Der Trunkene Ziege is a large coaching inn nestled against the outside wall of Grenzstadt, and would be the primary resting spot for travelers who did not make it in to the city by curfew. The structure is squared around a spacious interior yard, used for staging, duels, fight schools, plays, faith healings, and corporal punishment. Two sides house rooms for patrons, the rear of the structure, abutting the city wall functions as a stable, and the front, road facing, side of the building hosts a large common room and tavern with the owner's lodgings above.

You find yourself in this aforementioned, dimly lit, Common Room. Tables and chairs are scattered about on the sawdust and straw covered floor. Across from you and behind the bar is the owner, a kindly looking bald man, sweeping the detritus of someone's meal onto the floor. A fire burns on either side of the room, taking the chill out of the early Spring night. The space is about a third full of merchants, travelers, and the occasional farmer from outside of the city. A lively dice game seems to be taking place at one table, and a man is throwing knives at a target painted on a wall. If you felt inclined, you could probably join either the group or the man to try and win a bit of money.

Any of the merchants are likely headed over the pass and some are probably willing to hire adventurers to travel with them.

 Even over the noise of the patrons the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard by those close to the doorway. Still the sight of what came thru might have been humorous for those not wise in the way of dwarven lifestyle.

 The squat solid body that followed was as wide as it was tall. He sported a dirty reddish top knot that was braided twice and trailed down the back of his smooth head to fall to his shoulders. The winter coat was open and there was no sign of any shirt underneath just the wide chest of hard muscle.

 Even the drunks took a sniff towards him carefully, at least those who knew of dwarves chose not to say anything about odor while he was close enough to hear.

 The face showed signs of cut marks or claws along the cheek and neck where something had made a effort to end his life. I guess what stands out to most who look at the dwarf was the markings that covered over the claw marks of a spiral turning to the left and spinning downward. Well that and the large axe that gleamed strapped to his back alongside the backpack. In fact it was about the only part that was looking clean over the dwarf.

 He eyed the crowd and then dismissed them as he walked to the bar. Slapping a coin down he nodded once, "What ever is strong".
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Mon 12 Nov 2012.

Klaus sat at the gamblers' table, his wiry strength evident in the tension that filled him every time the dice were thrown. He wasn't particularly good, but he was a skilled enough gambler to know it.

[Private to GM: Gambling-11. Not going to wager more than $10.]

Grigory knew his window to secure a job was narrow. He was well into the mug of powerful grog the bartender had poured for him, and he knew it wouldn't be the only time it was filled tonight. He began to make the rounds of the wealthy caravan owners, asking if anyone had a job on offer.

Though he had many unlikeable qualities, some of those made him an attractive guard. His paranoia and criminal past meant he was well armed and capable in combat.

During his rounds he was wary of the dwarf, but thought that he might have found someone to drink with once his job was secured.

The warrior priest looks to be in his late-twenties, early thirties. An average built man, he is just short of six feet tall. His shoulder-length, light-brown hair is usually kept in a low ponytail underneath his helmet. Facial hair, matching that on his head and just long enough to cover his upper lip and chin, frame his broad nose and faded-blue eyes between his average but slightly-darker brown eyebrows.

He made his way about the room, introducing himself to prospective employers:

"Blessings of Sigmar upon you, fine sir (or ma'am)," he said, giving a full bow. His right hand moved to his chest as he continued: "My name is Bjorn Jorgensen, Initiate of the Order of the Silver Hammer." He extended his hand in greeting. "If there be any want of aid in your travels," he motioned to the shield on his back, "I am able and willing to serve as a shield of faith to you and yours. Fear not the servants of Chaos, for with this blessed hammer shall, evil shall be smiten."

18:42, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 3d6. Diplomacy 12 (Influence roll).

The Inn's owner finished cleaning off the bar counter before picking up the Dwarf's coin. He eyed it in the light, bounced it off the counter and palmed it away somewhere.

"Sure thing. We have a Dunkel Lager that some of the others of'n your kind seem to like. You wanting any food to go along with that drink? Bread, cheese, we also make good potato dumplings."

The man sets a pint stein in front of the dwarf of a nearly black beer and awaits any food order.

---

Across the tavern at the dicing table, a swarthy looking man shakes some dice in a cup.

"Alright then lads, buy in is two pence now. Anyone closest to the number rolled wins the kitty, splits it if he ties with another." He continues to shake as Klaus and the three others ante up, then flips the cup to the table. "What's your guesses?"

Of the players with Klaus, one guesses snake eyes, another a wise middle of the road number, and the third drunkenly mumbles something that may or may not have been actual speech.

Close to the game, Bjorn was already starting to see some interest from a couple merchants in the room. Both, though, were awaiting cattle shipments that weren't expected to arrive for a day or two.

---

Klause, roll a quick contest against your gambling score.
- Player 1 rolled a 12, skill 10
- Player 2 rolled an 8, skill 12
- Player 3 rolled a 14, skill 9

 He had listened but his interest's at this moment was on the tankard In front of him.
Glancing up he tried to recall when he had eaten a full meal lately. He remembered at the foot of blacks pass he had traded that gold nugget for a full meal from those farmers and a bottle of cheap elvish wine. In truth he did not remember anything in the pass week of filling his stomach.

 He would have to find his doom soon or get a job somewhere soon. to gain a bit of coin to keep him in drinks. Still for now he had a bit of coin to fill in the blanks. What ever meal is cheap. he muttered just before he drained the tankard in one long swallow and slid it across to be refilled along with another coin.

 He turned slightly now that the faint touch of alcohol began coursing thru his body once more and looked over the gathered tables. Some he could guess were soldiers or fighters wanting to be soldiers, others were card sharks looking for prey. Still the group of merchants sitting around the one table with their decent clothes and trimmed beards were interesting. They could be needing a hand with the train and that would put him much closer to the trolls and bandits that roamed that area and his doom.

 Turning back as the sound of the refilled tankard slid across the bar top and looked over the plate of greasy stew of some kind. "Any of them wagon masters going out along the border mountains needing a hand.? he asked the bar keep. just before he ladled the stew into his mouth and his stomach gurgled in contentment.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:53, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

Distracted by the men calling loudly for work like whores in the street, Klaus misses the next roll of the dice, and blows his wager.

"Spite and blood," he curses.

ooc: Failed by 5.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:15, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

Sitting silently among the much-better appointed merchants, a dour man in black leathers dips a chunk of bread into a bowl of stew and washes it down with occasional splashes of cheap wine; arrayed among his 'companions' he seems particularly humourless, and participates in their conversations with little more than the occasional grunt or nod. He has the look of a soldier, complete with a sword at his hip, though the portly servant nearby makes that assessment odd to say the least.

That same servant sits just slightly to the side of the dour man, sitting at a small separate table with a sign-up form and smiling amiably at the other patrons. He had been soliciting laborers and guards for a soon-departing trade wagon with so far little luck, as the more wealthy merchants nearby had made a sport of poaching the respectable few that had attempted to sign on. Still, his energy hadn't waned as his master sat nearby, gloomily taking his supper.

The fat man's eyes light up once again as Bjorn introduces himself. He stands in the presence of the holy-man, his belly pushing the small table out a few inches as he rises clumsily to his feet.

"Ah, and upon you as well, your grace! My name is Maurice and indeed, we are hiring for a voyage that leaves on the morrow, one I daresay would be of great interest to you: we head for the Black Pass to Akendorf, where we will surely pay homage at the great shrine of Sigmar! Such an opportunity for us both!" The man shuffles around the small table, plucking up the sign-in sheet. "If you would make your mark, I will ensure that you receive your payments and insurance orderly and on time - these things can be such a bother - and I'll have the barman send you over a meal as a signing bonus."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

Grigory's ears perk up at the sound of a caravan leaving tonight, and headed away from Nuln.

"Any room left for another sword-arm on your way?" he manages without slurring.

If there are no serious objections, he puts an X down on the list.

Klaus gets up from his losses, turning his back on the dice table, and signs an X on the sheet without saying a word.

Apparently overjoyed at the sudden influx of employees, Maurice turns over his shoulder to cast a beaming, jowly smile at the man in black who sits silently mopping up his stew.

"Ah, yes, yes, stout fellows, this way please! Yes, there you are, just scratch your mark right there... ah, yes... Mr. X. Wonderful. And another Mr. X, very lucky! Very lucky indeed! We're off at first light, lads, so don't go drinking too much, eh! Ha ha, very good; I'll have your signing bonuses sent to you directly, welcome aboard!"

Nearby, the dour man clenches his teeth tightly as he chews, hearing the snickers of the nearby merchants and their jokes regarding the state of his expedition. He says nothing, nor shows any outward signs of hearing them, just sullenly eats his meal as the ever-more-excited Maurice waves to the wenches to bring more plates out to the newly signed caravan guards.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

 His eyes danced back and forth between the fat servant and the man in black lthr armor. He could guess who was really in charge of the wagon train was the leathered human.

 He waves off the barkeep with a heavy muscled arm and holding his drink he grabbed his pack off the floor and moved this time with smooth balanced steps that belied his stature.

 He stopped just short of the man in black armor. Watching his face a second to see the reaction to the dwarven slayer. "I be Grom of the Ironsmiter clan. I am thinking that you are the one in charge of this caravan into the mtns. If ya are going there then i want a place in the wagons and a chance ta fight what ever is down there.

 While he did not care what the servant thought he did cast a glance at the fat letters man, that neither promised good or bad.

The dour man says nothing as the slayer approaches, only finishes his mouthful of bread, pushes his chair out slightly, and meets the Dwarf's gaze from his seat. His expression is neither worried nor excited, expectant nor afraid; he simply seems weary.

The nearby merchants cough and flutter kerchiefs as the smelly Dwarf approaches, but the man in leathers doesn't seem to notice or, if he does, not to care. He listened silently as the burly Dwarf spoke, his expression never changing, and when he had finished speaking the man simply waved his hand dismissively, wiped the edges of his mouth with a rag, and nodded. When he spoke, his voice had the same tone of weariness as his expression.

"We have plenty of room for those willing to work, and much need of guards. My man Maurice," he casts his eyes toward the portly servant, who takes a small step from his table but remains where he is, "will take your information, ensure you get a fair wage and a decent meal. Welcome to the caravan, Grom Ironsmiter; we leave at first light."

From nearby, Maurice gives a friendly wave with his writing tablet, smiling wide at the Dwarf despite obviously being less comfortable with the smelly, tattooed brute than his master is. "Yes, yes, right this way please, Mr. Ironsmiter; if you could just make your mark here?"

 The caravan master had gained status in his eyes with his calmness with meeting him and enduring the meeting with manners. He could see the fat man out of the corner of his eyes while watching the man in front of him.

 With a head tilt that let his stacked hair roll forward and back. He stepped over to the list and noticed the X's showing on the form. He avoided rolling his eyes even if he did roll his shoulders as he grabbed the quill and wrote down his name in dwarven script before placing it back in the ink vial.

 "Now it is done, let the future be cast. He said to no one in particular and returned to his tankard to drain it in one downing and finish his meal.
 If he was happy about having a job it sure did not show to anyone watching.

Grigory realizes that he will have to live and work with everyone that has signed up with the caravan. He quickly hatches a plan to make friends in order to build trust, and more importantly evaluate anyone who might be a threat. Having gathered his meal for signing and refilled his grog tankard, Grigory pays two skulls to the bartender for all drinks ordered by those signing up for the caravan of the man in black.

He then takes his meal and grog and sits down next to the Troll slayer.

"Looks like you know how to drink," he observes.

10:44, Today: Grigory rolled 10 using 3d6. Carousing 12+? for buying $10 of drinks.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Wed 14 Nov 2012.

Klaus joined the troll slayer and drunkard at the table.

"Free is me favrit flavour o' libation," he said. "To what do I owe the honor of this foine gift, mate?"

The bartender happily complied. He couldn't help but appreciate the earnestness of these few people at finding a job, so he tapped his best beer for the group and even gave the buyer a couple pence back as a discount. If they survived the trip, they would hopefully remember the inn fondly and return and, if they died somewhere out there, well, they certainly deserved a good drink first.

A few of the other merchants sniffed or rolled their eyes, and one got to his feet and trundled off to stand by the fire, upset at having his, until then, quiet repast interrupted.

Pulling his chair slightly toward the assembled hirees, Maurice remains posted at his small sign-in table in case some other patrons or wanderers should happen to want to join their caravan. Smiling at this new crew, he calls baskets of bread and butter for the men lest they should drink themselves into uselessness as they get acquainted.

"Ah, yes, my friends, let us get to know one another, eh? I can tell from looking at you that you lads aren't the sort to shy from danger; what brings you to the life of a caravan guard? The travelling, or the excitement? Perhaps the pay, eh? Ha, ha!"

"Any o' you lot not here for the pay, I'll gladly accept it on your behalf."

"Heh. Pay is good, getting as far from Nuln as possible is good too. Better beer!"

Observing his companions, Grigory notices Klaus' nautical tattoos.

"What brings you so far from the sea?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:31, Wed 14 Nov 2012.

"Much obliged," says Bjorn, grabbing the quill and penning his name.

He shakes the man's hand again and takes a seat at the table with his three would-be companions.

"Greetings, fellow travelers," he says. "Blessings of Sigmar be upon you. It would bring me the greatest joy to know your names. I am Bjorn Jorgensen of the Order of the Silver Hammer. As long as we be in one accord, my gifts be e'er imparted to you as a Shield of Faith."

He grabs a stein and holds it in the air. "Let us drink to comraderie and feast in honor of Sigmar, by whose Grace we shall smite the forces of darkness in this land and to the ends of the world!"

11:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 10 using 3d6. Public Speaking 12.

Bjorn's imprompteu speech cuts of whatever response Klaus was going to give to Grigory. "A priest? Pray tell, good Sigmarite, what brings you to rub shoulders with scum the likes of us rather than leading a crusade of the faithful?"

Bjorn takes a swig of beer and sits up in his chair.

He smiles and says, "The war against Chaos is fought on many a front. The faithful may be found even among one such as you. One day, I may be called to serve Sigmar on the field of battle, but for now, I have other duties. Thusfar, my mission has brought me from my homeland of Norland to this place.

"What about you, sir? What is your name? Whence and for what do you come to this place and vocation?"

"Klaus be the name," he introduced himself. "And many a man has a life he'd prefer left behind, and I'll leave it at that. I've left the sea for the work of a mercenary, and that's what I be, without pretense to the contrary: a man paid in coin to fight and kill."

Holding his stein towards Klaus, he says, "Together shall we do battle against the foulest evils, Klaus."

He drinks deep and sits back, looking to the others. "What about you? How are you called? What is your tale?"

To Klaus: "Fair enough."

Then, to the group in general: "Name's Grigory. And I'm happy to take any blessing Sigmar can spare; there are some foul evils in this world and it's good to have the gods on side."

 The thick cords of muscle rolled as he looked up at the others who had taken a seat next to him and were rattling away about how grand an adventure it was going to be.

 He pierced the one who said he would take whose ever did not want their money with a cold unflinching eye for several seconds of silence before once more dismissing him.

 Then before he could finish his cup another human chose to take a seat with words of bombast about the human deity and how war was a good thing to smite the evils of the world. With a sound of rocks grinding along a stoney path, he fixed a cold bloodshot eye to the priest. So, priest, ya killed many a orc and their kin?. Hmmm, maybe ya chose to fight the tougher chaos beastmen?.  Well, no matter. where we will walk there be plenty of chance ta die fighting the evils there.

"Not in years have I found myself in want of tales of glorious battles, master Dwarf, but you strike me as a man of action. When together we have slain Greenskins and Beastmen alike, you will need not hear of my tales; you'll have lived them, and I yours. That prospect, to me, is more glorious than a thousand pages of history in my name: We shall share in the glorious grace of Sigmar as together we rid this world of that pestilence that so plagues our lands."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:01, Thu 15 Nov 2012.

"Or at least, rid the land o' the bandits that are likely to attack this caravan we're guardin', aye?" Klaus chuckled. "If'n you an' you, Mistar Dwarf n' Mistar Priest, are the sorts to leave the job an' go lookin' fer trouble, then yar can count me out, because I've no need to work wif those what are going to bring yet more death down upon what's already a dangerous enterprise."

Grigory makes a sign on the wooden table.

"Maybe dwarves and men under the watchful eye of Sigmar speak of such things lightly, but where I'm from we don't speak of the dark creatures of the world if we can help it."

Klaus nods at Grigory. "It ain't right."

 Letting a rolling belch grind past his mouth at the table he looks at the empty cup in silent wonder and debates ordering another. Then with a shake of his top knot he pushes back from the table and gains his feet looking over the "Guards" of the caravan.

 "Maybe so, ya dont talk about the evil that is chaos. I will say what they are but wont ever discount them as fighters, cept for the greenskins like gobbys and skaven kind. They be just a bunch of cowards who need the horde ta fight. What ever, hopefully they will show up and attack the caravan and dont run away.

 He looks around and finds a chair by the fire and leans back and is soon snoring with his right hand still wrapped around the battle axe on his pack.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:52, Thu 15 Nov 2012.

Sensing a dark turn in their conversation, Maurice quickly pipes up; "Now, now, I'm sure we have nothing to fear from such things, not with a priest among us, nor surely with such able men and behind such sturdy walls, besides!"

Sensing his attempt to cheer the companions has fallen a little flat, he clears his throat quietly and continues, "In any case, we can always hope for a safe, uneventful journey, eh? I'd have no qualms about paying out for an easy job, as I'm sure you'd be happy to accept it. Ah, but I forget my manners! Of course, I am Maurice; I will be serving as paymaster for this voyage, and I am the personal man servant to the Count Nikolaas von Richtgraf," he raises his cup to the man clad in black, who nods absently in response, "who will of course be joining us. A fine soldier is the Count, a fine soldier; no, I prophesy a pleasant voyage for us all."

Hoping to have steered the conversation in a more pleasant direction, the portly servant leans out over the table, reaches to the basket and picks out a buttered roll which he washes down with a splash of wine, still sat just off to the side with his sign-in sheet handy.

"If'n we're all professionals then there'll be no trouble," Klaus said. "Margin's too thin on this sort o' thing for amateurs waltzin' in wif their agendas. Agendas are what get a man killed a'fore his time."

He frowned, sipping his drink. "I'll gut any man what gets me killed for his own glory, and haunt his bloodline until the end of time."

As the new companions continued to talk among themselves, many of the other patrons began to drift off to their rooms, or find a warm corner to doze off in. Most will likely try and make an early start tomorrow morning, attempting to beat the crowds travelling up the pass. The bar tender, for his part was puttering about collecting empty mugs and plates, while a young boy, likely his son, spread some new straw onto the more treacherous parts of the floor. Each of you would have likely already made your sleeping arrangements with the innkeeper, either staying in the common room with the inevitable late night vermin, sharing a bed with some other patrons, or dropping the coin for a private room.

All of you noticed that the merchant who had first separated himself from von Richtgraf as you signed up, duck out the back door, towards the inner yard and stables instead of the guest rooms. You hear a minor commotion soon after, and presume he spooked some draft animals when checking on his cargo. It is a fairly naive action for the trader, as most Coaching Inns stake their reputation on being secure and trustworthy for merchants and their goods.

Grigory's watchful eyes and paranoid disposition notice the furtive actions of the merchant, and he decides to follow him. He leaves his shield and axe with his pack, but keeps his blades in case of ambush.

Several drinks in, Grigory is not being as stealthy as he could be.

10:25, Today: Grigory rolled 16 using 3d6. Stealth 16.

With too much invested in the voyage and a surly disposition besides, Nikolaas exhales a powerful sigh as he stands quickly, pushing his chair out behind him, and stalks to the door leading toward the yards. He readies no weapons, but balls his hand into a tight fist.

Maurice dutifully stands and follows a pace behind his master, but is halted by a gesture and a look. "Stay here, it's probably nothing; see to the room."

"Bunch of damn busybodies," Klaus muttered. Who were these men he'd hitched his shingle to, jumping at every sound and rushing off en-masse to investigate perfectly normal tavern sounds?

And even if it was... well... anything, it was no business of his. They could be gutting the Emperor himself in the middle of the room, and it was not his concern. Those who looked for trouble were apt to find it. Fortunately, fools like that didn't survive long enough to inconvenience him.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Fri 16 Nov 2012.

Bjorn keeps an eye on Grigory's pack and an ear for any other intersting sounds.

"Why's our merch checking his cargo?" he says to no one in particular. "Mayhap this is the man's first caravan on his own. Does he seem a mite anxious to you?"

"Because they've not the good sense to mind their own business," Klaus said. "If they're going to go around poking their noses everywhere when we've set off, getting involved in situations not our concern, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on this venture. Life brings enough trouble without having to go seek it out."

Outside the night was dark, both moons obstructed by clouds, and breezy. Two lamps hang on the stable across from you, flickering dimly, and another swings on the north wall to your right. The merchant who had left is nowhere to be seen but otherwise nothing untoward seems apparent to you.

Those outside may elect to make a search roll at -2, or head back in.

Seeing no one around, Grigory continues his search. Maybe he'd find the reason why the merchant was acting so strange, or maybe he'd just find something to steal. Either way, it suited him just fine.

14:00, Today: Grigory rolled 10 using 3d6. Search 14-2=12.

Nik squints into the darkness, scanning attentively. Cautious and suspicious by nature, he sniffs and heads out into the darkened yard, plucking the lantern from the north wall and heading toward the stable to ensure the state of his cargo. He nods quickly to Grigory on the way out, partly to ensure his comrade knew he had back-up readily available, and partly to check him against any mischief.

OOC
If I had the wrong idea about how far the lantern is, I'll just grab one off the stable wall. In any case, my destination is the stables to double-check my own wagon.

13:07, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 10 using 3d6. Search (SK 10). Success.

That is, unless I spot something to make me think otherwise.

Nearby the remaining companions, Maurice clears his throat uncomfortably as Bjorn and Klaus speculate.

"I think you'll find, your grace, that the Count is a very cautious man, and unlike many of noble birth, often inclined to handling things personally; I believe he takes many of his habits from his time in the armies, where I'm sure he must have been responsible for some manner of wagons or supplies. Surely."

