"I will deal with the wizard's insolence; pay it no mind," said Bjorn, shooting a scowl at Konad. "Otherwise, he speaks the truth: We dispatched of various and sundry abominations of Nurgle and ruined their plots to spread the demon's filth among the citizens of this fair city."

Taking Magnos aside briefly, the priest scolded him. "As much as I am certain that none of us is in the most pleasant of moods, you will hold your tongue until such a time as you are able to give respect where it is due," he said in hushed but terse tone. "If you destroy the reputation of the count and his caravan on account of your careless words, I promise you a full investigation by my witch hunting brethren. I have been more than generous. I cannot guarantee you the same from them. Do we have an understanding?"

 He smiled at the priest with a cold indifference to his face as well as the shadows under his eyes from their efforts being under ground." I would honor you as a warrior of good, but if you wish me to hold my tongue with those who have not done much of anything to protect their people, then maybe i am in the wrong group that defend the poor peasants from their nobles.?"

 He watched as the priest tried to show he was more worried about the nobles and their guards then giving an honest word. He did have more then his shares with those who were gifted by nobles or high ranking priests in their temples.

The guard Captain nodded at all that was said. He looked weary and stressed, but those observant among you might notice a slight easing of his care lines as the conversation progressed. "Well, you all have the thanks, and the debt of Brovska. I regret that we in the guard could not be of more help. We are spread thin as it is, most of my men are simply failed craftsmen and reformed thugs and I doubt they could have done what you all did. Furthermore-"

The grizzled warrior priest who had been seeing to Ogindur came back in then and interrupted, having apparently heard the last part of the conversation. "Aye, and I'm sorry the devotees of Sigmar here in Brovska could not be of more help either. Most of my priests had set off for the forest, we felt a great evil stirring at the Barrow and I had dispatched men to investigate. As soon as they return, we will head down to the sewers and clean up the taint." He turned to go, and added more as an afterthought. "It looks like your short friend will pull through. He took a pretty bad knock on the head, I had to trepan him to relieve the pressure. Damned hard to do on a dwarf. He's resting now, but if he survives the night, he should recover."

"Thank you sir priest. As I was saying, we recovered a fair amount of gold from the cultist's house, and can offer most of it to you. About three hundred and fifty crowns. We'll have it sent here to the church to be blessed and purified."

"Your man Maurice has also been busy while you left, I believe he found a buyer for your furs. I have also given him the name of a few jewelers, I understand that you have come across some gems in your travel and need them appraised." He added, looking to Nikolaas' man for confirmation.

350 Crowns is $7,000

"I will watch over Ogindur tonight. After all, we had a wager and if he thinks he can just die to get out of paying up, he is mistaken." Nigel says with a half-hearted smile, attempting to lighten the mood after the good news was delivered.

"Pip, you will stay with me, this will be a good lesson in disciplining oneself on a long watch and in the importance of taking care of ones comrades." Nigel says to the youth, "We shall let Count Richtgraf tend to his business in the markets, no need for all of us to be there for that."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:33, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

Nigel stands guard over Ogindur most of the night. It was a challenging feat, not taking any rest after the group's sewer adventure, but the archer stoically remained awake and alert through the night and into dawn. Pip bravely tried to stand watch with Nigel, but succumbed to sleep around midnight.

Dawn broke crisp and clear. The rest of you, having been put up in an inn across the square at the city's expense, arrived early to check on your dwarf companion. Maurice did not accompany you, instead leaving with the gems to get them appraised, and finalize the sale of your furs.

Your payment, in shiny blessed crowns was waiting for you at the church. Also there, was a group of travel stained warrior priests, apparently fresh back from the barrow. You could catch snatches of a conversation between a young priest in plate and the man who had administered to Ogindur the night before. The younger man seemed to be making his report.

"...I tell you, it's the chaos-cursed thing, some vampire monster... and the tombs disturbed. We put down several ghouls, found a few more dead... in one of the cairns... splattered with blood... otherwise empty."

Grigory appears the next morning, and for the first time since you met him he appears clean. He had spent the entire night scrubbing every inch of himself, and every item he owned. On the way to the church, he distractedly scratches at his wound. Once he arrives, he actually cannot comprehend the amount of money that is in front of them.

"Who knew being a sewer rat would pay so well?"

