|
 Marienburg, along the River Reik. The modern boat is obviously dark sorcery. It is a dreary, rainy day in Westerland. Roderick von Carson, witch hunter and baliff, pulls the wide brim of his hat low to keep the water out of his face and tugs his leather poncho tighter around his neck. It has been a long, uncomfortable ride; the only transportation he could find in a hurry was the wagon of a farmer, who was on his way to Marienburg to pick up a cartload of dead animals. With the farmer refusing to allow anyone to sit up front, everyone has been cramped into the back of the wagon. Four days ago, Roderick von Carson was alone. Now, he has a full retinue at his disposal, and secretly, he is glad. He is in search of a renegade wizard that has fled from Altdorf to Marienburg, in hopes of evading Imperial law in the independant City of Gold. The witch hunter is confident that the Black Hats of Marienburg will be happy to let him claim his target once they learn of the horrors wrought by the mage. And just knowing what the mage can do has made the witch hunter second guess his abilities as a fighter, but thankfully, the men and women he has picked up do not need to know the mage's full power. He glances to Elena Cookwright, a halfling he found four days ago working as a guardian for a small shrine of Esmerelda in a mixed village at the borders of the Moot. He had watched the little lady batter a would be thief with some skill, and he knew having a cook, a halfling one at that, on the road would be a very good choice. Not long after, he grudgingly accepted the services of Richard Baron, a large man with an even larger smell about him. The man was slick and smart, and showed a will about him that had impressed Roderick, and had shown to be keen of eye and ear. However, once Roderick found out what the man did, and was offered samples on the road, he started regretting his choice. Early on the second day, the small group had been beset by a small group of goblins on the road, and the farmer had cowered under the cart while Elena, Roderick, and Richard had fought against the goblins. However, the day was truly won by the providencial appearance of Sir Grant of Bretonnia, a knight errant who had spied the melee from a distance and had ridden his horse to near exhaustion to reach the group to aid them. Leaping from his horse, the man displayed skill and valor, hewing the greenskins left and right. It did not take much convincing for the knight to join their venture against the renegade mage. Later that night, the group of four grew to six, as they met the dwarves Sven Kadrinsson, a story teller, and Orzad Trollhammer, a dwarven entertainer, in the Twin Antler Tavern. The two listened to the subdued tales of Sir Grant and the sales pitch of Richard Baron, and offered their services to the witch hunter, wishing to turn the adventure to their favor to better themselves within the lands of humans. Roderick knew of the magical resistance of dwarves, and of their great strength and durability, and happily accepted the two into the fold. Along the road on the third day, the cart passed through a village that had been razed by marauding greenskins. Amongst the villagers was an off-putting man by the name of Johann, who was performing triage and minor surgery on the wounded villagers. Several men and women who should have died lived, thanks to the medical expertise of the barber-surgeon turned embalmer, who happily took the emperor's coin once his work was done. That same day, as the road wove towards the river Reik, the horses were startled by a gunshot, as twenty meters away on the river, an Elf leapt from one river boat to another, wielding pistol and club with equal skill. Three men were felled in a short span of time, and when the elf saw the witch hunter, he whistled and motioned for the group to wait. Minutes later, Roderick was introduced to Thalandril, a river warden, and pressed the man into his service. The elf reluctantly agreed, uncomfortable with leaving his stretch of river unprotected without any notice to his colleagues, but was assured by Roderick he had the authority to do as such. Now, there is only the rain, silence, and the strong smell of dung. The weather is doing little for everyone's mood, and the cart has recently come to a crawl; the road ahead is clogged with people walking at the most leisurely pace possible to Marienburg. The farmer, a man named Klaus, simply lets the reins rest in his lap as he digs into one nostril, farting quietly and grumbling to himself. Finally growing cross with the delay, Roderick turns in his seat, rapping a knuckle on the farmer's shoulder. "Klaus! How much farther is it to the city proper?" The man starts, turning to glare at Roderick with his nose slightly bloodied, looking furious. He hesitates, remembering who he is talking to, and his face calms. "'bout a quarter of a kilometer, m'lord. Ain't able to go no faster wi' all the pilgrims in the road." Roderick looks confounded, standing to glare over the farmer's frame. "PILGRIMS?! This isn't the route for a standard pilgrammage! What in the name of Ranald is going on?" Klaus shrugs, turning away. "Beats me, yer eminence. But I ain't runnin' down no man who is walkin' tae show 'is love of Sigmar." Roderick looks completely incredulous, and after a moment he turns and sits down, hard. It takes a few moments before he curses, rising from his seat and pushing past his retinue. "Bugger this, lads. We'll make a path on foot. Come. This will give us a chance to chat." With that, the witch hunter hops from the cart, his cloak fluttering before he lands with a faint jingle from the buckles on his shoes. Drawing sword and pistol, Roderick moves with determination around the cart, throwing his cloak back to show off his badge of office. "Make way, I demand, MAKE WAY! I and my men are going to Marienburg to slay a witch! If you be a true devotee to Sigmar, you will give us room!" It takes only the sight of the gun and the claim of being a witch hunter for the crowd to part, and Roderick stomps forward, sneering. All along, the rain continues to patter down. ------ Welcome, one and all, to The Thousand Thrones, an epic campaign in the Old World of Warhammer Fantasy, which will take us from Marienburg to Altdorf to the World's Edge Mountains and back again to the Chaos Wastes! The adventure is set to take us through to our third career, and that isn't counting anything I throw in to pad it out! We start now, a quarter of a kilometer south of Marienburg, pushing through the foot traffic to reach our initial goal: the conquest of a single rogue wizard of mundane power. But what of the pilgrims? What's going on? Post your introductions and impressions of the other players, and give me a combat block that I can save for you. I'll do any rolls you need me to do, and from here on until we get everyone posted, we're pretty well just going to be getting to know one another. Let's get started! STARRING Elena Cookwright, as played by Sledra Sir Grant, as played by Dire Sven Kadrinsson, as played by Lord Hypnostache Orzad Trollhammer, as played by Epicurius Doctor Johann, as played by IPlayVideoGames Thalandril the River Warden, as played by ilootthecorpse Johann Punchfist, as played by Wibblewobble Brother Felix, as played by FireSight Marcus of Middenheim, as played by Beer4TheBeerGod Dmitry Vladimirovich, as played by Waci Malcolm Mandari, as played by Werix Sir Ferragus of House Aquitaine, as played by Frajaq Petra, as played by Werix Alina Khlebnikov, as played by Waci John Dyne fucked around with this message at 19:02 on Oct 2, 2014 |
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 03:03
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 5, 2024 04:50 |
