Caspar has always been one to entertain. Whether it be at his expense or otherwise, only you can be the judge. That was until he met Gretta who he believes to be an elf. Since this "realization" he's tried extra hard to come up with new songs to impress her with.
vs 42 fel
Unfortunately for the rest of the group, especially the dwarves, he's not very good. In fact, he pretty much uses the same structure for each song making every song sound the same.
Much of the equipment in the wagon that was tossed out needed repairs and soon if they were to be used in the coming battles. As a bruised and battered Krak drives the wagon, his head wrapped in bandages, Boom is busy hammer this or pincing that. They have erected a roof over the back of the wagon as well to keep out the weather in case it threatens to dampen supplies before they are ready.
: Blacksmith success
"TING, TING, TING, TING""Scraaaaaatttttccchhhh.....scccrrrrraaaaaappppppeeee""TING, TING, TING, TING"
"uuuuuuhhhhhhh..." thinks Krak as the throbbing in his head starts to take on the rhythmic metalwork coming from the back of the wagon.
Donkey turns his head to look bad at Krak and if one looked closely they could almost see a sympathetic glance...as if to say "thanks buddy, sorry you're feeling so bad"
meeting Donkey's gaze makes Krak feel a bit better and a struggled smile crosses his face
"TING, TING, TING, TING""Scraaaaaatttttccchhhh.....scccrrrrraaaaaappppppeeee""TING, TING, TING, TING"
"uuuuuuhhhhhhh..."
It's a strange sight to see, a wobbly wagon lead by a struggling but bull headed donkey, sparks and fires leaping from the back all the while.
"TING, TING, TING, TING!!!"
After about a mile of this, nearly everyone in your small and battered party feels like their head is strapped into a vice...
Having been too stunned with ears ringing from the bump on the head he received when being blown backwards by Gretta's "event", Lutke was unable to once again point out that Wolfenburg was already very aware of the Kurgens so no "warning" was necessary. Without the equipment and materials to service The Gray Wolves legion, Lutke's ability to help would be severely limited...but alas, he had been too dazed to again impart this knowledge.
As the party traveled closer and closer to the bitter fighting in the town once called Wolfenburg, Lutke's dreams were turned to nightmares filled with images of the Temple of the Dove being overrun and the helpless priestesses being raped and slaughtered by Kurgen since they were the only ones who had actually needed to be warned of the Kurgen warband who had devastated The Gray Wolves. Guilt gnawed away at him, so much so that Lutke found himself imagining and drawing all of the defenses and traps he would have built them. He began using some the designs in crudely made smaller scale versions when the party stopped for the night. As a result the traps were different each night and wildly unpredictable in their success.
They had traveled through the heavy snow for three days, the wagon delaying their return to the front lines due to the heavy snowfall. Lutke had a constant headache from the lack of sleep, and the infernal racket the dwarves made beating all manner of things in their wagon made the headache a pounding one. Lutke didn't even understand how they hadn't managed to attract the entire invading army down on their heads with the amount of noise being produced. Lutke said a small prayer to Ranald that their luck would continue.
- Night 1 traps Int (37 -5 for mental and physical state) = 32 v.
- Night 2 traps Int (37 -10 for mental and physical state) = 27 v.
- Night 3 traps Int (37 -15 for mental and physical state) = 22 v.
The first night, Lutke seems to be near brilliant with an odd trap that uses a pendulum swinging from two trees. The following nights begin to show the strain. Lutke tried a design utilizing the small pond of frozen water they stopped next to, and the third night was an over complex rope snare that even Albrecht found dizzying. The only thing that it caught was Lutke himself who wandered into it deliriously when heeding a call of nature. The young doe that had been about to investigate it was saved to live another day. Fortunately for Lutke, this design had not been intended to be a lethal one.
The setback did not faze Lutke. He continued to try to work out the designs as they trudged through the snow. And hoped he would be able to atone for leaving the Temple of the Dove to desecration.
You may never know the fate of the poor sisters of the Temple of the White Dove. Having briefly entered the mouth of madness and experienced the glories and horrors that chaos can bring, you can only imagine the dark fate that awaits the innocent clergy of the Goddess of healing and mercy. It's is unlikely they will find any mercy indeed, their fates sealed into a black coffin of suffering and doom.
The road back down the mountain path is easier than the climb and you begin to make good time, your progress marked by the constant hammering and pounding from the wagon as BOOOM continues his endless repairs and augmentations on your gear.
