For the first few miles, crossing the open plain in front of the fortress, Morad kept the speed at quarter-to-half pace, moving along but not fast. He felt his confidence rising, feeling the surprising responsiveness of the steering helm - something was obviously helping.

“Come on Morad, pick up the pace!” Madam Portencia encouraged, enjoying the view from her position atop the vehicle.

“I’m just getting used to the controls,” Morad yelled in reply, deeply focused on his job, the screaming keeping him on edge.

It was burning hot outside, boiling gusts of winds carried sand and grit into the air. Everyone covered up as best they could. The plain raised up into a landscape of cracked rock and pillars of granite. The atmosphere reeked of brimstone, winds shrieking between the outcrops.

After an hour of safety, Morad finally felt comfortable enough to open the throttle to three-quarter pace. The vehicle roared in response, and everyone reinforced their grip on their stations. Fields of bones, lava floods, and in the distance occasional gangs of devils traipsed over the red earth.

Torgrun quizzed Lulu about locations, but she couldn’t identify anything - it was all featureless and harsh. Madam Portencia began to understood some of what Feonor was getting at: it was all unrelentingly horrible.

After some hours, as everyone was tiring and feeling somewhat sore and sorry, the makeshift roadway turned toward the south and a bridge led over a flow of burning lava. Morad slowed to a half speed to navigate over. “Why not go even slower,” Madam Portencia encouraged nervously.

“Because you know if you ride a slow horse,” Morad yelled, “The horse not control so good. You need to keep cantering, minimum.”

Torgrun glanced at Madam Portencia and raised his eyebrows - Morad was the right choice to drive, their eyes agreed.

As the Holy Terror reached the apex of the bridge Morad saw movement in the near distance, and he slowed again. A cluster of vehicles were parked about 300 feet away, surrounding a pile of twisted scrap metal. There were three bikes and two huge vehicles. Figures were moving amongst the ruins, and the road twisted past them before bending North.

“We just need to scream past, and move away North, fast!” Spider yelled to Morad.

“Should I take a short cut?” Morad said, pointing away from the road and across.

“No! They’re going to chase us anyway, don’t go off road!” Torgrun yelled.

“We want to go as fast as possible,” Madam Portencia reinforced, her earlier fear on the bridge overtaken by a greater one. “That way might be very bumpy!”

Morad grunted, and opened the throttle to three-quarter. The engine - and screams - grunted into life. He eyed the road ahead, visualising the route and planning his approach: three-quarters, get to the turn, half, sharp left, open it up, go. Simple!

Torgrun signalled to Spider, indicating there was about to be a beautiful moment for a strafe with the bile sprayer as the gang was passed.

Down at the wreck, boar-like creatures standing on two legs were ripping metal from the wreck. A much larger figure, also a boar, heavily armoured and wielding a huge hammer, stopped and looked in the direction of the Holy Terror. He pointed at it, then waved directions to some smaller rat-like creatures.

A wereboar in armour standing on two legs wielding a massive warhammer

Raggadragga

The rats ran toward the bikes. Two of them were like Feonor’s back in Fort Knucklebone, but the other had some kind of second seating position attached to the side - and rigged in that was a long nozzled weapon with flames painted on the sides. One rat jumped into the driver seat, another into the sidecar, pulling on goggles and a hat. It hooted and raised a fist as the weapon burst into life, flames licking out from the nozzle.

They revved their engines and sped toward the Holy Terror.

The wererats handled their bikes like pros - one hand on the steering, another wielding a small crossbow. The two closest drew near, hollering with excitement, bloodshot eyes open wide, firing their crossbows wildly at Morad and Spider. Morad held the gaze of the nearest as it zipped past.

The third bike, the one with the flamethrower attached to the sidecar, sped straight toward the Holy Terror on a head-on collision course. Flames started licking the barrel of the weapon before a jet of scorching fire erupted out and bathed the bigger vehicle in flame. Everyone took cover as best they could, but the flames bit hard.

