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mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat


Gunnbjorn Magnusson


Gunnbjorn stares the like, super loving obvious holy poo poo he can see it cultist in the eyes.

"Is nice pig you have friend, is of no mind if friend Gunnbjorn take big look?"

His accent, while thick, isn't usually this comical and clearly fake sounding. His hands ball up in tightly clenched fists at his sides even as he gives a somewhat dopey grin to the old man.

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John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Blug makes a deep, horrible noise in the back of his throat before spitting a gob of phlegm into the dirt, sniffing as he rubs it in with the heel of his foot. He nods slowly at Cat, still smiling at her, and is about to answer when Henri interrupts. The old man's smile fades. "Ye talkin' about the Black Pig? Don't fookin' bring tha' curse down on me village, lad. In me 27 years on this earth, I ain't seen no Black Pig of the Marsh." He makes the sign of the evil eye on Henri for a moment before grinning back at Cat.

"Naw, we's TRUE Mousillon people; don't cater much tae outsiders. Not like them cunts at Creacheur." At the mention of their rival village, some of the villagers boo and hiss, and Blug's toothless smile widens. "Aye, we usually runt outsiders off, but yer a cute lil' lassie an' ye all 'ave weapons an' I ain't fookin' about wi' no weapons." He cackles like any old man who cackles at their own horrible joke, and he wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at Gunnbjorn in confusion.

"Yer hairy friend fookin' daft? Aye, go lookit our fookin' sow, ya fookin' soft fook! She goes OINK OINK SQUAAAONK an' she's the prize o' this village! Got her meself through me shred business acumen." He drops Cat a wink. "Gonna fin' our sow a hog tae rail 'er good an' have us some wee lil' piggies tae rub in Creacheur's poor fookin' faces!" He gets an evil gleam in his eye as he thinks of this, folding his tiny arms under his flabby chest. "I 'ear tale they's got some 'uge stinkyhole named Marfe an' he shoves apples up his arse an' squats 'em back out tae feed the idjits what live there. Can ye fookin' imagine the taste o' a shitter apple? Ha!"

Throughout this, the two guards near the pig watch the group with interest... or at least the bearded one does. The blonde one is staring at the pig roll in the mud, and begins to laugh for apparently no obvious reason. "Bou, Impeatrice done farted in the mud and there were bubbles!"

Bou, the bearded guard, gives his comrade a look that is a mix of disgust and exasperation, and he swats the blonde in the back of his head. "Pay attention, Mans! There's outsiders about! And stop being so bloody disgusting! You're as dim as Little Tadpole! Or Spuc!" Mans looks incredibly stung by this and picks his sharpened stick back up, leaning against the fence and pouting. Bou rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Blug and the adventurers.

mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat


Gunnbjorn Magnusson


Gunnbjorn has only felt likes hes wanted to die a few times before. On the march to Middenheim, running away from Middenheim, the one time he drink Imperial beer and the Nuln Nunnery. Talking to this man has offically joined that list. He gives the old fucker a dumb smile and moves to the pig pit, as he passes Archibald and Henri he whispers.

"Get the old gently caress to tell you where he got the pig from, I'm going to check and see what the gently caress it is."

wiegieman
Apr 22, 2010


Royalty is a continuous cutting motion


Henri de Vienne

"Oh, enough of this." Henri swings off his mount onto the (relatively, this is Mousillon) solid ground, and walks up to the withered peasant. Then he grabs him by his shirt and picks him up to eye level. As mildly as possible, he says, "Perhaps you did not hear me. I will speak again, so that your attention is more focused on the task at hand. Did you see a man with two missing fingers come through this village, or did you not?"

Werix
Sep 13, 2012

#acolyte GM of 2013


Jotunn Heavy-Hand

As Henri gets down from his horse, and grabs the peasant, Jotunn smiles and draws his axe and shield and gets in between the two guards and Henri. "You lot stay right there by that pig while our knight here does his thing." Jotunn looks over his shoulder at Henri, "Let me know if you need some help there. Though if he says 'fook' one more time in that fuckin' accent of his I'll rip out his 'fffoooooookkkkken' tongue if you want."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Bors hefts his makeshift spear warily as Gunnbjorn walks closer to the pig pen, kicking Mors in the ankle to get him to do the same. However, when Henri hefts the village elder by his shirt, the entire village cries out in alarm, some reaching for their gutting knives in a bid to protect Blug. When Jotunn draws his axe, however, most of the peasants hesitate, save for Bors; the valiant guard steps forward, trying to show off a brave face even as his knees begin to knock.