As the sun begins to set you find yourself once again crossing the battlefield that had been the start of your journey. Everywhere, frozen and dead Gray Wolves and Kurgen can be seen, many half eaten by the hounds of the north men, dead faces screaming to an uncaring sky. It is a grim sight, an effigy to the pure savage hatred the reckless armies of Chaos have unleashed.
As you pick you way through the camp (graveyard), you're careful not to disturb the fallen. What these men now need is a priest of Morr to guide their souls safely to the afterlife. You try to do your part, whispering words of mercy as you pass. Somehow it all feels so meaningless.
As your sad fellowship begins it's slow descent from the morbid last stand of the Gray Wolves, you hear Lutke let out a gasp of excitement. Without a word he begins to rush up a snow covered hill towards an icy treeline beyond.
THE WITCH! There, pinned against a tree, her throat split wide by the arrow shaft triggered by your clever schemes is the body of the wretched hag! Her claw like hands seem to reach towards you, ice and frost hung like a frozen noose from dead fingers. Her cold unblinking eyes stare at you accusingly.
But it's what rests upon her neck that draws your gaze. A strange, beautiful, pulsing green stone on a leather thong. You've never seen anything so stunning and pure in your entire life: raw, powerful, and infused with mystery! Your mind begins to swim at the possibilities this strange green stone could open for you, of the traps that could be built and the secrets learned...
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You remember how it had been. The command had come from the Graf himself. Ostland was under siege and the Gray Wolves had been detached to assist in the defense of Wolfenburg, it's formidable capital. You had been called up as reservists to augment the standing fighting force.
But on the march to relieve the besieged city, the Kurgen had struck with hammer force...
On that fourth day of walking, Lutke tears his mind from obsessing about the death of priestesses and resume the obsession which has defined his career. He pulls the dwarven lockbox, the one with goodness inside, and proceeds to once again study it and try to determine how it unlocks.
WP 43 v.
This mental break into the familiar allows Lutke to calm his tired mind and begin to let go of the pain he was building for himself. So absorbed in this study he was that it seemed that the battlefield which they had left came on them all of a sudden. One minute he was looking at the top of design on the lockbox, and the next he realized that Captain Tillman's face contorted in pain was looking up at him. Lutke jumped and realized to where they had arrived.
The call of carrion birds and the howling of the wind were all that greeted them. Oh gods! Lutke thought. The slaughter was even worse then he imagined. But then, he saw it: the crossbow he had rigged as part of his trap. The bolt had been fired! In excitement he traced the wire back to the point of impact. His jaw dropped. It was the hag!!! Lutke fell to his knees in the snow, tears falling from his eyes in a prayer to Ranald for the luck of it all. As he laughed happily. he noticed something...hanging from her neck...something glowing...
A strange mist clouded his vision, and he began to see wondrous designs, unbreakable locks and amazing engineering. Fame and renown was his. The recognition of the Emperor, kings and queens...wealth and women heaped on his head. All made possible by the knowledge contained in this strange green jewel. Lutke reaches out a hand to seize his destiny...
WP 43 v.
Forgetting he is still holding the lockbox, Lutke drops it as he reaches for the amulet. It falls squarely on his toe, snapping him out of the spell. As the pain of the physical intrudes on his mental daze, he suddenly notices that within his visions is a corruption. The Emperor praising him is really a fleshy puppet of a small disfigured creature inside the puppet's head. The wealth is coated in disgusting bile and poisonous to the touch. The women who love on him due so with strange appendages and don't know the difference between pleasure and pain...pain...PAIN! Lutke howls and hops up and down while clutching his poor toe. Suddenly the pain is secondary as he realizes what he almost did. Quickly picking up his lockbox, he turns and hurries to find the mage.
"Magister Albrecht!" Lutke cries. "Foul magic follows the hag in death as it did in life! She carries an item of corruption and decay that could ensnare the mind of lesser men. She must be burned and her magic destroyed by your good and bright power."
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The scene of carnage is both appalling and beautiful in its own way.
The Blood has long since frozen and most of the spilled entrails, blood and discarded meat has been covered by a think coat of snow and frost.
But the evidence of the ferocity is evident.
In one area are a Kurgen and a Gray wolf with their hands frozen upon eachother's throats. Their faces a permanent mask of hate and their deaths aparent in the weapons sticking from their bodies...The Kurgen with arrows sticking in throughout his body and the Gray wolf with a spear through his mid-drift.