"As for 'minding his own business'," the servant sniffs indignantly at the sailor's remark, "why, I expect that is precisely what he is at. Let me assure you, our first concern is the safe and expedient delivery of our cargo, for which you will be appropriately compensated upon completion. You can of course leave the company at any time - with no hard feelings, of course - but under no circumstances will I be handing out half-pay."

Despite his soft hands and big belly, the servant speaks with a certain unexpected hardness; the voice of an experienced administrator and loyal servant.

"If he'd simply sent one of his newly hired guardsman to investigate I'd have thought him a trifle foolish," Klaus said, "For imagining that every small tavern occurrence is somehow related to his business. Nobles are known to be creatures of more ego than sense. But in silently going to investigate himself -- because he thinks it might be a danger -- that makes him a fool of the lowest sort."

He leans back. "Justify that to me, servant. I'll take a man's coin if I think him a fool, but not if I think him one to get me killed."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Sat 17 Nov 2012.

This message was deleted by the player at 02:16, Sun 18 Nov 2012.

Maurice ponders for a moment; he reaches over to grab the pitcher and fills first Klaus' cup, then Bjorn's then his own, and sits back heavily in his chair.

"As far as the nobility being more ego than sense," he casts a quick, canny glance over his shoulder, takes a sip and continues, "I drink to that as a mortal truth. As far as his being a fool of the lowest sort... it seems... an unfair assumption, based on that small evidence. Ignoring everything else, he may simply be curious, and the nobility is as prone to that as anyone. Perhaps nervous, which again has little to do with our place in the world; or maybe it's simple restlessness - young men can be impetuous, especially before an expedition. Oh, I rattle on; who knows why a man does what he does, noble or otherwise? I'm quite happy to let him satisfy his curiosity - alone or in company, whatever it's source - while I enjoy the comforts of the indoors for a little longer."

He bites off a chunk of bread, raising a finger while he chews long as a thought occurs to him, and swallows at last. "Though, consider; as a sailor you would have faced the myriad dangers of the sea - drowning, shipwreck, disease, any number of other hazards I can't imagine - a task you must have done for pay. Here again, signing on as a guard, let us be honest: your job necessarily entails certain dangers, which you undertake for coin. Whether for a fool or for whoever else, is it not your job to risk your life for pay? Er, with respect of course, your grace." He adds the last words quickly, only just realizing he may be debating a little too loosely.

"There are necessary dangers and unnecessary dangers," Klaus said. "And as a mercenary, there's danger enough that there's no need to seek more. Our trade mission is going to be fiercely dangerous as is, and we've yet to leave the tavern before he's gone off on his lonesome. It's seeking the danger that we don't need that makes one a fool."

He sipped his drink. "You know what that sound was? No, course you don't. I'll tell you there's but two possibilities. One, it's nothing to do with us. Two, it's something dangerous. If it's the first he's wasting his time, a curious young man. The second, he's risking his life like a worthless damn fool, in fact asking that we stay here and wait for him.

"So if it's anything that he could even in the slightest be interested in finding, he's made a grievous tactical error in choosing... CHOOSING... to find it alone.  That's what bothers me about all this, good sir."

"If he have need of aid, I will go to him, for I have pledged to protect him and his, but he seemed not incapable of handling the situation, whatever nerves he may have."

Bjorn takes a swig of the freshly poured beer and nods in thanks.

"A swift blade can end a life before he can call out," Klaus said. "It's a foolish risk."

"No need to get tetchy," says Bjorn. "If it puts you at peace, we can all check on the fellow. Shall we?"

"I don't care for the man's well being, simply his competence. But you go, if you're as easily bored and curious as the others."

Bjorn lets out a hardy chuckle, dribbling a bit of beer down his beard. He mops it up a bit with his sleeve before setting down his stein.

"Neither bored nor curious," he says. "You seemed worried enough to be the man's mother. I thought a peek would quell your doubt of his competence. All things considered, I would rather finish this."

Bjorn grabs his stein again, lifting it in Klaus's direction and nodding with a bit of a grin.

"Don't get me wrong; I care not for his well being. Just for his likelihood to get me killed once we've departed."

Grigory's face, pale from shock, appears in the doorway. He has his blade drawn.

"Priest, there's something you should see. There is something unholy happening here."

Grigory then whistles for Rufus to wake up from his nap near the stables and come to his side.

"See?" Klaus said sourly.

Maurice swallows his latest morsel, having let the others carry the conversation for a bit, and looks to Grigory with a look mostly of equal confusion. He manages to pull the word 'unholy' out particularly well, but misses whatever point Klaus may have attempted.

"Unholy? I think it might be best if I stay in here."

"First sensible thing I've heard all day. Does this unholy thing have anything to do with the cargo we'll be guarding, Grigory?"

Sure enough, once you all get outside a large eye of chaos can be seen faintly illuminated by von Richtgraaf's lantern. Grigory's dog also becomes agitated the moment he steps outside, whimpering slightly and hesitant to leave the wall bordering the courtyard.

I'm not going to make you roll to recognize the symbol or its meaning as it would be clear to anyone with even the remotest familiarity with Chaos/evil. This particular symbol will soon be either drawing a large mob of cultists here, or summon something far more foul (or both). Roll against your Occultism skill, if you have it, to ascertain how much time you have. No one can dispell this, but you might be able to delay it. You may also be able to warn the rest of the Inn, but calling the city watch or organizing a defense is out of the question, as the former would likely just torch the entire building from the walls, and the latter would take too much time or be completely ineffective.

Also note that, warning the rest of the patrons will cause a panic, and make it very difficult for the party to escape quickly.

Grigory quickly gathers the rest of his belongings, and straps his shield to his left arm. He is clearly terrified, and he keeps Rufus close.

"We should leave. Now."

"Aye," Klaus agreed, hefting his pack.

Seeing the Eye of Chaos, Bjorn readies his war hammer and shield.

"If you wish to stand against the forces of darkness, remain with me," he says, "Otherwise, warn those in the inn to find safety and go with them until this is dealt with."

11:23, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 12 using 3d6. Occultism 12.

Klaus cursed, dropping his travel-bag by the wall, slipping the chain coif onto his head, hefting his massive dueling glaive and taking up a spot near the priest.

There was no margin in this. Even the spoils of war would be chaos-tainted and unsalvageable. Klaus hated fighting for free.

The horses and draft animals were now starting to become visually and audibly agitated, snorting, and kicking at the stable walls. The ground beneath your feet appears to come alive at first, writhing and wiggling, but the rats inhabiting the store rooms, walls, and stable are coming out into the open and attempting to flee the area.

[Private to Bjorn Jorgensen: You all will have barely enough time to limber the mules and escape if the party starts now (about 12-15 minutes). Anything large that emerges from another plane you can delay with a successful Banish spell (resisted by will), once it starts to appear, for about 5-10 minutes.]

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: You get the distinct feeling that standing and fighting will result, at the very least, in the destruction of your goods.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:25, Tue 20 Nov 2012.

"From the looks of it, we will have just enough time to limber the mules and escape if we start now," says Bjorn. "If any creature of Chaos shows its face, I will keep it at bay with the Power of Sigmar."

He looks around at the flabbergasted faces. "By Sigmar! What in Chaos are you waiting for! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

Nikolaas surveys the inn yard by the light of his lantern, relieved to be in company but still far from any sense of security. His grip tightens on his sword and he makes his way toward the inn's main door; pushing it open carelessly he calls inside "Maurice! Never mind the room, come here!"

Moments afterward the portly servant appears in the door holding a small travelling pack and a handful of papers. Catching the servant's eye amid the burgeoning chaos, Nik's voice is calm, steady and forceful; "Ready the wagon, and make for the gate."

As his servant dashes for the nearby stable, Nikolaas returns to the assembled caravan guards, walking easily over the pitching ground. "I mean no disrespect, your grace, but I do not believe we can hold this place. We need to get to safety, and with as many people as we can." He seems ready, willing and able to fight whatever should come, but their situation seems dire at best.

OOC
I don't know if it would be appropriate, but I'll roll my Tactics if it would help at all.

Grigory begins to fall back towards the wagon, but as the rats swarm, Grigory immediately regrets his decision.

"The rats! They've found us and are here to bring us back to their masters! Rufus, kill! Kill!"

He then begins slicing at any rats that come near him with his sword.

EDIT: cross-posted, so made some minor adjustments.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:13, Mon 19 Nov 2012.

"Screw this for a lark," Klaus said, grabbing his pack and fleeing from the obvious supernatural evil. He made no effort to dissuade the priest from a suicidal stand... isn't that what the priests are for? "I'll tell tales of your brave sacrifice, Bjorn."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Mon 19 Nov 2012.

Appearing from the nearby stable with the mules by the reigns, Maurice leads the animals out of the courtyard with a unique combination of urging, cajoling, tugging, and the occasional brutal stroke of his riding whip. He looks to his master as he clears the courtyard, steering the wagon onto the road and mounting up with the reigns in his hands.

"Get you gone, Maurice! We'll be along soon; take the sailor with you!" Scowling down at the rats scurrying across the courtyard, Nikolaas kicks a few of the vermin away from him and shines the lantern into the darkness.

From the bench of the wagon, the servant looks to Klaus with an urgent expression. "Room enough yet for a passenger, man! Let's be off!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:18, Tue 20 Nov 2012.

"You needn't fret," Klaus grinned crookedly. "It's the wagon I'm paid to protect, not the inn."

The air around all of you begins to hum unnaturally, spurring the party to run or to action. A few windows facing the interior courtyard opened, and curious heads peaked out. Some simply gawked at the symbol on the ground, while others swore and accused the party of being cultists.

To emphasize the claim being made by the onlookers, the eye at the center of the symbol blinked slowly and as the lid opened again, it disgorged a swarm of Nurglings and a powerful smell of putrification. The foul little creatures trundled about chasing the rats at first, but then see the other humans. With a squee of delight they start towards the party members.

The Nurglings are a swarm of small foul little monsters, diffuse and you may attack them or run away back through the inn common room and rendezvous with the wagon as it rounds the corner outside. Currently they are attempting to engage von Richtgraf, Grigory, and Bjorn (Grom is still inside). The area you are standing in is a square, 60ft to a side with the symbol of Chaos centered and about 20ft in diameter. Most of you are along the Western wall, where the entrance back to the Inn's common room is located. The Northern wall has an opening to reach the exterior of the compound and can fit a large coach. Across from you is the stable. Klaus is headed North to the exit, and the Nurglings are about 10 feet from each of you.

Maurice will need to make a successful teamster roll to exit the yard.

(From the Basic Set: Campaigns - Diffuse: A target with Injury Tolerance (Diffuse) is even harder to damage! This includes swarms, air elementals, nets, etc. Impaling and piercing attacks (of any size) never do more than 1 HP of injury, regardless of penetrating damage! Other attacks can never do more than 2 HP of injury. Exception: Area-effect, cone, and explosion attacks cause normal injury.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:39, Tue 20 Nov 2012.

Nikolaas makes his way to the edge of the Inn's wall, intent to make for the door as soon as is seemly to do so; in the meantime he readies his sword for what little good it might do against the creatures and smashes the oil-filled lantern into the nearest group of them. Seeing Girgory focus his assault on the rats themselves, he calls out to his companions "This is going to get worse, we need to leave!"

Maurice steers the wagon easily through the northern gate despite the erupting madness nearby, though unconciously, quietly, tunelessly singing to himself.

OOC
08:50, Today: Maurice rolled 7 using 3d6. Teamster. Success.

I'm not sure what I should roll to fling a lantern at a patch of Nurglings; any advice?
EDIT
10:42, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 16 using 3d6. DX; Lantern vs. General Area. Well, it's definitely a fail... I really, really hope it's not a critical fail.

[Private to GM: My plan is to hold off as long as I have to to convince Bjorn to retreat with us, then dash through the Common Room shouting bloody murder (the only warning time I can spare for the patrons) and rush out the other end onto the wagon. I know this'll take a few turns, I just wanted you to know my thinking.]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Tue 20 Nov 2012.

Grigory bolts for the wagon with Rufus close on his heels, slashing at anything larger than a cockroach that gets in his way.

"That's what I've been saying! Everyone go!"

If it matters, I'll be taking Move and Attack actions to make it to the wagon. I don't expect to actually do any serious damage to the swarm, just filling in what I would think Grigory's reaction would be.

EDIT: removed Telegraphic
This message was last edited by the player at 18:13, Tue 20 Nov 2012.

With a large rat clenched in his jaws, Rufus follows his master to the wagon.

Bjorn takes a step towards the Nurglings and concentrates. "Fire of Sigmar!" he says.

His war hammer glows white-hot, charged with divine flame. "Have at me, foul beasts!"

22:44, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 6 using 3d6. Flaming Touch 15 (1d burn).
Energy Cost 1 - 1 = 0 FP

HP: 13/13     FP: 12/12

Grigory and Rufus run after the wagon with Nurglings in hot pursuit, the rat catcher chops down on two of them as he passes. A few try to sink their teeth into his heels, but fail to penetrate his thick boots.

Grigory succeeds with an attack against the Nurglings, doing 2hp worth of damage.

The Lantern von Richtgraf throws lands in front of the Nurglings and is immediately extinguished without so much as a flash or flare, plunging the group into semi-darkness. With squeeks of what seem to be insults and jeers, the foul creatures bounce forward, ready to attack in a second.

The lantern Nik throws is simply destroyed, and the Nurglings will hit him in the next round

The hammer, now blessed with white hot, divine, flame prepares to pound down on the Nurglings. With a howl of rage, though, the demons tumble forward, sinking their sharp claws into the priest.

The Nurgling attack does 3hp of damage to Bjorn.

Note that it is now much darker, and any attack will be at an additional -3 to hit. You all can still see some, thanks to Bjorn's glowing hammer.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:38, Wed 21 Nov 2012.

"Priest, there is no end to them! Come on!"

Grigory continues to swing as he runs to the wagon.

From his place by the inn's door, the Count shouts into the dark foray "Dammit, Vicar, there's no hope for victory! Come, let us escape with our lives!"

Situated as he is, Nik's options are limited: if he flees without closing the door he invites the creatures to follow behind. If he flees and closes the door he risks dooming the Sigmarite. If he stays his own doom is assured. He hoped, at least, that some of the patrons within had fled.

He wards the creatures away from the door as best he can, edging himself into the inn and preparing to dash through toward the wagon as it rounds the corner. His voice is harsh and urgent; "Damn your eyes, priest, come on!"

From the edge of the courtyard, Maurice steers the wagon around the corner of the inn, picking up his pace and calling back "Hurry lads, hurry! I make for the main road; hurry!"

With a grumble, Grom gets to his feet. So, I guess we be leaving now huh?

The Slayer has very little in the way of belongings, and grabs a small backpack and two handed axe, ready to follow von Richtgraf.

NPC post by the GM

"I'll not leave 'til I have scattered these vile creatures," he says, swinging at the swarm and stomping them.

Stomping does 1 HP damage.
12:06, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 7 using 3d6. Warhammer 18 - 3 (Lighting) = 15.
EDIT: This roll should have been at -3 from shock penalty, ergo effective skill 12. Still a success.
12:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 2d6+3. Warhammer damage 2d+3.
Reduced to 2 HP damage.
12:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 4 using 1d6. Flaming Touch damage 1d.
Reduced to 2 HP damage, for a total of 7 HP (including Grigory's attack), which should disperse them.

HP: 10/13     FP: 12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 06:41, Thu 22 Nov 2012.

"I'll fill taverns with tales of your glorious sacrifice!" Klaus yells from the back of the rapidly departing wagon.

Just as well. Zealots make terrible professionals.

Assuming the Nurglings do indeed disperse...

Hearing his comrades depart to his rear, Bjorn turns and says, "They are finished. I'll cut through the inn."

He does so, hoping to hitch a ride on the other side.

HP: 10/13     FP: 12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 06:45, Thu 22 Nov 2012.

Dropping out of combat time

Grom, Nikolaas, and Bjorn tear through the inn, knocking over tables and chairs, and calling out a warning to the other patrons. Flying out the front door, they are just in time to catch the wagon, that had slowed to pick up Grigory. The two terrified mules are struggling against Maurice's able hand at the reins and, as soon as they can, set off at a run. As long as they are fueled by fear, and the scent of chaos in their nostrils, they will be able to carry the party in the wagon, but will tire faster.

Behind the group, a putrid green light flashes from the courtyard, soon followed by a horrible smell so unspeakably evil that it nauseates all of you. The splintering of wood comes next, mixed with screams of terror and otherworldly roars. You all are on the road to Akendorf though and, hopefully, the rest of the journey will not be nearly as dangerous.

The mules are losing 4fp an hour if traveling at their current speed and with all of you riding along. Make an animal empathy roll to know how tired the mules are at a given time and how much longer they can travel at a given load (specify to me, party riding or walking). Also decide how long you want to travel before resting (yourselves or the mules).

Make an HT roll to avoid becoming nauseous. If anyone wants to try a First Aid roll to help out Bjorn, keep in mind that it is dark, and you will take a -4 penalty unless someone finds a way to get a bit of light.

Klaus clings to the edge of the wagon, keeping his head down, focused on the road ahead out of concern for turning back and glancing back at the horror behind him and imperiling his immortal soul with the mere sight of Chaos's demons.

[Private to GM: HT roll passed.]

Maurice is many things, but heroic is not one of them; he whips the mules relentlessly, spurring them on at their best pace for a full hour before finally slacking the pace. That hour makes for a bumpy ride, but the distance gained is more important than the comfort of the passengers or beasts.

[Private to GM: Maurice hasen't got Animal Empathy, but he does have Handle Animal - would that be useful? Also, would it eventually be possible to purchase Animal Empathy?]

From his place in the back of the wagon the Count first strikes up a coach lantern and hangs it on it's hook, then retrieves his musket from among the cargo, ready to fire a volley should anything... otherworldly be pursuing.

[Private to GM: 08:50, Today: Maurice rolled 5 using 3d6. HT. Holy crap, pass!
08:50, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 11 using 3d6. HT. Pass.]

The sewers of Nuln are foul in more ways than one, and this has hardened Grigory's constitution to many putrid smells of the world and he keeps himself from wretching.

He is glad to see Maurice whip the beasts to speed, and after checking Rufus' fur for blood or the sign of any serious injuries, he begins to calm down and catch his breath.

To Nik: "Thank the gods your man was quick with the wagon. I'm not sure anyone else made it out of there alive."

10:59, Today: Grigory rolled 7 using 3d6. Nausea - HT 12.

"Tis a shame to be sure to abandon all those poor souls to the depredations of the unclean beasts o' Chaos," Klaus said. "Perhaps we should warn someone that an evil from beyond reality has established itself on the very border of the Empire."

Not that it was their concern. They were leaving the Empire behind.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:16, Fri 23 Nov 2012.

Nikolaas nods at Grigory's remark, his face a mask of stillness, though he reaches back to pat the servant's shoulder. "Aye, a fine job Maurice, you do me proud."

His features somehow take on a grimmer cast as Klaus speaks, and he shakes his head ruefully. "No, this is our road. We will warn whoever and wherever we pass, but pass them we shall."

He returns to his silent scanning of the road behind, sparing a quick, apologetic glance at the priest; his hangdog expression briefly betrays his fear of having somehow failed the Imperial faith, but the nobleman simply has too many other concerns. Almost absently he asks "Are you hurt, priest?"

Bjorn watches the rear for any Chaos that may be chasing.

"Indeed," says Bjorn. "We should warn by brethren at nearest convenience. How near was it said is the nearest temple by this road? My knowledge of charts is not what it should be."

Once he is satisfied that no one is following, he tends to his wounds and says, "Need any of you healing as well?"

09:32, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 12 using 3d6. HT 12 to avoid Nausea.
10:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 3d6. Minor Healing 15.
> Energy Cost: 3 - 1 = 2 FP

HP: 13/13     FP: 10/12

Klaus looks relieved.

As everyone takes stock of their situation, and hangs on to the wagon to keep from getting jostled out, the wall guns of Grenzstadt begin to sound off. Exploding shot and jets of flame slammed into the doomed inn, and would quickly blast the structure and everything in it to oblivion. Doubtless any and all priests in the city would also be congregating on the wall, entreating the gods to close the foul portal.

The wagon, in about an hour's time will travel about twelve miles. In that distance again the party will reach an installation of Bergjaeger and a toll (one of two, the last you'd heard) at the official base of the pass. The Bergjaeger are a province wide security force but focus mainly on the pass. The ground will rise steeply between where you are and there, and the mules appear to be handling the fast pace well. However, the terrain change may affect their travel speed.

I'm basing that distance traveled largely off memory while I'm out of town, since I don't have good access to my books. let me know if I'm wildly off here.

Edit: adjusted based on Klaus' input.

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: Yes, Maurice may use animal handling. That is what I meant to type anyway,sorry.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:48, Sat 24 Nov 2012.

Maurice whips the mules as hard as they can bear it, keeping their speed up for longer than any of the passengers would have thought possible without the belligerent animals slacking pace or even complaining much; even the Count is visibly surprised at his manservant's expertise with the animals.

He keeps the pace good and brisk, driven by fear and eager for the additional safety of Bergjaeger-patrolled lands.

OOC
Is there any reason we shouldn't be telling Bergjaeger/guards/passersby/whoever else we see that we were recently at a Chaos attack? What I mean to ask is: are we in danger of being seen as heretics or otherwise cursed just for having been there? Would it be better for us to say, for example, "We've heard on the road that Grenzstadt was recently attacked"? I hope I'm making sense here.

[Private to GM: Dice Rolls
15:29, Today: Maurice rolled 6 using 3d6. Handle Animal. Holy crap, Maurice is amazing! He'll keep the pace as fast as he can for as long as he can without straining the animals, then slow down only as much as he has to for safety's sake on the rougher terrain. Also, no worries about the mistype - God knows I do it often enough - and no harm done anyways. ^_^]

As the ground continued to rise, the mules began to slow down noticeably. They first began to simply make less progress as they ran uphill, but after you all have traveled about six miles, in an hour, they begin to slow down to a trudge. No amount of thrashing, or cajoling by Maurice can get them to move any faster.

After about 2 hours of travel, the party has gone 18 miles and have another 6 to go before reaching the toll booth. The mules have slowed down to move 3 now though, and the reason is not clear to all of you.

Nik, you all will have to decide, in character, if you want to tell the toll operators, or how much, or not.

