I've stopped my campaign for about 3 months, I guess, but I'm returning this week. As I was reviewing my notes and the log of what has happened so far, I found this episode which I'm very fond of. It depicts the creation for a new villain in my campaign, and one that really caused emotional reactions in one of my players. So much that he has declared to me that he is now focussed in pursuing this villain above all other objectives the group had before.
This scene takes place in a Vistani camp with two PCs, Gheata and Mara. He will be subject to the Vishnadd and she is an unfortunate victim of the situation.
Please, read and tell me what you think. Did I describe the ritual interestingly? What about Rafael, did he convince you?
Thanks.
Not much time had passed when from the tent emerged again Rafael, accompanied by the old woman, clearly the Raunie of the tribe, and a younger girl. Gheata recognized Yelana immediately, the gypsy dancer that had seduced him. A spark of hope flickered in his eyes, but immediately two burly men came to untie the ropes that held the cage in place. As one of them and Rafael raised it by a clever use of branches as pulleys, the other giant approached Gheata from behind and with a dagger leaning against his throat said
“You are going to be submitted to the Vishnadd. If you refuse, the penalty is death.”
Gheata had indeed considered resisting, but the Vistana put it so coldly and plainly that he decided to see what this Vishnadd thing was. He was walked to where the Raunie stood, beside Yelana, and the crone said to him.
“Ghiaccio, or Ice, as you chose to be named, Rafael accuses you of a heinous crime. You are submitted to our law and must stand trial before the tribe. That is the ceremony of the Vishnadd. Do not answer outside your turn, or you’ll lose your defense summarily. Answer only to what I will ask you.”
The raunie whispered something to Yelana, who then moved away. While the gracious girl returned with the cohani and Mara, Madame Eva had another girl gahter the whole tribe. Gheata watched slightly amazed, as in just a few minutes, an almost wholly asleep encampment came back to life and the tribe gathered in a circle around Madame Eva, himself and Rafael. The cohani stood in the front row, with both Yelana and Mara by her side, and she proffited to explain to the still shaken girl the subtleties of the ritual she was about to take part in.
The Vishnadd, so the other said, is deadly serious to a Vistana. It is the way to settle grievances and avoid bloody disputes within the tribe. But more importantly, it is the very heartbeat of the Law, of Justice, the evidence that these concepts existe beyond simple words and have very real meaning and importance for the welfare of the community. Usually, these disputes concern Vistani only, but on occasion, some giorgio offends so gravely the tribe, or is accused of doing so, that he must be brought before the tribunal so that his degree of guilt can be found and the deserved punishment dealt.
The raunie commanded silence, and addressing the whole tribe in a theatrical deep voice, she explained the motive for so urgent a call:
“My sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, daughters and sons, my kin: you have been gathered here for the Vishnadd.”
A grave silence fell upon the assembly. She held a dagger with a dark blade, took Rafael’s hand, and pressed the point of the blade until a faint drop of blood emerged.
“Rafael has brought before us this giorgio, who claims to be called Ghiaccio. Rafael, what is your accusation?”
“I accuse him of raping Yelana. I saw it with my own eyes.”
A murmur ran across the crowd as Rafael spat these words with blood-injected eyes. The Raunie took now Gheata’s hand and equally punctured his hand until faint blood could be seen.
“This is an odious crime towards one of our own. Giorgio, what do you have to say?”
Gheata was straightforward. Without showing any fear, but unsure whether he could trust the gypsies to judge impartially against their own, he said tersely:
“I did not do that. She came to my camp and she was the one who seduced me and offered herself to me.”
This time, the audience did not manifest. Mara was apprehensive and involuntarily clutched the hand of the cohani by her. Madame Eva withdrew the knife, and standing exactly between the two men, she proclaimed.
“I have heard Rafael’s voicing, I have heard the giorgio’s speech. And no man agrees with the other. As the truth is not clear, it is not fair to sentence the giorgio.”
She closed her eyes and thus remained for a long minute. Then she said:
“It seems to me that this is more a case of jealousy than that a real crime has happened. However, we all know that Rafael has claimed his interest for Yelana. As such, no man has the right to approach her while she formally denies him or he desists. Neither has happened yet, so Rafael has claim over Yelana. Ghiaccio has broken this due and for that, Rafael was slighted in his honour. He is to prove in a ritual fight that he deserves reparation. Rafael, what do you demand?”
Coldly, the other replied, with a faint smile of scorn:
“He came with a girl.” Mara stiffled a cry. “If she is a virgin, I claim her as my wife. If she’s not, I’ll mark her the way the pig marked Yelana.”
In a split-second, all was still in the assembly. Yelana eyed Rafael with a glacial stare. Then, laughter broke the solemn silence, as Mara let all her apprehension out at last. The cohani told her to be silent, as the Raunie cast a reproachful gaze at her. She quelled her laughter with some difficulty, much to the surprise of everyone involved, Rafael no less than all the others. Was she addle-minded or dim-witted?