The old man's smile has faded and only anger appears there now, his giant eye focusing in on Henri. He waves Bors back, shaking his head and cocking it to address the boy. "Yer a fookin' good lad, Bors, son, but this is beyond ye. Yer wee pecker poker won' do a wit tae this one." When he levels his head again, his smile has returned, though very faint. The next words he speaks very lowly, so only Henri can hear. "For more'n one reason, eh, lass?" Blug cackles again, kicking his feet in the air at the amusement of the joke before him, his smile now splitting his face from ear to ear. "Oh, ol' Blug's jus' a fookin' dumb ol' peasant, ain't he?! Don't know nothin' o' the worl' outside 'is fookin' lil' shitsberg! Ain't like e's travelled tae the Grimisire river 'n back, or tae the Cordon an' back, noooo sir! No ma'am! No, stinkyhole!" He laughs again, and nervously some of the other villages join in with his laughter.

While the rest of the village is distracted, the lad stirring the pit of entrails stares at Gunnbjorn in wonder, looking as if he has seen the ghost of his greatest hero. He motions for the berserker to come over to him, looking around nervously before stepping back around the side of his hut. Even as he does so, a waifish little girl runs up to Henri, her eyes welling with tears as she hits the knight on his leg plate. "Put grandpa Blug down, mister! I'll get Douleur if you hurt him! Please don't hurt him!" Her tiny fists do little on the metal armor of the knight and she simply slumps against his leg, bawling.

mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat


Gunnbjorn Magnusson


Gunnbjorn gives one look at the giant gently caress up that is the middle of the village right now and goes over to the kid.

"What is it boy? My time is limited."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Now closer to the boy, Gunnbjorn is able to see the lad is obviously mutated, with six fingers on each hand and several extra nipples on his bare chest. His face is that of an idiot, slack jawed and distant at first glance, but the berserker sees a malevolent intelligence in the boy's eyes. He notices the boy has drawn a large, curved knife with a serrated back, and is turning it over in his hands, running his fingers along the blade.

"Yer here fer the Black Pig, ain'tcha?" He looks at the fresh cut on his fingertip and the blood welling up from it. "She's a curse to this village. She lures us to our deaths in the dark of the night, and whispers horrible plans to us in our sleep. I fight it, I do. I really do. But she's strong. So, so strong. I want to just snap and.." He looks up from the blade, his eyes pleading. "You know what I mean. I can tell." He licks his lips, his hands shaking as he tightly grips the hilt of the blade.

"But if she were hurt, she'd do so, so much worse. If we were hurt. I.. I can't let he be angry. I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I have to do this. For the village. For the Black Pig." The boy predictably and clumsily swings the blade for Gunnbjorn, but the veteran fighter is able to catch the weak little lad's wrist with ease to protect himself. The sight is pathetic as the skinny lad tries to pry Gunnbjorn's fingers from his wrist with his free hand, tears streaming down his face. "You can't kill her! Nothing can kill the Black Pig! You'll just make it angry! You'll just make it worse!"

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cat Hogberry-Patch

Cat, momentarily lost in the horror of remembering Marfe's apples once more, shakes her head and joins the tiny peasant girl (who, incidentally, is about at eye level) in castigating the knight, "What in the name o' all that's good and not bad are you doin', ya fuckin' loon? Dinn' yer mam ever tell ya to play nice with the aged?" She puts an arm around the tiny, likely filthy tot and adds, "I thought you knightly types were supposed to be all good and poo poo, Sir Henries, but all yer doin' is bein' a right rear end in a top hat."

Tricky fucked around with this message at Sep 15, 2017 around 02:09

mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat


Gunnbjorn Magnusson


Gunnbjorn stares at the boy for a long time, lost deep in thought, remembering his own youth. Slowly his free hand goes over and pulls down part of his shirt, revealing the scarred flesh beneath. There, experterly sliced into his skin, is a Star of Chaos, the eight-pointed sigil baelfully glaring at the lad. But it has been sloppily marred by a series of deep knife cuts, defacing the thing.
"When I was young all I ever wanted to do was be a brave warrior like my father, to fight and kill the southmen in the name of the Hound. When I was older I went off with a great army to burn these lands, sure of our victory. Our gods were strong, their magic fel and their beasts inumberable. Who could stop us? Then, at a great city far to the north of here, I saw that all change. The Dark Gods, the Black Gods far more powerful than whatever jumped up sow lives in the woods, failed. Their servants died like dogs and their summoned armies were felled. If they can be beaten so utterly, so fully, by good men and women, this 'Black Pig' doesn't stand a chance."

