Nik nods respectfully when the Baron speaks, shifting his attention from him to the map to his colleagues and back again. He rubs a hand over his coarse jaw, and inadvertently takes on the same mannerisms he had when looking over the map of Akendorf's defenses.

"I agree; it seems dangerous, but I believe we may have luck tracking our prey there," he is careful not to name names again, for the Baron's frayed nerves, "and besides it is a duty to stamp this foulness from the landscape, for our new friends if not for our immortal souls. Is that not so, your Grace?"

"Indeed it is," says Bjorn. "Chaos has haunted us since we fled the invasion of Grenzstadt. This time we face it head on."

"Then we're agreed." Nigel says with a smile, "Shall we ransack every chaos shrine on the way to Brovska or just the Barrow of Hardfigg?"

He rolls up the map and returns it to the leather tube and puts it into his pack, "Should we leave now or stay the night and tackle Hardfigg in the morning? What say you M'lord?"

"First thing in the morning we'll set out for Brovska, and do what we can in Hardfigg. We simply haven't the time, the manpower or the equipment to mount a series of raids throughout the countryside, but I think we few should be adequate for this task."

Nik raises his glass again to their hosts, and spends the rest of the meal being as diplomatically civil as possible; during the meeting Maurice will arrange lodgings for the party - either with the Baron's own servants or with whatever passes for an Inn in the village.

"I am more than a little wary of thieving peasants and perhaps those who would take revenge for the thief." Nigel suggests quietly after the meal, "We should post watch over the wagons tonight, or if you don't think that necessary, I will sleep out in the wagons to make myself more at ease."

The Baron Forstall offers the Richtgraf Rangers the use of the common room, where they are all sitting, for the night. Whether or not it is miserliness, or absentmindedness in the face of grief, he does not offer an evening meal (he and his wife don't seem to eat either) but you may cook something in the house if you wish.

Setting a guard would not be necessary, after the drama that had just ensued, the serfs are all shooed out and the palisade gates shut tightly. Nigel, though, may sleep with the wagons if he is concerned with a dagger in the night.

You awake early the next day to a servant gingerly nudging you. You may recognize her as the woman Reeve attempted to implicate. She quietly explains that it is morning, and she would be happy to cook you a quick meal before your departure. The implication being, both that she is grateful for your service yesterday, and that the group should make an early departure.

The Count wakes with the others, and gratefully accepts the offered meal; as a soldier, he had learned the two things one never refuses is a meal and a toilet, because one never knew when or if the next might appear.

He seems as eager to be off as the servants are to bid them farewell, eating wordlessly and quickly while going over the day's possibilities in his head. He was a brave enough man, foolhardy to a fault, but to simply volunteer a voyage into a known Chaos shrine seemed madness in the light of morning, grieving Baron or not. Still the duties of peerage must be respected and his word had been given, and so Nik eats heartily.

He lights a pipe when he's finished, stuffed with the dregs of herb that he'd brought with him from home, and relaxes while he can. Moments after the last meal is finished by the last of the Rangers he taps out the bowl, stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, and stands.

"Right, lads, we've taken enough of the good Baron's hospitality. To the wagons, to the road, and to Hardfigg Barrow with us."

After breakfast, and with everyone assembled with the wagons, the group made to head off. When Maurice climbed to his seat, however, a brass tube rolled out from under it and nearly fell to the ground. He caught it just in time and handed it over to the Count. Wrapped around the outside of the tube was a piece of parchment. The inside read:

I could never hope to repay you for your little service yesterday. Still, I hope you will find this useful in your travels.

Think of a person you want to see, or find, and this spyglass will direct you to them, no matter where you, or they, are in the world. I found it some time ago on the body of a dead adventurer. I've only rarely used it, maybe you can find a purpose for it.

The note was signed by a woman, who's name you didn't recognize, likely the Baron's wife.

Nik blinks rapidly as he reads the scroll, looking from it to the spyglass as a wide smile slowly spreads across his scarred face. He barks loudly - no, wait, that was a laugh! Rusty and unpracticed, obviously long since used, but certainly laughter. It simply erupts from him uncontrolled, a belly laugh that brings a tear to his eye as it rolls out.