The raunie spoke again:
“Cohani, is the girl a virgin?”
“No, Madame Eva, she’s not!”
Another whispering spread among the gathering, and the Raunie spoke again
“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Rafael, your request is just. It is my justice that you will be entitled to it if you can beat the giorgio in a duel of honour. The fight will be with daggers, with both contestants bare chested. The first to score three wounds wins the fight and judgement is passed accordingly. Any of you may forfeit. If anyone dishonours this decision and the justice of my ancestors loses his case. No one else can intervene in this fight. If Rafael wins, he can ravish the girl. If not, she can go free. At any rate, Ghiaccio, I deem you innocent of any crime and you can go, even now if you want. Will you fight for your companion?”
Gheata looked around at the crowd.
“I can only say I did not know of the claim over Yelana, so I did not commit any crime willingly. But I will not let others pay for my actions. I will fight.”
Rafael’s mouth opened in a wide, hungry smile and he tore his shirt. The men around him caught hold of their violins and tambourines and began immediately playing a fiery tune. The raunie lent a dagger to Gheata and left the circle to the two men alone.
They espied each other’s movements with great care. Rafael was swift and fast, but he was enraged and Gheata had the brunt of many battles. He kept his icy calm and waited for his adversary. Rafael plunged at him, but Gheata avoided the stroke, turned quickly and sank his dagger in Rafael’s loins. The other was deeply stabbed, but he kicked Gheata’s armed away and in turn razed his belly. They drew away and for some seconds walked around the open space, studying each other. Once again Rafael jumped forward, but Gheata dashed aside. As Rafael tried to strike truly again, Gheata reacted faster and slashed his arm but left his flank exposed. Rafael locked his arm and tried to make Gheata drop the dagger. The other resisted strongly and managed to throw Rafael to the ground. This fell like a cat, avoiding any damage and whirling so fast that he wounded the giorgio on the leg. They had scored two hits each now. The first one to strike again would win the match.
They backed away, calculating the distances. Rafael held his reserve now. Twice he had attacked first, and both times Gheata had had the upperhand. He’d await now. Gheata then leapt with all the speed and power he could muster. Rafael dodged and tried to counter-attack, but Gheata was battle-hardened. He understood the Vistana’s move and anticipated, scoring the third wound in the other’s chest. Rafael fell to the ground despaired. Before anyone could say a word, he jumped, growling, at the other with the impetus of a bull. Gheata, who had laid his guard down after his win, was caught surprised, as everyone else in the camp.
Rafael cried like a mad man
“Bastard, bastard, I will kill you! I will kill you!”
Only Mara reacted in time and ran towards the other two. Gheata managed to undo the grapple, but Rafael went again at him. Mara tried to intercept the gypsy and sweep his leg to make him fall, but he avoided her attempt and held Gheata. The Raunie ordered the others around, but the two men were oblivious to her voice. As the two were holding and punching, some one struck a heavy blow of a mace against Rafael’s head and felled him to the ground. He lay inert, almost unconscious. The Raunie looked at him with a dejected and disdainful glance. In a voice freezing as death, her mouth wrinkled as the bark of a dead tree and as contorted as that of a gargoyle, she hissed:
“Rafael, you have dishonoured the ritual of the Vishnadd, our most sacred institution. From today onwards, no more shall we call you brother. You are Mortu to us! Go, follow you road wherever you want, but stay away from us. You no longer exist for me, call us no longer your family.”
Then she got the dark blade she had used before and hurled it away from the camp.
“Go, Rafael, go! Get the blade, and fetch it for me!”
These were ritual words, as the cohani explained to Mara. No one but the Raunie can hold the knife of the Vishnadd. If Rafael took it, he would not be allowed to return to the camp.
Eva’s voice was terrible, and Rafael’s face turned gray as ash while he tried to conceal all the pain and confusion in a hateful sneer. To be expelled from the tribe is worse than a thousand deaths to a Vistana. He caught his shirt from the ground and walked to the border of the circle. The people moved away from him, opening a road into the night. As he reached the limit of the camp, he looked behind with repugnance to all he was leaving behind. The lights of the torches illuminated two crystal lines on his face, streaming from his eyes, two tears he could not withhold. But in a last show of pride and defiance, he spat towards the camp, turned around, caught the dark knife and disappeared purposefully in the night.
The minutes ran by without anyone noticing them. For a long time, the tribe was as frozen. Such exiles were very rare, and everyone was considering the turn fate had taken. Then, Madame Eva addressed Gheata and Mara and told them:
“You go now too. You have brought us nothing but grief. Go, and may you never cross our paths again.”
“What about our things?”
“Yes, you can take them.”
She returned and the tribe began to prepare to depart. Someone tossed a bundle with their wares and they moved away. A short time after, the tribe had disappeared.
Gheata and Mara walked for a long time without speaking. It was night, and they wandered aimlessly, but Gheata called Rafael’s name repeatedly, adding epithets as ‘coward’ and worse things’ It was only after an hour that they understood they were lost.