Gunnbjorn sighs and pulls his shirt back.
"The old man, is he a lunatic or someone who actually worships the Pig?"

Werix
Sep 13, 2012

#acolyte GM of 2013


Jotunn Heavy-Hand

Jotunn's eyes dart back and forth between the man with the twig, then the fookin old man, and then the North man when he starts walking away. "Where are you going to damned Wazzock! We should be sticking together!" When the old man says fook Jotunn spits on the ground and glares over his shoulder to see a small child hitting the knight. Jotunn laughs until he hears the shouting of the lad that called over Gunnbjorn and sees the lad has a knife on the large man. Jotunn would be more worried if Gunnbjorn didn't have the boy in his grasps easily.

Even though he wasn't worried, he had just about enough of the old man, the crazy boy, and all this talk about a damned black pig. Jotunn starts making his way to the pig enclosure, looking at Bors as he does, Listen here, Bors was it? I'm going in there, and I'm going to kill that damned pig. If you think you and your wooden stick can stop me you're welcome to try, but I'll split your gut open, and while you're bleeding out on the ground I'll use your little pike to scratch my Dongliz."

Jotunn keeps marching toward the pig. If the villager wants to die for a pig, Jotunn will grant that wish.

wiegieman
Apr 22, 2010


Royalty is a continuous cutting motion


Henri de Vienne

Still holding the peasant up with little apparent effort, Henri smiles, leans closer and asks "Has it really been that long since you were close to one?" Then he regards the small girl at his knee. "Your grandfather gets to have his feet on the ground when he answers my simple question, and then the lot of you can go back to fighting over whether pigs or apples are better while I get out of this swamp you call a duchy."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Spuc stares at the scar during the entire story, the fight going out of him as he listens. He lets go of the knife and lets it drop to the ground, his shoulders slumping and his chin resting on his chest. He's silent for a moment after Gunnbjorn's question, and at first his response is too soft to hear. When he realizes this, he speaks up. "He doesn't know. They think she's a normal pig. But she's not. Killing her.. killing her will just make everything worse." He wipes at his eyes with the back of his wrist, trying to square his shoulders. "She has us all under her control and killing her will just make this hell that much worse for us. We can't just.. just shrug this off." He looks over in time to see the dwarf approaching the pen with his axe drawn, and all color drains from the boy's face.

Bou sneers as he realizes Jotunn won't be so easily dissuaded, taking a half step back and looking to Mans; to his merit, the blonde peasant has raised his spear as well, ready to defend Impeatrice from the tiny marauder. The two nod to each other, and Bou hands Mans his spear, cupping both hands to his mouth. "LITTLE TADPOLE! FRIENDS!"

The old man's mirth fades when he hears Bou's shout, and he finally begins to wrestle in Henri's grip. "Those fookin' idjits! Put me down! I need tae box their ears and stop yer tiny moron friend!" As Blug struggles, one of the larger hovels quakes, before the door is thrown open with energy and enthusiasm. A gargantuan man, standing at nearly seven feet tall and rippling with muscles, ducks his head as he steps out of the hovel, a childlike smile on his oddly tiny noggin. All the man wears is a filthy loincloth, and he looks expectantly to Bou, flailing his hands in excitement.

"Tadpole! Play time!" Bou points to Jotunn, and Little Tadpole's face lights up with joy. He bellows wordlessly with enthusiasm, running towards Jotunn with his arms outstretched; however, the gargantuan man slips in the mud, falling flat on his face a dozen paces from Jotunn. He begins to scream and flail on the ground, beating his fists into the mud out of sheer frustration and leaving gargantuan divots with his ham-sized fists. He begins to push himself back to his feet, his cheeks puffed out in a childlike show of frustration. Bou takes his spear back from Mans and both adopt a guarded stance, their faces grim. "We's just doin' our job, stunty. Why don' you calm down an' we can tell lil' Tadpole to go back to 'is nap, yeah?"

For what it's worth, Blug beats his hands against Henri's wrists, and shows a surprising amount of strength for his apparent age. "An' ye fookin' nobs wonder why we don' like strangers! Ain't no one's been through our fookin' town in months! An' if'n no one ever comes through ag'in after this, it'll be too fookin' soon! NOW PUT ME DOWN!"