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: Maurice senses that the mules have dropped down to a third of their total fp, which causes them to slow down significantly. He is also completely amazing!]

"Mayhap the beasts require rest," says Bjorn, noticing the creatures' slowed pace. "In any case, what say you to idea of warning the Bergjaeger of the Chaos in the town from whence we came?"

"It's a death warrant for many if we don't," Klaus said. "Word must be gotten to the Emperor."

"The guns fired. They know. Let them tell the guard, if they haven't heard already. I say we keep our mouths shut."

"A firing gun can mean anything from highwaymen to hunters," Klaus said. "But if you can rest easy knowing how many souls damned to chaos our silence may mean, then so can I."

"I meant that those firing the guns knew what happened, and will pass the word on eventually.

"And I sleep poorly enough already, without seeing the inside of another witchhunter's interrogation room. Once was enough."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Sat 24 Nov 2012.

"Yer were interrogated by witchhunters?" Klaus asked suspiciously. "What fer?"

Grigory looked more uncomfortable as he began to reveal more of his story than he had really meant to: "Tried to warn them of the rats rising from the sewers in Nuln. There's an army growing down there. I tried to warn them, and they locked me up. Finally, they left me be on account that I was a 'harmless madman'.

"I got out of the city that very night. Warning folks is just another way to get yourself into trouble."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Sat 24 Nov 2012.

Klaus stared at Grigory, frown on his lips. "Yer a double damned fool, then, once for mentioning it and then twice for admitting in front of the rest oer us that you've been pronounced mad by the Witchfinders of Sigmar."

He stepped away, turned back and scowled. "Yer problem, mate, is that ye don't know when to keep your fool trap shut. It ain't the warning that gets yer in trouble, it's the way you say it. Only the biggest damned fools can't convince a damn Witchfinder of Scaven in the sewer."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:20, Sat 24 Nov 2012.

"We have to warn them at the pass; the safety of the Empire and it's citizens is worth the risk. If that thought galls any man here, he's free to go his own way with no rancor, nor fear of implication.

I don't think we need fear the Witchhunters, innocent as we are and travelling with a priest of Sigmar besides. Still and all, we should be discrete." He says the last with a nod to Grigory, sympathetic to the man's benign form of madness.

As the beast's slow their pace the Count hops down and starts walking alongside the wagon, holding his musket casually. At the reigns, Maurice cajoles the beasts with an expert hand and an eye to their health, driving them as far as he safely can before pulling over to the side of the road - hopefully at the Toll Booth itself.

[Private to GM: If the mules will make the next 6 miles safely, we'll continue at this pace. If not, or if Maurice isn't sure, we'll stop at the first convenient redoubt for a little rest.]

Klaus snorts. "Witchfinders investigate their own church most of all."

The mules' strength holds out until you reach the gate, two hours later, where they now stand heads drooping and chests heaving. The structure is surprisingly impressive, with a tower standing to your right, supporting an arch across the road with two stout doors barring the way.

You are not challenged as you arrive and no one appears to be awake. To your right, the road is edged thickly with trees and brush, but the left side appears to be open, at least as far as your light can discern. If the party is careful enough, they may be able to bypass the toll gate completely and continue on a short way before finally resting the mules.

Announce yourself to the guards, pay the toll, and possibly alert them to the situation at Grenzstadt, or bypass the gate completely.

If you choose the latter, roll against Teamster at -2. Failure means you either get stuck, or make enough noise to rouse the guards. Critical failure means one of the first two, and damage to the wagon. You may also roll against Current Affairs (local) or Area Knowledge (Averland) to see if you all know consequences of avoiding the toll, or if/how far the Bergjaeger back patrol from this point to see if anyone avoids the toll.

As the wagon comes to a stop, Bjorn hops off and stretches his legs. In a hushed tone, he says, "We should wake the guards. I know not the toll."

Klaus settles back in the wagon. Wasn't his call. Wasn't his wagon.

To Klaus: "You're probably right. If I wasn't such a fool I'd be living it up in Altdorf instead of being chased by daemons out into the border princes."

Grigory thought he remembered something about the toll traditions in Averland.

11:32, Today: Grigory rolled 8 using 3d6. Area Knowledge Averland 12.

Maurice pulls the wagon off to the right side of the road, trundles out of the driver's seat and inspects the mules, tending to whatever needs he notices. "The beasts need to rest; I think they have the right idea, too."

Walking alongside the road, Nikolaas nods, casting a brief scowl at his servant's loud voice when Bjorn considerately whispers. His expression softens almost immediately - at least, as much as it ever does - and he nods. "I doubt the guards would relish such a disturbance, nor yet that these poor mules will make it much further tonight, toll or no toll.

We'll spend the rest of the night here, and pay the toll when the guards are up. Unless there are any objections?"

Nearby, Maurice has started unhitching the mules, and has already set up a small fire-pit.

"Ach." Klaus hopped off the wagon to stretch his legs a spell, leaving his pack on the wagon.

[Private to GM: Stealth-13 to sneak up and make sure the guards haven't been murdered and are actually sleeping. Rolled a 6; that's a success by 7. Per-12 to notice anything of interest.]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:04, Mon 26 Nov 2012.

 Looking up at Grigory in a bit of normal confusion of what he had heard. What demons?. he asked as he looked around for signs of the big creatures of legend. I dont see any demons?.

 He did glance back to see if perhaps they were being not truthful and the sweaty looks on their face showed that most likely they were telling the truth and somehow he had missed his chance to make a judgement of his chances to find his doom.

"Calm yourself, master Dwarf," Bjorn said, still quiet. "The creatures of Chaos did not follow us, so far as my eyes can tell."

He puts his bedroll down before stowing his pack on the wagon.

"I know a prayer of great blessing," he says. "It will tire me much, but I shall bestow this blessing of Sigmar upon each of you, as I am able. Who would be first?"

He means the Bless spell (1-point version). It gives you a +1 to all of your rolls (including damage), but does not increase your effective skill for purposes of calculating critical hits and misses. It lasts indefinitely until you critically fail a roll out of combat or fail an active defense roll.

"Dunnae squander the blessings of Sigmar upon me, sir." Klaus said. "I've had my fill of gods an' demons for one day, and shall put my faith in cold steel this evening."

"The toll is a penny a leg," Grigory remembered. "By my count, that's twenty pence for the lot of us, more if they claim Rufus here is a pack animal. And I've heard they can be a suspicious lot."

Upon hearing the priest's offer, he stepped forward.

"I'll take it. If Sigmar wishes to protect me, I'm most grateful," Grigory said.

EDIT: Miscounted
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Mon 26 Nov 2012.

After Maurice had layed out sleeping rolls for he and Nikolaas, he places a pot, grill and kettle nearby to prepare the group's morning and then sits tending the small fire.

At Bjorn's offer, Nikolaas gratefully stepped to the priest; "I can think of nothing that would give me greater comfort tonight, thank you your grace."

He sits among the others, much less aloof now that they are on the road and away from the judging eyes of the other merchants, and nods as Grigory accounts the toll. "The toll can be dealt with easily enough, but a witch-hunting interrogation is something I relish not at all."

As the night wears on, Nikolaas will suggest posting watched for the night - from which Maurice, as paymaster, will be excluded - and will offer to take the first.

"They're border guards, not witchfinders," Klaus said. "If your lordship cares to establish a watch rotation, we'd do better focusing on that."

"I have the strength for but one prayer tonight," he says. "On the morrow, I will pray again."

Bjorn waves Grigory over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. After about ten minutes of praying, Grigory is suffused with a faint white light. Bjorn smiles as he removes his hand. The light fades, but Grigory can still feel the subtle effects of the prayer.

"The Blessing of Sigmar is upon you," he says. "I shall rest now."

With that, he lays down on his bedroll and rests.

12:28, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 14 using 3d6. Bless 15.
> Energy Cost 10 - 1 = 9 FP

HP: 13/13     FP: 3/12
This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Mon 26 Nov 2012.

 Looking once more at the antics of the priest and his prayers he shrug's to himself. I will take a watch tonight, manling, if maybe one of those demons might be hungry yet and make it ta the fire tonight.

"We can only hope." Klaus chuckled, setting up his own tent. The dwarf, for all his words, leaped on the wagon readily enough.

"Excellent. I shall take the first watch, followed by Grom, then Klaus and then Grigory, two hours apiece; Bjorn will enjoy a full night tonight. We'll rotate the schedule as we go: four on, one off." He looks over the faces of the companions, not really expecting any argument. "Agreed?"

Nearby, Maurice lights and tends a small fire.

"Whatever you want to set is fine, sir," Klaus said. "It's not my place to agree or disagree. Speaking of which, when do we get paid?"

The Count stares deliberately off into the darkness at Klaus' question, unwilling to discuss the subject directly. Sensing his queue as paymaster, Maurice looks up from blowing into the small bundle of rapidly catching twigs, the light playing across his weathered face.

"Bless me, with all the carrying on it had slipped my mind. You'll all be paid out of the dividends received from the shipment, in Akendorf; from there, any man among you that would like to continue in this employment is welcome to, with further payment received following the successful delivery of the shipment."

[Private to GM: I never actually considered; what would be a fair "base price" for hiring a Caravan Guard? Nik won't want to be too generous (Miserliness), but I intend to pay the lads fairly from whatever profit the cargo turns.
While I'm asking, do we have a plan for where we're heading after Akendorf, or are Maurice and Nik just playing it by ear? On a related note, do we have a buyer for the cloth lined up, or are we just planning to hit a market?]

Klaus looks up from his tent. "Oh? Then we're to be venture partners rather than employees. That's the case, then let's set a decent watch. There's seven of us and a dog, let's set five two-hour watches, make sure that each man gets his eight hours of rest. Me, Bjorn, Grom, Grigori, Your Lordship. Maurice can take your watch, Lordship, if you feel such labor beneath you."

A stern look from Maurice sufficed to silence Klaus, who quickly appeared to drop off in to sleep. The rest of you possibly have a bite to eat and bed down as well, or take your watch during an 'uneventful' night.

Morning finds everyone well rested and the Bergjaeger finds a wanted man.

The first soldier you see strolls out from one of the upper floors of the tower, onto the top of the gate, where a catwalk connects the fortification, and support on the other side of the road. He is dressed in a black overcoat that obscures all but a pair of Averland yellow leggings, sports a full beard, and a light blue plume in his cap. For a couple seconds, the man stares disinterestedly down at you, and then walks back inside without a word.

The ground floor door opens soon after and emits a tall, important looking individual dressed in much the same manner as the first guard. For his part, the man is much better groomed, carries a pistol in one hand, resting the barrel on his shoulder, and sports a beautiful sword slung at his hip.

"Guten Morgen travelers. Ich bin Kapitän Helstadt of the Bergjaeger. Bitte, state your business here." As he talked, he quickly, deliberately, looked at each of you. Two guards appeared on the catwalk, each carrying loaded crossbows. Without looking behind him, the Captain explained "A safety precaution, I hope you understand. We don't typically get travelers this early in the day..."

His eyes finally came to rest on Klaus and, instead of moving on, he stared for a moment, and then looked behind him at the inside of the door, which had been left open. There, for all of you to see, is a wanted poster with a very obvious sketch of your traveling companion. The look of astonishment on the Captains face when he turned back around was almost comical before everyone started to react.

Klaus made a lunge for the Captain's pistol, but fails miserably as the soldier simply steps out of the way. The two crossbowmen aim their weapons, and the officer prepares to fire at close range. Klaus makes another desperate grab for the pistol, but it seems to slide through his hands. The three soldiers fire.

The captain's weapon misfires and explodes harming no one, but the two crossbowmen fare much better, landing direct shots to Klaus' back. The mercenary collapses, and loses consciousness in seconds. After a couple more seconds of silent shock from the Captain, he flings the destroyed weapon aside.

"This man was a known and wanted criminal in the empire. How is it that you come to travel him?" Above, the two crossbowmen begin to reload and another soldier, an archer, appears in the doorway.

Whew that was long. You all are not in combat time, and I used an element from Klaus' back story to close out his character.

I recommend some fast talking or diplomacy to go along with anything you say.

Taking his cue as the financier of the voyage, Nikolaas steps forward to speak to the captain of the guard; he is official and polite, returning the captain's greeting and offering him a cup from the kettle Maurice has already started over their small fire. When asked about their early arrival his answer is cut short by the brief - and brutal - altercation between Klaus and the guards.

As soon as the excitement starts the Count steps back, raises his hands, and motions the others to do likewise; when the short fight is over, Nikolaas looks ruefully down at the body.

Despite the urgency of the situation, the Count's tone is calm, even and measured, respectful yet still authoritative.

"We are a simple caravan - cloth - come to take the Pass to Akendorf. That man was hired on from an inn mere days ago; known to none of us, he seemed brave enough for the job, and so no questions were asked. The voyage is lucky to have rested here last night."

"May I add, captain, that it would be a shame to lose such a piece of equipment; my man, here, is a fine hand with small-arms, I'm sure he could repair your pistol." As he speaks, he intentionally sidles himself between the captain and Grigory, concerned on what effect the morning might have on the madman, and that he could lose another employee to bad luck and timing.

[Private to GM: 11:19, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 12 using 3d6. Savoir Faire (Military). Success. If Diplomacy would have been the more appropriate roll, I failed by 1 unless my Status helped me out.]

"By Sigmar! I had a meager suspicion that this fellow were some miscreant," says Bjorn. "But that he had shown his true self a mite sooner, I may have saved you the trouble of this day. I fear I have failed you, Kapitän. I should better know what company I keep."

He kneels and bows his head to express the dishonor he feels. Standing to his feet again, he retrieves Klaus's effects from the wagon and by the fire and delivers them to the men as they take away his body.

"As for us, I am Bjorn Jorgensen of the Order of the Silver Hammer. These, my comrades, Grigory, Grom, Maurice, and Nikolaas von Richtgraf. We travel for Akendorf with these goods for trade. Master von Richtgraf has commissioned us to guard his wagon along the way.

"We left late last night from Grenzstadt, for while we were yet awake, a portal appeared from Chaos to bring battle upon the city. We fought, not to purify, but to flee, for our numbers were too small for the force that would soon emerge. I was mildly injured by a slew of Nurglings, but have been cleansed, both blood and spirit, by the Power of Sigmar which has been bestowed upon me. I assured my comrades, as I now assure you, that we were not followed, neither by tainted manfolk nor by beast of Chaos.

"The city guns lay siege upon the evils that must have arrived as be rode into the night. When we arrived here, you still slept, and our horses were tired for the speed we pushed them to flee the impending battle, so we thought it best to stay up here for the night, both to pay the toll this morning and to warn you of the events that have transpired in Grenzstadt—the Empire may very well be in danger if the forces of darkness are so bold as to attack her borders.

"I prithee do not hold the transgressions of this man against me and my companions. I swear it that not one of us was aware of his true nature, else we would have turned him in to the authorities in Grenzstadt. We seek merely to pay the toll now, and be off for Akendorf. Along the way, I hope also to encounter my brethren to inform them of the recent attack."

10:01, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 7 using 3d6. Diplomacy 12.

Grigory goes white as the crossbows fire. He is glad he is not the target, and especially glad when his employer maneuvers himself in front of Grigory.

Once the other two start talking, Grigory tries to continue his meal and pretend to be invisible. If spoken to he will answer, but he hopes he won't need to. Especially with the priest talking so much.

 Not overly caring what the loud manling had done and it had nothing to do with him or those who traveled with him, still he was not in the mood to have armed empire bowman intimadate him.

 " We  are what they said, so you dont have to worry about the rest of us. If we were part of that mans friends then most likely you would be dead already, But since none of us tried to attack you how about you wave your bowmen down.?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:07, Tue 27 Nov 2012.

"I will have my men stand down when I feel like it Dwarf, and not a moment sooner or later." He sneered.

The two men, one a priest no less, impressed him. Helstadt also could sense a sort of bearing in the other one that he respected. "Very well, very well. Gods know that we see enough ruffians come through here."

He paused for a moment, half turned to head back inside. "The toll is a penny a leg and Schraeder here," he nodded at the archer, presently engaged in dragging Klaus' body to the side of the road "will take your payment. You may also keep the fire arm if you like. I have no interest in that sort of scheiße anymore. The verdammt thing almost killed me, I'll stick to my sword.

This, this Chaos attack concerns me. Likely the church in Grenzstadt already knows, but I will send a runner to the shrine in the pass. Likely he will get there sooner than any of you can, and will alert the brothers there of a possible taint. Plague will be a problem too no doubt. The last was said largely to himself.

Without another word the Captain strolled back inside, tapping his blade. As soon as he disappeared, the crossbowmen visibly relaxed, and lowered their weapons. Schraeder returned, and stood staring at you all, arms folded, while others apparently inside began to winch up the gate.

You all have warmed cider, some bread, and maybe cheese for breakfast before making ready to strike camp.

Make a teamster roll to harness the mules, and another for the day's driving. If Maurice would like to try and repair the wheel lock pistol during the trip, he cannot also be at the reins. Otherwise he can try in the evenings. If the first teamster roll fails, someone else will have to attempt the roll (the mules are pissed and want no part of you).

A successful second teamster roll means you all will be able to travel 15 miles today. The road is full of switchbacks, very steep, and winter road debris (rocks, fallen trees) has not fully been cleared. A critical success means a 20% bonus to distance traveled. A failure on the second roll means lower progress in miles equal to your margin of failure. A successful hiking roll by everyone also increases distance traveled by 20% (you all are able to take less breaks, can give the wagon an extra push when needed, etc.)

From his place near the wagon, Maurice withdraws a small pouch of coins and pays Schraeder the party's toll through the gate. That done, he wanders over to the discarded pistol, bends with a grunt and takes it along with him - a hobby for the nights to come.

After a quick nosh on bread and cider Maurice goes about hitching the wagon, singing his same tuneless song as he works.

Meanwhile Nikolaas goes about his morning routine, takes a meal, and prepares for the day's hike.

They set off as soon as the last of them has eaten and secured their gear.

[Private to GM: I'm not sure how many "legs" total are in this journey or that I'd get a receipt for or whatever, but I'll pay everyone's fare. 4 Pennies per leg, how many legs?

Some dice rolls:
08:32, Today: Maurice rolled 9 using 3d6. Teamster #1. Pass.
08:32, Today: Maurice rolled 15 using 3d6. Teamster #2. Fail.
08:33, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 9 using 3d6. Teamster for travel. Pass.
08:35, Today: Maurice rolled 12 using 3d6. Hiking (this should be good...). Fail.
08:36, Today: Maurice rolled 12 using 3d6. Armoury (Small Arms). Pass.
08:37, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 9 using 3d6. Hiking. Pass (just in case)]

Maurice hitches the animals easily but is unable to control the beasts through the more difficult terrain of the pass and so the Count simply takes his place, easily maneuvering the animals while Maurice rides with the cargo, idly fiddling with the broken pistol.

Grigory, used to the close spaces of the city and sewers, has difficulty in the harsher environments. He has trouble keeping up with the pace that is set, despite feeling bolstered by the ritual Bjorn performed the night before.

10:36, Today: Grigory rolled 13 using 3d6. Hiking 11+1 Blessing.

 His attention now past the pompass captain and the guards at the border and on to the sight of these low foot hills that were small versions of his home mountains.
 While he rode and walked along with the sweaty mules pulling the wagon his eyes roamed over the piles of granite and coddy stone, examining the rock for the tell tale coloration of gold or the smell of gems hidden within the hard rock.

12:24, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 11 using 3d6. Hiking chk /14
This message was last edited by the player at 20:25, Wed 28 Nov 2012.

Bjorn tossed his pack in the wagon as they headed out. He had some experience with such treks, but this proved insufficient this time; he faired no better than Grigory.

11:53, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 14 using 3d6. Hiking 12.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Wed 28 Nov 2012.

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: Legs as in actual legs, not portions of the trip. 8 mule legs and 10 human, make for a toll of 18 pence. Looking at the rule book, you will need a second armory roll to repair the firearm, which Maurice will be able to do in 2 hours.]

Von Richtgraf pays the toll while the group strikes camp. The day is beautiful, sunny, and crisp but, despite this, the mules' donkey parentage comes through and they are difficult to handle. The humans, for their part, struggle along the steeply graded road while Grom covers the distance easily and without trouble. You all barely make it to "The Rabbit's Foot" a relatively flat, wide area of the road, popular as a resting spot fifteen miles into the journey. Otherwise, the trip was uneventful and empty. As you get higher, more of the rolling foothills below open up to you. Near the end of the day you are able to see Grenzstadt and a faint smoke plume outside the city. Most other merchants and wagon teams are likely held up at the city, and you see no other humans but for the runner Helstadt dispatched.

Your campsite is sparsely treed, but free of small rocks, which should make for a comfortable night's sleep. The area off the road is steep, but not treacherous, and known to be a haven for rabbit, pika, and Electors (a type of Marmot, so named for their thick fir, large girth, and penchant for loafing about).

You all are free to make camp, or use survival or naturalism rolls to hunt/trap small game. You may be able to sell the firs later, and warm, fresh meat is always a welcome treat. The land is not owned by any particular noble, so you will not be poaching.

Make a search roll for firewood, possibly a roll for cooking. On a successful cooking roll, the meal is surprisingly amazing and everyone gets +1 fatigue bonus for the next day.

Fatigue for everyone's reference: Assuming you all are at light encumbrance, you are down 2FP from your max. With everyone taking turns riding in the wagon, and the occasional break to rest the mules, and for lunch, you aren't that tired. You have about 2.5 hours of daylight left for hunting/foraging, dicing, etc. (a survivalism roll for foraging takes 1 hour of game time).

Work is still pretty busy for me, and I'm also going to drag my feet a bit to give our lurker enough time to work up a character without progressing too far.

When they have arrived at the campsite, Maurice sees to the wagon and the animals. He does the chore slower than usual, apparently recovered from the previous night's ordeal and commenting occasionally on the pleasant day, the pretty landscape, the many small animals.

As his servant prattles on, the Count furrows his brow and says with a sigh "I'll gather some wood," before walking toward the sparse treeline nearby.

Maurice finishes his work with the mules and starts unloading a few packets from the wagon and setting out the cookware. With a wide smile to the others, he says "Dinner in two hours, boys, don't be late."