A pile of Gray wolve's heads are stacked messsily in another area....a grim reminder of the Kurgen's triumph.
Gretta recognizes some of her fellow camp follower companions here and there....frozen and in various stages of nudity....another grim reminder of Kurgen triumph. They were killed swift, but their last few moments of life may have been as gruesome as the violent horrors of the Gray Wolve's deaths.
Broken lances, swords and arrows stick from the ground everywhere like haphazard chaos weeds.
Even the dead animals were not spared mutilation as it becomes apparent that many of them were butchered to further supply the Kurgen advance.
Looking more closely you notice that this may also be the case with more than several Gray wolf soldiers....and even some Kurgen corpses.
WP 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 4 Oh, thank goodness.
"...MAGIC...IN LIFE!" "...ITEM...ENSNARE!"..."GOOD AND BRIGHT POWER!"
What's this about then? With a sigh you start forward up the path created by Lutke. Not bothering to clear the snow, you simply turn it to slush in your path, your hands extended. And then you see IT!
Oh Gods, the light! THE WARMTH of the thing! It radiates like a second sun. You gasp. In comparison your brightest flame seems like the sputtering of some small spark in the embers of a much greater fire.
Blinking, you stumble forward...
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Albrecht stumbles forward and...
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Albrecht stumbles forward and...
...the Gods await what happens next.
vs 31/2 = 15
Caspar walked around the camp aimlessly. This place was cursed for all he cared. He hadn't understood why they'd even bother to stop. There wasn't much anything of use here. The stew had frozen over, the cooks head inside the pot. Caspar picked a dagger out frozen soldier's ear. He looked the dagger over, a crude piece of metal with a hemp handle. The Kurgen's brought nor left anything of value. He threw the dagger and to his surprise it stuck itself in the corpse of a Kurgen.
He strolled on out of the mess tent to the ominous sound of wood snapping underfoot. Caspar cursed under his breathe knowing exactly what was underneath his foot. Looking down, it was exactly as he thought. The neck to his lute lay broken, the strings were scattered around. The sight of it broken infuriated Caspar. He stomped on it some more. He had wanted always wanted a better one, in fact, he hated this one. He continued stomping, I'll get a better one than you he thought. He finally stopped looking at the now splinters of the neck and walked away a tear running down his cheek.
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Albrecht looks at the crumpled form of the hag. At first he senses she must yet be alive, he feels a lingering magical residue, it must be her. Then his eyes catch the gleam at her throat. Hundreds of thoughts race through his mind. He knows what it is, he's been instructed of it, not to dabble with it, surely he could handle it being as powerful as he has the potential to be, use the enemies weapon against them, perhaps that could turn the tide, its a dark substance and mustn't be utilized. That jade stone gets the best of most men, no matter their intentions.
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*Gulp*
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"Crackle, grind, crackle, squeak, crackle, squeak, grind....." The wheels on the wagon sound as they corss the frozen ground.
Krak is silent as he peers upon the battlesite. His eyes are furrowed and moving slowly from left to right and back....his grip tight on the reighns.
"SNUFFLE SNORT"...Donkey exclaims
Boom peers from the back of the wagon...his face a look of surprise and sadness.
"Does dis mean ve are not getting paid?" he says to no one in particular
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Lutke watches Albrecht approach the crone's dead form, waiting excitedly to see the purifying flames of the bright wizard's awesome power. Albrecht pauses for a moment probably seeing the same types of mind illusion Lutke himself overcame. As apprehensive as he was about magic, Lutke couldn't but trust the young Mage so full of command and power.
Lutke saw Albrecht reach out his hand. And what happened next was almost beyond description. Lutke's jaw dropped. Power filled the air...
Describe what happens as Albrecht reaches for the Chaos Amulet and rolls a Will Power check of (you guessed it) 77! This challenge is open to each of you and EVERYONE is encouraged to post. When all posts have been made, we'll vote as a group on our favorite story as submitted by each of you.
The winner of the most votes will receive +100xp! Everyone who contributes will gain +1 Fortune Points regardless if your story is chosen or not.
Let the fate of Albrecht now be decided!