Tadpole Charge vs 71 + Damage: 1d100 100 1d10+6 15

wiegieman
Apr 22, 2010


Royalty is a continuous cutting motion


Henri de Vienne

"Finally." Henri unceremoniously dumps the peasant in a heap and wipes off his gloves on his trousers. "Was that so hard? Come on, Heavy-hand. We need to go have a talk with those other idiots about being forthcoming in the presence of their betters." With a passing glance at the six-fingered boy, Henri grabs his horse's reins and walks off adding, "By the way, you should kill the mutant and eat the pig. They'll bring nothing but grief."

Grey Hunter
Oct 17, 2007

Your friendly croctopus overlord LP'er


Archibald Middlemoot

"Would everyone please calm down! We don't want to have to murder a whole village of people over a pig!" Archibald shouts at the top of his voice. "Look at some of these people and tell me they won't do it! Look, You are obviously much more sophiticated than the other village, so lets act like the bigger people!"



Charm? Target 32 = 15! That's before any negative bonuses.

Lets see if we can defuse this situation....

Sormus
Jul 24, 2007

PREVENT SPACE-AIDS
sanitize your lovebot
between users



Greyleaf

The elf had been sticking to the sidelines, trying to find a good way to secretly feed some apples to the pig.
He mouseys over to the pen, crouches down and appears to theatrically rummage through his backpack.

"I am so so sorry that our Nobles are causing you fine men such grief." He blathers while inserting swamp apples into a bag of daily rations. "You see the other village people were such massive assholes to us."
He finds the most worn out, hole-riddled bag he has, dumps his creation into and takes it out.

"As an Elf; I am very fond of all the animals of the forest, so I would like to give some of my paltry rations as offering to it and maybe, if he allows, scritch its chin for good luck" he explains, to no-one in particular while shaking the prepared ration bag, which promptly breaks open and spills its guts into the pen.
"Oh deary me, that is WAY too much."

mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat


Gunnbjorn Magnusson


Gunnbjorn sighs and rests his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I'm going to kill the drat pig and takes its head with me. That should focus its rage on me and not your people. Now go hide, there may be violence soon."

Gunnbjorn then steps away from Spuc and takes on the doopy northern barbarian look from before as he walks over to the pigs pen.
"Opps doopies me theres gonna be some big fights. Ole Gunnbjorn is just gonna walk by to take a wee look at the pig."

By popular demand
Jul 17, 2007

IT *BZZT* WASP ME--
IT WASP ME ALL *BZZT* ALONG!


Oink! (and just whom is it that's disturbing my beauty sleep?!)

E: *Loud snort*

Goethe posted:

If only I could flee this den
And walk the mountain-tops again,
Through moonlit meadows make my way,
In mountain caves with spirits play -
Released from learning's musty cell,
Your healing dew would make me well!

By popular demand fucked around with this message at Sep 15, 2017 around 16:49

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cat Hogberry-Patch

Not entirely trusting of the half-crazed villagers, even if their apparent leader did remind her of an even older, even more crass version of her own great-grandpappy, Cat loosens her hold on the small child and backs away warily. She isn't about to loose the first arrow, but if it came down to them or her... Well, it's an easy enough choice to make.

Grey Hunter
Oct 17, 2007

Your friendly croctopus overlord LP'er


Archibald Middlemoot

Archibald lets his sling slip into ready position and he tries to quietly ready a stone. if things were going down, he would be ready.

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Bou points towards the elf and barks an order at Mans, who goes to interpose himself between Greyleaf and the pig pen, while Bou steps in front of Gunnbjorn, his spear leveled at him. "Are you all as simple as Spuc?! Get away from our damned pig!" Cat and Archibald hang back from the others, watching as Little Tadpole regains his feet and lumbers towards Jotunn, hands outstretched and making grabby motions with his hands.

Suddenly, the shadows on the ground darken and expand rapidly, snaking up around the legs of everyone but Skag, Archibald, and Cat, moving up around their torsos and their arms and holding everyone in place. Henri is spun on his heels to look directly at Blug, whose arms are outstretched and his lips moving in a wordless chant. The old man has changed drastically, no longer a gnarled and hunched looking ancient; he is now tall and much more handsome, with a faintly weathered face and sharp grey eyes.

"I would have expected such boorish behavior from the Norscan, but for a son of Bretonnian and a grudgebearer to act like such menacing bullies? You shame yourselves, gentlemen." Blug's voice has changed as well, and he speaks with a smooth Imperial accent, lowering his arms as the spell continues to hold the town in place.