Ogindur made his version of a groan as morning approached. He'd taken a hit that was all but unfamiliar to him and had felt himself slipping away from the world.  The rocks had tumbled him and he recalled the thudding and cracking sensation of his neck as the pressure crumpled him; after that, a sharp sensation to multiple parts of his body and darkness. It was an entirely unpleasant feeling.

As his mind cleared a little bit and he shrugged off some of the fuzzines from the ordeal Ogindur's sense of pride kicked in again and he started feeling somewhat humiliated at being taken out of the fight at such a critical point.

His gruff voice spoke into the dark room, but had an uncharacteristic sheepishness to it. "Hullo...."

He was pleased that these men had received a goodly reward for the long effort and the trials of that nasty foothill road. Still as he stood aside and listened to the fragmented report from the returning priest's, he let a frown darken his face, he was tempted to make sure that their was no sign of the dwarf he had heard about. He knew that those demented Troll Slayers wished to go out in a blaze of glory as they often boasted of, still he knew that sofar no bard had heard the story.

 While he and the priest had their issues, he respected the mans drive, He stepped near the priest, "is that the troll slayer you men talked about on the road?, if so should not a song or ballad be sent to his clan?, as i understand it they wish to restore their honor by this way."

Nigel smiles at the dwarf's sheepish greeting, "Ogindur, welcome back to the land of the living. Did you have a good nap?"

Nigel wakes Pip and sends him to fetch some coffee while he recounts the events that transpired after Ogindur was knocked unconscious, he finishes the story by adding, "By the way, after all that you've got a lot of kills to catch up on if you're going to even come close to winning our wager. I'd understand if you just want to give up and pay me now."

I wrote this under the assumption that Nigel would remain with Ogindur while the others went to the temple.

[Private to Nigel Plaskitt: That's what I was thinking too. You stayed at the temple with Ogindur over night. While you're still at the temple, you're not within earshot of the rest of the party at the moment.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:07, Wed 04 Dec 2013.

"Warrior Priest," said Bjorn as he stood. He shook the young man's hand. "Sigmar's grace upon you, brother. I would have a full report on your travels to the barrow, if I may. I like to see a job finished."

The two men looked at Bjorn, offense immediately on their faces. That quickly faded away as they recognized a fellow member of their discipline. The younger man (he was around Bjorn's own age likely), the one giving his report, looked to his superior for permission. Upon the slightest nod from the other priest, he began the account.

"A day or so ago, during the morning liturgy and ascetics, several of us," He indicated the room, and other priests with a gauntleted hand. "received strong premonitions from above that something was wrong in the lands nearby."

"The only place of regularly reoccurring unholy unrest was at a barrow about a day or two from the city. We guessed that was where the disturbance originated, but dispatched the knights to range the countryside just in case. We prepared, and set off along back trails for the barrow, avoiding as many holdings and farms as we could."

"Nothing upsets the locals more than seeing a troop of warrior priests marching and kitted for battle." The older man interjected.

"Right. So we soon arrived at this barrow. There were evident signs of a serious struggle. Mostly dead ghouls, and a spot where we believe a vampire, or vampire-like creature had incinerated after being killed. A few of the barrows themselves were disturbed, and another handful of ghouls had come to do gods know what. We dispatched them, and searched the various tombs for any indication of who engaged the vampire, or where it had come from. One of the graves was sealed tightly, and we ended up having to crush the door down. Inside, we found the front antechamber nearly painted with blood and bits of flesh, but no bodies to speak of."

"We pressed on into that particular grave, to try and learn more but-"

"Which violates policy..."

"Yes, but with such a struggle, we needed to know if something was trapped deeper in. Eventually, after about an hour of searching we cam across a trap tunnel door. It came out deep in the woods behind the barrow, we followed a trail for about a hundred yards, and then it vanished. So, we sent for Cormac to take up the investigation, and returned here."

He finished with a little shrug, and then glanced around, as though looking for someone, or something. His superior picked up speaking.

"Honestly, that barrow is nothing more than a blight. If I could spare a priest and a bit of coin, I’d set up a wayshrine there to watch out for travelers, and keep the ghouls down. They can’t abide holy ground. It would be a great opportunity to spread the faith of Sigmar, but the duke has concerns more temporal on his mind right now.”

