All of you grew up listening to stories of the Great War Against Chaos. The tale of Magnus the Pious and his victory over the armies of Chaos is well known. While there have been wars and threats in the 200 years since, there has been nothing on that scale. Until now. This year the Chaos Lord Archaon invaded the Empire with five mighty armies. They swept down from the Chaos Wastes, ranks filled with mutant warriors, nightmarish monsters, and power-mad sorcerers. Flagellants and other prophets of doom declared these the End Times. And as these armies pillaged and burned their way through the northern provinces of the Empire, it was easy to believe.

You’ve heard endless stories over the past few months. They say that Sigmar once again walked the earth. They say an army of wolves attacked the Kislevian city of Erengrad. They say the dead rose from their graves to defend the Empire. They say a mighty victory was won at Middenheim. They say a plague has choked the streets of Talabheim with bloated corpses.

You can only believe what is in front of your eyes. You are in the town of Untergard in the Drakwald Forest. A nine-day battle took place here, as Beastmen tried to force their way across the town’s great bridge. They were rebuffed but the price was high. The town is in ruins and its remaining citizens struggle to survive. The Imperial army has long since moved on from Untergard, leaving behind only its dead. You’ve heard tell of more battles up north but the war here seems over. Or so you hope. You have been in Untergard for several days, as rainstorms of utmost savagery lashed the Drakwald. You find two things when you awaken: the rainstorm has broken and there is a commotion in the nearby Ackerplatz...

---

There are - or were - three inns in the town of Unterwald: The Sign of the White Wolf, the The Graf's Lament and The Bawdy Goblin. Unfortunately the White Wolf was in the destroyed Eastern half of the town and now exists only as rubble and the charred skeleton of house timbers. Whatever ale or wine it contained was seized by the foul creatures of Chaos during the battle and the innkeeper and his family also travelled down their gullets.

The Graf's Lament is structurally intact but the owner, Ludwig Bremmer, one of the richest men in town had fled the town with his wife and daughters the morning after the attack began, risking the road south. No one knows whether he made it to safety or not or if the Bremmers lie mouldering in a ditch but it is known he absconded with much of his finest stock and what was left has long since run out. Captain Schiller requisitioned the building as a makeshift hospital during the battle and the once stately inn still reeks of blood and worse fluids.

That leaves the The Bawdy Goblin on the Ackerplatz, owned by Stefan Hauser, a huge man rumoured to be a retired Carrobourg Greatsword. Hauser died on the sixth day of battle (having killed many of the foes facing him) and his son Karl has kept the inn running. An awkward, lanky young man no one would ever mistake Karl for a warrior but having some place that feels normal has kept morale up, even if the ale has grown more watered by the day and the famed spiced sausages of Middenland grown stuffed with sawdust.

Cramped as it is The Bawdy Goblin has also become a refuge for those unlucky to have been caught in Untergard when the storm hit. For one reason or another five such strangers have been here for more than two weeks.






From inside the inn you can hear raised voices coming in through the windows. They sound like they are coming from the Ackerplatz, the town square of Untegard...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:07, Mon 22 Mar 2021.

The giant Kislevite was sitting at a table and finishing his lunch when he heard the tumult from outside. He had been stuck in the town for two weeks and was itching to move on. He had gotten to know a few other people during the battle of Untergard and glanced at them before getting up."Will check."

He slung his arquebus over his shoulder, grabbed his massive polearm and headed outside to see what the trouble was.

Jocelin sat at her table and wrote a letter addressed to Master Walbrecht.



She sealed it with a stamp of melted wax and considered the means to have it delivered when the commotion started outside and the Kislevite stood to investigate. "Camp followers who missed the Army's departure, I would think!" she said brightly as she heard the ruckus.

After a moment, she too rose to see what was going on - Karl Hauser had made it clear her assistance organizing his storeroom, pantry, linens, and window dressings was not necessary or welcome - she had to find something to help these ignorant provincials with around here before Master Walbrecht summoned her home.

Edgar heard the commotion in the square while he was in the stables behind the inn tending to nibbles. As he came round the corner he pulled out a red spotted flannel and wipes his brow before putting it back in his pocket and rolling down his shirt sleeves.

He'd spent the last days of of the fighting running messages from one commander to the other to keep the troops coordinated his sling had saved not only himself but a few soldiers to and though scarred was proud of what he had done.

After seeing the first beastman breach the defences Edgar's fear of them wasn't as bad as most, perhaps the myth that halflings were less susceptible to the forces of chaos was true, perhaps he was so busy trying to stay alive their monstrous looks didn't fully register with him.

Now he walked over to see what all the fuss was about

Home was a strange concept.  Home was the little hut he had next to his kiln on the fringes of Drakwald Forest.  It was a place where he lived alone with his thoughts, a place where he chopped wood, stored it and fired it in batches daily and waited - alone with his thoughts and an ever watchful eye on the air and the smoke.  It was a dangerous business, a dirty business but also one that needed care and attention.  A wrong move would see a conflagration and dark times until he could build again.