"Truly, do you adventurers have so little to do that you would murder a town's only economy and bully the inhabitants of such a pitiful little burg?" He casts a smile towards Cat and nods to Archibald. "You would do well to follow the example of your friends from The Moot." Blug wanders before each of the frozen villagers and touches his fingertips to their foreheads and temples, uttering a few short arcane words, their eyes going blank and their jaws slack. Once each villager is taken care of, he waves his hand, dismissing the tendrils of shadow; the villagers stumble a step before simply standing still, staring into space.

"There. Today is just a terrible dream for them. They'll not remember a lick of it." He wanders over to the pig, running a hand over its head and receiving a few joyful oinks for it. "So then. I am Wiprecht, of the Grey Order of Altdorf's Imperial College of Magic. As I've spent much time here monitoring the maleficent powers that seep in the ground here, I've come to pick up a few.. cultural ideas these simple folk have." He gives Henri a long stare, before chuckling. "Such as a distaste for the nobility and an aversion to visitors. I apologize for my poor manners there. While I haven't seen your man, there's little in the way of civilization out in this part of Mousillon, though there is a manse over a stone bridge across the river Grismerie that leads to the city of Mousillon itself. It would be the only route he could safely take to the city."

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cat Hogberry-Patch

Cat nudges Archibald in the ribs, whispering, "Ent the first time right proper manners've been savin' me life, boyo, glad to see yer mam and pappa raised ya right too. This magic whatsit ent nuttin' to gently caress wiv."

In a louder voice, matching the smile that Wiprecht gave her, she cheerfully responded, "Seems a good a spot as enny to start, eh? Thanks fer the lead, guv, though ye might want to be keepin' an eye on yer friends from Crau- Craw- aw, ye know the one. They've been fixin' to take yer pig for reasons I cannae ken." In a conspiratorial, completely unsubtle stage whisper, she adds, "I'mma bettin' that Marfe chap has designs onta some pork, iffen ye catch my implicationing."

Sormus
Jul 24, 2007

PREVENT SPACE-AIDS
sanitize your lovebot
between users



Greyleaf

Greyleaf ponders about still poisoning the pig, but decides to pause that for a moment.
"This might be bit rude, but maybe we wouldn't have messed with your little camp of suffering here if you had just told us 'No, that dude didn't come thru here, the other town... which for all we loving know is a competing social experiment by other wizard.. must've lied to you."

The elf ponders a while.
"Its gonna be the cobbler, surely. Nobody can be naturally that stupid."

By popular demand
Jul 17, 2007

IT *BZZT* WASP ME--
IT WASP ME ALL *BZZT* ALONG!


*Snort* (Gods above these two legged idiots like to talk, it's a wonder they manage to put on any weight!)

Werix
Sep 13, 2012

#acolyte GM of 2013


Jotunn Heavy-Hand

When the shadowy Tendrils erupt from the ground Jotunn hacks at them until they get him surrounded and ensnared. The Dwarf struggles for a small time before he gives up in frustration. Once the wizard reveals himself, Jotunn spits on the ground. "Watch who you call a grudgebearer. All grudges do is get people killed. I plan to live a long life and get rich fighting things, unlike the Drengi over there who plans to look for a fight that'll kill him." Jotunn cranes his head at the Slayer. "But I ain't here to discuss Dwarf social norms with some damned grey oaf. If this bridge is the only route the thieving bastard could take, then it would have been nice if one of these backwoods dimwits, or their WIZARD CARETAKER, would have told us that in the first bloody place!"

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Wiprecht chuckles, folding his hands into the small of his back as he grins and winks at Cat. "This isn't the first time that apple growing oaf has gotten it in his head to try to march a peasant army over here to 'make us pay,' though it's the first time he's raised a group who could actually have slaughtered an entire village." He gives Jotunn a pointed look as he says this, glancing over to the elf as well.

"And what right do you have to demand strangers who are living in peace to help you? If you were to fail in your mission and he were to question how he was tracked, do you doubt that he would seek out the village he passed through?" He spreads his hands before him plaintively, shaking his head. "No village elder, wizard or no, would risk his people in such a manner. Marfe is no elder, and cares little for anything besides his own wealth and station even in this pitiful life he leads. He would have his fellows die to appease his own ego, uncaring as to how their loss would damage his village." He motions to Spuc as he speaks, and the boy shuffles over, lost in the magical dream that has been induced upon him.