Morad saw his opportunity and tried to collect the smaller vehicle in the claws of the raking scythes mounted on the front of the Holy Terror. He juked around hard, but the driver of the bike turned at the last second to avoid the danger, but that took him into the path of Mak, who flexed and swung down, using the metallic pole to bring himself close to the bike. Mak used the momentum to crunch his axe into the driver - once on the way through, a second time on the rebound back. The wererat howled with terror as his chest was opened up by Mak’s massive weapon, but it somehow managed to keep control of the bike.

Spider summoned a smoky black weapon out of thin air and hurled it at the driver, sinking it into the rent in the rat’s chest. This time the driver had no chance, and the bike spun off out of control, crashing down into a ravine behind the Holy Terror. As it fell, the flamethrower wererat was launched from the sidecar, and flew through the air before disappearing in the sunken landscape.

Morad gunned the Holy Terror which roared toward the parked vehicles where the wereboars stood. As he drove he spotted a small hillock to the left and an idea formed in his head. Maybe he could avoid any attacks if he drove over the stony outcrop instead of using the road. How hard could it be? Only one way to find out! Mak sensed what was coming, and took an extra loop of leather around his arm, strapping himself in tight.

The biggest wereboar signalled to two wererats who were picking over the pile of salvage, who sprinted back to the boar’s vehicle and leapt into the two harpoon stations, preparing the weapons to fire.

Torgrun reacted instantly, trying to send a guided bolt over to pound the rats, but it fizzled out to nothing at his feet. He was surprised, but quickly responded by sending his spiritual weapons over to pound into the weaponeers. Bili followed suit, throwing a sphere of flame right into the middle of the two rats, drawing howls of pain.

Spider decided not to muck around. He swung the turret of the bile sprayer around and took careful aim. He pressed down on the trigger and a flood of foul smelling green bile exploded out of the nozzle and drenched the huge vehicle in acidic rain. Spider’s eyes opened wide as the acid started eating through the creatures and vehicle. The two rats melted almost instantly, dissolving into puddles. The big wererat howled and growled in pain but stood tall, driving his huge hammer into the roof of his vehicle and pointing directly at Spider - who grinned in return and calmly reloaded the sprayer, banging a bubble out of the refill tube.

Madam Portencia, seeing the boars still stood (the second uninjured on its scavenger vehicle), took Spider’s lead and lobbed a fireball into the thick of the acidic rain, taking the opportunity to also make sure the leader stood no chance of avoiding the explosion. It dropped down to its knees under the inferno, a shameful position for a Warlord to be in. The other boar was rocked back too, and the remaining ground wererat ran howling, flames rising from its mangy fur.

The trailing rats on bikes sped past on either side of the Holy Terror, firing their crossbows again. One missed, but the other jumped off a small rise in the road, getting some air and rotating as it did to land a bolt into Madam Portencia’s arm. She looked peeved.

Morad dropped the throttle to full, headed for the hillock, and rammed into the bike that lay directly in front. It stood no chance and was collected holus bolus, the driver’s eyes opening wide in terror. The bike engine exploded, enveloping the driver in thick black smoke, and the bike wheeled off out of control, the screams of the driver clear as it careered off. Everyone was rocked by the collision, managing to hang on, but Bili, Mak, and Madam Portencia found themselves bludgeoned into the metal shell by the impact.

Morad grinned madly and raced up the hillock at full speed, and the Holy Terror flew over the crest and into the air beyond. Madam Portencia grabbed her wig to hold it down and everyone’s stomach’s flipped. “Al’Akbar!” Morad cried, cranking the steering around in mid-air and landing it perfectly, the huge rear wheels skidding out and the front pointing strong and true to the North. Almost better than riding a horse, Morad smiled to himself.

Torgrun tried to send his weapons into combat again as he flew past, but once again it spluttered and failed. He cursed, speaking so fast he sounded like a chipmunk such was his chagrin. He closed his eyes and took a moment to calm himself and reflect - surely Torm hadn’t abandoned him. He was the Redeemer!