Albrecht reaches out, his palm perpendicular to the ground as if to blast away the last remnant of this Kurgen hag when his eyes fall on the amulet. The infinite destinies and possibilities of all Albrecht Baers laid out into his mind in one instantaneous and yet infinite burst of versimiltuditic light. His face betrays him, showing him to have just been hit with a gust of air into his eyes. Albrecht's face quickly changes to one of resolve. His hand reaches downward and plucks the amulet from the hag's neck, places it into his pouch with care. You cannot tell if he means to destroy or keep the necklace, but he certainly doesn't seem to be overcome with glee at the taking of it. He then lets loose a blaze, scouring the earth and hag as if wiping her from ever existing.
Only Lutke witnessed the following events. Fire engulfed Albrecht, runes formed around him melting the ice. A pillar of flame shot in the sky burning the hag to ashes and charred the tree.
When it was all said and done Albrecht lay naked in the snow, his skin smoking. Lutke called for the rest of the group as he tried to wake Albrecht. The eye of the raven drifts back to the charred tree. A knot in the tree throbs, like a human heart.
Albrecht gains +5% to WP checks against chaos (not the talent) and 1d10 insanity
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Can this lowly Little Halfling respond here as well gents?? if so.
Albrects Fate: Albrect reaches for the jewel and the Black soul of the Hag lunges into Albrect the the battle for his sanity and soul begin once again.
Trudging alongside the Dwarven wagon, Albrecht moves among the battlefield. His hands lift his red silken fiery robes above his ankles to both help his pace and to not ruin them upon the many discarded and broken weapons sticking from the ground.
Looking about, the scene is of misery painted shades of grey upon a desolate winter landscape.
Perhaps it this lack of color alone that catches his eye, or perhaps it is something else...something that only wizards and magical scholars can sense, but it happens like a sudden lighthouse beacon turned on in a black night.
.....Something on the hill. A glow that demands nothing but one's full attention. It drowns out everything else in his vision. It is a green glow that reaches into Albrecht's heart with both an icy grip and a warm embrace.
Before he has fully realized, Albrecht had crossed the ground so swift that he overtakes Lutke.
Even as Lutke reaches out with some of the same wonderment and excitement, he is suddenly thrown aside, by an unstoppable force.
Albrecht snatches the amulet without thinking and then it happens....
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If one were able to study things as high and unobtainable to persons like you or I such as the study of Chaos, Magic or the "universe", you may find out that Albrecht is not a normal denizen of nature as we may understand. He is in fact born of the stuff of Chaos and his very being exists on what is understood by some as "planes of existence".
A scholar of such things could argue that in fact there is no "one" Albrecht, but MANY that live simultaneously.
Be that as it may, while this may appeal to many, it is in fact a rarity for what is known as "souls".
The majority of souls are indeed "stuck" or "trapped" (depending on how you look at it)on ONE plane of existence at any one time.
However, there are those who argue that in fact "TIME" exists simultaneously and if THAT were the case then is not TIME itself made of "planes of existence" and if so are there not MORE THAN ONE of EVERYONE at the SAME time?!
...but it really depends on who you talk to about such things.
...OH, I see I have begun to boar you...AHEM....
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ONE thing IS certain and that is that Albrecht's connection to the little green pulsating stone in the amulet the moment he touches it is not only instantaneous but undeniably something from the realm of pure magic.
There is a brilliant flash of light.
Albrecht gain 1/2 1d100 corruption and roll 1d6 on the following table:
1) POOF, you disappear in a flash of light and brimstone charring the ground on which you stood. You fate is temporarily unknown. Roll up a new character.
2) OH NO!!! The Amulet SUCKS some of your very magic into it and thus into the WITCH!!!! She BURSTS into a tower of flame. When the fire dies down, she is naked and a DARK BEAUTY!. Her head rises and her eyes meet yours. She is now something MORE than alive....and she knows how to use fire magic!
3) The planes shift and meld into one. The balance has been temporarily disturbed. The amulet explodes in your hand and the flash blinds you. When you regain your sight, you have to rub your eyes once more because there is someone in front of you that appears to look JUST LIKE YOU and that "person" looks as shocked as you are....
4) Somehow, you've gained some insight into the fabric of Chaos. Gain the ability to cast Chaos spells and gain Chaos theory(if you have it already, add +20%
5) Take another 1/2 1d100 corruption
6) The fire magic burns very hot within you indeed. The initial touch of the stone causes you to burst into flame. All your items have been immolated, but once the fires burn down and you regain your composure, you realize that you are able to control self-immolation at will now. (1d10 corruption whenever you do so)
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Lutke watches Albrecht approach the crone's dead form, waiting excitedly to see the purifying flames of the bright wizard's awesome power. Albrecht pauses for a moment probably seeing the same types of mind illusion Lutke himself overcame. As apprehensive as he was about magic, Lutke couldn't but trust the young Mage so full of command and power.