Home was now Untergard, or more specifically 'The Bawdy Goblin' was home now.  He'd never go back in to the forest, not after what he saw that night and he doubted he would be with his bricks again.  He didn't really know what he was going to do next - he traded for coin in the town but was as likely to swap charcoal bricks for bread or cloth.  His work helped fuel the furnaces of the blacksmith, they baked the bread of the baker and heated the homes of the townsfolk but now not a lot of that mattered.  It wasn't as though he had many friends in town anyway, but he felt keenly the loss of those he had known and even felt saddened that he didn't grieve more for their lives.  They deserved someone to feel sorrow.

Now he lived in the inn like a common drunkard, except he didn't really drink that much anyway.  Since the attack his days were spent helping in whatever way he could - tending the sick and injured, helping with securing the bridge and other masonry, scavenging for firewood (there was wood that was worth burning and wood that should not) and generally helping where he could.  He was no warrior, he had few special skills of note but he could do what he was told and he seemingly could survive.  Nights were spent in the inn with other survivors.  It was not a happy place but a certain silent solidarity was forming between those strangers who had lived, as a counterbalance to what happened to those who had not.

'the man from the North, the Wizard and the Dwarf and the Halfling too...'  It sounded like the start of a bad joke but they all had one thing in common - they had lived and others had not...  He sat in the inn lost in his thoughts and remembered how he came to be here...

...On the night of the attack Lukas had fled as fast as he could.  It was inhuman how he managed to maintain a pace to get to the town alive.  By a strange twist of luck he had arrived just as the attack was starting, scaling the barriers almost with the foul creatures from whatever hellish part of the forest they came from.  Imperial Pike and Chaotic Horns both missed their chance to impale him as he had swung his axe left and right before fortune smiled on him again and he found himself behind the Empire's lines caught in the no-man's land of shepherding the survivors across the bridge whilst feeling guilt that he was not on the frontline with his little axe with the soldiers.  The ensuing days gave him many a chance to prove his worth and more by luck than skill he had survived with more than one beastman skull feeling the hilt of his axe buried into him...

The shouting from the square snapped him out of his reverie.  The Northman with his terrifying weapon stood first, followed by the strange wizard who was lost in her letters.  Her cheery disposition in some ways was more frightening in these times than the monsters from the forest.  The Halfling Edgar stood too and headed towards the commotion.  Lukas looked at his dirty hands and shook his head.  Tempers had frayed more than once amongst the survivors and he felt sorry for Captain Schiller who tried to keep the peace amongst the tumult.  The watchman had faced far more in the last few weeks than any sane man should.  The easiest thing in the world to do would be to ignore the shouts and rest in his cups but it didn't seem right - he had to help and since his new accomplices were leaving the inn he sighed and stood to join them.

'What now?' he thought, as he headed onto the square.  He gripped the handle of his hatchet tightly.  Just in case of course...

"What is it? Another feast celebrating our damned victory?" the dwarf stopped carving something on the table with his chisel and looked up with a grimace. Seeing the other guests moving towards the window to check what was going on, he scratched his beard, but stayed by his table.

"Is it worth standing up?" he asked without addressing anyone in particular.

There was the stumble of ill-fitting boots on the stairs and a bleary eyed Karl Hauser appeared in the common room. The gangly young innkeeper winces at the sight of Klinka destroying yet another piece of Drakwald furniture but he has long since given up admonishing the dwarf. Harkrin was more than a foot shorter than the human but probably weighed twice as much.

"Maybe it's good news?" he said hopefully, joining the others outside.

---

As Edgar, Fyodor, Jocelin and Lukas approach the Ackerplatz, you notice that most of the 75 survivors of Untergard have already gathered in the decrepit town square, and are muttering restlessly to one another. Many still nurse battle wounds; whilst others are clearly too old or young to have taken place in the fighting. All are ragged and pale, and some are clearly pinched by hunger.

From the snatches of conversation you can make out something is clearly happening, though to learn more you'll have to ask.

Once a bustling square for a prosperous small town the battle had left the Ackerplatz covered in ash and slick with blood. If the recent storm has brought any good at all it has at least washed away much of that and the cobbles glisten with puddles reflecting the autumn sunlight. A few children are taking advantage of their distracted parents to splish about.

---

OOC: Gossip tests with a Very Easy (+30%) modifier to find out what is going on.

21:39, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 69 using 1d100.  gossip roll target 74.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:47, Tue 23 Mar 2021.

"The only good news I'm interested in is a barrel of some real ale." Klinka grumbled, stood up, scratched his beard and slowly walked out the inn.