Madam Portencia, hair settled again, twisted her body to look back at the boars. The lead wereboar was clambering into the harpoon position to fire. She narrowed her eyes and flung another fireball directly at them. The wereboar saw the incoming explosion and dived into the helm position, trying to take cover and abandoning his shot. The explosion half-caught him, but Madam Portencia was disappointed to see his charred figure clawing out of the flames - still not dead! The other wereboar was rocked back in the explosion, and the whimpering wererat finished his short life as a pyre of burning whiskers.

The only remaining bike started to give chase, but the wereboar waved him back, giving up the fight. Torgrun watched all this and had an idea. “If we stop for two seconds we’ll tear them apart,” he yelled. “There’s a lot of scrap there!”

Spider’s eyebrows raised. Torgrun of all people was suggesting delaying the mission? Madam Portenica nodded agreement, “There’s some much bigger vehicles than we have, too. Turn this ship around!”

Morad read the prevailing mood and skidded the Holy Terror around 180 degrees, pointing it back to the wreck and slowing enough to give time to attack. The two boars, charred and burnt, stared incredulously for a moment, before leaping into the driver’s seats and firing up the engines. Tortured screams from the burning souls in each filled the air, joining the Holy Terror’s own victims in an unholy choir.

Spider turned to Bili and Mak. “We’re going to have to pop off and kill the drivers!” he yelled. The big barbarians nodded enthusiastically - they knew exactly what was needed.

Torgrun was pleased with the decision, and felt his confidence returning. He tried to bless Bili, Mak, and Spider with radiance. But despite his optimism, the spell only reached them weakly, barely providing any extra effort. A cloud of darkness dropped on Torgrun again. What was going on?

Madam Portencia was having none of this. She stood, waved her hands, and let loose a third fireball. The scavenger vehicle had started moving out and was slowly gathering pace when the explosion hit. The driver howled, stuck in the cockpit and hanging on for dear life as the flames engulfed it. The other wereboar, the leader, leapt from his own cockpit and flew through the air to escape the inferno, landing flat on his face on the road ahead. For a moment he looked dead, but he slowly pushed himself up on one arm and looked with exhausted disbelief at the approaching Holy Terror.

The remaining bike exploded into flames, the driver killed instantly, and the bike hurtled directly toward the Holy Terror. Morad desperately tried to juke out of the way but it was travelling too fast. The bike crunched into the scythes, covering Morad in flames. “My bad!” Madam Portencia cried out.

The trapped bike started billowing with acrid black smoke, blinding Morad and Spider. Moard muttered a quick prayer, wracked his brain to remember where he was: hillock to the left, boars dead ahead, road winding right. He pulled the wheel around to the right, slowing at the same time, and hoped. And it worked! Again!

Torgrun unstrapped himself and clambered over the metal shell to reach the helm position. He looked down into the scythes where the mangled bike was trapped. He could see that the Holy Terror itself was undamaged, but the bike was trapped and creating the choking smoke. He hauled his mace out and flipped it over, the lent down dangerously into the mangled mess. He used the mace arm to lever the wreck free, allowing Morad to emerge out of the smoke and into clear air.

Spider looked down and saw the wereboar propped up on one charred arm directly in front. Spider grinned. He stood, looked the boar in the eye, and whipped a trademark killing-blow shuriken directly into the wereboar’s forehead. The boar’s head dropped to the ground, finally dead.

The scavenger vehicle rumbled past on the left, the wereboar driver trying to escape the assault. Mak wasn’t going to let that happen. He pulled the flexible pole back, and launched himself through the air, arm-stretched, landing with a massive thump on the rear of the vehicle. Bili followed suit, flying through the air with similar grace. the boar looked back in horror - who were these guys?! “Fuck this shit,” he grunted, reaching for his hammer. He started to climb back toward Mak, leaving the massive scavenger to find its own way - directly toward a huge boulder.