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation "Dung! Fresh Dung! Get your fuel for the winter while it's cheap...Free Maggot Pie with every..." Dick pauses his sales pitch/tirade as his erstwhile employer yells at the pilgrims. "What the gently caress's he banging on now?" he whispers out of the corner of his mouth to Elena. The Halfling and he had been the original two members of the "retinue," and possibly the least likely to boot. A Halfling Cook and a Human poo poo Salesman. Hardly the loving Avengers of Altdorf. The rest of the retinue seemed to be an even more motley crew. There were two Dwarves, and while Dick would have hoped for a Shieldbreaker or a Troll Slayer, but the pair of them only seemed to prance about in tights and sing for his supper. They defecated like they lived - solid, stout, hard, and without ceremony. There was another human - an odd-smelling one, which was high praise from a Dung Collector - but this one had the stench of the graves about him. Well, at least he wouldn't be the only person people would be keeping upwind of on the trip. The Elf, Barone knew the least about. He'd had it on good authority that they never made leavings, so he'd left it at that. Unnatural bloody knife-ears. Finally, there was a high-falutin' uppity attempt at nobility by the name of Sir Grant. A Breton, at that. Well, at least he knew they shat. And some say they drank perfume to make it smell all the sweeter. Still, the one good thing about the Retinue was the number of horses, and the number of gunshots. Turns out, horses are scared shitless by gunshots. Literally. Business was good. pre:Name: Dick Barone Player: Yoshimo Race: Human XP: 0 Career: Dung Collector Physical Characteristics -------------------------- Height: 5'7" Weight: 210lbs Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Light Brown Distinguishing Marks: Nose Ring Origins and Family ------------------------- Number of Siblings: 5 (3 brothers, 2 sisters) Age: 28 years Star Sign: The Gloaming, sign of Illusion and Mystery Birthplace: a Hovel in Talabecland Character Profile -------------------- Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Starting : | 31 | 38 | 33 | 30 | 29 | 36 | 39 | 38 | Advance : | 5 | -- | 5 | 10 | 5 | -- | 5 | -- | Taken : | 5 | -- | | 10 | 5 | -- | 5 | -- | Current : | 36 | 38 | 33 | 40 | 34 | 36 | 44 | 38 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Starting : | 1 | 10 | 3 | 3 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 3 | Advance : | - | 2 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Taken : | - | | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 1 | 10 | 3 | 3 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 3 | Trained Basic Skills: Animal Care (Int) Consume Alcohol (T) Drive (S) Gossip (Fel) Haggle (Fel) Perception (Int) Search (Int) Untrained Basic Skills (Halved Stat, Rounded up): Charm (Fel) Command (Fel) Concealment (Ag) Disguise (Fel) Evaluate (Int) Gamble (Int) Intimidate (S) Outdoor Survival (Int) Ride (Ag) Row (S) Scale Sheer Surface (S) Silent Move (Ag) Swim (S) Advanced Skills: Common Knowledge (the Empire) (Int) +10% Speak Language (Reikspiel) (Int) Talents: Ambidextrous (Don't suffer -20% WS/BS penalty when using off-hand weapon) Coolheaded (Permanant +5% WP - Factored) Fearless (Immune to Fear/Intimidate/Unsettling, treat Terror as Fear) Suave (Permanant +5% Fel - Factored) Trappings: Cart Shovel Bag of Maggots Dung Common Clothing (Shirt, Breeches, Boots) Tattered Cloak Dagger tucked in Belt Backpack Blanket Wooden Tankard Wooden Cutlery Set Hand Weapon (Baseball Bat) 11 Gold Crowns Career Exits: Bone Picker, Grave Robber, Rat Catcher, Sewer Jack, Thug Advances: 1st Free: WS +5 2nd Free: Ag +5 27th Oct: WP +5 26th Nov: T +5 13th Feb: T +10 Yoshimo fucked around with this message at 17:15 on Feb 13, 2013 |
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 03:29
|
|
|
Orzad Trollhammer "Oh, that we should be made to wade through an army of pilgrims!", Orzad Trollhammer exclaims to Sven. "Is there no end to our indignity? Why did I ever leave Karak Hirn!" Why, indeed? It's a question he's asked himself more times than he can count. These humans have no...culture. Why, look at his companions. One of them picked up animal waste for a living, and another did something distasteful to corpses. If there hadn't been, well, unexpected financial reverses, there's no way he would be trudging through the mud after some witch hunter. pre:Name: Orzad Trollhammer Player: Epicurius Race: Dwarf XP: 0/300 Career: Entertainer Physical Characteristics -------------------------- Height: 4'9" Weight: 135 Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Light Brown Distinguishing Marks: Ruddy Face Origins and Family ------------------------- Number of Siblings: 0 Age: 60 years Star Sign: The Drummer Birthplace: Karak Hirn Character Profile (http://orokos.com/roll/82867) -------------------- Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Starting : | 47 | 31 | 40 | 42 | 27 | 34 | 26 | 24 | Advance : | +5 | 10 | -- | -- | 10 | -- | +5 | 10 | Taken : | +5 | -- | -- | -- | +5 | -- | -- | +10 | Current : | 52 | 31 | 35 | 42 | 32 | 34 | 26 | 34 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Starting : | 1 | 12 | 3 | 4 | 3 | 0 | 0 | 2 | Advance : | - | 2 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Taken : | - | +1 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | | 13 | | | | | | | Trained Basic Skills: Charm Advanced Skills: Speak Language (Reikspiel) (Int) Speak Language (Khazalid) (Int) Trade (Smith) (Int) Common Knowledge (Dwarves) (Int) Animal Care Common Knowledge (The Empire) Perception Evaluate Hypnotism Performer (Actor) Performer (Comedian) Talents: Dwarfcraft Grudge Born Fury Night Vision Resistance to Magic Stouthearted Sturdy Public Speaking Very Strong Trappings: Common Clothing Backpack w/ Blanket Tabard Cutlery set Axe Leather Jack Leather Skullcap Trade Tools (Performer) Costume 0 Gold Career Exits: Charlatan, Minstrel, Rogue, Thief, Vagabond Advances: 1st Free: Fel 2nd Free: Ag Epicurius fucked around with this message at 00:33 on Jul 23, 2013 |
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 06:07
|
|
|
Thalandril, Witch Hound Beads of rain ran down the side of the warden's hooded cloak. The ride was bumpy at best as the wagon rattled through the road's muddy ruts. It was best to try and keep one's mind elsewhere. Thalandril rubbed an oiled cloth over his treasured pistol. It was an expensive piece of weaponry, despite its rudimentary design, and would suffer from rust in the downpour if not treated correctly. The elf looked across the wagon at his compatriots, the mixed bunch that they were. He supposed that was the nature of a witch hunter's cadre. Unlikely people could get into unlikely places. Even for the brief time that he had been traveling with Roderick and the others he had begun to build a rapport. The dwarves, Orzak and Sven, he found to be good company. It may not have been common for the two races to get along, but Thalandril did not follow typical elven conventions and the two dwarves were good for a song and a round of drinks. The halfling, Elena, was welcome company as well, not only for her cooking prowess but also for her fierce persona and fighting prowess uncommon in her race. Sir Grant was a strong fighter as well, a favorable trait in the witch hunter's company, but a bit stuffy otherwise. Elves were all too familiar with honor and duty, but the Grail Quest was difficult to understand in its intangibility. Johann was difficult to understand as well. Perhaps it was just an effect of his occupation, but the man had a gloomy and off-putting air to him. Thalandril was glad to have his medical expertise at hand, but his company was somewhat chilling. Lastly there was Richard, or "Dick" as he so affectionately liked to be referred to as. To say that a witch hunter attracted strange types was exemplified when a dung salesman came along to hunt a rogue mage. It made a strange sort of sense though. Their quarry would likely go to ground in whatever dank hole it could find, and who better to know their way around in the muck than Dick. When Roderick called for the group to dismount Thalandril tucked away his pistol and hopped down into the mud, aiming for the smallest puddle he could find. The road was dense with travelers, mostly pilgrims, but he kept a close eye on his belongings just the same. Thalandril didn't know much about his new employer but it was obvious that Roderick didn't favor the subtle approach. The witch would know they were on its trail soon with the man bellowing their intentions in the streets. Thalandril had a special interest in this endeavor. The children of Ulthuan knew too well what a powerful mage could do to an empire. The Witch King of Naggaroth, Maleketh, came to mind. Just the thought was enough to draw all of Thalandril's focus to the task ahead. "Master Von Carson, I won't pretend to think I know the finer points of tracking a witch....but don't you think shouting like this might just warn them that we are coming?" pre:Character Profile -------------------- Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Current : | 38 | 49 | 36 | 32 | 53 | 31 | 36 | 35 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Current : | 1 | 12 | 3 | 3 | 5 | 0 | 0 | 1 | Skills: Common Knowledge (Elves, The Empire) Gossip Navigation Outdoor Survival Perception Row Search Secret Signs (Scout) Speak Language (Eltharin, Reikspiel) Talents: Coolheaded - +5 WP Excellent Vision - +10 on perception tests involving sight or lip reading Night Vision - See up to 30 yards by starlight Orientation - Always know which direction is north, +10 to navigation tests Speacialist Weapon Group - Gunpowder, Longbow Trappings: Common Clothing (shirt, breeches, worn boots, and belt) Tattered Cloak Dagger Backpack Blanket Wooden Tankard Wooden Cutlery Cudgel (Hand Weapon) Light Armour (Leather Jack) Pistol (10 shots) Row Boat Shield Uniform 10 yards of Rope 9 gc