HP: 12/12
FP: 10/12

[Private to GM: Oh, "per leg"... sorry, my bad; blonde moment.
Anyways, some dice rolls:
10:30, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 11 using 3d6. Search for firewood. Success.
10:37, Today: Maurice rolled 4 using 3d6. Cooking. Ho. Lee. Shit. Maurice is fucking awesome!]

Grigory keeps near the cart, his eyes not losing their frantic searching gaze despite being alone on the road.

"I'll keep an eye out. Of the past two nights, the first we were attacked by demons and the second we were awoken by heavily armed watchmen. Keep close Rufus."

The journey was wearing on Grigory's nerves a bit.

FP:12/10

OOC: Grigory will help out as he can with basic camp set-up, but he doesn't have much in the way of survival skills so he'll primarily be keeping his bugged-out eyes peeled for danger.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Fri 30 Nov 2012.

 Joining the gathering of wood pieces to fuel the fire place he lets his eyes scan for signs of wildlife that could fill out the cook pot some more. He was fairly sure that this part of the border mtns had small herds of deer as well as predators, not to mention the greenskins that would be skulking around looking for easy targets.

 14:58, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 13 using 3d6. observation /11

Grigory's eyes roamed around the campsite's surroundings. His paranoid mind became focused on one particular outcropping of rocks, and he decided to investigate. He was damned if he was going to bed down near another trap.

Loosening his blade in his scabbard, and making sure Rufus was close, he went to take a look.

22:21, Today: Grigory rolled 9 using 3d6. Search 14.

"I shall remain to safeguard the wagon save for if there be danger elsewhere," Bjorn says. "A man must be aware of his limitations: I am otherwise no use in the wild."

When he has finished helping Maurice unload and set-up camp, he stands watch, peering into the distance in every direction, looking for anything noteworthy.

23:32, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. Per 13.

As he approaches the outcropping, Grigory sees what appears to be an enormous, dog-sized rat, causing him to shriek in panic.

"The rats, they've found us! Rufus, kill!"

As quickly as his paranoia-strung reflexes could manage, a large knife from Grigory's bandolier was in his hand and then just as quickly flying at the source of his panic. At the same time, Rufus bounded in pursuit of the creature.

20:24, Today: Grigory rolled 10 using 3d6. Fast draw (large knife).
20:25, Today: Grigory rolled 11 using 3d6. Thrown Weapon (Knife) 14-?SM.

EDIT:
FP:12/10
This message was last edited by the player at 01:39, Mon 03 Dec 2012.

[Private to Grigory: The knife flies across the hideous creature and you at first think it misses the rat entirely who, with another squeek of pain and fear, retreats around a boulder and disappears down a hole. However, when you retrieve your weapon, you see that it took off one of the rodent's ears, and still had it impaled on its point.]

While Grigory was occupied, Maurice began cooking a meal, the smells of which were almost overpoweringly good. Stewed apple sauce with sugar, spices, and fried kartoffelpuffer. He is also softening some cheese close to the fire and brewing some mint tea.

Note, I have made appropriate rolls for all of you and no one perceives whatever Grigory sees or doesn't see.

Kartoffelpuffer are potato pancakes, used in German cooking as a bread replacement for either sweet or savory food. I used "kartoffelpuffer" instead of potato pancakes, because the former is way more fun to say.

Grigory searches frantically after the fled rat, but neither he nor his faithful canine can find it. Retrieving his thrown blade, he wipes it clean and removes a large rat ear caught by the blade. So close.

Satisfied that the rat is no longer within his reach Grigory warily returns to the fire, ear clutched in his hand. He throws it down near where the others can see.

"That one will have a harder time listening in on our plans now, at least. The rats are closing in - we will need to be very careful tonight. They are almost invisible in the dark."

Maurice peers at the companions from over his skillit, raising a curious eyebrow at the display but otherwise not moving much; he had a meal in a very sensitive state to worry about, and he was surrounded by some of the steadiest men he'd ever known. Someone else could handle it.

And it was over almost as soon as it had begun, with Grigory triumphant over whatever creatures haunted his addled mind. Maurice smiled at the man, both he and the Count sensitive to the plight of madmen, and waved him toward the intoxicating scent of the pan. "Well done, man, well done indeed; we'll keep the fire bright tonight, eh? Come, try one of these - missing something, ain't it? Hmm?" In fact the finest chef would have trouble finding something to add to the kartoffelpuffer, but the servant was an old hand at dealing with strange personalities and had learned that food was always an excellent start.

You're right - I typed "potato pancake" and "kartoffelpuffer", and I know exactly which I prefer. ^_^

 The smell of the food was not bad for a human cook. So he moved in closer and took a plate and empty cup and found a seat by the fire and pulled out a small bottle of something that he carefully poured into the cup before having a long drink from it.

 He glanced at the rat ear with a semi interested look, then began to go after the food. So that is from a rat?, why did it get away?. Almost would look to be the size of those deep rats in our gold mines. Does make for good eating after they are cooked carefully to get all that taint off of them. Have to hope they do come by tonight. That might be fun to carve up some chaos rats.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:03, Mon 03 Dec 2012.

When everyone returns, Bjorn sits. He stares for a moment at the ear put down by Grigory.

"It would seem," he says, looking up at Grigory, "That you may not be mad after all."

Bjorn smiles at Grigory, handing him a plate and cup.

"Have a seat, lad," he says. "We dine tonight in the Grace of Sigmar. What a feast we shall have!"

Bjorn helps himself to a bit of everything.

Grigory thanks Bjorn for the food, and sits down to eat. As he chews, he listens to the brave dwarf's comments and inspects the severed ear with the tip of his knife.

"There's worse eating than rat, but Maurice has cooked something that tastes a whole lot better. And you might be less comfortable with the idea of them coming back tonight if your throat wasn't made of Dwarf muscle to ward off their cruel rattish blades."

Grigory throws the ear to Rufus, who chews at it ravenously.

EDIT: to reduce unintended innuendo.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:08, Tue 04 Dec 2012.

After a great meal, and a good night sleep, the next morning dawns just as clear and cool as the one before. The mules are still unsettled, but Maurice is able to cajole them into position. After a short breakfast of cold leftovers from the previous night, you set off. Despite your peaceful day yesterday, and restful night, you all continue to struggle keeping up with the wagon. The trail continues on through much of the morning at a steep grade before evening out around midday for a stretch called "The Adder" where the Dwarven Road disappears for a time to be replaced by a crudely constructed, snaking, trail half heartedly built by the Empire.

As you begin to round a slight bend, and discuss lunch, you all can plainly see a ledge 30 yards ahead and about 10 yards off the ground which seems completely unremarkable at first glance. Each of you, though, has enough experience and general suspicion to scrutinize further, where you notice a large (4'-5' tall) rodent like creature crouching next to a triangular shield. Resting on the shield, you can also see a metallic glint of a gun barrel.

Ten yards ahead of you, on the right there is a small outcropping of rocks that could shield the mules in a blind spot. Fifteen yards ahead of you on the left is a cluster of brush and evergreen trees. The cliff face under the ledge is also in a blind spot, and looks climbable. To cap off the danger, the ground beneath your feet is beginning to rumble. Not strong enough to denote a major earthquake, but definitely not something normal.

You all failed your hiking roll, but Maurice succeeded in his teamster skill because, apparently, he is just like that.

However, Maurice should make a teamster roll (-2) to get the Mules into cover quickly. To spur them forward and then stop abruptly in the right spot is a bit tricky.

I have made appropriate knowledge checks for everyone.

You all are in combat time. Please give me one turn of action and note that I am lifting the restriction in the House Rules thread about hit location (you may target a specific location on an enemy).

The rats have been waiting for you, act first and apparently are choosing to aim.

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: The rumbling at your feet likely is coming from tunneling beneath your feet, close to the surface.]
[Private to Bjorn Jorgensen: You can distinctly feel the presence of warpstone (a source of chaos/evil energy in the setting. Many evil races value it and work it into weapons) below you and emanating from the enemies in front of you. Note that warpstone can be very deadly when used as a weapon, causing lingering injury that you may or may not be able to cure. This does not signify any sort of Chaos portal like the instance at the Inn.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:20, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

 At the sight of the skaven he slips the knot off his waraxe and takes a second to stop and look down at the ground. Warpstone sniffing vermin are tunneling under us. Get yur asses under cover, i am going ta get carve up some skaven.

 Action: Draw weapon. tuck in close to the wagon and get ready to charge towards the ledge when he is close enough to make it in one move.

[Private to GM: Guessing he can not do all that in one round but unless something interupts the combat that is his plan.]

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: Nope that is good. It takes one turn to ready a weapon, and you may make one step (1 yard) with that maneuver (page 325 of the rule book I sent you). You cannot also change posture to a crouch or something like that, but you'r a dwarf, so the wagon will cover you for now anyway.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:25, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

Grigory pulls his sword and ducks behind the cargo, hoping to get something heavy between himself and the gun.

Action: Ready.

Draw shortsword. Step behind whatever there is on the wagon to hide him. I think it's reasonable to assume Grigory had his shield strapped already, since he's on guard duty, but if that's not acceptable he'll fast-draw a large knife into his left hand.

When the others spot the danger ahead and point it out to Maurice, he looks nervous for a moment before the companions begin hoisting there weapons; the display of courage and arms are enough to inspire the simple man to some sense of confidence, and he is able to steer the wagon toward the coverage of the nearby rocky outcropping. Timidly, he reaches for the blunderbuss under the bench, cocks it, and holds the mules still.

"Only a matter of time, wasn't it, eh?"

Silently, and as dour as ever, the Count hops off the wagon with the companions bringing his musket along with him; he looks to his companions and says simply "I'll handle the sniper; stay ready. No fear, lads."

Maurice's Action: Teamster roll; he'll spend the rest of the combat in cover protecting the wagon with his blunderbuss.

Nikolaas' Action: Ready (the musket) and Step off the wagon.

[Private to GM: 08:23, Today: Maurice rolled 9 using 3d6. Teamster -2. Maurice strikes again!
Nik's plan is to brace his musket against the rock, Aim, then blast the sniper; in the meantime Maurice will keep the wagon - and hopefully the guards - safe behind the rock until Nik takes the shot.]

"Damned rats," says Bjorn. Turning to Nikolaas, he says, "I'll cover you."

He grabs his warhammer and buckler and stands holding his shield in front of Nikolaas, attempting to provide partial cover from the sniper.

Action: Dual Ready (Mace and Shield).
Notes: Bjorn is looking up at the sniper (negating the -2 to defend).

The idea is to (1) make Nikolaas more difficult to hit and (2) be able to block for him if the sniper shoots:

1. From Low-Tech, p. 115, Homeric Buckler: "Large ones are broad enough to provide shelter to a companion - usually an archer." The shield gives partial cover (DR 4, HP 22) while he shoots (pp. B407-408).
   
2. I don't have Sacrificial Block Yes I do. It's called Shield Wall Training. I'm as thick as manure but only half as useful.

This message was last edited by the player at 20:01, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

As you all scramble for cover, the rat man you can see skitters around to the other side of his pavise, braces it, and peers around the edge to watch his comrade's shot. The rifle goes off with, rather than the expected CRACK!, a high pitched keen. The hurling bit of warpstone slams into Bjorn's shield with a thunk almost instantly, chipping off a little but otherwise doing minimal damage.

With Maurice's deft handling of the cart, it now sits at a diagonal right slant across the road. The mules and Maurice are safe, Grom and Grigory are near the back right wheel with the vehicle shielding them. There are three yards between the back left corner of the wagon and a sheer deadly drop. To come around to the front side of the wagon works out to a distance of 2 yards. Bjorn and von Richtgraf are at the front left corner in front of the wagon and near the outcropping shielding the draft animals. There is not enough room behind the rocks for anyone to take cover with the mules, but you may brace on it.

I placed you based on my understanding of your posts. Please let me know if I'm misinterpreting something.

The Skaven hits Bjorn's shield easily, doing 3 points of damage after all modifications are assessed.

Give me 3 turns of action as the Skaven will be reloading for a little while. Assume the enemy you can see is 10yards (-4) away and you can target his head (-5) or the shield.

Bjorn moves steadily closer, muttering a prayer. His warhammer becomes charged with lightning, spitting and sparking. After pointing his hammer at the Skaven's head, a bolt of lightning shoots from the weapon.

"Take this, fel creature!"

Actions:
1. Step and Concentrate
2. Step and Aim
3. Step and Attack

Rolls:
14:07, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 15 using 3d6. Lightning 15 (1d-1).
14:09, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 3d6. Psychic Guidance (Lightning) 10.
—> Skill 15 + 3 (Acc) - 3 (Range 7) - 5 (Target Head) = 10
14:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 2 using 1d6-1. Lightning Damage 1d-1 burn.
—> If the target fails to defend, he must make a HT-1 roll, or be stunned.

Flinching as the shot rings off Bjorn's shield, the Count offers the priest the quick, faint smile and says quietly "Much obliged to you, Your Grace" before concentrating down the length of his musket.

He takes his time, the seconds playing out like hours. His breathing slows, and he seems entirely at peace; in the moment before he squeezes the steel trigger he thinks of fowling on his family's land during happier times and then, suddenly, BANG!

Turn 1: Aim (at the Skaven's head)
Turn 2: Aim (at the Skaven's head)
Turn 3: All Out Attack: Determined (At the Skaven's head)

[Private to GM: The bonuses I'm figuring in are Brace (+1), Blessed (+1), Aim 1 (+3), Aim 2 (+1), AoA (+1), for a grand total of -2 on the shot itself.
15:21, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 10 using 3d6. Shoot. Hit by 2.]

 Placing his hand against the ground he smiles coldly as he stands up once more and runs a finger along the axe's sharp edge and is rewarded with a small bead of blood glistening on his thumb.

 I will deal with the ratmen coming up from below us. Just watch yourself near the edge of the pathway. Remember skaven are cowards at best and will flee if enough of them get chopped up.

Actions: Wait until any skaven come up out of the ground, then he will go: All out attack

Grigory instructs Rufus to hop off of the wagon and wait with him.

"We're with you, dwarf."

Wait with Grom.
If Skaven come up, regular attacks.

The Skaven spotter's head literally explodes with the lightning and large caliber shots to the skull, and the creature falls before it even knows it is dead. His teammate, the gunner, is briefly revealed when the pavise the spotter was holding falls. He quickly skitters away in flight, leaving his weapon.

Behind the wagon, the ground quickly begins to dissolve and implode inwards until a one yard hole forms. From this tunnel five Skaven get shoved and thrown. They are truly pitiful creatures, mangy and dressed in filthy rags. Most show signs of burns, bites and festering wounds, and all now cower in front of you quaking in fear and completely unarmed but for their long, blunt, claws.

The hole opens up 5 yards behind the wagon, and 5 unarmed Skaven slaves are shoved out. The creatures, like a cornered and beaten dog, are not immediately inclined to attack, unless pressed by you or something behind them. Bjorn and Nikolass must make a full move to get to the other side of the wagon (either running around, or climbing up, stepping across, and hopping off the other side).

The slaves appear at the end of the previous 3 seconds so the wait maneuvers have expired. Give me 2 turns of actions.

Perhaps a more sympathetic mind might see the Skaven slave-soldiers as creatures to pity, but not the unbalanced Grigory.

With a shriek and a surge of adrenaline, Grigory dashes into the fray intent on killing anything with front teeth longer than his own. Rufus, loyal as always, followed his master into the fray.

Action 1: Move and Attack --> Shield Rush nearest skaven.

17:08, Today: Grigory rolled 4 using 3d6. Shield Rush - 14.
17:11, Today: Grigory rolled 8 using 3d6. Critical hit roll.
17:12, Today: Grigory rolled 6 using 1d6+1. Shield shove damage 1d-1(+2 DB).

Action 2: Attack --> Sword thrust to skaven vitals.

17:15, Today: Grigory rolled 9 using 3d6. Shortsword 16-3 to vitals.
17:15, Today: Grigory rolled 0 using 1d6-1. Shortsword imp damage.

Grigory will attempt to Parry at 14, or block at 13, any attacks that come his way.


Rufus:

Action 1: Move and Attack --> Pounce on a skaven not attacked by Grigory.

17:20, Today: Rufus rolled 8 using 3d6. Pounce (Brawling 16).
17:20, Today: Rufus rolled 11 using 3d6. Keep footing - DX 14.
17:22, Today: Rufus rolled 2 using 1d6-1. pounce slam damage 1d-1.

Action 1: Attack --> Bite skaven that was previously pounced on.

17:22, Today: Rufus rolled 11 using 3d6. Attack - bite (brawling 16).
17:23, Today: Rufus rolled 2 using 1d6. 1d cutting for teeth.

Rufus will attempt to dodge any attacks at 11.

 As the slaves are shoved up above ground his blood begins to pound through his muscles and he bellows at the skaven slaves and more for those under ground and small rocks roll down the hill from the vibrations of his bellow.

 Come out and face me skaven maggots, i will feed your blood to the dogs to lick up!!.


Action 1: Move forward full move
Action 2: All Out Attack
14:56, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 11 using 2D+4. wpn damage.
14:55, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 10 using 3d6. All out atk vs slaves /16

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: Your damage roll wasn't quite right, so I re-rolled for you. It actually worked a bit better in your favor. All dice in GURDS are d6, your Axe does sw+4, your swing damage is 2d, so damage with the axe will be 2d+4]
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:32, Sat 08 Dec 2012.

"Nice* shot," Bjorn says to Nikolaas, cracking a smile. He jogs around the wagon and tries to ram the nearest Skaven, aiming to send him over the ledge if possible. He then whispers a prayer, and his Warhammer glows white hot.

Actions:
1. Slam (Shield Rush)

15:06, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 14 using 3d6. Shield Rush 14.
15:13, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 5 using 1d6+2. Shield Rush damage 1d-1 (+3 DB).

2. Concentrate (Cast Burning Touch)

15:15, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 8 using 1d6+2. Burning Touch 15 (Energy Cost 1 - 1 = 0).

If attacked by multiple Skaven, he will Parry at 15, Retreat Dodge at 14, Parry at 13, then Block at 13.
If multiple attacks (or just one attack) come from the same Skaven, he will Retreat Parry at 16, Parry at 14, Dodge at 14, then Block at 14.

Notes:
* Nice in the archaic sense, i.e., accurate.

HP: 13/13     FP: 12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Fri 07 Dec 2012.

With a nod to the priest as he jaunts off, Nik can hear the sounds of skittering creatures nearby; expecting a pincer and trusting the formidable guards to see to them, he lays the musket down next to the rocks, readies his weapons, and scans for enemy reinforcements from the direction of the sniper's hillock.

Action 1: Drop Musket, Ready shield.
Action 2: Ready sword. See what I mean about Dual Ready? ;)
From here, I'll Wait to see if they're bringing reinforcements. Would a Tactics roll be appropriate here?

Maurice has a blunderbuss Ready on the wagon, but he won't risk hitting the guards; unless something happens, he'll either Concentrate [on maintaining the reins] or Wait [for a clear shot on a close-range, unengaged Skaven]

Grigory's shield connected with his hapless target in a sickening crack and the creature collapses to the ground, its muzzle and face irreparably damaged. It lies seemingly comatose and, apart from some twitching, makes no effort to avoid the rat catcher's blade. However, the thrust does no damage aside from gouging out a bit of hair. Either unaware or unable to respond to the mortal danger it is in, the Skaven fails to do anything but whimper.

Rufus lunges at another Skaven with a snarl and the rat man, caught between fight and flight, fails to do either and tumbles to the ground. It feebly tries to claw at the dog, but fails to do any damage. However, it does have enough presence of mind, or sheer will power to squirm away from the dog's snapping jaws.

Grom charges full out at another foe who actually had some fight in it. As the Dwarf swung his enormous axe, the creature sank his claws into the attacker's torso. While it failed to do any damage, the enemy was not where Grom apparently expected it to be, and he ended up cleaving empty air. It quickly followed up this narrow escape with its life, with another jab at the Dwarf.

A forth Skaven easily sidesteps Bjorn, and has the gall to cackle mockingly at him. In a fit of overconfidence, the creature tries for what was surely some sort of impressive claw swipe, but ended up simply loosing its balance and falling flat on the ground.

The final unengaged Skaven skitters towards Grigory, clearly intending to attack. When it reaches the man, however, it loses its nerve completely and simply quakes in place instead.

Two more Skaven, these much better equipped and vicious looking emerge from the tunnel mouth and get to their feet.

To make this easier, I will be labeling the foes here. Feel free to do the same if it makes things easier for you:

Skaven 1:
-- Knocked prone and stunned on turns 1 and 2 by Grigory
-- Failed health roll and is still stunned

Skaven 2:
-- Knocked over by Rufus' grapple, dodges his bite attack, failed own attack roll on turns 1 and 2
-- Turn 3 also failed all out attack roll

Skaven 3:
-- Dodges Grom's attack, connects with an attack of his own but does no damage on turn 2
-- Turn three, connects with an attack and does 2 points of damage unless Grom defends.

Skaven 4:
-- Dodges Bjorn's shield rush, but fails to land an attack on turns 1 and 2
-- Turn three, critically fails an attack and falls prone

Skaven 5:
-- Attempts to attack Grigory on turn 3, but fails his roll

Skaven 6 and 7:
-- Turn three they ready their weapons and change from a crouching to standing position.
-- Armed with a small sword, wooden shield, and wearing leather torso armor.

Everyone give me one move to finish up round 3.

Grom, in the start of round 3, the Skaven you engaged succeeded his attack roll and did 2hp of damage to you unless you defend. To defend, you will have to roll against your dodge skill (speed+3) with 3d6 OR Parry skill (half your melee weapon skill+3 dropping fractions). Note that if you parry, your weapon is unbalanced, and you will not be able to use it to attack on this turn. If you do not defend, or fail your roll, you have to deal with the effects of shock and are at -1 to any skill using DX or IQ for the current turn (i.e. any attack roll would be at -1). Let me know if you have any questions.

Grigory swings his sword wildly at the downed rat, but fails to connect.

Attack --> Rapid Strike

08:43, Today: Grigory rolled 15 using 3d6. 1stTelegraphic Rapid strike - swing - 14.
08:43, Today: Grigory rolled 15 using 3d6. 2ndTelegraphic Rapid strike - swing - 14.