Seeing the whole town gathered at the town square, he grimaced again and decided he was not going to join them. As the only dwarf in town he was not particularly liked and he had no intention to mingle with the locals more than it was necessary. So he stood in the doorway of the inn and watched the commotion without interest.

"What's going on?" Lukas asked one of the surviving members of the town.  He thought the man was a shopkeeper a few weeks ago, but on this side of the river people were typically 'survivors' now until they could get on their feet.

(OOC: 22:12, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 42 using 1d100.  Gossip Test (54). )

Jocelin saw the town gathered outside and thought this was a wonderful way to raise morale. ~~ They’ll probably start singing one of their local folk songs and dancing in their own quaint way! ~~

“Oh my,” she said aloud, “what an opportunity to see real community togetherness! How delightful!”

She gathered up her skirts so as not to dirty them outside and walked through the door to make small talk with the smallfolk. ~~ Surely someone will be willing to talk with me now! ~~

---

OOC:
18:07, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 58 using 1d100.  Gossip roll, success threshold 64.

Fyodor standing as the tallest man and possibly the widest person in Untegard, had no trouble moving through the crowd. People automatically gave him a wide berth when he approached, if it was due to his size, the weapons he carried or the emotionless look on his face was yet to be determined.

But the warrior made his way to the front of the crowd to investigate what the commotion was about.

OOC:
17:03, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 50 using 1d100.  Gossip (62).
Dont have gossip so just rolled against Fel 62.


This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Tue 23 Mar 2021.

Moving into the the Ackerplatz each of you quickly becomes entangled with a knot of other survivors, each only too eager to talk.

Fyodor finds himself talking to Wolfgang, a laky, dark haired trapper who has managed to bring in a little game over the past few days. The local, himself a taciturn sort, nods in greeting an uncharacteristically excited expression on his homely face. "Seems the Captain is going to be making an announcement 'ere in the Platz. Has a letter from the Count 'imself he'll be reading to us. Good man the Captain, I've heard he once led a company of mercenaries up there in Troll Country."

Nearby two excited flaxen haired children who must be brother and sister from their likeness have surrounded Edgar and are telling him much the same: "Papa told us the Count sent a letter but its secret!" the boys says. His sister sticks her tongue out him. "Mama told me an even better secret, that Father Dietrich has a holy relic." She looks delighted with herself and holds a finger up to her lips. "But shh, don't tell anyone - it's so secret!"

The shopkeeper Lukas thought was called either Hans or Jan looked worn and middle aged, but the charcoal burner recalled him as amiable and rotund before the attack. "Captain Schiller has a letter from Count Boris of Middenheim," Hans (Jan?) explains. He looks at Lukas thoughtfully. "You're from out of town Kohl, what do you make of that Granny Moescher? She refused to come into town and still refuses to do and the beastmen never laid a claw on her. Ulric knows we owe her a lot, and she's still looking after a half dozen orphans who lost everyone in the battle but she's stubborn as a dwarf."

Jocelin finally found someone willing to swap more than two words with her: Father Dietrich, the Sigmarite priest. "There is a lot of talk about a letter from Middenheim Frau Herzog," he states. Dietrich is a thin, bony man but his voice his surprisingly strong. "Personally though I'm more interested in a story I've heard that beastmen took some of the missing and are keeping them alive in the forest for their own dark purposes."

Meanwhile back at the entrance to the inn Harkrin is left to his own thoughts, and the decorative potential a well applied chisel could do to the doorframe.

"Hostages?! Oh no... Pfarrer Dietrich, surely the Empire would not permit hostages to come to harm, nor negotiate with the foul creatures holding them..." Jocelin thought for a moment and brightened. "Surely the poor hostages will not have escaped Imperial notice, and the letter will inform the community of actions taken to secure their release, if they haven't been released already!"

Satisfied in her faith in just and effective Imperial rule, a serene countenance settled on Jocelin's face. "And how have you been, Pfarrer? Is there anything I can help you with? I've offer my assistance but I think the Untergardics are so proud they want to show someone from Altdorf they can get along. It's admirable, really. I just wish I could help..."

She sighed.

"At least until I'm recalled to the University to continue my formal studies, that is. Can't imagine it would be much longer."

The Kislevite uttered what could best be described as a combined grunt and chuckle when Wolfgang mentions Troll Country. That was a name he had not heard in a long time, maybe he should ask the captain if Wolfgangs story was true.

He looked up from Wolfgang and scanned the masses for the captain.

"Where Captain?"

Edgar smiled at the child and put his finger to his lip " your secret is safe with me little one I'm a messenger and we swear to keep secrets" and he gave her a wink.