The wereboar swung his huge two-handed mace into Bili, collecting him in the mid-riff. The return swing crunched into Mak’s shoulder, knocking him forward. Mak growled, leapt, and smashed his axe twice into the wereboar in retaliation. The boar was pounded backward under the assault, and flung from the vehicle and onto the rockface. Bili used the momentum of the vehicle to follow, flying over the gap and splitting the boar’s head with his axe.

The scavenger continued its inexorable journey and smashed into to the huge boulder, sending Mak flying. He reached out desperately and managed to grab one of the vehicle’s handholds, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of the socket, and planting his feet as he landed. Bili sensed the crash just before it happened, and used the impact to propel himself forward, somersaulting through the air and landing perfectly on the ground beyond.

Charred and mangled bodies lay everywhere, two of the three bikes were wrecked, and the scavenger lay smashed into a large boulder.

Spider wiped his hands with satisfaction, jumped down and searched the wereboar’s body. He palmed three soul coins, knowing that he was the only one who might use them - he had decided he would take the spiritual hits to allow others could maintain morality. He pointed out the massive hammer to Torgrun, and peeled a dark-red metal circlet from the wereboar’s forehead and tossed it to Madam Portencia.

A huge vehicle with harpoons mounted to the front and a wrecking ball to the back

Demon Grinder

Torgrun studied the two Warlord vehicles. The largest one, much larger than the Holy Terror, was in good shape other than the side where the acidic bile had created some armour damage. It looked similar to Feonor’s, which the Kenku had called a Demon Grinder. There were two harpoon stations, a chomper attached to the front that looked ready to grind anything in its path into grit. A wrecking ball hung from the back. There were eight seats.

The scavenger was in worse shape, the front crane device crushed by the collision. but the rest was workable, and drivable by the looks. The big storage container mounted on the back was half full of large slab of scrap metal - perfect for repairs.

A sharp angled two-wheeled motorbike

Devil’s Ride

Mak ambled over to the one undamaged bike. He studied it for a moment, then pressed what looked like a starter button. The bike growled into life, pitiful screams emerging from its smaller engine. A big smile grew on Mak’s face as he sat down and slowly started driving the bike toward the others.

Spider gathered everyone. “I know that we’re on a mission,” he said, looking at Torgrun, “but I think we should take the day to return to Fort Knucklebone. The amount of kudos we’ll get out of taking this guy’s head back, and taking back extra stuff for Maggie, means we’ll be able to get the big one fixed up real nice.”

“It makes sense to get fully equipped,” Morad agreed.

“We are in a crisis situation where time is of the essence,” Torgrun started, “but I think we should do this.” Spider grinned - maybe Torgrun wasn’t so bad after all!

Before leaving Mak and Bili hauled what remaining scrap they could into the scavenger belly, then the four vehicle convoy set out.

Somewhat against the odds, the return was a success, three nervous drivers following Morad. Mak didn’t take long to gain his confidence, and by the time of arriving back he was trying the odd trick - jumps and skids. Spider liked the idea of an outrider, and beside, there was no-one taking it of Mak now.

There was much astonishment at Fort Knucklebone. Most had assumed you would be dead before the first day was out, the victim of one of the Avernian Warlords. Instead you returned in triumph, a Warlord’s head mounted to the front of their own Demon Grinder.

Mad Maggie emerged to observe, and was as astonished as the swarming madcaps. “Is that Raggadragga’s head?” she asked, before answering her own question. “That’s Raggadragga! My goodness - I never liked him and his crew much, but I didn’t think he would fall so soon. Congratulations! You may now assume the mantle of Warlord yourselves!”

“Warlord’s of Hell,” Torgrun said wryly. “So I now have several names. Torgrun Haelstormer, Hellrider, The Redeemer, and now Warlord of Hell.”

Maggie agreed to repair the Demon Grinder to excellent condition, using the collected scrap. Her condition was that one of the three big vehicles would be hers, and it was agreed she could keep the scavenger. The Holy Terror and Demon Grinder were keepers, as was Mak’s bike.