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 14
Block: 13
Dodge: 11

HP:12/12
FP:12/12

Rufus tries to sink his teeth into the nearest Skaven's throat, but is unable to connect either.

08:51, Today: Rufus rolled 13 using 3d6. Bite to neck - Brawling 16-5=11.

Dodge: 11
This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Mon 10 Dec 2012.

Nikolaas continues to scan the hillock and the road in case any additional forces should appear to ambush the party. Part of him regrets not taking part in the counter-attack as the sounds of combat assail him from nearby but he consoles himself that it isn't seemly to crave a fight, and with the suspicion that there are more enemies nearby.

Nearby, Maurice watches the foray with a cautious excitement; his grip on the reigns is as tight as a vice.

Action: Concentrate (to see if any other enemies appear from this direction)

Right Hand: Thrusting Broadsword
Left Hand: Medium Bladed Buckler

Parry: 10 (12 with DB)
Block: 10 (12 with DB)
Dodge: 10 (12 with DB)

Hp: 12/12
Fp: 12/12

Bjorn takes full advantage of the creature's unfortunate spill and mercilessly drives his Warhammer into its back.

Actions:
Deceptive Attack Skaven 4.
     18:38, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 10 using 3d6. Axe/Mace 18 - 2 (Deceptive) = 16.
          Target defends at -4 (-3 for posture, -1 for Deceptive Attack).
Damage if hit:
     18:44, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 13 using 2d6+3. Warhammer Damage: 2d+3 crushing.
          Armor protects normally.
     18:46, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 4 using 1d6+3. Burning Touch Damage: linked 1d burning.
          Ignores armor. Natural DR protects normally.

HP: 13/13     FP: 12/12

 Catching sight of the better armed skaven climbing out of the ground, he snarls at the slave "Get out of here, pip squeak. I got bigger rats to chop up".

 He will take a 5ft step away from the rat and try to move towards the skaven elite that just showed up.

Grom parries the Skaven slave more brutally than artfully, severing the poor slave's arm completely. Miraculously, the creature maintains its footing, and hobbles after Grom feebly trying to claw at him.

The Dwarf, for his part, stalks towards one of the clanrats, brandishing his axe. The creature bares his gleaming front teeth at Grom and chitters at him, no doubt cursing in its own language. Waiting for the dwarf to get to it, the foe plants its feet and jabs quickly from behind its shield. The blade finds its mark, but the Slayer's tough, muscular, skin turns it aside conceding only a small trickle of blood, as though scraped by a thorn.

The Skaven at Bjorn's feet desperately tries to crawl away, and utter a squeaky appeal for its life, but the priests hammer pounds down upon its back and sets his meager coat on fire for an instant. Suffering massive internal injury, but still maintaining consciousness, the slave weakly tries to crawl to safety, though it only has seconds to live. The second clanrat, seeing a tasty meal in the slave, makes a step towards Bjorn and tries to drive him away by looking as fierce as possible, and by throwing in a harmless sword thrust for good measure.

The Skaven at Grigory's feet, continues to whimper, unaware of the two sword thrusts plunged into the dirt so close to it. The other slave still cannot seem to find the nerve to attack Grigory, and remains shivering at his side. Rufus' Skaven not only manages to avoid the dog's snapping jaws, but actually breaks free and begins to run away, toward the wagon.

On von Richtgraf's side of the wagon, from further up the trail, two Skaven appear lugging some sort of strange contraption. A gun, of sorts, connected to two large drums by tubing. They are moving at a walk and are 30 yards off.


Skaven 1:
- Failed its HT roll and remains prone for turn 4

Skaven 2:
- Escapes Rufus' grapple and moves 1 yard towards the wagon for turn 4

Skaven 3:
- Arm gets severed by Grom's parry, avoids stun, and fails an attack roll on Grom in turn 4

Skaven 4:
- Takes massive damage from Bjorn and is in to negative HP. Is somehow still conscious though in turn 4

Skaven 5:
- Fails his attack roll on Grigory again in turn 4

Skaven (Clanrat) 1:
- Attacks Grom but fails to penetrate DR in turn 4

Skaven (Clanrat) 2:
- Fails an attack roll on Bjorn in turn 4

Flamethrower team:
- 30 yards off (note, range only 5 yards)

Please give me 1 turn again

On the nearby wagon with his blunderbuss clutched in hand, Maurice's eyes bulge out as the rat-creature escapes the snarling dog and nears the wagon. His hands hold the weapon skillfully, but he is obviously hesitant to fire the charge so close to his companions. "Oh sweet Sigmar, kill it, kill it!"

By the road Nikolaas squints his eyes; he had expected something to accompany the ambush, but this... he looked at his nearby musket, discharged, and sighed heavily.

"Damn," he mutters to no one in particular, then calls over his shoulder to the guards "Two more on the approach, with artillery; Grigory, you're with me!"

Action: Move (toward the flamethrower).
Assuming the thing is bulky enough that it can't steer easily, I'm going to try to dash up alongside it rather than straight down the middle; if they start to train it on me I'll zig-zag across the road assuming I can move faster than they can re-position. Without figuring their movement, it would take me about 4 rounds to get to them (sprinting after the second round). If by some miracle I find myself in striking range, I'll Shield Rush straight into one of the two Skaven porters.

Incidentally, I called Grigory because he strikes me as the fastest mover; I just didn't see a dwarf or a stack of armour getting there quickly.

Upon hearing Nik's call and seeing the fearsome contraption approaching, Grigory shouted: "This is what I was afraid of!"

Seeing the impressive hits from the dwarf and the priest, he is confident that they have things well in hand on this front and he dashes towards the machine - and, like Nik, zigzags in an attempt to keep away from the machine's deadly barrel.

Not sure how many move actions it will take for Grigory to get to the flamethrower.

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 12 (14 with DB)
Block: 11 (13 with DB)
Dodge:  9 (11 with DB)

HP:12/12
FP:12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Tue 11 Dec 2012.

Rufus, bounding after his fleeing target, leaps after him once again trying to bring the rat-man to the ground.

Move and Attack --> Pounce.

12:48, Today: Rufus rolled 12 using 3d6. Pounce - Brawling 16.
12:49, Today: Rufus rolled 12 using 3d6. Keep footing - DX 14.
12:50, Today: Rufus rolled 3 using 1d6-1. pounce slam damage 1d-1.

Dodge: 11

HP:13/13
FP:14/14
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Tue 11 Dec 2012.

Bjorn holds out his Warhammer and concentrates. "Fire of Sigmar!" he says as his weapon burst into flames.

He turns his attention to the Clanrat that attacked him.

Actions:
Concentrate (Cast Flaming Weapon) and Step (Change Facing)

14:12, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 13 using 3d6. Flaming Weapon 15.
     Energy Cost 4 - 1 = 3 FP

HP: 13/13     FP: 9/12

 Knowing that the slave rat would soon die of blood loss he presses the nearest clanrat into combat. Come on you stinking warp stone eaters. going to kill ya all!!.

 07:19, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 8 using 2d6+4. possible damage.
07:18, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 9 using 3d6. Slash clan rat. /16

Hp 20/20
Fp 11/11

Von Richtgraf and Grigory run off towards the Warpfire thrower team doing their best to avoid the business end of the weapon. The two Skaven, joined together by the awkward machine, seem to have gotten in to some sort of argument and have ceased any forward progress for the time being. The slave that had been attacking Grigory gave up as soon as he runs off and, joined by the creature Grom had maimed, set about trying to consume the original Skaven the rat catcher had felled.

The second slave, through some quick reactions successfully dodged Rufus’ pounce, and lashed out with its claws. Apparently still winded, though, he connects only with air.

Grom easily sinks his axe into one of the clanrats. The creature attempted to dodge, but was not fast enough and, now reeling from a horrendous injury, tumbles back into the hole, to only be quickly replaced with another of his kinsman.

The Skaven before Bjorn takes another stab at the priest but the blow is effortlessly turned aside by the latter’s armor.

Three remaining slaves are currently wrestling about behind Grom and will be busy for several turns.

Slave 2:
- Dodges Rufus’ pounce, but fails the attack roll in turn 5

Clanrat 1:
- Unable to dodge Grom’s attack, the creature takes 10 points of damage (8-1dr x 1.5), suffers a major wound, is stunned, and collapses back into the tunnel.

Clanrat 2:
- Succeeds his attack roll against Bjorn, but fails to do any penetrating damage in turn 5

Clanrat 3:
- Just emerged from the tunnel, Turn 5 sees it change posture and ready its weapon

Warpfire Team:
- Argues and does nothing

The warpfire team is 30 yards away. A full turn allows you to run your Basic Move in Yards, but you may not sprint since you are zig-zagging. Also note that Grigory started from the opposite side of the wagon and needs to use a full move to get around it. Nik would be ahead of him.

I gotta stop failing so many rolls!

Please give me 1 turn again.

Grigory continues to run, determined to stop their fiendish machine before the rats can do much damage with it.

BM: 6 yards

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 12 (14 with DB)
Block: 11 (13 with DB)
Dodge:  9 (11 with DB)

HP:12/12
FP:12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Thu 13 Dec 2012.

Rufus, happy that his prey has stopped running, makes a grab at the rat's leg in an attempt to bring it to a halt.

Attack --> Grapple leg. Sorry, first roll was with 1d20.

14:55, Today: Rufus rolled 8 using 3d6. 3d6 this time... 14 (grapple leg -2) =12.

Dodge: 11

HP:13/13
FP:14/14

Bjorn swings wide, trying to throw off the Skaven's defenses, but misses in the process.

Actions:
Deceptive Attack Clanrat 2 at -4 for -2 to defend.

11:59, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 16 using 3d6. Warhammer 14.

HP: 13/13     FP: 9/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon

Nikolaas moves quickly and easily under his light armour, moving with all speed toward the bickering rat-men; with any luck, he could be there before the weapon was even brought to bear...

A man could hope.

Action: Move (keep zig-zagging toward the artillery team.) My Basic Move is 6, but with the zig-zagging I have no idea how many yards I'll actually cover.

 Beginning to fold into that mental place of state where everything around him faded from thought and only the target of his anger stood out sharp and clear to his eyes.

 Drawing in deep breaths to power his building rage and fuel his muscle's he caught sight of the next clan rat climbing up to the hole to meet his axe. His eyes began to flicker with passion and rage as he caught the rat at the edge of the hole before it had managed to completely clear the dark hole underground.

Roll to hit: 12, possible damage: 11. the 12 maybe modified by positional higher ground?.

The Warpfire team, despite their bickering, got enough of their act together to move forward four yards. There is now a distance of fifteen yards between von Richtgraf and the Skaven duo and twenty-one between Grigory and the team.

Rufus snaps at the legs of his slave but the creature, apparently use to dodging large, vicious beasts (normal for Skaven in the under empire) steps away. In the same move he soundly kicks the dog, clawed foot finally connecting with flesh and fur.

Enraged by the utter ineffectiveness of his weapon, The Clanrat discards his weapon and shield and makes a grab at Bjorn's weapon hand.

The other Clanrat clumsily tries to parry Groms attack, but the dwarf cleaves straight through the Skaven's guard and sends him back into the ground. Two more take his place, however, both wielding short, nasty looking, spears instead of the sword and shield combination of their predecessors.


Skaven Slaves 5 and 3 continue to consume Skaven Slave 1

Skaven Slave 4, that Bjorn felled slips into unconsciousness or is possibly dead

Warpfire team:
- Moves forward 4 yards in turn 6

Skaven Slave 2:
- Dodges Rufus' attack, connects with his own (kick) in turn 6. Rufus failed his dodge and the Skaven does 2 penetrating damage unless Rufus has any DR I'm forgetting.
- 09:26, Today: Chance, on behalf of Rufus, rolled 14 using 3d6. Rufus' Dodge (11).

Clanrat 2:
- Drops his weapons and grapples Bjorn's arm in turn 6.
- Bjorn, I need a defense roll from you to avoid the grapple to your arm.

Clanrat 3:
- Fails a parry and suffers the same fate as Clanrat 1 last turn. Grom is on a roll.

Clanrats 4 and 5:
- Climb out of the tunnel and ready spears.

Please give me 1 round of action, (or more, see the OOC thread). Bjorn, please also give me an active defense roll.

Finally within dashing range of the artillery team and safe from any sort of counter-blast, the Count plows directly into the closest slave with all the force and weight he can muster.

Which isn't much, as it turns out.

Action: Attack (Slam)
08:48, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 10 using 3d6. Tele. Attack (Brawling Slam).
08:49, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 2 using 1d6-1. Slam Damage.

When the Skaven drops its weapon and shield, Bjorn cracks a wry grin.

"You seal your own fate, vile vermin!"

As the creature reaches for his weapon arm, Bjorn interposes his flaming Warhammer, hitting its arm squarely. He then swings at the Clanrat's neck, determined to break it.

Defenses:
Retreat Parry.

11:35, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 12 using 3d6. Retreat Parry (Warhammer) 16.
     Parry (Warhammer) 12 + 3 (DB) + 1 (Retreat) = 16
11:36, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 8 using 3d6. Warhammer 18 to hit attacking arm.
11:37, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 15 using 2d6+3. Warhammer damage 2d+3 cr.
     Attack gets an extra +2 burn from Flaming Weapon.

Actions:
Committed Attack (Determined)

11:45, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. CA (Determined) TA (Neck) Warhammer 15.
     Warhammer 18 + 2 (CA) - 5 (Neck) = 15
     Assuming the target has Brawling, his Parry is -3 vs. swinging attacks.
11:46, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 8 using 2d6+3. Warhammer damage 2d+3 cr.
     Wounding Modifier for the Neck is x1.5 for crushing damage.
     Attack gets an extra +2 burn from Flaming Weapon.

Notes:
Cannot Parry, Dodge -2, Block -2, and Cannot Retreat.

HP: 13/13     FP: 9/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon

"Die, you rodent monsters!"

Grigory charges alongside Nik, but is unable to connect with his shield. He is still happy to be out of the arc of the arcane and seemingly impractical weapon the rats had brought with them and is planning to make the rats' lives difficult enough to prevent them from activating it.

Move and attack --> Shield Rush.

09:31, Today: Grigory rolled 16 using 3d6. Shield slam (Shield 14).

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 12 (14 with DB)
Block: 11 (13 with DB)
Dodge:  9 (11 with DB)

HP:12/12
FP:12/12

Rufus' jaws snap at the kicking leg, but the dog is unable to get a grip on the rapidly moving rat limb.

10:31, Today: Rufus rolled 16 using 3d6. Wrestling 14 (grapple leg -2) =12.

Dodge: 11

HP:13/11
FP:14/14

 With a maddened grin plastered along his beard at the sight of two skaven climbing out of the pit, he saves his breath and shifts over to face rat #4 and swings his heavy axe to cleave it in two.

07:45, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 9 using 2d6+4. possible damage.
07:45, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 9 using 3d6. atk #4  /16

With a clang! and a grunt, the Warpfire team takes von Richtgraf's charge. The creatures' heavy bronze armor absorbs the impact, but sends both parties sprawling to the ground. Knowing the imminent danger they are in, the team struggles to regain their feet.

Bjorn easily parries the Clanrat's attack, turning the poor creature's bones to mush in the process. With a cry, it falls to its knees, clutching the destroyed limb, and makes no attempt to defend against the finishing blow from the warrior priest. With another crunch, it is dispatched. One of the spear wielding Clanrats takes an opportunity to thrust at Bjorn, but the attack is again stopped by his armor.

Rufus' Skaven was starting to get into the swing of things. After a quick pivot away from the dog, the Skaven connects with another blow.

The other newly emerged Clanrat turns quickly, Bjorn's axe coming so close as to shear off some of the creature's fur. Bracing itself, it lunged forward with its spear.

Warpfire Team:
- Equals Nik's damage done, both Nik and the Warpfire team fail their DX rolls and fall to the ground together.
- Turn 2 against the warpfire team sees them trying to regain their feet. Nik and Grigory have faster speeds, though, and would act first.
- 15:11, Today: Chance, on behalf of Nikolaas von Richtgraf, rolled 16 using 3d6. DX roll, avoid falling (12)

Clanrat 2:
- Loses and arm, suffers a major wound and stun and subsequently goes into negative HP in turn 7.
- Unconscious

Clanrat 4:
- Dodges Grom's attack
- Succeeds an attack roll against Grom and will do 8hp worth of damage (unless Grom successfully defends) in turn 7

Clanrat 5:
- Succeeds an attack roll against Bjorn, but fails to penetrate DR in Turn 7

Skaven Slave 2:
- Succeeds an attack roll against Rufus, the dog fails to dodge and takes another 2hp of damage in turn 7.
- 15:34, Today: Chance, on behalf of Rufus, rolled 12 using 3d6. Dodge (11).

Everyone please give me another 1 round of action. Grom, please give me a dodge or parry roll.

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: Your Dodge is at 8, your Parry at 11. You must choose one to roll 3d against. If you Parry, you cannot use your axe to attack this turn. If you choose not to defend, or if you fail your roll you will be at -4 for any skill rolls in turn 7.]

Nikolaas spills head-over-arse as he trips over the scrawny rat-man, grunting more from surprise than any pain; the display would be hilarious if not for the imminent danger of the situation, and whatever indignity the Count feels is checked by the satisfaction of knowing the artillery will not be brought to bear against him or his companions.

Hearing the nearby creature scrambling around, Nik picks himself up off the ground with as much speed as he can.

Action: Change Posture (Kneeling).
[Private to GM: I still have trouble understanding how this part works, but are my sword and buckler still "Ready"?]

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: My understanding, based on the sidebar on B380 is that your weapon/shield are still ready. "If you fall down, lose your balance, or are stunned, and your weapon is one that requires readying after each use, it becomes unready" ]
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:15, Mon 17 Dec 2012.

 Twisting at the last second from the attack, he attempts to swing his axe around and finish off the clanrat that almost struck him.

14:06, Today: Grom Ironsmiter rolled 7 using 3d6. dodge ratman /8
Attack roll: Rolled a 12 to hit(16)needed, possible damage 14.

Grigory, taking advantage of his position, slashes quickly at the exposed necks of the two fallen Skaven. The blows lack power, but he hopes they will be enough.

All out Attack (Double) - Slash once at each warpfire team's neck.

Both hit - 3 cutting damage (doubled after any natural DR) to each of them. I can't believe I rolled so well to hit and then botched the damage so badly!

19:24, Today: Grigory rolled 3 using 1d6+2. 1d+2 vs neck #2.
19:24, Today: Grigory rolled 3 using 1d6+2. 1d+2 vs neck #1.
19:23, Today: Grigory rolled 8 using 3d6. AoA(dbl)swing to neck #2=11.
19:22, Today: Grigory rolled 10 using 3d6. AoA(dbl)swing to neck #1=11.

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 12 (14 with DB)
Block: 11 (13 with DB)
Dodge:  9 (11 with DB)

HP:12/12
FP:12/12

Rufus, feeling the pain of his wounds, growls and eyes his opponent cautiously.

All out Defense (Dodge +2) for Rufus, steps to circle the ratman.

Dodge: 11

HP:13/09
FP:14/14
This message was last edited by the player at 00:31, Tue 18 Dec 2012.

Bjorn turns to the Clandat that tried to spear him, gives an eerie glare, and swings wide at its torso.

"You are next!" he quips.

Actions:
Committed Attack (Determined), Deceptive Attack.

Axe/Mace 18 + 2 (CA) - 6 (DA) = 14
     14:08, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 7 using 3d6. CA (Determined) DA (-6) Warhammer 14.
          Target defends at -3.
     17:56, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 12 using 2d6+3. Warhammer damage 2d+3 cr.
          Attack gets +2 burn from Flaming Weapon.

Notes:
Cannot Parry, Dodge -2, Block -2, Cannot Retreat.

HP: 13/13     FP: 9/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon

As von Richtgraf recovers from his collision, Grigory pounces in, quickly stabbing both creatures in the neck as they rise. The two Skaven collapse again, unconscious, wetly gurgling blood.

Rufus' Skaven, with a squeak of short-lived triumph, hurled itself at the dog. Grigory's pet, though, was ready this time and hopped out of the way. The Slave now finds itself over extended and vulnerable to a counter attack.

Grom dodged a vicious spear thrust and nearly cleaved his Clanrat in two. The other spear wielder suffers a sternum crushing blow from Bjorn and collapses unconscious.


I rolled three 15s in a row this round...

Warpfire Team:
- suffer 6hp of damage from Grigory and sufficiently fail their HT roll to collapse unconscious.

Clanrat 4:
- suffers full negative HP from Grom and is instantly killed.

Clanrat 5:
- Suffers a major wound and is unconscious

Skaven Slave 2:
- All out Attack succeeds, but Rufus dodges. Cannot defend

Do not forget about the two remaining slaves devouring Grigory's first victim. If you all can finish the three slaves (death or unconsciousness), and Warpfire team (death) this turn, I'll assume there is a short reprieve in what is coming out of the hole. You all may then drop out of combat time, bring the warpfire thrower back, and blow it (successful shot by Maurice or zap by Bjorn).

Regaining his feet at last, Nikolaas gives an approving nod to Grigory; the rat-catcher could swear he saw the ghost of a smile cross the Count's dour face, but if it did it was gone just as fast, as a moment later the grim swordsman casually sinks his blade into the closest prone Skaven. He then steps over the body, yanks his broadsword from the creature's neck, and puts his shoulder to the wheel of the artillery picks up one half of the pumping mechanism.

"Come on," he says on his way, "let's return their property."

Action: AoA on the prone dying rat-man closest (I'm sure there are rules for a finishing blow like this, but I just can't find them), then Step (toward the Warpfire Thrower).
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Tue 18 Dec 2012.

With a sadistic grin, Grigory finishes off the unconscious rat and leans to help his employer move the dangerous and unstable rat weapon.

Right hand: Shortsword
Left hand: Medium Shield

Parry: 12 (14 with DB)
Block: 11 (13 with DB)
Dodge:  9 (11 with DB)

HP:12/12
FP:12/12
This message was last edited by the player at 16:51, Tue 18 Dec 2012.

Rufus, an experienced attack dog, spots his opening and lunges for the throat of the rat and shreds it fiercely.

2 and 4 cutting damage (x2) to the neck.