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 07:59
|
|
|
Sven Kadrinsson "Oh, don't complain Orzad." Sven replied to his companion. "Pilgrims make a good audience, they love anything with Sigmar in it. This could be profitable." Sven enjoyed travelling with Orzad. They were both dwarves in a similar situation, so it was only natural that they travelled and performed together. Orzad acting out stories Sven was reciting had been somewhat succesful in a few small towns, but it seemed Empire was not quite ready for a dwarven comedic duo. As for the others, they were certainly an interesting bunch, with much potential for great stories. Sir Grant was probably the most capable fighter in the group, Sven would keep an eye on him in case Grant does something heroic. Elena Cookwright was also likely a good fighter, but was also a halfling, so Sven didn't expect too much. Besides, only children and other halflings liked stories about halflings. Sven did make a mental note to always have some food for the halfling to protect. Thalandril, bah! Sven was going to keep him out his stories, no selfrespecting dwarf tells stories about elves. Unless the elf gets hurt in the story. Johann was rather enigmatic. Sven hoped that he had some interesting tales hidden in him, and wasn't just pretending to be intriguing while being actually very dull. And finally there was Dick Barone. The man smelled foul and used a very colourful language Sven didn't always understand, but he always listened keenly to Dick in order to learn the human vocabulary. pre:Stat roll Stat roll Name: Sven Kadrinsson Race: Dwarf Career: Rapscallion (ex-Raconteur) XP: 0/2100 WS 52 (+10x) BS 37 (+5) S 29 (+5) T 51 (+15xx) Agi 29 (+25x) Int 47 (+10xx) WP 37 (+10xx) Fel 54 (+30xxxxxx) Wounds: 14 (+4xx) Attacks 2 (+1x) Fate: 1 Wound and Fate roll Skills: Blather, Charm, CoKno (Dwarfs, Empire), Gossip, Performer (Comedian, Storytelling), Read/Write, Speak Language (Breton, Khazalid, Reikspiel), Trade (Stoneworker) Talents: Dwarfcraft, Etiquette, Grudge-born Fury, Nightvision, Public Speaking, Res. to Magic, Seasoned Traveller, Stout-hearted, Sturdy Trappings: The usual stuff, 3 gold coins, set of dashing Best clothing, OUTRAGEOUS HAT, cloak Weapons: Dagger (SB-3), Hammer (SB), Sword, Pistol with handful of shots (4, impact, unreliable), Crossbow (4), Silver Dagger (SB-3) Armor: Leather Jack Lord Hypnostache fucked around with this message at 16:30 on Feb 10, 2015 |
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 10:14
|
|
|
Roderick scoffs, placing his hand on an old man's shoulder as he moves around him. "Of course not, warden. Marienburg itself is -" He pauses a moment, glancing at the pilgrims grasping clay hammers and small wooden comets with twin-tails. "- TYPICALLY a city of witches and scoundrels, as it is independant of Imperial law, including that of the Colleges of Magic. They openly practice magic within city limits, for Sigmar's sake!" The witch hunter turns, grinning. "As such, many who would escape justice take flight to Marienburg, but remain unaware that the city is one of the Empire's greatest allies in trade. Hearing a hunter coming may send a few that I am not even after to ground, but the one I am after truly believes he is safe within Marienburg's walls, and knows not of the pact between the Empire and the city." He turns, shaking his head. "This witch we are after believes himself an incarnation of an ancient sorceror. He will fit in with the lunatics of Marienburg." He adjusts his hat and continues to trudge on.
|
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 12:42
|
|
|
Sir Grant of Bretonnia And so yet another valorous quest had begun for Sir Grant. It was hard for Grant to imagine a more fitting task for a knight than the slaying of an evil witch. The first three he'd met (and rescued) were the witch hunter, the halfling and the... peasant. Grant could only shake his head incredulously upon finding out Barone's profession. There had to be better ways of making a living than collecting dung, even if you were a commoner. And as for Elena, Grant had little knowledge of Halfling customs, but the role of temple guardian at least sounded quite honourable. The knight found the two dwarves who had joined them later fairly entertaining. As someone who had grown up listening to tales of great Bretonnian heroes, the stories that the dwarves had appeared much more straightforward. Grant wasn't sure if dwarven stories taught people the correct kinds of morals, but at least they had lots of action to prevent you from getting bored. Johann, the embalmer, had done good in helping out the wounded villagers. Rescuing the lives of the weak and helpless not by blade or lance, but by scalpel, was certainly something Grant found respectable. The river warden elf, on the other hand, had startled his warhorse with that drat gunshot. Grant pulls on the reins of his warhorse to slow it down when the witch hunter informs them they're to continue on by foot. The amount of pilgrims on the road was staggering. Although the cult of Sigmar was slightly foreign to Grant, he could respect the pilgrims devotion. The knight climbs down from his saddle, but refuses to leave his trusty steed behind. Grant pushes his way past the pilgrims, dragging his horse with him. "Make way for a knight of Bretonnia and his companions!" The rain was pouring hard, but Grant pretended not to notice the soaking feeling in his boots. He listens to the witch hunter rant about the dire state of the city, stoically commenting on it. "Marienburg certainly sounds like a foul place of magic, Master von Carson. Do we have any leads as to where in the city we should start looking?" pre:Name: Sir Grant of Bretonnia Player: Dire Race: Human XP: 100/200 Career: Knight Errant Physical Characteristics -------------------------- Height: 5 ft 11 Weight: 160 lbs Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Green Distinguishing Marks: Ragged Ear Origins and Family ------------------------- Number of Siblings: 2 Age: 23 Star Sign: The Broken Cart Birthplace: Bretonnia Character Profile (http://orokos.com/roll/82915 ; BS switched to 11) -------------------- Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Starting : | 34 | 31 | 38 | 30 | 36 | 32 | 32 | 35 | Advance : | 20 | -- | 5 | 10 | 5 | -- | 5 | 5 | Taken : | -- | -- | -- | 5 | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 54 | 31 | 43 | 45 | 41 | 32 | 37 | 40 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Starting : | 1 | 12 | 4 | 4 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 2 | Advance : | 1 | 3 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Taken : | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 2 | 15 | 4 | 4 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 2 | Trained Basic Skills: Animal Care (Int) Gossip (Fel) Outdoor Survival (Int) Ride (Agi) Speak Language (Reikspiel, Breton)(Int) Advanced Skills: Academic Knowledge (Genealogy/Heraldry) (Int) Animal Training (Fel) Common Knowledge (the Empire, Bretonnia) (Int) Dodge Blow (Agi) Talents: (http://orokos.com/roll/82917) Acute Hearing -- +20% on listening Perception tests Etiquette -- +10% on Charm and Gossip tests with nobility Hardy -- +1 Wound Seasoned Traveller -- +10% to Common Knowledge & Speak Language tests. Specialist Weapon Group (Cavalry) Strike Mighty Blow -- +1 to damage with melee weapons Virtue of Chivalry -- You may call upon the Lady of the Lake and gain her blessings (can be found on p. 39 of Knights of the Grail). Trappings: Common clothing (Shirt, Breeches, Worn Boots, Tattered Cloak) Medium Armour (Mail Shirt, Mail Coif, Leather Jack, Helmet) Lance, Sword, Dagger (tucked in a boot) A sling bag (blanket, wooden tankard, wooden cutlery set) Shield Light Warhorse with saddle and harness Purse (20 gold) ; (http://orokos.com/roll/82960) Career Exits: Knight of the Realm Advances: 1st Free: +5 T 2nd Free: +5 WS -- 100 xp: +5 T pre:*~quick combat block~* | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | | 54 | 31 | 43 | 45 | 41 | 32 | 37 | 40 | | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | | 2 | 15 | 4 | 4 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 2 | Medium armour (3 AP) (Mail Shirt, Mail Coif, Leather Jack, Helmet) Lance (SB+1, Fast, Impact, Tiring), Sword (SB), Dagger (SB-3), Shield (SB-2, Defensive, Special) Dire fucked around with this message at 22:43 on Nov 27, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 19:10
|
|
|