There was some discussion about taking all three out on the journey to come. Torgrun and Madam Portencia were in favour, wanting a backup and more firepower. Mak and Morad were less sure, questioning how all of the battle stations could be manned.

Surprisingly Spider was the voice of reason: “Sorry to be a point of morality, but they all need fuel.” He paused as understanding swept over the three-vehicle boosters. “I’m just pointing it out to you lads, because it doesn’t bother me on iota. My position on souls that ended up here is that they deserve to be here. So I’ve got no problem burnin' those suckers like gas. But if you don’t mind…”

Torgrun looked horrifed. “Of course we mind! You’re the one who palmed it in in the first place,” he mumbled, realising Spider was right. Burning three times the souls was not a price worth paying for more mobility.

“So we’ll keep one in reserve,” Spider said, pointing at the Holy Terror, “And take the Grinder and bike.”

One of the harpoons on the Demon Grinder was swapped for the bile sprayer, it having more than proved its worth. The Kenku also mounted a small compartment to the bike for Slobberchops - keeping a wary eye on the cat the entire time. Then again it did have wings, so they felt some vague kinship. They also fit another flexible pole, like the ones on the Holy Terror, to the back, to allow Bili to ride pillion.

The Kenku also offered Mak a choice of masks. “You don’t want to be out there on this thing without some kind of facemask,” Chukka suggested. “You need to keep that dust and burning heat out of your lungs.”

Clonk stepped forward with two masks. “We’ve got two models here for you. Firstly this,” it said, holding up what looked like a face that had been flayed off a skull, hanging loose and pallid, with an expression of endless screaming. “Fits nice and tight, might get a little warm, but good vision, good flex.”

Mak paled at the idea of wearing someone else’s face and shook his head.

“Right, well the other option is this,” Clonk showed a dark metal mask, tiny eye and mouth slots, that could be strapped hard against the face. “Heavier, less flex, less vision, but good protection.”

Mak nodded, “I prefer this.”

Spider disagreed, “That one’s not going to be comfortable wearing. This other though,” he said, feeling the face, “That’s pretty soft leather right there. And you don’t know whose face it was.”

“It is very soft,” Madam Portencia said approvingly. “We had a guy in the circus that used to do a puppet show with a bunch of masks that were of a very similar make.”

“No,” Mak said firmly, “no human face.”

Bili had no such qualms, taking the face with interest.

Mak commandeered Raggadragga’s huge warhammer, and the hairband, which apparently cast rays of scorching fire on demand, according to Madam Portencia. Useful to have some kind of attack while helming the bike, it was thought.

The madcaps gathered around and demanded to know what the new transport was to be named.

“How aout the Sword of Redemption?” Torgrun said, and was generally ignored.

“It doesn’t look like a sword, it looks like a meat grinder,” Spider said dismissively.

“Hammer of Redemption then?” Torgrun said quietly.

“We could name it Al’Akbar,” Morad suggested. Spider laughed before seeing Morad was serious. “What is the problem with that?” Morad demanded.

“I think it’s blasphemous,” Bili said.

“You? I.. you… you telling me?! How? He doesn’t wear cloths, he’s telling me? I know! If anyone know… me!” Morad turned away and climbed up to the driving position.

“And how should we address you, new Warlords that you are?” Mad Maggie asked curiously.

“Madam P and her buff champions?” Madam Portencia suggested.

“The Redeemers?” Torgrun tried again.

Spider manned the harpoon, and Togrun the bile spewer, while Madam Portencia sat enthroned in the Warlord seat atop the mighty back of the machine.

The two barbarians pulled on their masks. Bili stood clinging to the pole behind Mak, who revved the bike (who’s souls screamed in response).

Fully equipped, repaired, rested, and ready, the Demon Grinder’s souls screamed the engine to life and rolled back out into the Wastelands, pointed toward Haruman’s Hill for the second time.

Demon Grinder Handout/Character Sheet

Devil’s Ride Handout/Character Sheet

Session played: 23 March, 6 April 2021