit with 'is face to a fire, for its light burns it like a flame.

When the monster 'as tricked people into inviting it to enter their
'ouse or share their fire, it waits until all are asleep, an' then it
will pick some poor un' an' drink 'is blood. An' just like a flea-bite is 'is bite, but when you wake in the morning, still you will be weak an' sick - if you wake at all, for if 'e 'as not drunk human blood for long, he might thirstily drink it all up.

An' some Ghasts know evil magic of some sorts, like they learnt from bad spirits, but almost all knows three charms. An' the first is a song to make you sleepen really fast, an' a sound sleep it is, the sleep o' Death, since it 'as been dead an' knows, you see. An' the second is a sign which makes you not say a word nor stir a limb, even should it try to take your life, an' it's the stillness of Death, but people strong in spirit oft can resist it. An' the third is word to put any fire to rest, just like the charms any goodwife knows from Mahome, only this is evil in origin an' comes from the Darkness.

An' be it not enough with evil charms, other magics has 'em Ghasts as well, since they are but ash an' smoke an' not really alive. As silent as ash an' smoke they are, an' can hardly be seen an' never heard when they do not wish to, though they smell mighty bad. An' any wound you give them, they will heal in an instant, making their body whole again from the ashes it really is, as when forming it the first time. An' as they are not alive, they never gets tired or sick or weak from other than lack of blood, an' are stronger than any living man since their grips don't tire. An' if they wish, they can turn
'emselves into a cloud of ash an' smoke an' whirl away, against the
wind even, as long as the sun don't shine, though they seem not to want to do that unless they must.

 If a Ghast rests more than one night in one place, without drinking the blood of the living, 'is cold blood goes 'ard an' cracky like black pudden, an' the monster goes slow an' weak, an' if too long a time passes before that, 'e will fall apart to dust an' ashes an' not be able to pick 'im together again. This are because all the Earth Tribe 'ates 'im for breaking the laws of 'ospitality.

 An' if a Ghast goes abroad in sunlight, it turns to ashes, it does, for all the Fire Tribe 'ates 'im so, for the same resun, an' a good one it is. But it is not destroyed that way, no, but the ashes has to blow with the wind as a thin cloud, without it being able to steer wither it wants as at night, since all the Storm Tribe 'ates 'im so.

 An' three things a Ghast fears, an' that be the light of a 'earth, and the smell of garlic or onions, an' the sign of Humakt Swordsthane, that is a cross. An' that's why 'e will always sit with
'is face back from the fire in the 'earth. An' thus 'e will flee from
the smell of garlic an' onions, for those 'erbs are sacred to Tykora the Beautiful** who don't 'old with no spooks running around when they should be in the underworld where they rightly belong. An' in a similarily manner, 'e will flee if someone strongly holds up a sword, dagger or suchlike in 'is face, since Humakt the Grim thinks its awfully dishonorable, he thinks, for anyone to stand up again with the same face when 'e 'as cut 'em down with 'is Sword.

And in three ways only a Ghast can be killed, except for certain 'oly magic by holy-folks which knows 'ow: by bein' drenched in water, since the Water Tribe all hate 'im (and this includes bein' caught in Good Thane 'Elers rainstorms), an' being killed wi' one stroke of a weapon favored by Humakt, that is any sword or dagger, an' finally if he cannot get the blood o' the living to drink for a week, he'll go up in dust an' ashes an' never more be seen.

Now, some says that it someone is kilt by a Ghast, 'e or she might become a Ghast themselves, an' 'ave to walk as a Ghast does. But if such poor wights be, they are said to be less dangerous, for they have no real will to wander undeadly, see, and if they can just be led back to the place where they was burned, they will be able to enter the Underworld, as they will if they are given an offering of blood from someone who loves 'em."

*AFAIK, in English as well as in my native Swedish the words 'ghost' and 'guest' are connected - a ghost is literally a visitor from beyond the grave.

**You don't really consider Ty Kora Tek beautiful, but who dares to call her ugly? She's a vengeful old cr... uh, mature woman who has kept her advancing years wonderfully (smiles weakly).

The Marsh-Wight
As told by a grim Sword to his younger scar-brothers.
'You should know, that there is one awful beast, an abomination to
Humakt, which can be found in the swamps and marshy places. It is the Marsh-Wight, and they search the living to steal their breath and rob their souls.

A Marsh-Wight, it comes about when a lone traveller slowly sinksin a marsh or swamp, and his spirit is as slowly crushed by the slow process of suffocation or drowning. An unrestful spirit it becomes, and thanks to the power of Vivamort Marsh-Thane, evil warlock of the Chaos Tribe, they are kept half alive, half dead. Like a bleak corpse swollen and white they seem, and their eyes burn with a weak marsh-light.