Johann Being under the heel of a witch hunter isn't exactly where Johann imagined his career would take him. Though it's likely better working for one than being strung up by one. And it was his unquestioned expertise at what he does that made him be noticed, right? That's not the best consolation, but it helps at least. "Herr Roderick, are we meeting with any more, er, allies in the city?" he asks as he trudges along, the rain water running over his bald head making it glint rather noticeably. Roderick sure knows how to pick them. Once again, Johann's attention is drawn to that ridiculous hat atop one of the dwarves. Sven, was it? His and Orzad's stories were somewhat interesting, though. Some of them, at least. Though if Orzad tried to explain to him again just why a dwarf finding silver instead of gold is funny, he might risk desertion. He knew a halfling once, in a sense. The bereaved tried to talk his price down to what he'd charge to prepare a child, though he wasn't having it, of course. They didn't seem inclined to cook him any meals after that, so he's actually looking forward to what Elena might make. The elf was interesting, and well armed, and Johann found himself sticking rather close to the warden as well as the Knight. He doesn't know much about killing witches, or anything for that matter, so hopefully they can pick up the slack a bit for him. As for the poo poo collector...well, he probably won't have enough perfume to cover that stench up if his expertise was called on to preserve that one. Though he'll probably be doing more stitching than embalming on this trip anyway. pre:---- Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Starting : | 36 | 35 | 40 | 37 | 37 | 52 | 42 | 36 | Advance : | -- | -- | 10 | 10 | 15 | 30 | 20 | 15 | Taken : | -- | -- | 10 | 10 | -- | 20 | 10 | 5 | Current : | 36 | 35 | 45 | 42 | 37 | 57 | 42 | 36 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Starting : | 1 | 12 | 4 | 3 | 5 | 0 | 2 | 3 | Advance : | - | 4 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Taken : | - | 2 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 1 | 12 | 4 | 3 | 5 | 0 | 2 | 3/3 | Trained Basic Skills: Evaluate (Int) Haggle (Fel) Perception (Int) Gossip (Fel) Advanced Skills: Academic Knowledge (Necromancy, Science) (Int) Heal+10 (Int) Read/Write (Int) Sleight of Hand (Ag) Speak Language (Reikspiel) (Int) Speak Language (Classical) (Int) Trade (Apothecary) (Int) Common Knowledge (Empre) (Int) Trappings: Surgeon Tools Writing Kit Clothes Dagger Backpack (Blanket, tankard, cutlery, flask) Best Club Leather Jack Buckler Full Mail Breastplate 10 healing draughts Storm Lantern Greta's Boon Talents: (http://orokos.com/roll/82859) Warrior Born (+5% WS) Fleet Footed (+1 Move) Resistance to Disease (+10% T to resist disease) Surgery (+10% to heal checks. Heal badly wounded patients by 2 instead of 1. +20% toughness bonus vs losing limbs on treatment.) Dealmaker (+10% to Evaluate and Haggle) IPlayVideoGames fucked around with this message at 21:24 on Aug 21, 2014 |
|
#
?
Oct 13, 2012 19:36
|
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation "Don't need no allies," Dick grumbles at the Embalmer. "Seems to me we got the Reikland Reavers right here," he gestures around at the Witch-Hunter's retinue. "Reckon we should start in the slums, milord," he calls to Roderick. "Nowt as queer as folk, and the smallfolk'll have the tell of it when it comes to your common or garden nutters. Speaking of which..." He sidles along side on of the pilgrims - preferably not repulsed by the smell. "Beggin' your pardon, friend," he tips his cap reverently. "I see you're one of the devout, aye, but we was wonderin' what took you and your fellows on this here route to Marienburg?"
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2012 11:12
|
|
|
Elena Cookswrightpre:Name: Elena Cookswright Race: Halfling Current Career: Temple Guardian Previous Career: -- Exit Taken: Age: 44 Gender: Female Eyes: Blue Weight: 100 lbs Hair: Yellow Height: 3'11 Star Sign: The Gloaming - Sign of Illusion and Mystery Siblings: 3 Birthplace: The Moot Distinguishing Marks: Scar XP: 0/100 Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Starting : | 24 | 43 | 22 | 28 | 41 | 31 | 33 | 42 | Advance : | 10 | 05 | 05 | 05 | 05 | -- | 05 | -- | Taken : | 10 | 05 | 05 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 34 | 43 | 27 | 28 | 41 | 31 | 33 | 42 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Starting : | 1 | 10 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 3 | Advance : | -- | 2 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Taken : | -- | 0 | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | Current : | 1 | 10 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 3 | Skills: ------------------- Academic Knowledge (Heraldry) Common Knowledge (Halflings) Common Knowledge (Elves) Dodge Blow Gossip (+10%) Intimidate Perception Seach Speak Language (Halfling) Speak Langauge (Reikspiel) Trade (Cook) Talents: ------------------- Cool Headed Luck Night Vision Resistance to Chaos Specialist Weapon Group (Sling) Strike Mighty Blow Strike To Stun Trappings: ------------------- Backpack (Blanket, Tankard, Cutlery) Common Clothing (Shirt, Breeches, Boots, Cloak) Crossbow (50 bolts) Dagger Light Armour (Leather Jack, Leather Skullcap) Robes Sword Money: ------------------- 19g Primary : | WS | BS | S | T | AG | INT | WP | FEL | Current : | 34 | 43 | 27 | 28 | 41 | 31 | 33 | 42 | Secondary : | A | W | SB | TB | M | MAG | IP | FP | Current : | 1 | 10 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 0 | 0 | 3 | Advances: Free: WS Free: WS 100xp: BS 100xp: S Sledra fucked around with this message at 12:33 on Jan 7, 2013 |
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2012 15:08
|
|
|
The peasant Dick approaches is a fat old woman walking by her self, draped head to toe in cheap charms and trinkets depicting the holy symbols of Sigmar. She smiles at Richard, and he notices to his relief the woman has a wooden nose, before her own smell hits him. "Ain't ye heard? Sigmar has been reborn! Some buggers tried tae kill 'em, but the wee lad smarshed their brains out wi' his 'ammer, he did! PRAISE SIGMAR!!" Her praise to Sigmar is screeched loudly and painfully, and she buckles over in a coughing fit as the other pilgrims echo her cry. In the distance, the walls of Marienburg loom, and the retinue is mere minutes from the gate. Roderick stands stock still, looking completely poleaxed, staring at the crowd around him. "A fanatic Sigmarite cult? In Marienburg?" He takes his hat off, revealing a bald spot on the back of his head, and runs his hand through his hair. He seems not to hear Elena. "Something is not right here. Marienburg has always been largely been ruled by the cults of Shallaya and Manaan. What in the name of Ranald would cause.." He trails off, the confused looking on his face vanishing as he forces himself to look stern. Roderick turns to the retinue, pistol and sword still drawn, but forgotten. "I don't trust a sudden resurgance of a warrior god in a town like this, not with all that is going on in the world, and not so close to the Sea of Claws." He glances back to the city, shaking his head. "I want you all to find out what you can about this so-called second coming of Sigmar. There may be sorcery at work here. Find out what started this all, and who this boy is and where he came from." Swirling his cloak dramatically, Roderick continues stalking towards the gate, speaking over his shoulder to his retinue. "I will continue to hunt this wizard. I will meet you tonight at the Inn of the Grateful Mermaid, in Winkelmarkt. May Shallaya protect you, lads!" With that, Roderick disappears in the crowd passing through the gates, and mere moments later, the retinue is within Marienburg proper. Despite the pilgrims, the large city seems to be mostly deserted. Many of the street vendor's carts are abandoned, and not many citizens roam the streets. Finding a citizen to get directions to the Winkelmarkt takes several minutes, and the crew is merely pointed north along the road. Several times, the retinue passes by grumbling peasants trying to repair their buildings and homes, and they see the signs of riot all around. There are turned over sausage carts and broken glass everywhere. Thuggish characters leer out from some of the buildings, and it is easy to surmise that a man with a hook for a hand is likely not the proprietor of "Sally's Silks and Dresses". Finding themselves in front of their inn, the Grateful Mermaid, and now knowing where to regroup, the group now needs only to decide where they are going and what they are going to do.  You are currently in the main portion of the Winkelmarkt district, across the bridge.