"Do you not realize how miniscule these people's lives are, dwarf? Most have never even seen the watch tower at the edge of the Cordon, and are utterly unaware of its existence. They know only what they are told, and they mistrust outsiders a great deal, a belief that is being reinforced upon myself. Had they seen this LeBeau character, they would have had nothing to do with him, and would not have known whence he fled save for a general direction. I have helped you simply to save these poor people from your thirst for violence." He continues to glare at Jotunn. "I know of your ways and of your oaths, and the reason your 'drengi' friend seeks what he does is that he holds his honor high above all else, a trait you may wish to adopt." It's unbecoming of our allies to squirm through the muck and mud like a snake in search of gold."

He turns his attention to Gunnbjorn as Spuc draws near. "Worry not about the Black Pig of the Marsh. This poor boy is haunted by creations of his own mind. He has tried to kill his fellows before, but as you may have noticed, I am well practiced in keeping the peace here." He smiles, patting the boy's cheek and sending him back to his entrail pit. "Did you know they stir that pit to ward away foul spirits? They haven't a clue who or what these spirits may be or what they may do if they are not appeased, but they ward them, nonetheless. It's for naught, as I have, of course, frozen them long enough to monitor what ill may come of the swamps." He stops to place a hand atop the little girl's head, frowning at her.

"I do thank you for not giving Minne reason to flee to the swamp. She's befriended one of the Grey Men of the Marsh, and they are truly spirits of this realm and utterly beyond my power to influence. One has taken an interest in her and is very protective of her; it's truly bizarre and I am struggling to understand it."

The wizard pauses, now studying the elf for a moment. "You know, that is a curious but amusing suggestion, but I assure you, while Ger and Floupe are far from the simple crones they pose themselves as, they are also a far cry from anything remotely magical. And the cobbler?" Wiprecht shrugs, smirking. "He truly is passionate about shoes, and has little to work with. It's actually ingenious and somewhat amusing. I have several pairs of his shoes in my manse here, simply because they are such entertaining little curiosities."

Wiprecht returns to the center of the village, sitting back upon the barrel that he had been upon as Blug. "Now then. You lot have your lead. Is there anything else I can assist you with, or will you be pursuing LeBeau?"

Grey Hunter
Oct 17, 2007

Your friendly croctopus overlord LP'er


Archibald Middlemoot

Archibald lowers his sling and pockets the stone. He had no want or need to pick a fight with a gods dammed wizard, especially one as powerful as this one seemed to be!

He looks round at the rest of the group.

"Lets put these inbreds and their masters behind and get back on the job - unless any of you still has as a craving for bacon? Or for the slaughter of a village."

By popular demand
Jul 17, 2007

IT *BZZT* WASP ME--
IT WASP ME ALL *BZZT* ALONG!


*Imperatrix crunches loudly on an unfortunate frog and then farts even louder*
(Someone said the other day that dogs are pretty good, I wonder if they'll feed me some)

Werix
Sep 13, 2012

#acolyte GM of 2013


Jotunn Heavy-Hand

"Bah! You sit here with your magic doing your little experiments, playing with the locals and 'monitoring' this corruption, but are ye doing anything to stop it? Just like you to berate me for being a little mercenary in my pursuits, but I'll take that over having all that power and just using it to play with pig poo poo! I sleep well at night living my life as I am, don't know how you say the same."

The Dwarf lowers his axe and shield and turns to the others. "Let's leave the pig to wallow in his filth. We know where to head to keep tracking our man, and his lead is only widening. " I seems clear from tone and circumstances Jotunn does not mean Impeatrice.

wiegieman
Apr 22, 2010


Royalty is a continuous cutting motion


Henri de Vienne


Henri breaks his long glare at the wizard to say "Fine. I accept your apology. But, as you were unfortunately denied the proper education of such things in your College: a nobleman neither skulks nor dissembles. If you wish to hold such a rank, you must also hold yourself to the standards of character required. Now, what is the name of the Lord whose land we are about to enter? You see, we must introduce ourselves, for we will be able to count on assistance as we pursue a criminal. After that, my plans are full of never entering the swamp again."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



The Grey Wizard shrugs at Jotunn. "Can you mount a proper defense when you do not which direction your foe will emerge from? Could you strike at the heart of a greenskin horde when you know not from whence they strike? I am but a scout, not an army prepared for war. I will report what I find and the Imperial Colleges of Magic will act as necessary to protect the interests of the Empire and its allies."