Lukas shook his head at Hans (or was it Jan) and his questions about Granny Moescher.  "I know her, but I don't know her to well friend."  He had heard the whispers about her, for many of the same things he had heard were said about him.  Outsiders were rarely trusted, even those who were recognisable in town (like him) and even those who did a lot of good for the people (like Granny Moescher).  "She'll have her reasons for not coming into town.  Some folk just want to be left alone and be in their own space..."  By Sigmar did he feel like that sometimes!  Even though they had been through so much in the last few weeks he craved the solitude of the Forest and the peace it brought - not that the forest would ever feel peaceful again.  Lukas tried to make light of the subject, "Anyway, you know what she's like...one of those glares or a blast of her sharp tongue would be enough to drive back the whole armies of Chaos!  Even the bestial ones had enough basic intelligence to stay clear of her home!"  Granny Moescher was set in her ways alright....

"Have you seen Captain Schiller?  Do you think he will read the letter to us?"  Lukas doubted that any of them had a right to even ask to know the details of private correspondence between the Count and the town's figurehead.  He didn't say it, but he didn't even know if Captain Schiller could read.  It wasn't the type of place where one knew their letters at the best of times.  Jumping ahead in his thoughts he remembered what the wizard was doing before the commotion, 'she'll be able to read it if no-one else can...'  Still, though Lukas was not prone to gossip he was intrigued at what the contents may reveal.  "I wonder what the letter was about 'ans," he said, mumbling a pronunciation of the man's (possible) name, "Maybe Count Boris is sending relief to rebuild the town.  Maybe supplies are coming to help get everyone back on their feet.  Maybe he'll send soldiers to protect and gold too..."

As he spoke he realised how stupid he sounded.  Of course there would be hope for any news from Middenheim but there was a war on, a war that none of them would have ever imagined a short time ago.  There would be nothing spare for Untergard, and in any case, the benevolence of the Counts was not exactly renown in the Empire.  The Count probably wanted something, 'All able bodied men and women must march to Middenheim to defend the City,' or something similar.

Lukas sighed.  He hoped the letter would be good news but giving voice to the hope made him realise it probably wouldn't be...

A ghost of a smile flickers across Father Dietrich's careworn features. "Remember we are in Middenland my dear girl. Most favour Ulric over Lord Sigmar here and even those who don't look to Reikland as soft and decadent. Then there is you... calling."

He gestures vaguely at Jocelin's attire. The young wizardess had gained the sense that even Father Dietrich, who liked her and talked to her didn't entirely approve of dabbling with magic, legal or otherwise.

Edgar was rewarded with a fit of giggles from the twins. "Can we see you ride your pony?" the boy asked. "Yeah, can we?" his sister chimes in.

Jan (or Hans) seems to have been chastened by Lukas's invocation of Granny Moescher. Biting back whatever else he might have said about the old woman he concentrated on the second part of Lukas's question. "I think the Captain plans to say just that. I saw Middenheim once. My brother-in-law is a priest of Ulric. No finer city in the Empire than the the bastion of the White Wolf and no army will have taken it. It'll be good news, I feel it in my bones."

Wolgang starts to gives a shrug when Fyodor asks about the Captain but then pauses and points a dirty finger to one of the entrances to the Ackerplatz. "There!"

Sure enough it is Captain Schiller and two of his men striding purposefully into the square, all carrying hessian sacks.

A ripple runs through the crowd as Captain Schiller appears. Schiller, a man of about 50, with a headful of gray hair and an impressive, bristling moustache, stands on a box one of his watchmen set up for him. He mounts it spryly for a man of his age. Though his blue uniform is torn and dirtied and his armour dented, Captain Schiller still commands the respect of the crowd. He only needs to motion once before the crowd quiets down. “People of Untergard” he begins, “this is a glorious day. I have received a letter from Count Todbringer of Middenheim. The old wolf still lives and the city of Middenheim also stands strong!”

The crowd cheers and once again Schiller must motion for silence. “Count Todbringer sends his thanks to all of Untergard for the part we played in hampering the invaders. He said, and I quote, ‘the battle for the Untergard Bridge will go down as one of the most glorious battles in Middenland’s history.’ Be proud, people of Untergard, for our sacrifices have not been in vain!”

When the cheers die down, Schiller continues. “To show his gratitude for our valour, the Count has sent us a token of his appreciation.” The captain reaches into a bag and pulls out a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. “We were honoured to receive sixty loaves of bread and a dozen bottles of wine, straight from Middenheim.” The crowd goes wild at the sight of the Count’s largesse, hungry eyes fixed on the fresh bread in the Captain’s hands. They begin to chant, “Long live the Count! Long live the Count!” Schiller holds bread and wine high in the air as the hardened survivors of Untergard shout themselves hoarse.

Suddenly, there is a loud crack and the bottle shatters, showering Schiller and the bread with glass and wine.

Pandemonium erupts as the crowd scatters in panic. People start looking for cover, spooked by the unmistakable sound of a firearm discharging.

---

OOC: Perception tests all!

Fyodor take a +10% bonus on this test due to your knowledge of firearms.