"Allow me to clarify, brethren," said Bjorn, clearing his throat. "It is not your job that I want to see finished; it is mine. The vampire of which you saw evidence is one known as Benedikta Herzloz. She masquerades as a Witch Huntress, but her evil deeds are beyond mention. Suffice it to say that she is potentially the most substantial blight among all who call upon the name of Sigmar. As one who ardently defends the world from such evil as hers, I have taken it upon myself to ensure that she is destroyed. If you hear word of the woman, know that she is, in fact, a monster in disguise. The rest of my comrades can attest to her wickedness."

He turned to the other Rangers. "Unfortunately, friends, it seems as though our troll slayer friend may be no more. At least he met his end as he wished, but his company will be missed. Let us be extraordinarily wary of what havoc the wretch who calls herself Benedikta may wreak in the wake of our battle. She will need time to recoup her strength, but she will also want revenge."

After minor formalities with the other priests, thanking them for their work, Bjorn retired. "I shall be in meditation if I am needed."

Ogindur grunted at the somewhat mocking question "A bloody nap, sleep is for the weak!" he said, his tone equally mocking. The pain was quickly subsiding and the dwarf found power enough to push himself up and offer the ground his feet.

"Well, I guess we destroyed that thing and all those batards... What's your count now?" Ogindur said with a strained grin before patting Nigel on the shoulder and glancing over to Pip.

"I'll join you." The elder priest growled out.

He and Bjorn walked quietly (apart from the clank of their armor) for a few steps before the older man spoke. "Cormac is one of our best. He's not an actual Witch Hunter in his own right but that's simply because he failed the tests." He paused for a step, and then said with a wolfish grin "He was deemed too violent. If anyone can find this creature you mention, he can. I can also offer you something more, if you promise me a boon."

Assuming Bjorn says yes, or agrees depending on what the boon is...

The older priest holds up a sphere of dull metal. "This bauble works once for communication. Who ever has the transmitter bauble, Cormac in this case, can send a single message to whoever has the reciever. When Cormac finds his mark, he'll contact us. I can give you this orb, and if the bitch is in your direction, she's all yours. I know you have other places to go and might not be able to give chace yourself. If she's not close to you, meditate, pray, and I have faith that Sigmar will let the message through, if her evil is as great as you say, he will not suffer it to sustain. We'll chase her down and put an end to her for you."

"The orb is yours, if you promise to consider returning here after your journey is over. I've seen your scars, I know what you did in the sewers, and I can see in your eyes the evil you have overcome. You can have the wayshrine at the barrow to yourself, and we'll purify the grounds. Smite evil, save those in danger and do good work. We'll give you supplies and a small structure. I can think you're being paid for your trip so any more funds you might have are yours to spend on the compound, or in any other way."

The two of you reach a small side chapel, and the grizzled priest gestures to it. "You can meditate here. No one will disturb you."

"Indeed," he said, taking the bauble. "What boon can I offer for such a trinket?" Bjorn contemplated for a moment. "You have my thanks, sir. Your offer is most generous. When my duty to the count be fulfilled, I shall return."

"Seven so far." Nigel says with a grin, "Not an impossible lead, to be sure, but you're definitely behind."

Nigel helps to steady Ogindur as he rises, "I think the others are in the main sanctuary, if you're feeling up to it we can take a walk in there. There's apparently a pretty substantial amount of gold they intend to reward us with. I said that you should only get a 2/3 share though, on account of you sleeping through that last fight. But Count Nikolaas is too kind; I'm sure he'll give you a whole share anyways."

If Ogindur is able, Nigel will walk with him to where the others are.

Nik had a much easier time of recovery than did Ogindur, but his injuries slowed him nonetheless; he sat awkwardly at a table in the inn, bent so as to relieve the pressure on his wounds and soaking his feet in the latest of an ongoing line of hot-water salt baths. Spread before him, past the cooling bowl of porridge and a half-smoked pipe, was a jumble of papers - insurance policies on the men, equipment and cargo; payment calculations with allowances for bonuses as well as funeral expenses; letters to investors and lenders at home; promissory notes from local merchants and requested goods from their nearby fellows; a wide map. Even during his recovery, even on the back of a victory, the vexed Count could think only of the next destination and the next load, though the distant look in his eyes and the pen held motionless - ready to strike like a viper but held in perfect, dripping stillness - said his mind was elsewhere.