Lutke saw Albrecht reach out his hand. And what happened next was almost beyond description. Lutke's jaw dropped. Power filled the air...
This single moment continued for an eternity. An eternity filled with an infinite number of Albrechts who apparently all had made different decisions, come from different places. Having seen the hidden connection between things on the physical plane once, Lutke found his mind much more able to cope with this vision of the connections of things on the temporal and dimensional. This moment was occurring simultaneously across each Albrecht's life. In an infinite number of chances, every Albrecht that existed was choosing to take this glowing green stone. No deviation. This moment was colliding, something was twisting, something which could hinge the fate of the world. The Albrechts grasped their stones. Green light exploded across Lutke's vision and he lost time.
Slowly...the world returned to focus...Lutke saw Albrecht...Lutke saw only one Albrecht. Albrecht looked....the same. Slightly confused as he looked around, which prompted Lutke to do the same. There was no snow. There was no hag. In fact Albrecht stood before a statue of a winged woman which from around its neck, Albrecht had just removed the glowing green amulet worked in gold.
Lutke looked in every direction in alarm. It was late summer. They were standing in a field of beautiful flowers. No sign of the death and carnage which had been present just a moment before. Captain Tillman and a large company of what Lutke could only assume to be The Gray Wolves stood nearby. Lutke sees the two dwaves Boom and Krak looking bewildered as they are trying to wrap themselves and their donkey in cloaks and furs from what Lutke can only assume was the battlefield which is no longer present. Gretta looks like she just had a pleasant surprise while Caspar's face is sheet white and he involuntarily takes a step back.
"Hey, hey," says a loud but slightly shrill voice. A halfling Lutke has never seen before pushes Caspar's back. "Ya tryin' to step on this again?" The halfling produces a beautiful lute which he thrusts into Caspar's hands. "Clumsy oaf," the small humanoid mutters.
If Caspar's face had been white before, now it is almost translucent. clutching the master quality instrument in his hands, Caspar's eyes roll up into his head, and he bonelessly falls into the tall grass and wildflowers producing a small "Oh!" from Gretta.
"So wizard, is it dangerous?" Captain Tillman says addressing the Albrecht still before Lutke. Albrecht's head whips around and a startled look passes over his face at seeing who is speaking to him. Albrecht's mouth works for a moment without any sound coming out. "Eh? Speak up, Albrecht!" the captian admonishes.
"N-n-no...no. Not s-so far," Albrecht manages to croak. Lutke's throat has closed or he might have disagreed.
"Good. Let's get moving then," Captain Tillman says. "Sergeant!" The sergeant gives the call for the march to resume and Lutke hears the rhymic tread of well trained soldiers. It is only as he begins to move away on his mount that Lutke notices what Captain Tillman is sitting astride. It appears to be a metal wolf. Or rather wolf headed spider. Many folding legs underneath the main "body" propel it forward. Where a horse's head would be is a wolf head from which steam seems to be coming out of its mouth and nose. Aside from this oddity, Lutke sees Captain Tillman has a very strange looking sidearm as well.
Looking around Lutke sees many other strange contraptions through the Gray Wolves line up. Some soldiers seem to have strange clunky backpacks with tubes and wires, while almost all of the officer seem to ride the spider things. Many of the men are lightly to unarmored at all and almost all seemed to carry some type of sidearm as well. High above the mass of men were what appeared to be man birds tethered to some ropes carried by men on the ground, but Lutke realized these were just men in some kind of rigged flying device looking out in directions for any advance warning of the enemy. Lutke's open mouth actually attracted a fly.
Coughing and choking, Lutke was not certain if he swallowed it or not, he forced his nearly unwilling legs over to the magister. He grabbed Albrecht's arm and in an extremely hoarse whisper Lutke hissed, "Albrecht! What did you do??!"
Upon an emerald throne of shifting glass, the Architect of Fate peers upon the face of the Old World(s) the way Ranald might ponder a legendary game of chance. Tzeentch is amused, and with a slight motion he lifts one of his many faceted fingers and reality changes...
THE OLD WORLD...
Gretta's mind swims with the impossible shift in reality before her. As a child she'd always been special, given to strange visions and dreams, but THIS was something else entirely.