11:47, Today: Rufus rolled 2,4 using d6,d6. the two bites.
11:45, Today: Rufus rolled 9 using 3d6. AOAx2 Tele bite to Neck=15.
11:45, Today: Rufus rolled 14 using 3d6. AOAx2 Tele bite to Neck=15.

Dodge: 11

HP:13/09
FP:14/14

Bjorn steps towards the nearest vermin devouring his companions and aims to bury his Warhammer in the creature's neck.

Actions:
Step and Committed Attack (Determined), Tagetted Attack (Neck)

Axe/Mace 18 + 2 (CA) - 5 (Neck) = 15
     11:05, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 13 using 3d6. CA (Determined) TA (Neck) Warhammer 15.
     11:10, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 2d6+3. Warhammer damage 2d+3 cr.
          Wounding Modifier is x1.5 for crushing damage to the neck.
          Attack gets +2 burn from Flaming Weapon.

Notes:
Cannot Parry, Dodge -2, Block -2, Cannot Retreat

HP 13/13     FP: 9/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:20, Tue 18 Dec 2012.

 Standing back from the blood flowing out of the dead clan rat at his feet before glaring at the priest manling who had taken his other kill, though in truth he knew that both would have proven less then glorious battle.

 "That would have been my kill manling, though it would have been a cheap kill at that effort." He had conflicting emotions run across his craggy face in silent war with his own battle lust before with effort he tore himself from looking at the priest and bellowing down into the dark tunnel below. "Bring your best out here and fight me!!".

With numerous Skaven either dead or dying around them, Grom and Bjorn would be able to see Grigory and von Richtgraf just making it to the warpfire team. The rat men were unable to bring the clumsy weapon to bear at all before the two humans expertly dispatched them.

In a few moments they had the whole apparatus stripped off and brought it back to the wagon. As they got close, a great sound of skittering could be heard issuing from the tunnel and below them. Now was the time to blow the tunnel.

If the group is successful in shutting the hole, the rest of the day will pass unremarkably. You will eventually make camp but a few miles from the great Battlefield in Blackfire Pass site, and will pass through it on the coming day. The site is a holy location and popular place of pilgrimage for any worshipers of Sigmar. There is a significant monastic community of warrior priests accustomed to taking in the faithful. It is also a popular rest stop for those journeying all the way through the pass as well.

Close enough.

I will need appropriate rolls from Maurice/Bjorn to strike the warpfire thrower. Since the apparatus is made largely from copper alloy, and highly conductive, Bjorn will take no penalty for not being able to see his target if you want to throw it down the hole. If you want to leave it on the edge, and stand back, that works too. The corrupting powers of warp energy in the fire will take care of destroying the opening and anything within 3 yards. Regardless, the thing is SM-1 and assume you are 6 yards away for the purposes of rolling to hit.

As far as loot goes, the slaves have nothing on them, there are three Clanrats, all with leather torso armor, one has a shield, two have spears, and one has a small sword. The armor is useless to you in its current state. The Jezzail team left their warplock rifle, and you may climb up to get it. Note that it is made using a little warpstone, and designed to fire warpstone bullets (which you may be able to find up there as well with a successful search roll) but more accurate than any firearms that you all presently have. The Warpfire team still have their bronze armor, which is also not suited to any of your use.

Apart from the required rolls, feel free to make a few rp posts up and through the coming evening. Also remember that Rufus has taken some damage, I will not be worrying about bleeding. Combat has lasted less than 10 seconds, which, if memory serves, means no lost fatigue points (I don't have the book handy).

As they haul the bizarre device toward the hole, the Count looks to Bjorn; "Be ready, your Grace; we need to finish up here." His intent is obvious, both from the nature of the device he's kicking down the hole and the roguish exhilaration in his voice; like many soldiers, it was clear that even the dour Count von Richtgraf thrilled in combat.

Nearby Maurice thumbs back the spring-loaded hammer on his blunderbuss, and with a sheepish expression says to the warrior-priest "I shall be ready to help, should you need it."

And with that, Nikolaas gives a final heave and tumbles the artillery down the hole.

Maurice will take the shot if Bjorn misses or is otherwise unable to (FP or something, I dunno), but only then; I'll roll for it and edit it in if it comes down to it.

Later on - and I only just realized this might be more appropriate for a secondary post - Nik will want to check out that Warpfire rifle. What skill would you use to wield something like that?
08:22, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 8 using 3d6. Search for Warpstone Bullets.

Bjorn smirks at Grom and says, "You must be quicker next time, master Dwarf."

He looks around for more enemies. Seeing none, he notices his companions running back with the Warpfire Thrower.

"Take great care with that contraption, friends!" he says. "Such an infernal machine can be dangerous even to carry."

Hearing the skittering of Skaven coming up, he turns to the hole, then back to Nikolaas and Grigory.

"I see it now! You gentleman are brilliant."

Bjorn steps to a safe distance from the hole as his friends bring the firepower. With a word of prayer his Warhammer becomes wreathed in sparks. He holds out his weapon, aiming towards the hole and looses a bolt when the thrower is tossed in.

Actions:
1. Step and Concentrate, casting Lightning.
     13:48, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 5 using 3d6. Lightning 14 (1d-1).
     Energy Cost: 1 - 1 = 0 FP
2. Step (if necessary) and Aim at the hole.
3. Wait until the Warpfire Thrower is tossed in the hole, then zap it with Lightning.
     13:54, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 3d6. Psychic Guidance (Lightning) 15.
     Effective Skill: 15 + 3 (Acc) - 3 (Range) = 15
     14:11, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 1 using 1d6-1. Lightning Damage 1d-1 burn.

HP: 13/13     FP: 9/12     Spells On: 1     Effects: Flaming Weapon

Bjorn's spell was little more than a few sparks, but it was enough to hit the infernal contraption, and ignite the volatile compounds within. With a huge WHOOOSH! the canisters exploded, immolating anything in the tunnels, rapidly collapsing the hastily drilled hole in a putrid green tinged fire and terrifying the mules.

and the tunnel is shut! You all are safe for the next while and, as I mentioned before, may loot the corpses, and proceed on to the point of making camp in the evening.

"Be there any injured?" says Bjorn. He allows the flames of his weapon to go out before tending to wounds.

Seeing that the hound has taken a few hits, he approaches it and lays on hands to pray over him. A light engulfs the creature, then fades, the wounds now healed. Bjorn looks a bit winded from the prayer, but he seems glad to see the dog up to full speed.

"Grigory, this dog of yours is quite the warrior. Where did you find him?"

15:04, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 12 using 3d6. Minor Healing 15 (4 HP).
     Energy Cost: 4 - 1 = 3 FP.

HP: 13/13     FP: 5/12

"He's like me, a runaway. Found him scrapping with some local dogs back in Nuln and we took to each other. He can kill rats fast as they come, usually.

"And thanks for saying the prayer for him. He's had worse, but I'm sure he'd thank you himself if he could."

Seeing Nikolaas look with an interested eye at the rat's rifle, Grigory is nervous once again.

"I don't think we should mess around with that. Stuff the rats use, the warpstone, liable to turn you into one of them before too long."

 Stomping along with the group as they passed the ambush he made sure no one wanted to talk to him as the adrenaline slowly began to fade from his system and once again the idea that he was still alive and whole. In truth he had guessed the rats would not be too much of a problem fighting unless they turned a horde loose on him.

 By the time they made camp his flask was empty of what alcohol it had contained and he was still fairly sober. He found a spot and began to clean his weapon until it gleamed once more. Most would agree though it would not hurt their feelings if he took a bath now that he was covered with some remains from the rats and their blood splashes.

When it's all said and done, Nikolaas gathers up the Skaven's warpstone rifle and looks it over with a keen, curious interest; he wondered how much different it was from his own musket, how different the heft and accuracy, how potent the charge...

He looks up when Grigory voices his concern and, cocking an eyebrow, purses his lips and nods slowly. "A wise observation, wise observation." And without any further ceremony flicks the weapon around, grips it tightly about the barrel, and smashes the stock against the nearby rock; as an afterthought, he tosses the broken weapon over the cliff-face.

Nearby, a sheepish Maurice is seeing to reloading the Count's musket; he clears his throat gently as the group pokes about the battlefield. "I should feel better about setting our camps on rockier ground tonight, gentlemen; and I'm quite sure I've stocked a butt of rum to follow just such a thing."

 Catching the word of Rum, he stopped polishing the axe blade and used his other hand to draw his canteen out. "That sounds promising, got enough to fill this up?. It isnt Bugmans but it will do for now."
 He hadnt looked as the man tossed the broken weapon away but he did say outloud to the fire. "Looks like someone has some smarts here, the witch hunters would have been all over anyone carrying one of those skaven weapons".

 He leaned back and again wondered if he should have gone down into the skaven tunnels but shook his head and made the barrels on his beard tinkle lightly. Knowning that he would not have died a honorable death and he would not give the stinking vermin that pleasure of killing him there.

 "So, if i remember correctly, there is a shrine to sigmar close by, you headed that way?". He knew that sigmar pilgrims often stopped off there to offer tribute and to spend the night on the grounds.

With Rufus healed and the warplock destroyed, the party progresses onward for the rest of the afternoon, finally stopping on a large, flat outcrop of rocks. There they passed the night without incident.

The journey was beginning to take on signs of the mundane until late morning on the next day when the group began to approach the ancient battlefield of Blackfire Pass. Upon rounding a particularly sharp turn, you all see the ground open up ahead of you into a grassy, highland, meadow. The shrine itself and any outbuildings are obscured behind a steep rise, but ahead is a loud and agitated group of people. When you draw near the situation begins to unfold itself.

A group of fanatics and flagellants had congregated. Those who, after losing everything in some way or another, devote themselves to Sigmar in a way entirely different from the priesthood. Roving around, they proclaim any perceived impending doom, or seek out "chaos cultists" to bring to justice. It was just one of these "cultists" that had gotten this particular group riled up. A woman likely not older than eighteen lay at the feet of the mob. Sobbing, beaten, and unable to protest, the flagellants were all shouting that an enormous, violent red mark that covered half of her face was clearly a chaos mutation. Upon seeing a warrior priest in your group, they surge forward all shouting at once.

Eventually a spokesman is pushed forward, an old man in his fifties with bright white hair, and hollow, dead, eyes. He looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Priest of Sigmar! This evil woman is a priestess of Nurgle that we have found trying to infiltrate this most holy shrine of Sigmar. We, the 'Bruised Band of the Devoted' have captured her. But, sadly my lord, we lack the authority to carry out justice. We call upon you, in the name of Holy and Great Sigmar to smite the heretic with your holy hammer!"

A secondary crowd of pilgrims and travelers of not quite such a zealous mind had gathered nearby to observe the goings on. Above on the rise stood numerous silhouettes of warrior priests, also watching, but also not apparently willing to intervene.

What will you do?
[Private to Nigel Plaskitt: You would be part of the secondary group, who had gathered to see what was going on. Feel free to post as you see fit.]
[Private to Bjorn Jorgensen: Note that you sense nothing evil or Chaos related around the girl, but the mob is very unlikely to believe you.]

Bjorn readies his warhammer and buckler as he walks amidst the crowd. When he finds the woman, he shoos away the fanatics.

"Back away! Silence yourselves!" he says. "She shall be harmed no further till her fate be decided."
Assuming they comply...
"I have great confidence in your faith, you, the Bruised Band of the Devoted. Certainly you would not so mar a woman without definitive evidence of your accusations, for Our Lord the Great and Might Sigmar is not pleased with the senseless assault of the innocent." He holds out his warhammer, pointing at the crowd as he turns about. "Bring forth such proof immediately, or be judged according to your sins."

He mutters a short prayer, and his warhammer glows white-hot with holy fire.

10:57, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. Burning Touch 15 (1d).

Intimidation 13 + 1 (Callous) - 3 (15 people) + ?
     10:56, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 13 using 3d6. Intimidation 11 + ?
          Hoping for a +1 for appropriate dialogue and +1 to +4 for displays of supernatural powers.

A tall man dressed in leathers and carrying a bow steps forward from the second crowd of pilgrims and addresses Bjorn, "I've done my share of interrogations when I was serving in Bretonnia, perhaps I can help you determine whether her afflictions are of her own doing."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:15, Wed 26 Dec 2012.

 He knew of flagellants and their sense of doom. Still he was not of a mind to much care what they thought of him or the girl. Shouldering his way alongside the priest to the girl he moved next to her and cupped her face in his best gentle way he knew how and examined the face.

 Releasing her carefully he looked up at Bjorn, "Dont think she is tainted anymore then anyone else who has a birthmark. Though i suspect we could strip everyone down here and find more birth marks amongest this crowd".
 Waving his hands towards the mountains, he bellows out to the flagellants around them, "Morden bear witness and Sigmar, those hills and mountains are crawling with vermin like the ones we killed down the trail a bit. If ya want to kill chaos then get up there where the cultists and vermin hide."

The Count steps off the wagon, but does not stray far; he watches the proceedings from nearby, ready to lend a hand if the mob gets unruly, but otherwise recognizing he's out of his depth. He watches the crowd carefully, expecting a surge toward the girl at any moment, and idly pats the snout of one of the mules.

Surprisingly, it is Maurice who points out the distant warrior-priests to Nikolaas; he furrows his brow curiously, but maintains his position near the wagon assessing the situation.

[Private to GM: I just remembered: has Maurice had time to fix the Gate Captain's pistol yet?]

The fanatics trip and fall over themselves to comply with the Warrior Priest. All but their spokesman, who follows closely behind groveling about, prostrate themselves.

"Careful my lord, do not get too close to that she devil." The old man intones.



"Good Priest! W-what other proof do you need? The taint is there on the witch's face, clear as day."

As this exchange was taking place, a few of the flagellants got up from the ground and began to peer into the wagon bed. Upon seeing the cloth, one shouts over to Helmut, the apparent name of the spokesman. The next thing the fanatics saw was Bjorn's hammer light up.

"My brothers! today is truly a blessed day! Not only has the priest brought us, freely given, the smoothest of fabrics with which we might renew our ragged clothing, but Sigmar himself has lit this hammer with the holy fire of the Twin Tailed Comet." Helmut turned back to address Bjorn, indicating the hammer as though its wielder had not noticed the spell. "What other proof do you need Holy Father? Sigmar clearly is showing you his judgement. The girl must be destroyed"

[Private to Nikolaas von Richtgraf: Assume that, yes, he finished repairs last night. A Wheel-Lock pistol like the one listed on B278]

"Am I so blind to her countenance that you think me a fool?" says Bjorn. He walks among the crowd, eying each fanatic and responding, not merely to the spokesman, but to all that hear him. "If this mark were sufficient evidence to condemn her, would I demand yet further proof of her iniquities?

"This here mark may be naught but a naevus, caused, not by her transgressions, but by unfortunate birth. Shall we add to the misery of such an uncomely mark by accusing her also of witchery? Have we so stripped ourselves of our humanity that we should see she who should be cared for by the church* as one who is deserving, rather, of reprobation? Nay! Forbear your hatred till such a day as she manifest deeds of evil. This mark is indeed cause for concern; keep watch over her that she not stray from the path of righteousness, but be not so consumed with your cause that you become the very Chaos you so despise, my brethren.

Noting the mans abject confusion, Bjorn points his warhammer directly at Helmut and approaches him.

"Know this, man: those wares belong neither to me nor the Church. I am sworn by oath to guard them; dare me not to protect them from the likes of you, for we share in a common faith and need not be at odds."

14:39, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. Public Speaking 12.

* the local assembly, not the catholic (universal) establishment
This message was last edited by the player at 22:42, Fri 28 Dec 2012.

From his place on the wagon's bench, Maurice raises up his coaching whip and shakes it menacingly at the rabble. Without wanting to bring it slashing down at the peasants below him, the old servant has often been called upon to protect his master's property, and is prepared to lend his hand in dispersing - or upsetting - the mob.

Below him and beside the wagon, a dark glare crosses the Count's expression. He spits aside, tries to catch either Grom or Grigory's eye, and approaches behind the man that called out to Helmut; without a word of warning or a moment of ceremony, the Count grips the man by his ragged collar, hauls him off the wagon and shoves him stumbling away. Having grabbed the attention of a few of the surrounding rabble, the Count growls angrily "This load is not for the likes of you, nor will any man see a single copper farthing "freely given" from Nikolaas von Richtgraf; obey the Priest or heed the Dwarf, but trifle with my property and I promise you will regret it."

He keeps his eye on those nearby, scowling menacingly, and waits. He was more comfortable with a weapon in hand, but that would have escalated things much more quickly than he would like; for now, he simply holds his ground.

OOC
Man, I never put any points into Intimidate, and I've never regretted it... until just this moment.

 He could see now why he had never seen any of these crazies down in the karaks of his own people before. The were rude and were prone to make rash statements and to most dwarves that did not sit well or even with his own mind.

 He could see the wagon master telling the crazy's to bugger off and he added his voice to the clamor, "You in a hurry to go meet sigmar?, fine, let one of you crazies take anything out of that wagon or lay hands on this girl again and i personally will take offense towards you and will see how many of you i can send on the realm of sigmar. On that you have my word."

The Flagellants blinked curiously at Grom and von Richtgraf, completely nonplussed at their threats. Bjorn's fiery oratory, though, had a clear effect and they all began to back off. A few, especially Helmut, grumbled, while others, again fell to the ground and began to beat themselves in penitence.

Some of the rest of the crowd began to disperse, and the girl began to calm slightly so she was now silently weeping. One of the group, a woman dressed in all black got up from where she was sitting on a pile of rocks. It was clear from the way her cloak hung that she was heavily armed. You notice at least two pistols and a sword. Strangely, she began to applaud.

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: I rolled a check for you against your intimidation skill that you did not pass. Feel free to roll checks like this in the future if you attempt to intimidate someone of a group of people]

"Bravo! I must say, priest, that was an impressive speech."

The woman sauntered over to you confidently and with a bit of a smirk on her face. As she got close, you realize that she is missing an eye and an instant later, with a tug of fear in your chest, you realize who she is. Benedikta Herzlos is famous or, rather, infamous, throughout the Empire. She is one of the most effective and callous Witch Hunters in her order. All of you probably know some horror stories about her, and some of those are probably true.

When she was a little girl, she was captured by Norse raiders and taken into slavery. No one knows what happened to her in frozen Norsca, or how she escaped, but her story picks back up when she appeared as a girl of seventeen, on the doorstep of a small Sigmarite shrine. One of her eyes had taken on a chaos mutation and grown huge and misshapen. When the priests refused to give her sanctuary, on account of her eye, it is said that she plucked it out in front of them, threw it at her feet, and claimed that she would do all in her power to repudiate and destroy Chaos if they would but take her in and train her.

Now she stood in front of you. Tall, slight, and potentially beautiful if not for her missing eye. In an instant she drew one of her pistols, aimed and fired in Rufus' general direction and terrifying the animal. Re-holstering the weapon the Witch Hunter began to speak slowly and languidly.

"I... have... been following you since Grenzstadt and... am happy to finally catch up to you." Turning to the flagellants and onlookers, her voiced raised and became impassioned "THESE men opened a chaos portal outside of the great city of Grenzstadt, killing dozens and dozens of innocents. We have a single surviving witness to attest to the fact that this group invited putrid demons of Nurgle to a large and beautiful inn, apparently its beauty was too distasteful for them, before fleeing in the dark of night. Since then they have deceived and lied to a group of Empire soldiers, used warpfire to kill in the most vicious way possible, some innocent Skaven-" For a moment, she paused as though she struggled to utter the next few words "and appear to have eaten some of their victims."

"Now, they attempt to free a captured witch of chaos before our very eyes, and you all dare to let the lot of them go free! Your shame is great indeed, but you may redeem yourselves if you help me hold them until the REAL warrior priests get here to put them in custody."

The Warrior priests seem to have been roused by the gunshot and are quickly making their way down the slope to you.

[Private to Grigory: You are especially familliar with Benedikta, her having lead your interrogation in Nuln.]

"Listen not to her falsehoods!" Bjorn says. "This woman is a Witch Hunter, yet here she masquerades to deceive us all. She wants for evidence of her tall tales, for she was present at none of these occurrences to retell the truth. To accuse me—a Warrior Priest of Sigmar, of the Order of the Silver Hammer—of such crimes is naught but the most heinous blasphemy!

"I will tell you the tale in truth: A chaos portal did open in Grenzstadt, but we did not open it. Nay! Rather, we battled the demons as they came forth and helped those nearby to escape to safety. Having among us not the numbers to combat the evil that approached, we evacuated the city, having beforehand made a pact to guard this caravan with our lives.

"We did indeed encounter Empire soliders on our journey, but we did not lie to them! May it never be! Instead, we warned them of that from which we fled! After paying the toll, we continued on towards this place, having left the guards in peaceful circumstances.

"We did forsooth encounter Skaven on our path, but they were not innocent. Have any one of you every met an innocent Skaven? Anyone?! Nay! For there is no such creature! Like all Skaven, they were bloodthirsty, and sought not to greet us warmly, but to murder us and likely steal that which we were sworn to guard. They ambushed us from an outcropping near the road and with infernal contraptions sought to send us to our graves.

"There was, most definitely, a warpfire thrower among the weapons of the Skaven, as well as a warpstone-infused firearm. Were these our weapons? Nay! For are not Skaven the vilest creatures, being obsessed with such vile weaponry? They used such weapons against us!

"What would any sensible caravan guard do in this situation but defend himself from the Skaven?! And that is what we did, but even as they fell before us, one by one, they began to consume the corpses of their fallen compatriots, even before our very eyes. Is this unheard of among the rats? Nay! For they are known to have such a hunger that they would even consume their own before the end of the battle had come."

He pauses for a moment, looking around at his audience.

"Children of Sigmar! Will you permit this woman to deceive you into turning against me, naught but a humble servant of our Lord Sigmar?! Did I not show you the error of your ways, that she may not be tainted? And indeed she is not tainted by Chaos! Look now, not at her face, but at her heart! She would have you all be made murderers for her unjust cause! May it not be, my brethren! For she seeks not the will of Almighty God, but her own insidious treachery!

"Apprehend her before she leads astray the Children of God! Let not her comrades come to her aid, but you come to ours in this time of great need!"

15:31, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. Public Speaking 12.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Tue 01 Jan 2013.

Grigory sticks closely to Nikolaas as the mob states its case against the woman. He was not one for moral high grounds, and all of his instincts said to either run from the mob or failing that go along with whatever it wanted to avoid a conflict.