At Henri's beratement of his actions, Wiprecht laughs, shaking his head. "Truly, you have never met a noble of Reikland, then. All they do is scheme and plot and obfuscate. And as I am a grey wizard, obfuscation is my skill set." He gives a slight bow, still grinning. "As for who is lord and master there? I do not know. None claim this region as far as I have been made aware, and I dare imagine that if any nobility remains within this blighted barony, they do well to avoid the Cordon Sanitare and remain within their holds and castles and whatnot. My focus here has been the people and the wilds, watching them for signs of dark magic. Whoever rules upon that manse makes his business with the city of Mousillon, as there is little in this direction for anyone of power."

He taps his lip for a moment in thought. "I will admit that whomever is in that manse holds some magical item or power, as I have sensed the winds of magic drawn in that direction. More than likely a damsel or court wizard of a sort." He shrugs, giving Henri a smile. "I do wish you well on your journey, good sir knight. And to the rest of you as well. I pray that next we meet you will be less inclined to simply butcher the simple folk of this town."

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cat Hogberry-Patch

Cat claps her hands loudly, then says with great cheer, "Awright then! Let's nab our man, get paid, 'n go find a place wiv sum proper brews en hot grub!" Not particularly waiting for anyone else, she begins wandering off in the indicated direction. As she goes, she calls back to the wizard, "Have fun wiv your magicky stuffs, Elder Turtle!"

LGD
Sep 25, 2004



Skag


"Aye, lets be moving on, we've got things to be doing away from this... quaint and... characterful village. My thanks wizard, both for bringing this to a peaceful close and pointing us in the right direction."

Skag regards the wizard with a wry expression, wondering just how likely they are to encounter Wiprecht again.

Sorry for not posting, was off getting married!

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



How dare you place matrimony over elf games.

Grey Hunter
Oct 17, 2007

Your friendly croctopus overlord LP'er


Archibald Middlemoot

"Back on the horses then!"

It is a destribing lack of commitment..

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Wiprecht gives the group a wave as they head south out of town, leaning against one of the hovels and smoking a pipe. He taps the ashes free and looks over to the pig, giving it a sly wink; the pig winks back and chuckles, with Wiprecht joining in after a moment.

Mousillon only worsens the further south one goes, with biting insects swaming from the foul-smelling bogs that begin to crop up in the incredibly swampy land, and it takes four days of walking to reach the Grismerie river, which moves sluggishly and smells of turned milk that has been poured from the carcass of a raccoon that was stomped to death by a horse, a very specific smell familiar to the halflings. The river widens to the west, and shrinks to the east, and as the group seeks a stone bridge, it's logical that they would head west along the river. The river is shallow, but incredibly wide.

Dismal stands of trees dot the landscape on either side of the river as the adventurers plod along, still swarmed by annoying biting insects. Every now and again they spot a small cluster of hovels that might make up a village, where the peasants who spot them hurry into their tiny little hovels when they see the meandering band of misfits. As the group follows the river, it deepens and becomes more like a river than a stream, and after several hours of walking, as the sun begins to set, they finally spy it in the distance: an impressive tower set above a stone bridge. A small village has sprung up on either side of the bridge, and there is a sign of civilization here as lamps burn within the villages and the tower, casting away the gloom.

As the group approaches, the adventurers spy stakes on the far side of the river, one with a withered body still impaled upon it, but Henri spies something even more exciting: heraldry. A white banner hangs from the tower, showing three black roses intertwined over a golden fleur-de-lis. The coat of arms is not immediately familiar to Henri, but above all else, it means there is actual nobility this far out into the hell that is Mousillon.



PS, they kept the horses back at the tower. Your horses would have been slain and eaten the second you got distracted by the peasants in Mousillon, a think Henri would know.

Sormus
Jul 24, 2007

PREVENT SPACE-AIDS
sanitize your lovebot
between users



Greyleaf

Greyleaf had started writing a memo for himself after they had broken sight with the two abyssmal villages. So far the memo consisted of several note to selfs about the absolutely disgusting people he had had a displeasure of meeting, with in-depth descriptions of each and every of their perceived faults.

Latest entry had been taking him somewhat long, as describing in vivid details the misgivings of their wizard friend made his blood boil. A rough draft of a letter to the College had started taking form, but the repeated use of poo poo and gently caress kind of blunted some of its eloquence.

"Gents, do you think the wizard college would appreciate 'a shambling husk piloted by a team of 5 retarded botflies' over 'the most unprofessional conduct from a illusionist seen on either side of Cordon'"

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Cat Hogberry-Patch

Cat wanders next to Henri and raps a fist on the knight's leg armor. Her face scrunched up with the expression of someone experiencing truly deep thoughts, she says, "So, uh, Ser Henries. Y'know, I've been thinkin' of Duke Hardsummat's offer and all that and..." Her tiny, cherubic face looks up at the very shiny knight with concern. "Are we all gonna be sharin' the whatsit land thingum reward? And... Y'think they make fancy person chairs for us people that ain't giant manthings like yerself?"