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2012 15:16
|
|
|
Thalandril, Reaver The elf cracked a good-natured grin at Dick's new name for the retinue. "The Reikland Reavers, eh? I like it. We should make pendants. Orzak and Sven can write a song about us." When Barone makes his approach to the old woman Thalandril makes sure to keep his ears sharp. When she boasts that Sigmar has been reborn in Marienburg of all places he is surprised. "Sigmar? Here? This city is even stranger than I've heard it would be." His pistol stayed closed at hand as they entered the city. At the sight of damage from a riot and thugs still lurking about Thalandril rolled his shield onto his shoulder so he could easily access it. "Well mates, I think Dick has the right of it. We should find some of the common folk and figure out where this supposed incarnation of Sigmar was born at."
|
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2012 16:34
|
|
|
Orzad "All human cities are strange. You look up, and there's so much. . .'up' up there. But can someone tell me what's so strange about the city having a cult of Sigmar? I thought he was the main god you humans in the Empire worshiped?" "At any rate, I agree we should speak to the simplefolk. They often know things that those more exalted do not." Epicurius fucked around with this message at 16:52 on Oct 14, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 14, 2012 16:48
|
|
|
Johann The embalmer gave a sniff. He hasn't smelt the stench of a big city in some time. At least the Witch Hunter is gone. The journey so far hasn't been the most relaxing one he's ever taken. "If the good Herr von Carson had given us something to identify ourselves as part of his esteemed order, we'd have some more clout. Maybe with the city watch. Unfortunately..." He glances to the inn. "We can always ask around inside. Rumors abound, and such. And there'll be beer. It's been a long trip."
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 02:28
|
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation Dick nods and smiles at the Elf, unsure if he's being lampooned. The Elves had a Bloodbowl team, didn't they? The Galadrieth Gladiators, or something...Surely he must have heard of the Empire's very own Reikland Reavers? Well, either way, the Dung Collector didn't have the heart to spoil the Elf's enjoyment of their new name. "Best keep the name to ourselves for now, friend. Don't want to be puttin' the fear of the Gods into our quarry, heh?" "You know sirs, we might be able to operate a bit more subtly without His Worship wavin' them pistols and swords around like a bloody pirate. Not to look down on 'is holy ordained duties, but it seems t' me that's why he's recruited himself a pack o' us mongrels and miscreants." He smiles at the rest of retinue, and gives the air a good sniff. "I'm thinkin' you've a fine plan there, Embalmer. A beer'd hit the spot, and what better way to find what's goin' on than over a pint with the local folk." The Reikland Reavers are a Human Bloodbowl team, and depending on who you ask, may well or may not be canon in the WFRP world! (Or it may just be a parody of WFRP/American Football.) Yoshimo fucked around with this message at 12:42 on Nov 2, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 11:56
|
|
|
Sven Kadrinsson "It's going to look very suspicious when a group as big and varied as ours starts asking questions. Maybe we should split up, we'll get more done. I could try asking local dwarves if they've heard anything."
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 12:16
|
|
|
Ella After a brief natter with a passing washerwife Ella turns back to the others, "There's a temple nearby, I know enough secret handshakes that at least one of them must've carried over here. I wanna go there and chat around, tell me when you've decided." With that Ella turns away, after a few minutes of looking around she attempts to strike up conversation with the cleanest person in sight. Usin gossip to chat to someone in the street. 42+10%
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 17:01
|
|
|
Glancing around the avenue, Elena spots a man standing by an overturned cart, grumbling to himself with his hands on his hips. He spits to the side and reaches down, struggling to right the heavy wooden cart. The halfling trots over, offering her assistance, and with her help the two right the cart with ease. Hanging from it is a sign declaring 'Wares and Blessings of Shallaya', and he gives the halfling a firm nod as thanks. When asked what he knows about the return of Sigmar, the man chuckles and shakes his head. "A true blessin', the lad is. I hear tale his 'ammer is the real deal, and arctual magic. Why, he let a diseased beggar hol' the hammer, and right as rain he were, completely cured!" The merchant shakes his head in wonder, smiling wistfully. Pressing further, Elena asks what else the man may know of the boy. "Well... I hear the priestesses of Shallaya rasied 'im from a wee lad, an' that 'ammer is a gift from the bleedin' Daughter of Mercy herself! No weapon can hurt 'im, so long as he wields that 'ammer!" The man admits he has nothing else to share, and thanks Elena once more for her help, before sending her on her way. Elena rolls a 41, succeeding with one degree of success. If she spends an hour questioning other citizens, she will gain an extra +10 to her gossip check, up to a maximum of +30 for four hours of chattering. This applies to any group of characters, so if you guys stick together, you will be able to do a single gossip test. Splitting up will allow multiple, but you may hear the same rumor multiple times while split up. It is currently 10 AM. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 17:17 on Oct 15, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 17:14
|
|
|
Johann "Some to the temple, and some to the inn, then?" suggests Johann, making it rather clear which he prefers with a half step towards the Grateful Mermaid. "I can secure us, and the Witch Hunter, lodging as well. I assume we're going to be in the city for at least a few nights." With that, he's striding into the Mermaid, shifting the weight of his pack on his shoulder.
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 17:19
|
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation "Aye, sounds like a plan to me," Dick heads in after Johann, where he then attempts to spend a leisurely 4 hours getting wankered and sharing stories with the fellow piss-artists in the inn. Effective Gossip - 68.