"Oh Gods," she gasps. "What...what is happening?"
Looking upon the face of her companions, their eyes are a mirror of her own shock and horror.
vs Will Power 39: FAILED!
Something in Gretta's already fragile mind bends sharply and then suddenly snaps. Gasping for breath she collapses backwards into a prone sitting position, rocking back and forth...back and forth.
"Oh...Gods..."
As a further twist of fate, Pinvendor is now endowed with all the powers and abilities as GM for this time. Drachenfels has been swept away, and in my weakened state I shall take up the meek mantle of Gretta the Camp Follower.
All that being said, please describe your characters reactions to the events that are currently unfolding. We'll proceed from here shortly.
Mudknuckle spinns wildly about what happened where did his camp go where are the familiar muck go what the hell is with the sky, a blue-green tinge what did that wizard do? You dont go about touching glowing green rocks that aren't yours when will these silly humans learn?
Theo begins to survey his surroundings in hope of finding something, anything familiar but alas nothing is the same. He begins to reel upon noticing that his clothing has changed as well, grey coveralls and bluddy shoes!!!!! I am in hell he screams. Kicking off the shoes at the damned wizard you did this, YOU DID THIS! Send me back.... how did .... where are we? Theos eye narrow at Albrecht damned wizards always meddling. I'm WAITING his foot tapping quickly on the ground.
Caspar awoke spooning his new Lute. He caressed the neck, plucking at it's strings. A perfect tune was produced from it's strings and he giggled quietly. He couldn't believe the craftsmanship, not to mention it was just given to him. It was painted a reddish orange complete with finish. "The Red" was etched into the base confirming it was his, despite his distaste for the nickname. It was very apparent that he had hardly noticed the change of scenery or the fact that Gretta had passed out beside him.
In your time as a slave you'd learned that this particular warband of Kurgen payed homage to the Chaos God Tzeentch, and in particular to a wicked crone who they believed was the embodiment of their God. You remember well the terrible magic she could wield and the strange green stone she wore with pride. When she was inexplicably struck down by a bolt through the neck, anarchy exploded through the Kurgen ranks. Leaderless, they began to fight among themselves and in the maelstrom of bloodshed and strife you managed to pick your own locks and stow away in a large moldy wooden chest.
The fighting waged for nearly an hour, but by the end of it they must have selected a new champion to lead them. Diminished, yet driven, the Kurgen marched off towards their fate in the cold snows of Ostland. They had completely forgotten about you!
You spent many longs hours deep in the darkness of the wooden chest, and it was there that you found the loot, intricate and carved from the finest wood. It looked almost Elvish! Immediately you slung it upon your back as you crawled from your hiding place. That's when you saw them. A ragtag band of soldiers, two Dwarves, a Wizard by the looks of it, a pair of men (one with red hair) and a woman.
And then the world as you once knew it changed. Something...beyond description...like a mirror breaking...your mind warped and bent. And suddenly as the very fabric of time and space exploded, you knew then and there everything there was to know about these men, as if they'd been your friends and allies for years:
"Hey, hey," you say in a loud but slightly shrill voice. "Ya tryin' to step on this again?" You produce the beautiful lute which you then thrust into Caspar's hands. "Clumsy oaf," you mutter.
CASPAR: In all your days you've never seen a lute of such beauty and craftsmanship. The well oiled wood is smooth to the touch, golden filigree etched upon the surface dances in the cold morning light. This instrument is a work of art, handed from master to student for countless hundreds of years and now it's yours! Lovingly and possessively you cradle the loot as you would a child, muttering to yourself as tears roll down your cheeks.
All entertainment checks are made at +10%.
On top of this, you can inflict damage as a ranged weapon with an effective strength of 4. The nature of the damage will change (and can be modified) by the song you sing. I encourage you to write new songs and adapt the weapons effect based on the words.
You can also heal allies if a successful test against your Fellowship is made. Again, this depends on the nature of the song itself and I once again encourage you to create lyrics and epic descriptions for these moments and events.
There could be other impressive feats the loot might perform and I will leave them to you to decide. For example, your songs might have the ability to rally your allies and prevent fear.
However, there is something not quite right about 'The Red'. Each time you play the instrument and pass your roll, you must make a test against Will Power or gain 1d10/2 corruption. Any party member who takes direct benefit from the instrument must also do the same.
This is indeed an instrument of legend.
[ooc] it's good to be a halfling around this chaos band.