A Marsh-Wight tries to steal the breath of the living in several ways. First, if unwary travellers passes by its murky lairs at night, it will rise out of the waters to drag them down and slowly drown them. As long as a Marsh-Wight has just part of its body, be it just a toe, below waters, it is stronger than any man, and only a hero can break it's grip***.

If no unwary travellers pass, it will use its evil magic to create a false image, and sounds of voices or music, to delude those within sight or hearing distance that something of interest is happening in the marsh. The glimpse of gold might be seen, or the cries of a drowning man, or a lost child, or a beautiful woman might appear, her looks tempting to men. All foul Marsh-Wights have their own tricks in this. And this charm has that evil power, that whosoever takes any interest in it, will be hard pressed to avoid pursuing it, just like a man who steps into quicksand will slowly be dragged down. Thus it will fool him to step within reach of the undead's arms, or just to the place where he will drown naturally and horribly, and the marsh steal his life all the same.

Finally, if no one passes even near it's marsh, the Wight will be pressed to leave it, which it does not like. And because of its weaknesses - which I will tell you later - it will not venture far. A Marsh-Wight can sneak up on sleeping travellers, or even into a lonely stead****, and slowly strangle them, and thus steal its life. Or it might use a more deceitful manner, and use that evil glamour I mentioned earlier, to deceive people into thinking them living men or women, and come close to them or even venture into the swamp.

Now, in addition to what I have said before, Marsh-Wights have horrendous powers which makes them opponents to be feared. Only by honor can they be slain. First, their bodies are like wet-soaked stringy leather, and their slimy arms stronger than any man. Little do they worry about a spear stuck in their belly or a strike which crush bones, they still will move on. Only a slashing blade will harm them, and any pieces cut off will move on their own accord, quickly growing together again as long as any part of them is even touching the wet ground of the marsh. Indeed, if stopped they are to be with weapons, only their head being struck off with a single blow from a sword will do it.

Second, they move through their tula, the marsh, as if it was nothing. Where a man might wade and sink, they will walk and run like on dry and even ground. And if it wishes to flee, a Marsh-Wight can sink into any wet earth like a stone sinks into clear water, and disappear, and swim through the soddy ground like a fish through water. Some wights even has whole steads which they have made for themselves under the marsh, built by sunken boats and tree-stumps.

Third, they are truly dead in many ways. Neither poison nor illness nor old age affects them, and the only nourishment they need is the breath of men, and though they fervently wish for it, they can exist long without it. As long as any part of the body is touching the sodden earth-muck of a marsh, they cannot tire and any wound they take will heal as if by a healer's magic. They have no spirit left either, so nothing they fear, and no such magic which will affect a man's moods, like striking them with fear or uncertainty, will have the slightest effect.

And fourth, they are sometimes given foul Chaos magic by the warlock Vivamort of the Chaos Tribe. By this they might get power over the fog over the swamp, which is both Air and Water, and the muck of the swamp, which is both Earth and Water, and move it like a Storm Voice moves the clean winds or an Earth Mother can make the earth gnomes move the earth. Or they might be able to make the bodies of those they have killed into Wight-Thralls, like weak copies of themselves, but without wit or magic. Or the stinging insects of the marsh may follow their will. Some of them will also have gifted foul Mallia, another of the Chaos Tribe, with power, and thus they can send horrible swamp fevers on men who have to travel near them, either out of spite since they cannot reach them, or to weaken them so that they will fall within their grip.

 Yet they are weak, for they are utterly without honor. All of the God Tribes which have any honor hates them thus. Because of this hate, a Marsh-Wight can no longer heal every wound, use his evil magics, and has merely the grip of a man, if his whole body is held in the air, or walking dry earth, or within running water, or if any part of his body is touched by the rays of the Sun. And in addition, the touch of sacred dry ground, the sun's rays, running water or the winds of a thunderstorm is to them like the hottest searing flame is to living men.

Yet Humakt hates these foul monsters most of all, because Honor is to Him everything, as it should be to all of you, and like all the walking dead they know it. Thus, they fear the sign of Humakt, and will not go near it, and if any man or woman with Honor presents it to them, it will cut to their black hearts as if it had struck them, be they many span away. And if their head is cut off with a sword or dagger, they will not be able to put themselves together again. In any case, their foul bodies should be burnt on logs carved with death-runes as qucikly as possible, and curse-galders should be sung over it.'

****For those who haven't got it yet, we're talking Grendel-like sneaking in here.

"The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea, in a beautiful pea-green boat..." >From "The Owl and the Pussycat" by Edward Lear

Erik Sieurin
bv9521_at_bhs.utb.hb.se
Bodagatan 39, 2 tr
50742 Bor=E5s
Sweden
033/141731


End of The Glorantha Digest V6 #97


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