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 19:05
|
|
|
The Grateful Mermaid is fairly empty at this time of the day, save for a few of the more frequent patrons who have started early on their carousing and bullshitting. Taking a seat at the bar, Dick orders himself an ale before turning to the man next to him, who is already deep, DEEP in his cups. The man turns his head towards Dick, his eyes glazed and his nose bloodshot, and grins, before his face turns confused at the smell wafting from Dick. "Wha' smells like poo poo in 'ere? Izzat me?" The man tumbles off of the barstool while trying to make sure he hasn't embarassed himself in public. Dick pauses, before turning to the barman who has brought his drink, and begins to chat with him. Before long, he brings the subject to the child. With a grunt, the barman thumps the mug he was cleaning on the counter, his face turning red. "Don't you be arskin' me about no damnedable child. That crusade ain't nothin' but conmen, criminals, and Imperial outcasts, lookin' ta stir up trouble in our FINE AND NOBLE CITY, RANDALPH." The barman directly bellows this at a man sitting on his own in the corner, who grumbles and curses back, making an obscene gesture with his hands. "Alls they're goin' ta do wi' the boy is blackmail the Emperor into grantin' 'em noble titles, so they can take our city back over. Bugger 'em, I says, BUGGER YA UP YER HALFLIN' SIZED ARSE, RANDALPH, YE OWE ME TWELVE PENCE ON YER TAB!" Dick sips his ale, enjoying the show, before questioning further about the child. The bartender scoffs, picking the mug up and taking a matter of fact tone. "The birthmark is jes' paint, ye know. Whole business, especially that damned hammer, is just a trick ta fool us honest folk. Sigmar returnin', bloody right, eh?" He moves on down the bar to assist another patron, leaving Dick (and Johann) to process what they've heard. Dick rolled a 61 and succeeded, but had no degrees of success. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 19:59 on Oct 15, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 19:19
|
|
|
Johann Johann pushes his spectacles up his nose, casting Dick an incredulous look. Clearing his throat lightly, he leans over the bar. "Who's 'they', anyway? The ones keeping him, I mean." he calls after the barman. "I'd like to see that child. Sounds like something worth seeing, Sigmar reborn. I've never seen a God before, real or fake."
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 19:31
|
|
|
Sven Kadrinsson Sven decides to inquire the local dwarven community. The first difficulty he faces is actually finding the community, since there are many rivers and canals in the city, and dwarves prefer to live as far away from water as possible. He plans to spend the next five hours inquiring his people's opinion on what's going on.
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 19:42
|
|
|
Sir Grant "Well, I'll endeavour to find out what the nobles of the city think of all this. They are generally prone to gossip, I think." Grant felt it might be considered rude by some of his companions to point out that educated, well-bred lords and ladies should have a more informed view of the situation than the commoners (who - he thought - were easily and often confused by many things), so he keeps his thoughts to himself. The knight wasn't quite certain if Marienburg truly had proper nobility in it, however. With the team splitting up to investigate various avenues of information, Grant heads towards the richer districts to find out what the nobles of the city think, galloping along the vacant city streets on his warhorse. Taking four hours to gossip around with Marienburg's upper class, whether it's nobility or richer merchants. Gossip 40+30 (+10 with Nobility)
|
|
#
?
Oct 15, 2012 23:43
|
|
|
Orzad Orzad has never understood the human fascination with gossip. As far as he's concerned, if something's important, you'll be told. Young Sven, of course, seems to be an expert at it, no doubt spending too much time around humans. Still, he goes with the other dwarf. SOMEONE had to keep him out of trouble, and, maybe, Orzad decided, if he did his act, he could overhear some rumors and make some money at the same time. Going with Sven to find the Dwarven section of the city. Using Perform (Comedian) to do my act there in an inn or on the street corner, hoping to overhear something (or get booed off stage with my 24 fellowship
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 00:15
|
|
|
The bartender gives Johann a scrutinizing eye before spitting in the mug in his hand and wiping it with his cloth. "'They', me lad, are the IMPERIAL ARSEHOLES who are tryin' to drain me beloved city dry like a BLOODY GOLDSUCKIN' VAMPIRE'S ARSE." He continues to give pointed looks to the man in the corner, who has given up responding and is keenly investigating the bottom of his mug. "Ain't got much else to tell ya. Criminals are everywhere in this city, ESPECIALLY IMPERIALS." Sven and Orzard seperate from the team, asking around for directions to the dwarven sector of the city. Initially, they are ignored, but a group of dockworkers size the dwarves up momentarily. They are pointed north with a chuckle, instructed to head to Elfsgemeente. The two dwarves shrug, taking the dockworker's word and start the hour long trudge towards their destination. There, they are shocked and annoyed to find the district they've been sent to is the High Elven district, and the elves lurking about give them an odd look. Questioning one of the elves discovers, to their utter shock, that there is no dwarven quarter within the city, save for pockets of their race in the various slums of the city. They are, however, pointed to a dwarven bar within the elven district. Bursting through the front doors, the two are annoyed and amused to see the bar is primarily overrun with humans, though a proper dwarf is bartending, which makes the world so much better. After a brief discussion with the bartender, Orzad takes the stage to prepare his comedy, while Sven sidles in with a group of humans to begin asking questions. One man, clearly the leader of the group, happily answers for his crew. "Oh, aye, we know plenty about the boy. Lad were an orphan with the Priestesses of Shallaya, lost 'is mum and da' he did, up until he were STOLEN from 'im by order o' Grand Theogonist Volkmar." The crew grumbles and spits at Volkmar's name, and the leader hushes them. "Let me drat well finish me tale, he needs ta hear it all. What I hear is Volkmar knew ta expect the lad as the heir to Sigmar -" Together, the dock workers make the sign of the hammer. " Cause a month ago, a twin-tailed comet passed in front of the sun, it did. Edgar saw it with his own eyes, he did!" The man gestures to a wrinkled old man with two empty eye sockets and emptier gums, who smacks his lips and nods affirmative. "Had his eyes then, he did, but the glory burned 'em out of his head. I think I saw it too, ta be honest. But, aye, lucky thing the lad escaped from their clutches, it is!" Sven can learn nothing else from the men, and on stage, Orzad is taking a dive. His lines about an orc breaking an oath and a dwarf finding silver instead of gold, as well as the one about the goblin who tried to drink dwarven ale and died, did not go over as well as he hoped... save for the bartender, who is in stitches. He tosses the dwarf five pence for his performance and invites him to come again another day, while the humans continue to scratch their heads in confusion. Elsewhere, Grant finds his way to the richer districts with ease, as many noblemen and women would be glad to host a Knight of Bretonnia, even for a mere hour. The signs of decay and riot are lesser the further Grant goes into the richer districts, and before long, he has found himself in front of the Gelded Mare, a ritzy tavern with uniformed thugs at the door and even a stall for ones horse. Dismounting, Grant approaches the door and greets the bouncer, who, after a brief glance at the lack of dirt, dung, and various other nastiness on the man's armor and clothing, grunts and opens the door, letting him inside. There, another gentleman asks for Grant's name, so he may be introduced. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Gelded Mare, it is my honor to present this fine morning, Sir Grant of Bretonnia, a knight errant." The greeter bows and steps away, still lowered, as Grant steps over the threshold. He is met by judging stares and whispers behind hands, before a fat gentlemen in fine silks approaches him, smiling under a well waxed moustache. "Come, my lad, come! You may join me at my table!" The knight joins them, taking a seat and partaking in a light mead and even lighter finger snacks. Following protocol, he pleasantly makes small talk and answers minor questions about himself and Bretonnia before he is offered the chance to speak. When he mentions the second coming of Sigmar, the previous friendly man's face draws tight and stern. "My lad, I do understand your interest in partaking in a crusade, being a Breton and all. But you must understand how perilous this undertaking is. What I have heard from Lord Pettimont, who has heard from his man in the watch, is that the Crusade of the Child is.." He glances around, fluttering a hand at the women to shoo them while he leans in to whisper. "They are an ancient group of.. of... CHAOS worshippers.." He shivers, before pressing on in his lowered voice. "They wish to weaken the Empire, as any fiend would. Helmut, the priest who proclaimed the boy the second coming of Sigmar, is its leader, and it is OBVIOUS he used a spell to sway the weaker minded and willed masses to love the boy, plain as he may be." The bountius gentleman chuckles, shaking his head. "The boy is simply a pawn for a dark power to rule over the Empire, and nay, the entirety of the Old World. Heard it all straight from Lord Pettimont who heard it from his man, I pray every word is false but I know it true." Grant sits in silence for a moment, mulling over this prospect. He continues to dine politely with the other guests, before finding an opportunity to take his leave. Orzard fails his Evaluate and Perception tests to realize the dockworkers are yanking his chain. Sven passes his gossip test with a 20. Orzad rolls a 72 for his Perform - Comedy check, but has a massive +50 for being a dwarf, allowing him to impress the barkeep. He has gained 5p. Grant fails his gossip check, rolling incredibly high, but is still privy to rumors; I have a table of rumors that I roll on, and your roll is modified by Degrees of Success or Failure.