Jocelin wore a confused look on her face, both in why the provincials should think the Reikland soft, and what her profession had to do with anything when the shot rang out and she reflexively grasped onto Father Dietrich. She spun her head this way and that looking for the source but saw nothing. "Pfarrer?? What's happening!?"

---

OOC:
07:35, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 51 using 1d100.  Perception - DC 41.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:07, Wed 24 Mar 2021.

The shot interrupted Klinka's thought about what would be the best word to carve along the door frame of the inn. Staying away from the crowd had some benefits - for instance, not being an easy target.

15:51, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 16 using 1d100.  (Perception - Int 30).

Fyodor barely winced when he heard the gun discharge. It would take more than a single shot to rattle the battle hardened warrior. As people began scurrying for cover he calmly turned around and prepared his own gun.

He had caught the bottle exploding and the general direction of where the shot had been fired from.

"Get DOWN!" he called out loud in his northern accent.


OOC: 07:53, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 32 using 1d100.  Perception - 37.

Lukas hadn't exactly shared the townsfolk's joy over the 'generosity' of Middenheim when he heard the crack like thunder in the air.  He didn't really see the bottle smashed, nor knew from what direction the noise came from.

"Down Hans!" he cried, instinctively trying to pull himself and the other man to the ground.  (At least the urgency clarified a decision on the name of shopkeeper for Lukas...)

On the ground he instinctively reached for the handle of his hatchet.  It would probably be useless against the kind of weapon that was discharged but he kept his body low and his eyes scanning all-around.

(OOC: 15:38, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 58 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 44.  Perception Test Int 44.)

19:36, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 40 using 1d100 ((40)).

As the shot rang out Edgar did the only thing he could think of, he grabbed the two children he'd been talking to, one in each hand and pulled them down against one of the buildings covering  them with his own body to protect them

at the same time he pulled his belt from around his waist and fished a stone out of a pouch readying his sling in case he saw something or some one to shoot
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Wed 24 Mar 2021.

Fyodor knows his firearms and the Kislevite veteran looks to the East. From the angle and sound the shot must have come from there, on the other side of the River Taub. That was the part of Untergard that had been sacked by the foul beastmen and their allies but enough ruins were high enough to let a marksman take a spot. The ruined coaching house for instance. In fact Fyodor thought he saw the briefest sign of movement as whoever (or whatever) it was scurried back into cover.

Not that he had time to look for long as something else caught his eye - and everyone else's eye.

Everywhere civilians were panicking, trying to rush from the square. The twins Edgar had pushed to safety wailed for their parents. Hans (and it probably was Hans) looked white with fear as he lay belly down on the cobbles. Father Dietrich was calling out: "Women and children get back to safety!"

The two watchmen in the square - the others must be at their posts at the gates on the northern side of the town - have drawn their swords but are hemmed in by the fleeing crowd and and seem momentarily caught.

Captain Schiller was moving to help a pregnant woman who was in immediate danger of being trampled. The watch leader appears unharmed by the shot but for yet another stain on his beleaguered uniform. "The bridge!" he roared, "secure the bridge!"

All of you find yourself looking to the bridge over the River Taub and then you catch a glimpse of horrid figures running across it's span towards the Ackerplatz.

You see four men - or what used to be men. The attackers are vile mutants, bearing horrifying deformities. The first attacker looks almost like a Beastman, covered in thick fur and with horns sprouting from his forehead, yet his face is still all too human. The mutant next to him has grotesque, slimy tentacles in place of arms. Behind them approach two more Chaos-spawn, one with a pig-like snout instead of a nose, and another with a glaring red eye in the middle of his forehead. They are all armed with axes and clubs, and running at full speed towards the panicked townsfolk.

---

OOC:

Roll for Initiative all (Agility+1d10) but don't post any actions just yet.



This message was last edited by the GM at 18:39, Thu 25 Mar 2021.

22:42, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 44 using 1d10+40.  Initiative

It only took a second for everything to change.  Pandemonium ensued following the gunshot but it was the cry of Father Dietrich that shocked him into action.  He scrambled quickly to his feet, clutching his axe in his right hand instinctively.  Bodies rushed towards him to escape from whatever was coming but Lukas instead of fleeing pushed against the tide until he saw what horror was crossing the bridge...

"Ulric's beard!" he cried, and then, with a fury of the wolf Lukas began to run towards the monstrosities on the bridge....

At one time Lukas would have run away and hidden, at one time he would have looked after himself and got out of the way.  But now, they had to face this evil head on for if Untergard fell where else could he possibly go?

"If you're not armed, secure yourself indoors NOW!" he shouted into the air, as if he were Captain Schiller himself, "...and if you are armed get into these bastards before they cross the bridge!"

He held aloft his axe high above his head and charged across the bridge aiming to meet the nearest mutant head on.

(OOC:  Don't know if Lukas can get close enough with his charge, but if he can here is a failed roll to attack!
20:48, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 41 using 1d100.  WS 33.)