The next day or so in Brovska was busy, but easy for all of you. Maurice was able to sell off your cargo of furs for a profit of five hundred skulls getting you $13,800 of which $10,000 is profit. Furthermore, the two lumps of gold you found back in the troll's den sold for another one hundred and sixty crowns ($3,200) while the gem turned out to be a decent sized and quality ruby worth thirteen crowns ($260).

Brovska is known for its farming and produce. A wheat harvest just took place, and the city also specializes in a strange, subterranean, tuber that you are told can be brewed into liquor prized by the dwarves of Barak Varr.

Ogindur recovered quickly, and his skull healed far better than any human's would have. The warrior priests said that he would be back to normal soon. Those same priests also organized a good, old-fashioned, burning. In the city square where you had emerged from the sewers, they stacked all of the chaos cultists belongings (including Varangy's house, which had been knocked down completely), the plague machines, and the barrels of "bugmans" that the Rangers had brought in, and torched the whole mess with Sigmar's holy fire. Bjorn was invited to participate, while the rest of you watched.

Everyone gets 1 CP for completing this portion of the adventure. You may spend it, for $30 and assign it wherever you want. Any additional CP you may have may also be assigned for $30 per point.

If you want to do any shopping, let me know and we will game it out.

Your current influx of cash totals $17.260 split up however you all wish. Topping up on supplies for the last leg of the journey costs you $500 (less 20% with a successful administration or merchant roll). You have a choice of cargo:
- Wheat: Costs $1 per lb and can be sold between $1.25-$1.75 in Barak Varr. You can carry about 1,000 pounds of wheat between the two wagons
- Potatoes: Costs $2 per potato. The market is less stable, and you understand prices may regularly see $3 per potato. You can carry about 500 potatoes
- Vodka: Costs $16 per pint and you're not really sure how much it can be sold for. You've heard people claim the dwarves will pay 100 crowns for a bottle of the stuff, but you doubt it, figuring a sale price of $20-$25 is more reasonable. You can carry about 800 pints
- Anything else you'd like to look for
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:20, Wed 11 Dec 2013.

Brovska was a pleasant city as far as those in the Border Principalities went, and you spent several days there in comfort as an additional wagon was secured, and all three filled as far as they would go with Vodka. Another driver was secured, a man named Wendt, who was foul tempered, foul smelling, and was missing an eye. He kept a cat that was a feline replica of him in nearly every way, and turned out to be as gentle as one might imagine towards the mules and his pet.

As you all were examining some local potatoes to fill in the bit of extra weight your wagons could hold, the guard captain approached you all in the market.

"I have a proposition, and a favor, to ask of you all again. I hope you will not be too put upon by me coming to request your aid again. You see," and here her actually wrung his hands for a moment, "there is this criminal, a dwarf by the name of Stanauch Mutton Sleeve wanted in Barak Varr for some-such crime of honor. He was aprehended several weeks ago, and has been languishing in our dungeons. We need to move him out, but do not have the manpower to escourt him to the Dwarven citedel. Since you all are going in that direction, and are not afraid of a fight, would you be interested in taking him? There's a hefty reward, over a thousand crowns, that you could keep if you performed this task for me."

He met each of your eyes in turn before speaking again. "But I must be fair. Stanauch has a gang of raiders that are loyal to him unto death. We think they are to the north, now, but I cannot guarantee that they will not come looking to rescue him should they hear wind that he is being moved. Now, knowing that, what say you?"

1,000 crowns is $20,000 if you agree to take the dwarf. I will also be clear that the guy's thugs do not know that he is being moved, and will not come swooping down upon you unless someone finds out and gets a message to them.

In your wagons, now, you have enough food for you and the mules to travel to Barak Varr (your final destination)

There are 675 pints of Vodka spread among the two current wagons. For the third wagon, if each of you other than Nik invest $1,440 then you can fill it with Vodka. Stanauch cannot walk all the time, so you will need to store him in one of the wagons, which takes up the other half wagon load of cargo in Nik's vehicles.

Ogindur listened to the man's request. A thousand crowns was a lot of money for the transport of a prisoner. A dwarf, it prickled the warrior's pride that a dwarf had committed bad acts but some really did have no honour. He could teach the dwarf the rrors of judgement that he'd made in the past and perhaps edify the criminal.

"Take him with us Count Nikolaas, we could use the gold and we'd be doin' em all a favour. Not to mention I'd be willing to give a hiding or two to the bastard for slurrying dwarf-kind's good name!" he said emphatically.