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 01:39
|
|
|
Thalandril, Port Rat Being a son of Ulthuan it would seem like the obvious place for Thalandril to go would be to the elven district. However, he wasn't much for the typical elven attractions and decided to head for more familiar ground: the riverfront. The docks were packed with porters and bilge scum of all kinds. Salty old sailors and quick-fingered pickpockets all shambled about under the watchful eye of river wardens like himself. If there was one place guaranteed to be rife with gossip it was the port. Thalandril looked for the busiest rum bucket he could find and elbowed his way up to the bar to have a drink (or five) and jaw-jack for a few hours. Alright, with four hours to Gossip my check will be at a 65 so lets see where that gets me.
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 03:21
|
|
|
Thalandril sidles into a tavern called, to his amusement, the Bucket of Rum, blending in extremely well with the other dock workers and vagrants working the port. For two pence, he gets a mug of questionable ale, and his ears twitch as he starts listening in to conversations, knowing the best gossip will come unheeded. And after a short time, he hears murmurs of the boy, moving closer to a table with a large, muscular man with a single eye. ".. and I tells ya, lads, the lady were a witch in the guise of a Shallayan priestess, denouncin' the lad on the VERY BLOODY STEPS O' HIS OWN TEMPLE." The group with him roars out and slams their mugs against the table, and the muscular man cackles, slamming his own mug to quiet them. "But ol' Helmut, he saw through her servants and herself, an' the crowd killed five o' 'em right then and there, before they could lay a hand on the blonde lil' lad's head!" Protests erupt from the group, calling the story a load of horseshit and other colorful terms. The elf takes a slight draw from his ale and cringes; there had been pools of month old standing water that had seemed like it'd be more flavorful and appetizing htan this beer. The man stands up, swearing and drawing a cutlass. "You callin' me a fethin' liar, O'Connor? The witch is hangin' ta rot inna cage in front of the temple, if you want to see it for yourself!" A moment of tension passes as a comely wench brings over a new round of drinks, and as the woman is yanked into the muscular man's lap, conversation stirs away from discussions of Sigmar reborn, and Thalandril sets his drink down to move on. Thalandril rolls a 52 and gains two degrees of success. For my notes, and these numbers to not reflect the relative truth of any of these statements, you have had rumors 1, 4, 5, 6, and 8.
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 06:46
|
|
|
Sir Grant There's a slight gloom about the knight as Grant leaves the Gelded Mere. The information he'd received was less than perfect. Rumours, not facts. Still... if the powers of Chaos were involved the situation might be even more dangerous than they expected. However, at least he'd managed to enjoy a warm, first class meal for free. For a travelling knight, it was rare to get a chance to dine in luxury, so you had to take every chance you got. Sir Grant mounts his horse once more, and sets to seek out more information on the matter. It was still early on in the day, and he wanted to try asking the city guards what they knew of the matter. After all, the noble's rumours had supposedly originated from a man in the Watch. Will spend two hours trying to gossip with any watchmen.
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 13:44
|
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation Dick quite happily returns Johann's disbelieving look; clearly there's more to this second coming than meets the eye. Grabbing another pair of pints from the barkeep, and a third for the Embalmer if he's into it, Dick saunters over to this 'Randalph.' "Sounds like you're at the end of your rope, friend," he gives the poor man a well-meaning grin, and sets one of the ales down in front of him. "What's your take on all this Sigmar business then? Just so happens I had a good crop the other day," he continues, expertly polishing his rather filthy fingernails on his collar. "I'd be happy to cover that tab for you, in exchange for the lie of the land, if you get me."
|
|
#
?
Oct 16, 2012 14:51
|
|
|
Thalandril, Tourist After the burly dock worker had finished his rant and moved on to some other subject Thalandril payed for his drink and slipped out of the Bucket of Rum. The cheap ale had left a terrible flavor in his mouth, so, mission number one, he went on to find a bite to eat. It was past midday anyhow and he was certain that there must be some kind of street food between the docks and the temple of Sigmar. If this so called witch was caged up there than Thalandril wanted to get a look. The city was swarmed with pilgrims but he was certain that if he followed their milling processions he would eventually be led to the temple steps. I'm heading for the Temple of Sigmar. I'll take a swing at a perception test to see what I can see.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2012 02:48
|
|
|
Sir Grant, being in the noble district, takes little time to find one of the many Black Hats that roam the streets of Marienburg. However, many refuse to speak with the knight while on duty, showing mixed levels of awe and distrust. However, Grant finally finds a pair of Black Hats just leaving one of the watch houses without their hats on, and finds they are currently off duty. They happily offer the knight a seat at their table at the nearby dive bar, where Grant finds many off duty guards. Politely refusing their drinks at first, Grant explains the tenets of chivalry and a summary of his code of honor, much to the amusement and awe of the men in the bar. Being only simple guards, those who pursue their duty with vigor find themselves incensed and inspired by the knight, and gladly listen to his stories. Before long, Grant turns the discussion from his tales to question the guardsmen about the riots and the child. Several of the guards turn grim and quiet. An older guard breaks the silence. "Ye do know it's just a bloody cult, and -" One of the grim guards interrupts the old man, sneering. "Don't listen to Ol' Dan, mate. He's got his own ideas on things. To be brutally honest, m'lord, no one really knows where the kid came from, but they know he's Sigmar Reborn because he appeared at the crack of noon, out of a shaft of golden light." The men around him murmur and nod in agreement, though a few share wary glances with one another. "Some of us were there, m'lord. Nine years old with the mark of the twin tailed comet burned into his skin. About a dozen men chased him out of the forge, intent on killin' him, looking diseased as a man can get, and the lad brained 'em with his hammer. Killed three before concerned citizens joined in and butchered the rest." The grim guard shakes his head, clapping Grant on the shoulder and grinning. "But, stars above, m'lord! You're here on a holy quest! Tell us more of Bretonnia, of what you do! It's bound to be more interestin' than the rumors and gossips of a bunch of old fogies." With that, conversation is forced back onto Grant. Meanwhile, Randalph looks up from his empty mug, furrowing his brow as he tries to bring Dick into focus. He takes the mug and takes a long draught, motioning for Dick and Johann to take up a chair at his table. The bartender grunts in frustation, snatching up Dick's money and pocketing it. For several minutes, Randalph quietly studies Richard and Johann, between sips of his new drink. He ignores Dick's prodding and questions, and after about fifteen minutes of quietly drinking, sets his mug down and glances to the bartender before heaving a heavy sigh and clearing his throat. When he speaks, he sounds much more educated and refined than his appearance belays. "The boy's name is Karl. He was raised in secret at the Shallayan orphanage, with the sisters planning to hide him till he reached manhood so he could seek his destiny. He made some of them nervous, you see, looking upon him. Striking image of Sigmar himself, he truly is." Randalph runs a finger around the rim of his mug, losing himself to thought, before looking up once more. "He was kidnapped in the dead of night, some week or so ago. Servants of the dark winds, I believe. They took him to the forge, and that is when he escaped. His strength was, quite honestly, miraculous, and amazing. He did fell a man in a single blow of the hammer he had picked up. Whether he is the true heir of Sigmar.." Randalph shrugs, pushing the mug away and standing. He