Draugr? I Barely Know Her
Byline: Gary Llewellyn
Dateline: October 21st, 2017
Greetings, Doomed Monkeys, it’s your old pal and steady connection, Gary Llewellyn here with another edition of: ‘Why can’t Gary just slice Alwyn a set of gills?’ Or a Columbian necktie? Or a Glasgow smile? A Glasgow smile and a Columbian necktie. Go international on his ass. But no, I’m under strict instructions to track and observe with the intent of live capture. Like Bruce Boxleitner, "Bring ‘em back alive." Why? I guess so that he can raise a swarm of undead flies from behind the break room refrigerator. At least, raise the ones that haven’t been eaten by the rat psychic/psychic rat and the felis dumbassticus astrologer with the greasy paws. The result so far? Alwyn is taking us international, instead. This week, we’re in Iceland, responding to a recent rash of Draugr attacks and meeting a deadline at the same time. It’s the 21st century, kiddos. Multitask. So without further ado, PFG proudly presents our contractual obligations.
This obligation takes a look at the Icelandic undead nuisance, the Draugr. Draugr, which is translated to ‘again-walkers’ by translators who can’t be arsed to seat it in more idiomatic English, are the reanimated corpses of dead heroes and legends from Icelandic and Norse folklore. So if you do anything remarkable in Iceland, you get to come back as a bloated corpse who hordes treasure in its grave. An eternity as a level 8-10 side quest.
“But, Gary,” you say to me between hits. “Why ya in Icyland messin’ with ‘dem undeads? Ain’t they have ‘dem crazy, little elf fellers runnin round?”
Why, yes, guy I just sold PCP to, they do have ‘crazy, little elf fellers runnin round’. But the ‘crazy, little elf fellers’ aren’t being manipulated by a psycho necro off his meds and having a himself a little apocalyptic fugue. You’d know that if you were keeping up. If you're not, the good news is you can catch up with new PFG compendiums coming soon from SEG Press on Kindle. And if you’re a troubled and esoteric enough person to read serial fiction in the 21st century they got a lot of that shit too. #selloutmode.
Normally, Draugr are content to hide out in their tombs twiddling the wealth they’ll never spend, waiting for a heroic party of adventurers, giving their cleric an excuse to use ‘turn undead’ at least once in the campaign, but then the asshole Paladin, who used dex as dump stat so he can always win initiative, does it first. But, more importantly, they’re getting all that money back into circulation. Wealth hoarding monsters are pretty hard on local economies, but what does an adventurer do with all that gold? They upgrade their gear and get shitfaced at the local public house. Keeps the wheels spinning.
Draugr have several ways of defending their home. Most are gruesome, but avoidable. Just don’t get too close to the fat motherfuckers and they won’t be able to squash or swallow you. The tricky one is where they drive you so insane you kill yourself. Defending yourself against a Draugr is another unfair affair. They are immune to weapons. All weapons. Carved a shiv out of a toothbrush? Guess what, son. You’re holding a weapon. The rule of thumb is if the cops think it’s a weapon, the Draugr does too. Only one with a hero’s heart can defeat a Draugr. Now, you’d never think of old Gary as a humble guy. The very phrasing of that sentence is self corroborating. But I’ll be the first to admit, the only thing about me that approaches heroic levels is how much of a bastard I am.
It just so happens I know someone who fits the bill perfectly even if she doesn’t think so. Yes, we’re going there, shut the fuck up. This chick rides around on a tarrasque and leads an army of some ugly motherfuckers. She can handle some bloated shit bags. She out levels these stiffs by a country mile. She’ll just need a hand with the insanity attack and there’s no state these pissants can put me in that I haven’t already spent at least 18 months in at some point in my life, easy bullet to take. But if I’m going to tank this dungeon, I’m going to have to stop at the potion shop for a shit load of mescaline.
Byline: Stephanie Morgan
Dateline: October 21st, 2017
Heya, SEG-ers! I had a big day, today. I came face to face with a Norse zombie, known as a Draugr. I thought this was going to be another one of those filler articles we do where we talk about how boring this or that monster is, especially with how played out zombies were. It turns out, this was what Gary often refers to as a ‘Cigarette Smoking Man’ episode.
It seems that Grampy Morgan was recently in Iceland antagonizing the local undead population. He got the poor Draugr all riled up, by telling them the locals were throwing shade at them. They’re very sensitive because they have really bad skin. I explained to them who Alwyn Morgan was and that he was just trying to antagonise them. Gary spent most of the time ranting about maritime law and how the Freemasons were keeping him locked in the Chapel Perilous. He seems to be fine now, but let’s be honest, I’m not sure I could tell.
The upshot of all of this is that our money problems have been solved. Draugr are loaded. You would expect the treasury of a mythical creature to filled with...treasure. There was some of the things you’d expect like gold coins, jewels and goblets, but it was mostly just cash. Suits us! And just in time, too. Some things are in dire need of upgrading, the kobolds won’t mind getting paid for their time and no more Motel 6s. Uncle Mort, we’ll be hanging on to it if you don’t mind. It should cover the last ten months, nicely.