The Count mulled over the Captain's request, scraping a gloved hand over a stubbly jaw and staring into the middle distance for a few moments; the space and provisions would be a minor problem, but the cargo itself - a live, connected prisoner - was far out of his experience, but the money was simply too good to pass up. Ogindur piped up as he considered in silence, and he caught Maurice's shrug of indifferent approval as he turned a cocked eye to look at the dwarf.

"I believe that you would, Son of Odurgal, I do believe that you would. Very well, we will take your man to Barak Varr." He clasped hands with the Captain, eyeing the nearby Wendt with some trepidation. "When you deliver him, have him gagged with a sack over his head, and do not refer to him by name; anything we can do to keep his colleagues ignorant. Pray, what is the precise nature of his crimes? A man with such dreadful companions is surely a miscreant, but I will not order a man horse-whipped for mere drunkenness."

With the prisoner in tow, I think we could leave half the third cart empty, in case you guys were still trying to scrape together enough to fill it - that'll save investment, allow one or two of us to ride and rest, and we can share the rest of the load around so that we don't put all our eggs in one basket.

"Damned if I know. The Dwarves are a strange lot- my pardons Ogindur, they can allow a killer to go free for avenging honor, and beat a man with hammers for thievery. He is, at the very least, a brigand. We intercepted him near Brovska while he was looting a farmstead and have enough on him to hang him here. The duke, though, feels that it's better to please Barak Varr with this. He's heard of you lot and has approved your plan." The captain goes on to offer Nikolaas one better and deliver the dwarf gagged and stuffed into a potato sack, which should conceal him from any spies currently in the city.

Whatever you all decide, just let me know soonish so I know how much money, and who to give it to when you reach Barak Varr.

With everything settled, a prisoner exchange time and place agreed upon, and wagons full of vodka, your group makes ready to depart. Joining up in the central market square, just before sunrise, you look to be able to beat any morning traffic. Wendt glares at each of you, as though he wished you dead, and mumbled something that could have been a curse, or a "good morning" greeting. His cat, likewise, narrows its eye at you, hisses, and jumps up onto her wagon.

Your little convoy winds through the streets, bottles clinking, and steers around the handful of merchants and early pedestrians until you reach the southern gate. This fortification is much lower, and older, than the one you had entered the city through, and the wagon drivers have to hunch down in their seats in order to fit. As the middle vehicle passes through the portico, guards waiting above roll a bundle off the wall. It tumbles through the air and lands with a CRUNCH into the prepared space in the wagon, nearly bounces out, and then settles at an awkward angle. As soon as you pass through the city, it begins to squirm, and perform the dwarf version of whimpering.

The road takes you through several miles of farmland before splitting at a little hummock of trees. According to your map, the left hand path will take you along the river. There is more population, but the route is significantly faster. The right will wind through the countryside, which is populated, by the looks of things in the distance, by hills, rocks, and scattered pine trees. One side offers privacy, the other expedience. Which will you choose?

I, for one, would prefer the more private route, but I leave that for you to decide, master Richtgraf." Bjorn situated himself near the noisier sack and kept a wary eye. "Solitude would keep wand'ring ears away," he said. "Sigmar's light be upon us either way."

Nik considered the map quietly for a few minutes, his attention drifting from the parchment to the sack to the road and back again. He thought about their luck so far, about the likelihood of their potatoes spoiling, about the welfare of the prisoner and the odds of his companions finding them, and finally grunted.

"We take the country road," he said firmly as he rolled the map back up, "better to be late arriving than wounded or dead." His tone was flat and to-the-point, and his companions could easily recognize the scowl of dour suspicion that creased his scarred face; he was, as ever, expecting the worst.

Maurice, spotting his master's mood, broke the tension with his braying voice "I for one enjoy a nice trip through the country; perhaps we'll meet some shepherd's daughters, eh boys? Eh?" The portly servant had been in high spirits that morning, delighting in tormenting Wendt and his cat with surreptitiously thrown stones, and seemed almost oblivious to their cargo, their danger, or indeed their travelling history.

Nik grunted in response to the jest, his mood as dark as ever. "The right, then. When we've gone from the beaten paths we will allow our guest liberty from his sack", he glared down at the bag and growled as he spoke, as though the prisoner within might know he was being directly addressed, "and will replace him the moment he gives us provocation."