brushes his robes out, and Johann gets a fleeting glimpse of one of the symbols of the Colleges of Magic. "I believe I may have overstayed my welcome. A good day to you, gentlemen. I pray I Have been of some service." He bows slightly before slipping out the door. Elsewhere, Thalandril makes his way to the Templewijk of Marienburg, following the lead he has been given. As he makes his way further into the city, he finds the buildings improve immensely, with the roads being much cleaner and, unsurprisingly, busier. Over the skyline, he can make out three massive structures, which upon questioning the locals he discovers to be the Cathedral of Manaan, the Temple of Haendyrk, and the College of Navigatin and Sea Magicks. The Cathedral of Manaan sports great golden spires, with white limestone walls and three bell towers sheathed in gold forming Manaan's trident. Haendyrk's temple, meanwhile, is even more gaudily gilded, with an overly wrought exterior. However, he finds his route takes him away from the roads leading to the great temples, and instead the elf finds himself in a simple stone plaza. The Temple of Sigmar in Marienburg is a squat, simple affair that has not stood the tests of time well. In front of the temple pillars is a raised, lidded well, and bolted to the stone next to it is a twelve foot iron post. There, chained and dangling from the post over the well, is a four foot oval cage hanging six feet from the ground, holding the small, frail form of a woman. Using his keen eyesight, Thalandril can tell that the woman's fingers have been broken as he gets closer to the cage, and she has been gagged with a cloth bearing the sign of the hammer. On either side of the cage stands one of the city's Black Hats, keeping watch over the prisoner. They barely glance towards Thalandril, and only pay any attention to him due being an elf. Now much closer, the elf can tell the woman is likely nearing death. Tbe smell of rotten vegetables is strong, and the woman is battered and bloodied, with her clothing torn and stained. With her hands and feet chained, she is unable to move within the cage, and at first she appears dead. However, Thalandril watches her for a moment, and realizes she is praying. When she opens her eyes, he sees they are fiercely alive and fiery. A silver pendant of Shallaya hangs from her neck, oddly untouched by the masses. Grant and Dick both passed their gossip tests, gaining more information. Feel free to react to things NPCs say, even if I say they leave; I'll gladly hash things out more, like if Dire wants to tell Grant's stories, or if Yosh wants to actually converse with Randalph.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2012 05:18
|
|
|
Ella Ella quickly finds herself stood alone in the street and shrugs, before heading off towards to the Temple of Holy Olovold, maybe the brothers and sisters there would have more to talk about than the rabble around her. Going there, gossiping for 2 hours/
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2012 15:56
|
|
|
Johann Johann goes easier on the second drink, politely listening as Dick schmoozes with the innkeeper and the patron. Randolph is an interesting one, especially, the man's refined way of speaking sharpening Johann's attention on him. "Randolph," the doctor speaks in a low voice as the other man starts to leave, understanding that Randolph's profession could be a bit of a delicate subject. "Are there other College wizards in the city? Were you sent for any specific reason?"
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2012 16:10
|
|
|
Wandering the streets for a while, Elena finds it more and more difficult to find anyone that takes her seriously as she gets closert to the temple district. However, her questions gain the attention of a tall, thin man with dark hair, who follows her briefly before approaching her. He is a greasy man, with a bundle tied to his back. "Why, 'ello, love! A thousand pardons, missus, but I been hearin' ya tryin' ta fin' the lad? Well, look no further, lass, for Josef Peek 'as what ya need!" He gives Elena a snaggletoothed smile before opening his jacket, motioning to several items hanging from within. "Holy relics of the lad 'isself! Saw the lad wi' me own eyes, an' a true divinity 'e is!" He positions himself in front of Elena, lest she try to escape his spiel. Josef gestures to several small hammers, the holy symbol of Sigmar, swelling with pride as he hefts one. "The boy made these 'ammers fer the faithful, wi' 'is own two 'ands! Charitable, he were, and fer a bonny lass like yerself, charitable I will be as well! Ten pence a piece!" He continues his spiel, motioning to what looks like small pieces of bedding. "The beddin' of lil' baby Heldenhammer! Straight from 'is crib and blessed by 'is 'oly bum! Five pence per swatch! A 'oly relic, it is!" Josef grins, before showing off several strands of blonde hair, as well as several teeth on string. "These 'airs fel from 'is golden mane, they did, an' I'm givin' 'em away, at a shillin' fer three! An' these teeth! Lost when 'e were a babe, and saved away fer a needful soul. Ten shillin', fer these most 'oly of teeth." Peek grins at Elena, looking expectantly for her reply. Randalph pauses at the door, looking Johann over for a moment. He sighs, digging into his clothing and handing a scrap of paper over to the embalmer. "I take it you are able to read? I cannot help you, nor can I answer your question, absurd as it is." His brow knits together as he says these last words, his eyes darting to either side. "Be careful, my friends." He tips his hat and leaves, ignoring any attempts to get his attention. Johann unfolds the scrap handed to him. Written in fine, flowing handwriting are two bits of information: the name "Maida Widmann" and the words "Temple of Shallaya." As there are no more rumors, I rolled to see if Sledra hit any events, and he has found a relic vendor. Johann was unable to goad more information out of Randalph, but has been given a lead.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 01:23
|
|
|
Orzad Orzad pockets his money and then rejoins Sven. "That was a waste of time. Humans don't have a sense of humor. Maybe we should go find the rest of the group to share what little we learned?" "Alternatively", he suggests, "we could do some more digging on our own. Do you want to go to this Temple of Sigmar, and see what's going on? Or would the fact that we are dwarves cause difficulties?" He thinks for a second and realizes he doesn't know much about Sigmar. He knows he was a Human king who became a god, and that he was the patron god of the Empire. Sort of a combination of Grungni and Grimnir. Epicurius fucked around with this message at 03:37 on Oct 20, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 02:43
|
|
|
Johann The embalmer reads the note, frowning faintly. "If there's other wizards running around, aside from the one the Witch Hunter is trying to kill, Roderick should know," he comments quietly to Dick, offering the paper if the other man wants to see it. "We probably shouldn't both wander off, in case the others come back."
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 08:05
|
|
|
Sven Kadrinsson "Let's try the church. In some stories, Sigmar is a friend of dwarves and one thing I've learned in my travels is that out of all priests, Sigmarite priests are the friendliest to dwarves." Sven replies. It occurs to Sven, that while he might be younger of the two dwarves, he might know a little bit more about Sigmar, if only because no one else is a hero in both Imperial and dwarven stories.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 10:31
|
|
|
Elena One of the little hammers catches Elena's eye, the way it glints in the light, it's twin tailed comet imprint though crude, carries a simple beauty. "I'll have that one you old curmudgeon," she says, pointing, "but 7 pence is all I'll give you, I'm not made of money and you look like you could use every scrap you can get." I should really be using the proper name in my posts shouldnt I Sledra fucked around with this message at 14:09 on Oct 20, 2012 |
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 13:26
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 5, 2024 04:50 |
|
|
Dick Barone, Barone Sanitation "I don't read too good," Dick grumbles apologetically. "At all, as it happens." Well, it wasn't a prerequisite for shovelling poo poo. "Let's see if we can get some scoff sorted out here, that journey gave me a right rumbly belly." Dick waddles over to the bar, and sees about getting some grub for him and Johann.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2012 16:34
|
|