His demeanour changed drastically at the sight of the Benedikta. His hand closed tightly on the pommel of his sword, but he did not draw.

Around clenched teeth, Grigory hissed to his employer: "That is the creature who chased me out of Nuln. She looks human, but the rats whisper in her ear. She is one of them!"

Rufus bared his teeth and growled at the mob. They would have a fight if they chose to turn against the caravan.

10:38, Today: Rufus rolled 9 using 3d6. Intimidation against the mob - 13.

The Count's expression changes slightly as the Witch-Hunter makes herself known, from annoyance to grim suspicion; with the presence of one of her ilk, the likelihood of bloodshed and mob-violence was practically assured.

On the wagon's bench and still clutching his whip, Maurice eyes the woman and crowd nervously. He actually yelps as she fires off a shot at Rufus, and his attention is drawn to controlling the mules for a moment; at the same moment Nikolaas, nearby, reaches a hand under his demi-cloak and grips the hilt of his own pistol. Casting a quick look to Rufus and seeing the animal unhurt, he doesn't draw it. Yet. For now, the priest had a parlay going, and that could still be maintained.

His opinion changes considerably as she speaks, and the nearby guards can hear him mutter to himself in echo "Innocent Skaven?", and his expression darkens further still as he strokes the butt of his pistol with a thumb.

Nik looks over his companions as Bjorn replies, mentally calculating their situation from a tactical as well as moral standpoint; could the few of them even survive a press from this big a crowd? With their lives in danger anyway, should they hesitate to cull these peasants like sheep? He had the moral superiority of a man travelling with an ordained priest, and the social high-ground of a nobleman protecting a besieged girl, but if that would make a difference when confronted by these numbers and this madness he simply couldn't tell.

It was then that Grigory spoke to him, and the Count turned to him with a cocked eyebrow; he studied the rat-catcher's face for a long second, trying to decide if this was more madness or genuine concern and decided that, since she had already begun rousing the crowd against them, the time for talk was fast fading. He nodded as Grigory spoke, and pulled his pistol at last and leveled it at the Witch-Hunter.

"Let me be clear:" his voice is loud, firm, authoritative, and edged with anger, like aged nobility, "the girl will not be harmed, this cargo will not be stopped, and you people will not avenge the Skaven dead. And should this rabble attempt any of these things, Huntress, I shall be obliged to shoot you where you stand."

"I may not worship Sigmar, but where I come from we don't accuse anyone, especially priests, of summoning chaos without proof." Nigel says as he walks over to Nikolaas' wagon from the edge of the crowd of travelers that had gathered along the path, "It seems to me that you're trying to turn the crowd against these men, probably so that you can profit from their cargo. Though I do not know them, I will not stand for it."

He quickly draws an arrow from his hip quiver and readies his bow, waiting to shoot the witchhunter or the mob if they should rush the wagon.

08:53, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 7 using 3d3. Fast Draw Arrow 16.
08:53, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 6 using 3d3. Fast Ready Bow 17.

The Huntress' expression fell slightly, and but momentarily. She was starting to lose control over the crowd, but seemed totally unfazed by the drawn arrow.

"RIDICULOUS! Listen to them, all of you! they dare to defy me, Benedikta, entitled and greatest Huntress in the land. Do you all not think that they would try and weasel their way out of this? O yes, Chaos is a wily and slippery thing."

"But, if you are swayed by their bloviation, that is alright. I will not fault you, but think of this. Who will those Warrior Priests believe, who do you think they will reward? Me, Benedikta, or some no name 'priest' and a band of ruffians? I do not ask you to subdue them, but only to keep them here but a moment longer until they can be taken into custody."

She glanced at Grom, seemingly noticing him for the first time. "Master Dwarf, I know that your kind is not susceptible to this vile taint humans are afflicted with. I know not how you came to be with these, but I have no quarrel with you, I hope you know."

The other Warrior Priests were moving quickly and would join the rest of the crowd (now murmuring among themselves and unsure of what to do) soon. The girl, though, now totally forgotten, was quietly and unsteadily getting to her feet.

12:03, Today: Secret Roll: Benedikta Herzlos rolled 11 using 3d6. Suggest (14).
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Wed 02 Jan 2013.

 He had stood by the girl while the question of who was doing what went back and forth between the witchhuntress and the priest of sigmar. When she paused to speak to him he felt his lips tighten into a thin line in his craggy face as he considered her words.

 "Well, moridan has graced the dwarves with hard heads and hard bodies. It is true enough that there are few of the dwarven clan that fall to the taint of chaos, still it comes back to your charges against us."
 Waving a warriors calloused hand towards the priest "All i can say is what i saw,while there and truthfully that was not much since the chaos scum attacked while i was sleeping. But i do know that these men here warned those within the inn that their position could not be held against the portal and that all should flee.
 Now it grates my soul that we should flee but i can not just throw my self away in unwinable combat.

 So i joined with these Manlings to make sure the merchant here got his cargo to where its going. Now i wonder..Witchhunteress, have you chased the vile chaos so much that it has finally caught you?."

"The charlatan would even abuse her authority to subjugate those who would oppose her tyranny! Be not swayed by her ruse!" He points his glowing hammer at the bowman who just nocked an arrow. "Even this man, who knows well of this woman's fame, sides, not with her, but with us: men he neither knows nor has any reason to trust. Hear, too, his words! For though he be not a believer, he has the cognizance to see the truth: SHE HAS NO EVIDENCE AGAINST US!

"Verily, brethren, I intend for no harm to come to any in this ordeal, but this woman seeks not a peaceful resolution. She would damn you all without a thought! Forsooth, the taint has taken hold of more than her eye; it has hold of her heart! She desires nothing more than to use us all to further her own fame—fame that is naught but friendship of the world! And you all know well that friendship of the world is enmity with Almighty Sigmar!

"Forget not this symbol of power I wield!" he says, holding up his white hot glowing warhammer. "Do you think it a sign no longer, this heavenly blessed weapon bathed in the flames of the Twin Tailed Comet? Stand you with this mountebank? Against us? Against SIGMAR?! May it never be, my brethren! If you have not the courage to stand with us now, flee that we may bring her to judgment!"

23:22, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 14 using 3d6. Public Speaking 12.
     Well, he stumbled over a few words, paused awkwardly at some point, etc. Dang. I was doing so well. XD
23:23, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 9 using 3d6. Intimidation 11 + ?
     Not expecting the +1 for appropriate dialogue since I failed the Public Speaking roll, but still hoping for the +1 to +4 for displays of supernatural powers (Twin Tailed Comet flaming hammer).
     The intent here is to use the potential of going against Sigmar as leverage for discouraging them from helping her (either helping us or fleeing).

The crowd appeared more uncertain than anything else, with legitimate fear to be found in a few people's faces. Then, one at a time, everyone began to back away. The Flagellants and the other onlookers.

Seeing her support lost, the Witch Hunter visibly raged. "I will see each of you burn for but your baseless accusations alone. Do you really think you can get away? You have no where to go! Back down the pass there will be soldiers waiting. Forward, you will have to plow through some of the fiercest Warrior Priests in the Empire. These simpletons have been fooled but it will matter not in the end." She hissed through clenched teeth at you all.

Behind the seething woman, the Warrior Priests, ten of them, were definitely getting closer and you all can hear the clanking of their plate armor, or see it clearly enough. Also behind Benedikta, you see the girl you rescued sway slightly and then bolt away.

Grigory's tongue stuck in his throat. He was glad to see the mob disperse, but that just made clear how much more desperate the situation was. Grigory would almost have preferred the mob - he had been chased by more than one in his lifetime. But if each of these priests wielded even half the power he had seen in Bjorn's hands, there was no hope of winning a fight.

Grigory's beady eyes darted across the pass like a trapped animal's, searching desperately for means of escape.

09:28, Today: Grigory rolled 9 using 3d6. Observation 14.

Nigel turns towards Benedikta, his bow now clearly aimed at her, "I would not be so sure that we are the ones who need to fear these priests. You on the other hand have made baseless accusations against these men who everyone perceives to be honest travelers and merchants, methinks they come to reprimand you."

"But even if they do not, this is a fine group and I would gladly fight alongside them against your unjust accusations." he says with a grim smile on his face, then addressing Nikolaas he says, "I shoot at your command."

Bow is still pulled back, and that's another wait maneuver to attack as soon Nikolaas gives the order or as she makes any kind of move for a weapon.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Thu 03 Jan 2013.

"My baseless accusations alone?" Bjorn says. As the crowd retreats, his demeanor leaks all serenity, and his countenance becomes agitated. "Have you not heard yourself, you hypocrit!? On what basis stands THE WHOLE OF YOUR ACCUSATION!? NOTHING!! The very foundation of your case is a lie! I know not who it was that opened the portal of chaos, but it was not us! And how dare you use the name Almighty Sigmar to justify such treachery!? If you intend to apprehend us on false pretense, I will end you myself—if it be the last thing I do.

As long as talking is a free action, Bjorn readies his warhammer and buckler.
Such profanation of The Order from Bjorn's perspective, is so abhorrent that he may need some convincing if we are to flee.

Benedikta extended her arms outward, inviting the two men to take a shot. Her face seemed serene, as though she felt herself a martyr on the verge of slaughter. Before she could hiss at them any further, a large, square shaped, Warrior Priest stormed up. Completely bald but for a square cut beard, the man was puffing slightly from his quick descent but still appeared formidable, and as though he could easily wield the two-handed maul strapped to his back. His gold trimmed and heavily decorated armor indicated this priest as the leader of the group and likely the most senior at the shrine.

"What in the name of the two Arch Lectors is going on here?!" Benedikta spun around triumphantly, and took a knee before the priest. His look indicated no surprise, nor did his tone upon recognizing and greeting her. "Benedikta. Rise Huntress, and tell me what is going on."

His gaze shot to the rest of the group, and darkened visibly. "Warrior Priest. I will have you stand down and get your friends to do the same. My men will gladly spill your blood otherwise."

He retreated a few steps away with the Witch Hunter, out of earshot and to confer quietly. As they walked away, she stole what appeared to the priests to be a fearful glance behind her at your group. You all can see, though, her smug and triumphant look and you half expect her to stick her tongue out at you like a little girl.

As the two speak, the other nine priests arrive and begin to disperse the crowd back up the hill.

Sighting the Huntress down the length of his pistol, the Count keeps his attention on the woman but speaks sideways to Nigel. "Pleased to hear it" he says with the slightest smile curling the side of his cheek. Noticing the nearby Grigory's darting gaze, he adds quietly "Steady on, lad, steady; we'll walk away from this yet, mark me."

He speaks with quietly assured confidence, but if he truly feels it himself is unclear, and in fact doubtful when the other Warrior Priests descend the hill. For a moment he thinks of the girl he left at home and the likely ruination of his family, and curses himself for agreeing to this fool's errand in the first place, but soon steals himself for whatever should happen next.

As the Warrior Priests joined the crowd Nik raises his pistol, uncocks it and stuffs it back into his belt. Turning to Nigel he says "Lower your weapon, archer" and, with a grateful nod, walks past him toward Bjorn whispering along the way "Grateful to you; stay ready".

Sidling up alongside Bjorn, the Count takes a moment to survey his companions and then the nearby Warrior Priests. He speaks quietly though not confidentially, for all intents and purposes mirroring the same council of war that opposes them. He scowls at Benedikta as she faces them, but doesn't otherwise react.

"A fine speech, your Grace; as good as any I've heard, 'pon my soul it was. Do you think it will be enough? I'm prepared to denounce her for the 'innocent Skaven' remark alone, should you think it helpful."

Nigel relaxes his bow and stows the arrow back in his quiver at the Count's order. He follows Nikolaas and stands with him and Bjorn, "The name is Nigel m'lord. If things turn sour once more, you can be assured that I will put an arrow in that foul woman's eye."

 He stood steady with his axe at a cross body stance wondering why manlings made such a big fuss over their religion's. Still the idea of being called a vessel of chaos had lit a slow simmer in his soul and now the big shots had finally chosen to come off their high point, still if they sided with the witch hunter then this was as good a place for his doom to take place as any other place out there.

 He did mutter loud enough so everyone near by could hear, by moridans hammer, if she was there then why is i did not see her anywhere or see her charging the chaos forces at the time?.

At the command of his fellow Priest, Bjorn lowers his weapon and shield and checks to see that his companions do the same. He then takes a knee with Benedikta and hangs his head, rising only when commanded to do so.

Before the leader walks away, he says, "Father, I have the utmost faith that you will deal with us in all fairness—as would Almighty Sigmar. For that, you have my utmost gratitude."

20:35, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 11 using 3d6. Diplomacy 12 (Influence Roll).

When the Witch Huntress is taken aside, he turns to Grom and says, "A fine observation indeed, master Dwarf. Were she present during the incident, she would know well that the portal was not of our doing. I surmise that she failed to identify the true culprit and required a scapegoat to retain her dignity. It brings me great sadness that she values reputation above morality. I find that the most dangerous effect of Chaos is not the taint of the flesh, but that of the heart. How overlooked is the taint of the heart! More remediable it is, but much less plainly manifest."

As Nikolaas approaches, he turns to him also and says, "Your words are most kind, Count, but mine were as much to protect my brethren as ourselves. Were she afforded the opportunity to speak unchallenged, they would be upon us unwittingly inside half an hour. I could not permit her to turn them from the path of righteousness by her manipulative menticide. My tongue is not so silvered as hers, but I spoke the truth. Sigmar is merciful to the righteous. I pray and have faith that He will honor us for the veracity with which I met her devious stragatem."

As the Huntress withdraws, Grigory and Rufus circled to keep as much distance from her as possible.

On hearing the dwarf's question and the priest's theory, he spoke up in an urgent and conspiratorial whisper: "You don't know her. She kept me for days in the darkness in a cell under Nuln. She can twist a man's mind with her words and strike at his heart with her gaze.

"If she was at the Chaos gate it must have been because she created it, and then when her task failed she summoned her rat allies to finish the job. You heard her! She thinks those fanged monsters with their pointed noses and cruel blades can be innocent. I would not be surprised if she were hiding a tail under that black cloak of hers."

Nikolaas nods when Nigel introduces himself, thinking this as good a time as any, and says "Happy to meet you, Nigel; I am the Count von Richtgraf, and this is my convoy. This is Grom Ironsmiter, Grigory - mind his dog - upon the wagon sits my factor Maurice and the silver-tongued sermonizer is Bjorn Jorgenson of the Order of the Sigmarites", he indicates each man in turn with an open handed gesture before continuing. "And we are all much obliged to you for your assistance. Sadly I have little to offer by way of thanks, but if you care to sign on with the caravan I shall see to it you are properly paid; you're courage is evident enough, as is your speed," he says the last with a nod to the man's bow; "Though should you have other obligations I'll understand, and see to it you are at least somehow rewarded."

Speaking with the gathered crew, he grunts his agreement with Grom. "It would be easy enough for her to have been unnoticed at the Inn that night, and if she knew - or had planned - where the Skaven ambush would take place she could have sat in hiding and watched from a mile away with a decent glass. In any event, if she was there, she wasn't doing Sigmar's work. And as you say, your Grace, Sigmar is merciful to the righteous."

He listens to Grigory as the rat-catcher speaks, unsure of how much is fact and how much delusion, but he sympathizes with madmen and so hears him out completely. He lays a hand on Grigory's shoulder and grips him tightly for a moment, a gesture he's used dozens of times on squirrelly soldiers before a battle. "I swear to you, Grigory, as long as you are in my employ I will use any power I may have to keep you from her ministrations, but you must take care when making accusations, even against that whore of Chaos. Say nothing that will give them cause to think us guilty or frightened."

Taking his hand from the man's shoulder, Nik looks past him and surveys the area for a moment. "Where's the girl? I want her kept safe - away from the mob and that Huntress - until it should become necessary to... pass judgement."

OOC
Do we know where the girl is and, if she isn't "behind enemy lines" so to speak, would it be safe to gather her up? I won't just send the lads into needless danger, but I do want to secure her in either case.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Fri 04 Jan 2013.

The conversation between the Priest and Benedikta grew more heated, it was clearly not going the way she expected. With a firm "Enough!" the former brought the conversation to a halt and stomped over to the wagon.

"The accusations Benedikta lays against you are extremely serious. While she is a terrible actor, and I suspect her to be over blowing things-"

"You ignorant bastard!"

"Silence woman! I will not be spoken to in such a manner. Rolf."

Another priest, sporting a hideous scar down his whole face, and presumably Rolf steps closer and begins herding the Huntress up the slope. She attempts to shove him away ineffectively, until the priest picks her up and slings her over his shoulder. Without a look back, or a word Rolf starts trudging away with her.

"As I was saying, her version of things seem a bit unbelievable to me. I cannot, though, dismiss them out of hand. So. I will hear your telling tonight and make my decision in the morning. We cannot allow you to be armed, even you Warrior Priest, only those sworn to serve this shrine may carry arms and armor. Please pile everything in the wagon, and we will safe guard it until I make my decision."

Georg, see to it that they disarm, and then drive the wagon to the stables. You may stay at the hostel, on the charity of the Shrine. Wait for me to call for you."

Another Warrior Priest, with a thick, bushy, beard steps forward and gestures to the wagon with a grunt. The senior priest starts walking up the hill without another word to you.

Presuming you agree to disarm, you make your way up with the priests and a few stragglers from the crowd to the top of the rise. There the ground flattens out dramatically to a beautiful scene. You can see snow capped mountains around and above you with environs below edged in pines. The Dwarf road continues, strait as an arrow across the flat field and disappears on the far side, about a mile away. On your right you see the hostel, which would stand for a respectable Coaching Inn elsewhere in the Empire. You assume (and would be right) that there is alcohol and food to be had there for free, and a good, comfortable bed.

To the left of the road is a small sized, but beautifully appointed basilica. Attached to it are squat, rectangular buildings that serve as the priests' quarters and stable.

I am not going to make you all re-type everything that happened at the inn again. Assume that, throughout the evening, you are each summoned, in turn. The man from earlier, Karl Acht listens stonily to you, asks few questions and then dismiss you. Benedikta will also be interviewed again, and you better believe that she will use all the skills in her arsenal to do you harm. Bjorn may want to roll against Captivate. Anyone with the Alcoholism Disadvantage will have to roll against Will to avoid a binge. If you fail, make the appropriate rolls to determine how drunk you will be during your interview. Otherwise, feel free to make various tavern or bedding down posts.

To answer Nik's question, the girl is out of sight and the priests seem uninterested, or may not have even noticed her.

[Private to Grom Ironsmiter: PM me if you fail your Will roll and I will go over the binge rules with you.]

 He went along to see what was up the hill but they would have trouble when they tried to take his axe. Instead he would offer them his word not to start trouble but as a slayer he was not suppose to surrender his weapon.

 Now hearing one of the men talking about the chance of having alcohol at the inn here he was torn between having a chance to drink without having to pay  for a drop of it or fighting those trying to take his weapon.

 He could still break a neck easy enough later but it had been almost a day since his last drink and that is what let him set his axe down carefully while watching the big manling with the pitifull beard on him. "I will hold you responsible for my weapons care manling, its my clans weapon".

In response to Nikolaas' offer of work Nigel replies, "It so happens that I am in need of work; the group I was traveling paid me only paid for the passage from my homeland, so I find your offer most agreeable in nature and timing."

Nigel unstrings his bow and stows shortsword his gear in the wagon, since he will be signing on to guard it after this debacle is through. He takes only enough money to pay for his night in the inn and a hot meal, but decides to avoid drinking anything for the evening so that his mind will be clear when he speaks with Karl Acht. He recounts the events that transpired and how the absurdity of Benedikta's claims caused him to stand up for those he had never met, then he returns to the inn to iron out the details of his contract with Nik.

"How far are we traveling and what is the wage?" Nigel asks.

Bjorn disarms, as instructed, and makes his way to the hostel.

When summoned for questioning, he recounts the tale as he did to the crowd in rebuttal against Benedikta, outlining in particular the absurdity of the idea of "innocent" Skaven and the sheer lack of basic evidence in the foundation of her accusation. He vouches on his honor for the character of his companions and expresses concern on account of the devious nature of Benedikta's deception. It seems to him that no one is safe from her self-serving rampage—either to cover up her failure, or something of an even more despicable nature.

After a tiring exposition, if permitted, he returns to the hostel to eat meat, drink mead, and sleep early. It has been a long day.

00:35, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 8 using 3d6. Public Speaking 12.
     Telling a good tale to hold their attention.
00:36, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 10 using 3d6. Captivate 12.
     If he gains their support, Bjorn will request freedom to leave on the morrow with his companions and will recommend that Benedikta be detained until her activities in Grenzstadt be investigated and she repent of her sins.

HP: 13/13     FP: 4/12

 Finding the tavern/inn he pushes forward to the bar and softly bellowed out, "What ever you got that is strong enough to melt metal i will have. I will guess that you dont have any bugmans brew stuck under the counter somewhere?."

 Grabbing his tankard he finds a table as near to the fire as he can and props his feet up while seeing how fast he can drain the tankard, searching for the oblivion that drink used to bring him and relief from the shame that haunts him when ever his awake.

Nik relents along with the others, grudgingly surrendering his weapons into the wagon, but when the burly Georg holds a hand out for the reigns Maurice gives a surprisingly indignant scowl at the man and stubbornly folds his arms across his flabby chest. "Hrmph! Think I'd trust a stranger with this load, with these beasts, what I've coaxed cross hill, vale, battle and terror with naught but this whip and these hands? You must be mad! I've held my post before bandits and beasts, you don't frighten me nor do you give me orders! Why, I ought-"

His uncharacteristically rising temper is stemmed by a fierce glare from the Count, who simply steps in front of Georg and holds his hand out for the reigns, which the red-faced servant hands over without a further word of protest, just a steady grumble and a spiteful chewing. "Now is neither the time, nor the place, old badger; steady on." The Count keeps his servant's gaze for a moment before handing the reigns to the big priest behind him; before they are passed off he holds his grip stubbornly, forcing the stronger man to tug it from his grasp while wearing a mask of civility. When the pass is finally complete, the Count adds sternly "My man will check the load throughout our stay; make whatever arrangements are necessary with your sentries."