Edgar stood and shouted at the twins to run for cover as he turned and quickly moved forward.

As he did so he started swinging his sling over his head as he came closer to the others he let the stone fly towards one of the mutants (1)

13:23, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 61 using 1d100.  Ballistic attack sling target 41.

Edgar's stone wings through the air but whistles over the head of the horned mutant, clipping off the stone of the bridge and spiralling with a splash into the cold waters of the River Taub below.

Lukas races forward and sets foot on the bridge proper but the enemy are still too far too reach him. The mutants themselves lope along reaching the middle span of the bridge, close enough for the charcoal burner to see the wild look in their eyes and the flecks of foam coming from their snarling mouths.

---

OOC:
Updated Map:



Jocelin, Harkrim and Fyodor you guys are up! :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:50, Fri 26 Mar 2021.

The dwarf spat and grabbed his axe before moving towards the bridge. But with his short legs it would take a moment before he could get there. He quietly hoped the fight won't be over by the time he arrives by the bridge!

OOC: Harkrin would run towards the enemies, though he's pretty confident he won't be able to engage any of the mutants anytime soon...

Fyodor walked with long strides towards the corner pillar, takes aim and then almost trips over the halfling Edgar as he pulls the trigger. His arquebus fires but the shot goes wide.


OOC:
07:14, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 89 using 1d100.  BS 30.

"Pfarrer, get the peasants to safety!" Jocelin said as she let go of the priest and hustled towards the foot of the bridge weaving through the fleeing crowd.

As she moved, she began her incantations to prepare her mind to touch the warp and channel the Winds; the air around her shimmered and her robes seemed to move with her from one position to the next without traveling through the intervening space.

---

OOC:
Half-action: move 4 squares towards Fyodor.
Half-action: move 4 squares towards Fyodor.

quote:

Half-action deferred to Round 2:
Channeling

15:14, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 35 using 1d100.  Channeling - Success target 43.

This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Fri 26 Mar 2021.

OOC: You can move four squares in one half action.

Technically Channelling and casting a spell cost a half action each so if you want to Channel, cast a spell and move you'll have to use a Fortune Point (see pg. 135 of the rulebook.)

You don't need to declare which spell you use until after you've rolled Channeling.

The crack of Fyodor's shot echoed around the Ackerplatz, causing a few startled heads to turn in the Kislevite's direction. Unfortunately the shot missed it's target, embedding itself it the bridge stonework.

---

OOC:
Round Two!



Initiative as before - Edgar and Lukas first, then the Mutants, then Fyodor, Jocelin and Harkrin.

Not wanting to get in the big man with the gun again Edgar stepped onto the bridge and stood by the railing. He loaded another stone and swung it round his head again



21:49, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 78 using 1d100.  ballistic attack sling target 41.

Lukas, possessed by an almost irrational urge to stop the mutants continued to charge at the foul creatures crossing the bridge (OOC: Mutant 4).  As he ran he could see the hate and hear the snarl of the chaotic scum but he could also hear the commotion of the townsfolk and the watchmen behind him.  As his feet met the stone of the bridge he felt a sudden awareness of overexposure and a fear that he was rather too close to the band of mutants than he would like!

(OOC: For narrative purposes I think it would be strange for Lukas to stop his charge so he will carry on.  Worryingly, it looks like all four could be on him in the next round which could lead to a short adventuring career for Lukas.  I'll use the failed WS roll earlier for when he meets mutant 4.

EDIT: 09:56, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 7 using 1d6+3.  Damage (+3SB).)
This message was last edited by the player at 09:57, Sat 27 Mar 2021.

Once again Edgar's sling shot goes wide, clattering away against the cobbles.

Lukas's heroic charge brings him into direct contact with three eyed mutant and his hatchet strikes the hideous creature in the side of the head - not a fatal blow but hard enough it gives an all too human wail of pain and the left side of his face is suddenly masked in red blood.

The charcoal burner has only moments to register his success as the snouted mutant comes barrelling towards him snorting like a swine, a stout cudgel in hand. The snouted mutant misses with that attack but Lukas's momentary distraction allows the injured mutant time to launch a savage attack of it's own with a battered sword, no doubt captured from a fallen Imperial. This assault lands a blow on Lukas's left arm though the angle of the blade is off, only nicking the limb rather than biting deep.

Ulric or Sigmar must be looking out for Lukas as the ferocious attack of two mutants leaves Lukas with only a light wound to his off arm! Of course the fight is not done yet...

The other two mutants ignore the fight and continue loping across the bridge, hungry for other prey.

---

OOC:

11:24, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 6 using 1d6+3.  Damage.

11:23, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 24 -- 2 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  All Out Attack against Lukas.

11:21, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 67 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Lukas.