As the final shakes of the fit leave him he bids a wide-smiling farewell to the people of Brovska, motions to Pip and Maurice to be off, and begins his march alongside. Still giggling slightly as they make their way down the road, and aware of the odd looks he's eliciting, he simply reads the letter aloud for the benefit of the group's illiterates.

"At last, a stroke of luck, eh lads! Perhaps we shall find our prey sooner than we thought!"

 Marching with even steps as he takes a side position for now alongside the rattling wagon and glares at the people who try to get to close to the wagon or him.
 The big axe swings in step with his march to either side gleaming as the sun reflects off the well polished axe head.

 He shrugs his shoulders at the mention of the new item, time was on his side and knew that he would someday catch up to the false witch hunter and would end her life due to the fact she worked with chaos.

 He rumbled out a question to the wagon riders as he walked alongside, "Since we have shown the witchunter is a agent of chaos to those last two rulers of these towns why have they not sent messengers out to the other towns and rulers that are around this part of the border region?. If they sent word then the witchuntress might find her places to hide and cause troubles shrinking."

Grigory eyed the surprise gift with his familiar distrust.

"I'd be careful with that if I were you, lord. Magic doesn't come for free, and it always has one hand out to Chaos."

Within the first two hours of your departure, the road takes you into an incredibly thick forest. The occasional root buckles the paving stones and branches dim the sunlight. At about 10am, you notice that all birdsong seems to have ceased, with only the wind breaking the silence as it rustles through the leaves. If that wasn't concerning enough, you come across a large tree blocking the road. The forest on either side is too thick to bypass it, and the wagons cannot proceed without the obstruction somehow getting removed.

 With a loud belch he slips his axe off and begins to walk towards the tree in the road. He sweeps the sides of the road with a practiced eye and lets his sense of smell "taste" the wind for the sour smell of orcs or gobs hiding alongside the road.

 A slight tick slowly began in his right eye as he swept the roadway. He let his massive shoulders roll smoothly and tapped the heavy axe head softly on his hand as the idea of bloodshead began to heat up his blood once more.

 Maybe this is the day of my doom?. He thought to himself.

"It is difficult to say for certain, Master Dwarf, whether she be an agent of chaos," Bjorn says. "I am convinced by her actions that she has been tainted in her very soul, but this has not yet manifest itself visibly, and can't be as easily offered as proof of that taint."

When the wagons come to a halt, Bjorn unshoulders his shield and draws his weapon. "This smells of chaos treachery. Let us not lower our guard."

He looks about for anything suspicious, venturing a few yards off the road in either direction and attempting to scan by any area that might be a good hiding place.

Sure enough, sounds and bits of phrases start to drift to you on the wind, clearly greenskins.

"Ey, why we gotta bring this tuskert again. Eh's awful 'eavy to haul around 'n I don' think e' likes it much" There are a few other grunts of assent.

"We already told you Clip Ear. The tree falls over, any travelers gotta stop, then we let the Tusker go, and ambush them from all sides!" came a reply in a much higher pitch.

"An thas when we get to choppin?"

"Yes, that is when you ;get to choppin'"

The voices appear to be coming from in front of you, but you can't see anything there. The tree is at least a yard in diameter, and you suspect the road dips just on the other side as well.

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: With your knowledge of the area and Greenskins in general, you suspect these have brought a war boar with them. Incredibly strong and just as mean spirited as any orc.]

Nigel climbs up onto the front wagon, readies his bow and an arrow, and scans for the greenskins to show themselves "Orders M'lord?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Sat 13 Apr 2013.

 Letting a tight smile touch his face and lift the corner of his beard up a touch before combing his hand thru his reddish dyed mohawk. He squats a bit and glance's back towards the wagon.

 He guess's they dont know the dwarven silent hand movements but gives it a try. He lifts one hand off the axe and makes a hold position and then a count of a handful(5) of fingers before using both hands to show a large enemy on the other side of the tree and make both hands touching his mouth and and then curling out and up and adding a goring action with his head before looking again at the tree.

 Pointing the axe in the general direction i think the enemies are i begin shifting closer to the sounds but keeping the tree in front of him until he can find them or them find him.

Rufus begins to growl, but Grigory signals him to be silent. Then, reaching for a crossbow bolt Grigory begins to load the crossbow while trying to spot the source of the conversation.