During his interview, the Count is careful to observe the proper civilities, knowing he is representing more than himself, and sticks to the truth of the story; he is somewhat nervous about the episode at the first gate, having to explain that he had hired a wanted man without knowing it, and is suddenly concerned about how much of their defense comes down to ignorance and poor luck. From the few courts he had attended, he remembered those as flimsy defenses indeed.

Perhaps impertinently, as the interview nears it's end, the Count asks a few questions of his own; who had the girl been, and where was she now? He believed she was some sort of agent of theirs, but would not forgive himself if she had been taken by the mob during the confusion.

For his part, Maurice's interview consists of a staring match between himself and Acht, punctuated by the occasional flat, one-word response.

Later that evening, the Count and Maurice join the others at the hostel, both taking advantage of the services with an order of eggs, beef and beer. He felt as if he should say something, but words failed him.

When Nigel asks about the destination and the wage, it is Maurice that answers from behind his mug. His mood seems to have improved to his usual self. "Our first destination, master archer, is the city of Akendorf; not far now, just on the other side of the pass, and once there of course I shall pay out the lads' wages. The Count," he raises his glass before continuing, "and I will then take on a new load and a new destination, which we would be very grateful for your company, under similar contract naturally. Which reminds me!" he snaps his fingers, sets down his mug, and draws forth a small stack of paper, a pen, and an inkwell. "Must have you make your mark, Mr. Plaskitt, keeps everything nice and square and honest, eh? This guarantees your insurance and ensures that, should anything happen, your wages will go to your people."

OOC
Would you believe, the wage and destination thing has come up before and the results were not pretty. What I mean to say is I'm not trying to be intentionally evasive, but we're still not 100% sure just how much is going to be made of the load nor has there been an official agreement on what a fair wage of a travelling caravan guard/PC adventurer actually is. Whatever happens, I promise everyone a full fair share.

10:09, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 10 using 3d6. Diplomacy 11.
I also have Savoir Faire (Military & High Scoiety) if they would be appropriate.

"Work, food, a wage; what more can a man ask for?" Nigel says with a smile as he signs his name on the contract, "I've no kin in these lands or those from whence I come, so if I die I'll thank you to give me a proper burial, then you can keep the rest. Course, I don't plan on dying, so plan to keep me on until I'm old and gray."

ooc: I've been a lurker since the start of the game and I remember the arguments. The amount is not important to me or to Nigel, I was just posting that so we could rp out me actually signing onto the caravan.

In the tavern, while everyone sits waiting to be interviewed, his companions notice a change in Grigory's disposition. As much as the madman wants to drink, he sits quietly in the corner and chews some bread with a glass of water. When speaking to the inn's staff he is calm and lucid.

When called, he enters the room and is immediately relieved not to see any of the witchhunter's mechanical interview aids. He answers the questions as curtly as possible, keeping to the truth and only offering as little of that as he can to satisfy the questions.

He is a little surprised when he is dismissed from the room and allowed to return to the common room freely. Only then does he allow himself to order a drink, which he sips at in terror as he awaits the judgement of the priest.

09:19, Today: Grigory rolled 7 using 3d6. Alcoholism - Will 13.

The Count sits at the table with the others, smoking his pipe and enjoying the hospitality of a solid roof, a big fire, and free food; despite the decent surroundings and free vittles, the Count's expression is dark and contemplative, and he gnaws on the end of his metal pipe distractedly. He has been at enough social events to at least try to keep his mood words light and expression airy, but he's obviously preoccupied and, besides, never does well at those events anyway.

Before long he begins mumbling about the girl that attracted the mob's ire, and Acht's apparent ignorance as to her identity. "Either she was some sort of plant for that woman," he says between pulls from his pipe, "or I've very much missed my guess... there is mystery here, lads, treacherous mystery. Stay alert." Being an experienced soldier his admonition to remain at the ready doesn't include total abstinence, as he proves by refilling his own mug, but he drinks slowly as the night goes on.

After a subdued night in the hostel, you each drift up to bed. Straw in the mattresses poke through the thin, scratchy, sheets but the hostel is largely bug and pest free while heat from the kitchens downstairs is cleverly routed upwards to take off the early spring chill.

The next morning, you are each awoken by a soft knock and a young, impossibly tall, and hairless priest. He informs you that High Priest Acht requests that you meet him in front of the Priests quarters after you have dressed. He betrayed no emotion in his delivery of the message and quietly glides away after he has woken each of you.

When you get to the meeting place, Acht is there along with seven other priests. He is clearly agitated, powerful hands wringing the grip of his maul handle that was sitting head down on the ground. He glares at each one of you before speaking.

"After meeting with each of you, I have been unable to come to any definitive conclusion as to your guilt. Therefor, I must assume you are innocent and I will not hold you here any longer, nor will I do any physical harm to you, nor can any of you stay here. I have told this to Benedikta, and she has left already."

"But, I- I do have some unfortunate news. At some point late last night, or early this morning, your wagon has disappeared from our stable. My men were able to track it some ways further through the pass, but lost the trail in the pine lands a few miles from here. This... is highly irregular and embarrassing for us. Be assured that those assigned to guard your possessions will be punished. I can offer you most of the gold in our coffers and this bag of weapons, but that is all I have to give. I-it may be that you can track down your cart where my men cannot. If that is the case, please do what you feel is best with this gold and equipment."

Karl had indicated a small bag one of the men was holding, and another large sack. After he finished speaking, the man hung his head and paused, unsure of what to do or where to look.

The priests offer you 200 Crowns while the weapon sack has 2 small round maces (sw+1 cr), a Pick (sw+1 imp), an old poorly balanced longsword (sw+1 cut -1 to skill), 2 long knives (sw-1 cut), and a short bow (thr imp) with 10 arrows.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:15, Mon 07 Jan 2013.

Nigel says nothing to the war priest, its not his job to speak independent of his employer, but his face betrays his anger. He steps forward and takes up the bag of weapons for Nikolaas, then returns to his place in the group and waits to leave.

=================================================================================

After they leave Nigel opens up the bag and carefully lays the weapons out on the ground for everyone to see.

"Well, this is a sorry lot of weapons... I guess I'll take the bow and arrows. Oh, and one of the knives if there's no objections." then Nigel turns to Nikolaas and says, "M'lord, if we can follow the trail to the woods I should be able to track the wagon from where the priests left off."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Mon 07 Jan 2013.

 Though he had managed to store a couple more jugs from the inn in his personal pack and wolfed down a large breakfast he was now sure there was more going on here then just a merchant bring trade gear across the border mountains.

 Hearing that the witch hunter was already gone even before they got up did not set well with the simmering emotions flowing just under his skin. He let his eyes trail over to the merchant they had hired on with and then to the slick employee working for him.

 With a smile he that had no Warmth to it, he nods. "Ok, lads, then it seems the witchhunter has gone on ahead to make another attempt on us. This time i would see that it is her last attempt." Looking to the solider in command he offers his thoughts. "If i were in command here i might start looking for those who are more in her employ then in taking orders from you. I might also consider the idea that for some reason the witch hunter has taken the cargo out of the wagons, what for?, i have no idea but she seems to be more then interested in us, considering how long she has chased this wagon and us".
 He snorts once with cold humor and waits for the weapons to be returned to them.

The Count visibly bridles when the news is given to the gathered troop, but he is able to restrain himself from an outright burst of violent passion; it was, in fact, Maurice who had broken the news to him scant hours before, and who had to weather his master's fury. The actual announcement was more perfunctory and official than actually groundbreaking, at least for him.

"I am dismayed," he began in a barely civil growl, "at the shoddy administration demonstrated by this temple; were you in charge of a private organization, Karl Acht, I assure you such incompetence would leave you penniless and destitute within days." The normally dour Count has never seemed overly friendly, but the tone in his voice and the clenched fists at his sides suggest that, for the first time since the voyage began, he's genuinely angry. He continues after a short breath in which he lets his last words echo through the meeting hall, then continues with the same barely restrained edge in his voice. "But you are not a man of business, nor are you a secular authority, and so I shall not judge you based on those merits. You should know that I have already penned a letter to my people in Averland detailing this debacle and the role of your charges in it. I have every expectation that you will find yourself personally reprimanded, as I have made request for in my letter, and may I add on a personal level that men of authority must hold themselves to a higher standard of diligence."

He sighs, having finished his diatribe, and nods as Nigel gathers up the sack of weapons. He frowns at the sack of gold, glancing askance at Bjorn; it was unseemly for a nobleman to handle any amount of cash, and he seemed absolutely loathe to accept such an endowment from the temple even under these circumstances. If anyone was to accept the sack of crowns, it would have to be Bjorn; Nikolaas' pride would simply not allow it in spite of the situation. He clears his throat, "The equipment is gratefully accepted, as is any help your men can provide in putting us on the trail of my missing wagon. As the goods were lost while under your stewardship, I shall send you the bill for their replacement should they prove spoiled or unrecoverable. I expect you will pass that on to your superiors, but that is not my immediate concern. Good day, your Graces."

He turns on his heel and walks stiffly away from the congregation, only losing his mask of civility when his back is turned; those that were stood behind him can clearly see him cursing under his breath as he stalks out.

When they've left the meeting hall and reconvened along the road, Nik seperates himself from the group and releases a bestial, anguished, wordless shout at the sky culminating with a violent kick that sends a neatly stacked pile of firewood into sprawling disarray. His fury spent, or at least assuaged, he fusses with his clothes and returns to the men with the his usual dour look.

"Men," he begins quietly, "our endeavour is in peril, but not lost yet; should any man of you wish to be paid out for your time, I will make whatever arrangements you should prefer. But if you would rather reclaim your belongings and avenge this insult, I invite you to join with me on the hunt." Uncharacteristically and somewhat unnervingly, the Count smiles a toothy smile as Nigel offers to track the wagon, the scar across his face wrinkling so that it almost looked like he was smiling twice at the same time. "Oh, yes, Mr. Plaskitt, I would like that of all things. What say you, lads? Shall we be off?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:32, Mon 07 Jan 2013.

Grigory is quick to defend his employer. He had seen how Nik fought the Skaven earlier and how readily he destroyed their machinery, so was rapidly growing to trust him. Besides, being hounded by terrors like this didn't seem particularly out of place to Grigory.

"You don't know this woman the way I do, Grom. She follows the orders of her rat masters. You heard how she called the rats who attack us 'innocent'. They have likely sent her because we killed their gunners and destroyed their infested weapons."

Looking over the weapons, Grigory was puzzled. "I'll take one of those maces, and a knife. And me and Rufus should be able to sniff out the witch hunter's rat-stench when we get close."

With the danger of the interrogation over, Grigory's mind was returning to its usual patterns.

Bjorn steps forward, fire ablaze in his eyes. He strides straight at the head Priest, and points his finger in his face.

"What foul treachery has befallen you that your judgment should lapse on the thing you most fervently gave your word to protect. I will have you produce every detail of the account from the guards that we be not further I conveniences by their stupidity. You will be held responsible for this. As soon as I am able, I will send word to the Grand Theogonist of your incompetance. Your apology is accepted, and your transgression forgiven, but the consequences are unavoidable. Verily, those in positions of authority shall be judged more strictly.

He looks through the weapons, shaking his head in dissatisfaction.

"Have you no armory or blacksmith that you might have procured more reasonable quality arms than this?" Without waiting for an answer, he continues, "This is disgraceful. You should pray long and hard for your soul. May Sigmar have mercy upon you and yours.

14:39, Today: Bjorn Jorgensen rolled 14 using 3d6. Intimidation 14 + ?
     Hoping to convince him to be more helpful. The implication is that by doing so, Bjorn might be convinced that it is sufficient penance, making his report to the High Theogonist unnecessary.
     Also hoping for some bonuses for the implications of what happens to the Priest if such word is brought to the head of the Order.

"I will not be lectured by a junior member of my order. You would do well to mind your tongue." There was a hard, and very menacing tone to Acht's voice. He was already embarrassed and his pride was now hurt too. "We have just been through a winter here. What I have given you are alms for the poor, money to fill the larders you all liberally ate from last night and the weapons are all we have confiscated in the last year."

"Rest assured that the authorities will be informed of what has happened. I will accept the responsibility, and you all may make the complaints you wish, but I will not discuss this further. There is a posting box back at the hostel if you wish to use it."

With that the priest stalked off grumbling and leaving the other priests standing there and shifting uncomfortably. One of them tells you that they are to supervise you and ensure you leave the Battlefield today.

 With a snort of anger he turns and moves out the door headed for the stables. He only wanted to know which direction the wagon went when it left here. No dwarf would have been asleep to let the wagon just drive out of the hostel.

 With very solid steps he thunders away to find some blood shed.

 [Private to GM: If he sees a wood axe as he is moving he will grab that as a make shift weapon for now.]

OOC
This post assumes that everyone decides to stay on and track down the wagon. Whether for love or money, we all have stuff we want back, so I'm just sort of going with it. If I'm wrong I apologize and I'll edit whatever I need to.

As the company mills together, the Count considers their situation; he is plainly annoyed but seems somehow collected during the entire affair, as though he has a history of experiencing complete disasters like this.

"Lads, we've got a rough road ahead of us. We shall need to divide our efforts and get ourselves squared away quickly. Army efficiency boys, army efficiency. Your Grace, take Maurice and Nigel and make some inquiries around the stable; Grigory, Grom and I will see about rounding up what other supplies we can."

[Private to GM: This division is meant to put our social guys on the hunt for clues, but more importantly is my plan for Grigory, Grom and I. We're going to the larders to demand millet, rice, whatever travel rations we can on my limited authority (and righteous indignation). Grom is there to make sure we can haul whatever we need to, and depending on their generosity I intend to engage in a little minor shoplifting with Grigory.
Incidentally, I can't recommend the Bernard Cornwell's "Sharpe" series of novels enough; my inspirations and understandings for what Nik learned during his time in the army comes almost exclusively from these novels, and it really paints a picture of the roguish elements required of the men.]

"It shall be done with haste, M'lord." Nigel says, then he hurries to the stable searching in and around it for clues that might tell them who stole the wagon, then he uses some of the tools in the stables to dig through the muck and find anything of use or value while leaving the questioning of the guards to Bjorn. Once he finishes his search he joins Bjorn in getting the details from the guards.

18:58, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 6 using 3d6. Search 12. Success by 6.
18:59, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 11 using 3d6. Scrounging 12. Success by 1.

Grigory joins Nigel in the search, but his mind is more focused on keeping an eye behind him for an enraged dwarf than on his task.

It seems to be a risky situation, but he has hopes that all of the anger displayed by his fellow travellers will lead to a quick execution of the witchhunter if they find her.

08:57, Today: Grigory rolled 15 using 3d6. Search 13.
08:57, Today: Grigory rolled 15 using 3d6. Observation 14.

Before the groups split in two, Nik adds to both parties "One hour, lads, then we're off; wherever it is, the wagon has at least a morning's head start and probably more. We meet on the road outside the gates in one hour. Don't be late."

The Count then goes off to try and find a few extra bits to make their hike that much more likely to succeed; skins of water, butts of grain, a horse blanket or two, some canvas, and a wood axe are the order of the day, demanded indignantly from the quartermasters or scooped up as "a gift from Karl Acht.

"M'lord, these two sacks were all we could find in the stables, but we'll be able to use them to carry the supplies at least." Nigel says as he returns from the stables with a few things in hand, "We found very few clues in the stables... There were some large footprints, likely from the guards, but there were one or two prints that were different; unfortunately the prints were not so different that it helps us identify the thief."

After giving his report Nigel goes over to Maurice with the sacks and helps the servant pack them with the supplies Nikolaas aquired so they can leave as soon as possible.

Bjorn went towards the stables as well, but left the searching to Nigel while he asked the guards some questions relating to incident. He did his best to glean any important information about the culprit: what he looks like and how he managed to escape past so many people with a horse drawn wagon full of goods.

This whole situation is utterly embarrassing for everyone. Bjorn makes sure to employ that to his advantage, making people feel guilty as necessary to procure the truth. He is as incredulous as the guards seems to be ashamed, and he is not particularly nice about it. Always remembering to assure them that they are forgiven, he draws particular attention to the consequences that may lie ahead.

He returns with little news other than that the guards were incompetent. Apparently they were dozing off when the culprit escaped with the wagon. They were quick enough to see which direction the wagon went, but not fast enough to do anything about it.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:55, Tue 08 Jan 2013.

Meeting with the others on the road outside the monastery grounds, the Count and his servant seem only slightly dejected; between them they carry a few largish, lumpy, loose bundles and a half dozen water skins. The Count stands slightly apart from Maurice and just a few paces down the road, as though eager to get on the path.

"The good news is we have plenty of food - apples and salt meat, mostly - but no luck with blankets or weapons. Well, with any luck this weather will hold, eh boys?" The portly servant seems diametrically opposed to his master, insisting on keeping a chipper mood and a friendly look on his face at all times. He happily shoulders the sacks offered by Nigel, fills them with the goods he and the Count were able to secure, and fidgets them into place. The load is depressingly light, the supplies grimly low, but with any luck this would be a temporary situation.

After a brief exchange of information and a final check to ensure everything is in place, they are ready to set off after the wagon.

You all gather together and exchange information from your interviews and searches. All you have been able to discern for certain is that a single cloaked figure seems to have made off with your wagon in the very early morning. Less certain, it is possible that there was another individual at the scene of the theft and that whoever did make off with your wagon may or may not have been injured by a few spells that the priestly guards hurled in their direction as they made their escape.

As a few warrior priests silently look on, your group easily picks up the trail at the edge of the shrine grounds as it it enters a gently sloping pine forest.

I am assuming that travel speed is Basic move/2 in mph (so 3mph for you all and 2.5 for Grom). I am also assuming that you all pass your tracking rolls. With Rufus' nose and two people with tracking I doubt there would be any failures. I will need to resolve some things with Grom, though, so don't post catching up to him or finding the wagon.

Bjorn had grabbed one of the small maces and slung it through where his beloved warhammer should be. He was, perhaps a bit saddened that it was included in the stolen goods, but more angry at whoever took them. They would pay.

Knowing what wells in his own heart, he says, "Let not our anger cloud our judgment, friends. What we face ahead may be very well be an ambush. Be at the ready."

Walking amid the company, Nikolaas grunts his agreement when Bjorn speaks.

"I have that same suspicion; everything about this stinks of treachery. That girl - the one with the purple face - went from being the victim of a lynch mob to barely a memory in the blink of an eye. No one knows who she was, or where she went; not even Karl Acht had any idea. I'm sure she was part of the plot, a minion and some sort of ruse set-up by this Benedikta woman to waylay us. What I can't figure out is why?"

After about two or three hours of following the trail, you see that it veers off the Dwarven road and into the pines and ferns around you. The ground drops somewhat sharply and you cannot see further than about thirty yards.

You all do hear a bellowing roar of some sort and a violent crash. It sounds close, and big.

Grigory trudged through the under-brush, following after Rufus' nose.

"Sounds like we may have caught up with the dwarf."

"If we're lucky." the Count agrees. "Be ready, and stay together. Maurice, hang back."

Nik draws the donated sword, checks it's balance with an idle swipe at a nearby fern, and grips it tightly. Frowning, he scans the nearby wood intently and fans out from the pack.

Would a Perception or Observation roll be appropriate to find out what sort of thing made the sound, or to establish a basic direction and distance? Just in case, I'll include a roll; feel free to ignore it.

08:09, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 5 using 3d6. Per or Obs (both 12).

Nigel draws an arrow from his quiver and notches it, but leaves the bowstring relaxed as he continues to move towards the crash behind Nikolaas, "Right behind you m'lord."

10:13, Today: Nigel Plaskitt rolled 10 using 3d6. PER 13 or Observation 12. Whichever would be more appropriate, either way its a success.

"Hmmm," Bjorn mutters. "I am no expert of blades, but I dare say there is something amiss with that one." He looks close at the sword, meanwhile drawing the small mace and spinning it about to sense its balance. "It appears that there is no cause for concern, but the blade is abnormal indeed."

He moves up to take the foremost position in the absence of the Dwarf.

"Shall we make our presence known?" he says under his breath, turning over his shoulder to Nikolaas.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:21, Thu 10 Jan 2013.

"I could try and sneak ahead and spot it. If Grom's in a frenzy, might be better not to be known until he calms down a bit."

Grigory truly considers the slayer the most dangerous creature in these woods.

The Count nods as the companions spread out slightly.

"If you think you can do so without being spotted, Grigory, please do so; do not engage until you have help."

Standing a few paces from Bjorn, he furrows his brow and holds up the sword for a closer inspection. "'Abnormal', your Grace?" With all the recent trouble, the Count had grown suspicious of his poor luck, and half expected that the Karl had gifted him with some sort of curse or toxin. He tries to keep his attention focused ahead, but keeps glancing at the sword and at the priest. "It hefts badly, but I had thought that the cause of shoddy workmansh-" a surge in the nearby noise jolts him out of his contemplation, and he sets his jaw tightly.

"No time to worry about that now. Grigory, scout ahead, quickly; we're right behind you. Briskly lads, but don't rush."

OOC
I don't know that I made this clear with the post, but the idea is to send Grigory up to see what it is and then move in on whatever it is with the group; in between Grigory putting eyes on it and the rest moving in I'm thinking less than a minute should pass. We move quickly so that if its someone in trouble we can get there in time to help (or at least quickly enough that the commotion is still going on), but not so quick that we waltz blindly into an ambush.

If it would help to deploy the lads more effectively or intelligently (I'm on record as being a very poor tactician IRL), I'll include a Tactics roll. As always, feel free to ignore it.

13:19, Today: Nikolaas von Richtgraf rolled 7 using 3d6. Tactics (12).

Grigory signals Rufus to stay with the group, then moves on ahead with mace in hand. Slinking through the forest with a skill and experience honed by the grim realities of hiding from animals with the keenest senses, he carefully approaches the source of the noises.

15:59, Today: Grigory rolled 7 using 3d6. Stealth 15.
16:05, Today: Grigory rolled 10 using 3d6. Observation.

Grigory returns promptly, and speaks in a hushed whisper. He is clearly frightened.

"Grom and another figure are fighting a troll. It seems like they may be winning, but I'm sure an arrow or two into the beast's back would not hurt the odds at all."

Pausing to reflect a moment, he continues.

"Unless the dwarf would take offense from help."