Map update:



Summary of Round Two so far:

Edgar's sling shot misses.
Lukas Charges and successfully wounds Mutant #4.
Mutant #3 Charges Lukas and misses.
Mutant #4 makes an All-Out-Attack against Lukas and wounds him.

Mutant #1 and Mutant #2 make two Moves each.

Wounded
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Lukas: 2 Wounds

Harkrim, Fyodor and Jocelin can act!

This message was last edited by the GM at 12:01, Sat 27 Mar 2021.

From her vantage point at the foot of the bridge, Jocelin saw Lukas charge headlong at the beastly mutants. Such heroism cannot be unaided!

The air around the Apprentice began to shimmer and bend as she incanted and opened her mind to the Winds. From her belt she drew a small dart and cupped it in an upraised palm. Speaking a final incomprehensible word her hand lowered, but the dart stayed aloft! Hovering for a moment, it sped forward before vanishing into a prism of unreality...

... reappearing close by to the horrid mutant traveling even faster and thrusting itself into the creature's chest with a sickening thlurk.

---

OOC:
Half-action: Channel
15:14, Yesterday: Jocelin Herzog rolled 35 using 1d100.  Channeling - Success target 43.
[preserved from yesterday]

Half-action: Cast Magic Dart
09:05, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 7 using 1d10+2.  Cast Magic Dart - C#6.

09:08, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 6 using 1d10+3.  Damage - Magic Dart.

Fyodor calmly slung his rifle over his back and unsheathed his mighty halberd known as a Berdysh. The weapon itself is a 2 foot axe-blade attached to a 5 foot wooden shaft. Even in the hands of the large warrior, the weapon looked huge.

In one fluid motion he draws the weapon, agilely spins it above his head and then takes up a position to receive the mutants charge.

He stares at the oncoming foe charges over the bridge, his mental state switching to that of survival. The years and years of fighting have only improved his will to survive and he has no intention of dying to these two mutants.

"We stay together, we survive." he says to the people near him.


OOC:
Pack away the arquebus and then draw the berdysh and prepare to receive any charge.
Fyodor has Dodge Blow and will attempt that if he gets it in the next round.


 

"Wait... for... me..." Harkrin puffed as he ran towards the approaching mutants.

OOC: If he can get there, Harkrin will take the post two squares down from Fyodor and prepare for the charge. He has Dodge Blow and will attempt to avoid any damage before striking back.

The mutant with horns and fur who might almost be thought a beastman himself save for his human face staggers under the magical dart conjured by Jocelin. He shrieks in pain and there is a horrid smell of singed fur and burning tin from the mix of magic and mutant but he keeps coming nonetheless.

From behind you you hear a thin cheer from one of the townsfolk at your defence of the bridge. While none come rushing to your aid the panic is starting to fade and perhaps in a moment or two help will be on the way.

Perhaps.

---

OOC:

I've slightly moved Jocelin's position to make more sense.

Map update:



Summary of Round Three so far:


Wounded
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Mutant #2: 3 Wounds.
Lukas: 2 Wounds

Edgar and Lukas can act!

though EdgaR had his club hooked to his belt he decided that fighting from a distance was the better idea and loaded his sling, just before he did he gave the missile a kiss for luck and and whirled it over his head before letting it fly towards the same mutant on the bridge he'd tried to already hit (1)





21:11, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 24 using 1d100.  ballistic attack sling target 41


21:13, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 13 using 1d10+3.  damage

Ulric's fury


21:16, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 57 using 1d100.  ballistic attack sling target 41

No extra damage :(

This message was last edited by the player at 20:17, Sun 28 Mar 2021.

Lukas backed up slightly towards the wall, he didn't want to cut off his escape route but felt a little more comfortable fighting two mutants when they couldn't get behind him.  Alas, despite the fury of his first attack his caution made him ineffective as the swing of his axe was more to push the mutants back than get a cutting blow to one of them.

(OOC:  Taking up a Defensive Stance (half action), Standard Attack (half action) - feels sensible when fighting two opponents, and he gets the parry option if a blow gets through?

21:21, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 60 using 1d100.  WS 33)

Edgar's sling shot at last finds it's mark. The bullet sings through air before striking the tentacled mutant with astonishing force on the shoulder, above the point where normal human limb was replaced by writhing grey-green tentacle. All of you hear an awful crack and the mutant shrieks with pain. A streak of blood and a yellowish ichor dribbles from the mutants shoulder.

Despite the pain (or maybe drawing on it) the altered figure runs across the western span of the bridge and flails at Fyodor - only to miss him with the axe gripped in it's right tentacle.

Nearby the horned mutant charges at Harkrim, an evil looking club in it's hand. The attack is a canny one and might have hit if it wasn't for Harkrim's experience in gaol brawls. The dwarf is hardly fast yet he steps to the side on instinct, allowing the mutant to miss him and near overbalance.