He was starting to like the border princes - far fewer rats.

Nik stops along with the others, bringing up his sword and buckler at the obvious possibility of ambush; in no time at all that suspicion was justified, and like the others he prepared himself for a fight.

"Get yourselves ready; we're not going to be alone for long."

Sword and shield at the ready, the Count takes position in between the wagon and the fallen log while Maurice pulls the nearby rifle up into his hands. "Steady on, Pip; you just stay close to me, now."

Would I be able to roll Tactics to get us into a better position? I hate to admit it, but OOC I'm tactically stumped.
13:50, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 8 using 3d6. Tactics (12).
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 15 Apr 2013.

Pip nodded gravely but volunteered "Good sir, might it be a good idea to move the wagons back down the trail? In case they do have a monster we don't want the mules to get hurt or to spook."

Nik instinctively knows that his suggestion is a good one. More so, it gives you an idea/ The orcs will almost assuredly send the "tusker" in first to disrupt you all, and then follow directly behind it, thus completing their "ambush", but what's to say the Ranger can't ambush the greenskins instead? If you all move the wagons, they will certainly hear it and spring their trap, rushing headlong over the fallen tree, and right into your concealed ambush along the trail. The greenskins would be caught unawares, and the cargo secured. The only drawbacks are that Maurice and Pip would have to make a difficult, and tight, 180 degree turn, and the manservant would not be able to lend the rifle to your fight.

If that makes sense, go ahead and roll for Maurice's Teamster skill, and post into position.

"Chaos scourge for the smiting," says Bjorn. He prays over his weapon which promptly bursts into flames. While awaiting the orc's arrival, he prays again over his weapon, which is now also wreathed in lightning.

Assuming I have at least 4 seconds:
22:46, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 10 using 3d6. Flaming Weapon 15.
     Energy Cost: 4 - 1 (reduction for skill) = 3 FP
22:58, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 10 using 3d6. Lightning 14.
     Energy Cost: 4 (4d-4 burn) - 1 (reduction for skill) = 3 + 2 (6d-6 burn) = 5 FP

HP: 13/13     FP: 4/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon (+2 burn follow-up), Lightning (charged missile; 6d-6 burn)

Nik gives the drovers a quick nod as he quietly moves into position.

Maurice saws hard on the reins as the new mules strain against him, spooked by something on the wind that only they can detect.

08:38, Today: Maurice rolled 14 using 3d6. Teamster (13). Dang it.

Grigory, his crossbow loaded, dismounts as the wagons turn away. He moves to the side of the road to avoid the main rush of the ambushers when they come through, hiding himself as best he can.

10:58, Today: Grigory rolled 12 using 3d6. Stealth 16.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:59, Tue 16 Apr 2013.

Nigel moves to the opposite side of the road as Grigory, grabs some of the nearby foliage and covers his position as he readies an arrow to ambush the greenskins.

08:48, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 11 using 3d6. Camouflage 12. Success by 1.
08:49, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 7 using 3d6. Stealth 14. Success by 7.

At the sound of the wagons, there is quite a bit of shouting from the orcs, and some sort of indescribable squeal quickly followed by the sound of hoof beats mingled in with the mules' steps. Pip masterfully turns his wagon in a horse shoe shape and takes off down the path, while Maurice can't quite swing it, and will be forced to back up and try again.

The rest of you get into position on either side of the road, while Grom, a wall of iron muscle, waits for the charge, interposed between Maurice's wagon and the tree. In a few heart beats, an ENORMOUS boar easily the size of a horse, but heavier, and far more muscular vaults over the improvised barricade. Its tusks are augmented to a longer length by iron prosthesis, its eyes, tiny red, and full of malice search the trail wildly. Instantly, it sees Maurice's wagon and makes for it. For the moment, it is the only thing on your side of the fallen tree.

Combat time.

The fallen tree and boar is 10 yards from Maurice's wagon, which is now perpendicular to the trail. Grom is 9 yards from the fallen tree and the boar. The rest of you are on either side of the trail, between 6 and 10 yards from the tree (I'll let you decide, post which side of the road you are on and how far you are from the fallen tree in your first post. I'll help me keep track of things).