Clearly, she's either overestimating how close they are to capturing their man or, having survived the terrors of Craechuer and Puantuere, simply thinks that nothing else can pose as great a threat. After all, what could be more deadly than those absolutely horrifying apples? The staked body hardly rates.

wiegieman
Apr 22, 2010


Royalty is a continuous cutting motion


Henri de Vienne


As they trudge through the swamp, Henri has ample time to ponder the halfling's question. "Well, you are all yeoman, not peasants, so you can hold land not claimed by a lord. There is significant precedent for the land rewards of a Quest being given to all the surviving members of the party en commission, to wit, the land being held in a trust to which they all possess part ownership. It is this "Lord in Law" who owes taxes and the like, not the individuals themselves, though it means little to the greater Lord who granted the land in the first place. I should point out that none of you are of noble lineage under Bretonnian law, and therefore your children cannot inherit any ownership in the land. In our case, we would pay the Duke." He scratches his nose and adds, "I'm afraid I have little to offer when it comes to carpentry."

Henri straightens visibly at the sight of a nobleman's banner. "At last," he cries, "the badge of civilization in this benighted land!" Turning to the others, he waves at them to keep up, adding "when we tell the lord of this tower what manner of man we pursue he will certainly help us. No lord would ever allow an anarchist like LeBeau to pass unhindered." Mounting his warhorse, the knight kicks Happy into a gentle trot across the bridge, hailing at the top of his voice when he is close enough. "Ho, the tower! Sir Henri de Vienne and companions request an audience!"

There's just no way that introducing ourselves to a noble in Mousillon can go wrong.

wiegieman fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 02:05

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John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Seriously?



Several minutes pass before a small group emerges from the tower, lead by a tall, slim man clad in full mail armor bearing the coat of arms shown upon the tower itself. He stomps forward, his face furious and his hand on his sword, and flanking him are several common looking folks with crossbows and maces. "Such jokes are not even slightly amusing! What sort of scoundrel claims himself a knight this far into-"

The man stops in his tracks when he sees Henri sitting upon his horse, clad in his armor and with a lance under his arm. His jaw drops for a moment before he composes himself, brushing his hair back and laughing heartily. "By the Lady, forgive me my manners, good sir knight! It is uncommon for us to be graced by true knights, and as of late we have been vexed by the sick humor of wayward minded peasants." He bows deeply, once again brushing his hair back into place when he stands and smiling warmly to the group. "I am Aucassin Hane, lord of these humble lands. It would be my distinct pleasure and utmost honor to give you lot a taste of hospitality in this inhospitable land."

Aucassin motions to the man next to him, an aged man with thinning grey hair and an obvious limp. "Diomedes, please be so kind as to stable Sir Henri's horse and see to it that the steed is treated generously; wash down its flanks, be sure it is fed, do as you would for my own steed or those of my knights." The man nods, handing his crossbow over to one of the other members of the household staff and moving forward to take the reins from Henri. His voice is soft and wavering, and he speaks with a stammer. "It.. it would be my pl-pleasure, lord." Aucassin smiles, clapping his hands together.

"Well then! Even though it is late in the day and I have already dined for the evening, I believe a meal is in order! Save what rations you may have, you are guests now in the Chateau Hane, and I would be remiss to not open my larder to you all." He leaves little room for argument as he turns, motioning for the staff to continue their duties; all of the formerly armed peasants hurry back to the tower to begin preparations for their lord's hosting. "Prepare the boar, Ingrid! There is no better time, now that we have dwarves and halflings amongst us!" He chuckles, turning back to the adventurers.

"Come, come. Rooms and baths will be made ready for the lot of you, and once you are settled in dinner will be ready. There will be roast boar, seared turnips and other root vegetables, and various chutneys and salads as best as we can prepare." He gives another bow before turning to head back into the tower. "My staff shall see you to your rooms! Let them know should you need perfumes or colognes to cover the musk of Mousillon! Ha!"


Aucassin has invited you all in, as nobles are wont to do in Bretonnia, and this is your chance to rub elbows with nobility and get cleaned up and fed properly. Since this is the only bridge across the Grismerie, this is also a good chance to find out more about LeBeau.

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