The last two mutants cornering Lukas have better luck that their brothers. The three eyed mutant draws a jagged line across the charcoal burner's chest while the snoted mutant grunts in glee as his cudgel slams into Lukas's arm.

Lukas hears and feels something break as his entire left arm becomes a twitching mass of pain...

---

OOC:

21:43, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Lukas Kohl, rolled 65 using 1d100.  Critical Hit.

21:38, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 11 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

21:38, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 10 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

21:38, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 15 -- 1 degree of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Attack Lukas.

21:37, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 29 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Attack Lukas.

21:37, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Harkrin 'Klinka', rolled 7 -- 1 degree of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 24.  Dodge Blow.

21:36, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 2, rolled 50 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Harkrim.

21:35, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 1, rolled 87 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Fyodor.


Map update:



Summary of Round Three so far:

Edgar severely wounded Mutant# 1 with his sling.
Mutant #1 Charged Fyodor but missed.
Mutant #2 Charged Harkrim and hit but Harkrim successfully dodged.
Mutant #4 severely wounded Lukas with his sword.
Mutant #3 critically wounded Lukas with his cudgel.


Wounded
Mutant #1: 10 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Mutant #2: 3 Wounds.
Lukas: Critically Wounded

Lukas takes a Critical Wound to his left arm:

Arm is now a dangling mass of bloody meat. Anything held in this hand is dropped (excepting a shield). Blood loss is such that character has a 20% chance of dying each round until medical attention is received. Test at the start of victim’s turn each round. Use the Sudden Death rules for any further Critical Hits on this opponent. If he survives this combat, he must make a successful Toughness Test or lose the arm from the elbow down permanently.

Jocelin, Harkrim and Fyodor can act.

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:42, Sun 28 Mar 2021.

Jocelin maintained her connection to the Aethyr and her robes began to float ever so slightly, as if the pull of gravity didn't fully bind them.

Her incantations continued, but she saw the mutant's club crush his arm and she shouted, "LUKAS!" involuntarily -- a gust of wind that touched only her blew her hair and her skirts backwards -- but she grimaced and continued channeling the Aethyr: again holding her palm up, empty this time, but when the prism gates appeared between her and the mutant, an iridescent dart manifested and struck another blow.

Jocelin allowed her mind to fully inhabit reality, and her robes suddenly hung normally from her body. "LUKAS, RUN!!" she shouted.

---

OOC:
Half Action: Channel
17:31, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 66 using 1d100.  Channel Skill Check - Target 43.

Half Action: Cast Magic Dart
Target Mutant 4
17:34, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 9 using 1d10.  Magic Dart - CN 6.
17:34, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  Magic Dart Damage.

The kislevite saw the mutants hit the other guy across the bridge and knew from experience that person was in trouble.
Despite the blood and screams of the man, Fyodor calmly stood his ground and watched the tentacled beast lunge against him and missing.
With a loud war cry "YPA!"and just at the right moment he swung the mighty berdysh in a wide arc towards the tentacled mutant but the blade goes wide above its head.

OOC:

Parrying stance and one attack.
Mutant has -10% to parry a Fast weapon.

20:51, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 71 using 1d100.  WS - 36 - reroll, didnt see it was a D20 last.




This message was last edited by the player at 03:52, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

"Har... die... you... bastard." Klinka breathed heavily and swung his axe at the nearest mutant.

08:22, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 30 using 1d100.  WS 50 attack.

08:24, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 4 using 1d10+3.  dmg (SB:3).

The tentacled mutant sways on it's feet, a mix of human blood and evil looking ichor draining from it's wounds. This close Fyodor can see the mutant's face is disturbingly human - thin and pale with bloodshot hazel eyes and an expression of pain and anger. But for the tentacles the Kislevite has seen men looking in worse states stinking drunk.

Harkrim meanwhile finds his axe connecting with the furred horned mutant, drawing a red scar through it's dirty shirt. It's an unlucky blow for all it connects and conjures a wail of pain - had the the mutant been an inch closer the dwarfs axe would have bit deep.

Lukas is in a world of pain over at his corner of the bridge but remarkably remains conscious. Perhaps he wishes he wasn't as he is still faced with the snouted mutant and his three eyed kin.

And from somewhere you can hear raised voices and moving feet back in the Platz. Help is coming.

But not just yet.

---

OOC: Round Four

Map update:



Summary of Round Four so far:

Lukas passes his sudden death roll and stays conscious.

Wounded
Mutant #1: Critically Wounded.
Mutant #2: 4 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Lukas: Critically Wounded

Edgar and Lukas are up.

Edgar moved back a few steps not because the creatures scared him overly but to give him free space to throw another stone.

Seeing lukas in trouble he let fly towards one of the creatures near him (3)


12:56, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 47 using 1d100.  Ballistic attack sling target 41

In a matter of seconds Lukas had gone from nobody to 'valiant hero defending the town' and then back to nobody, another of the multitude crushed by the unrelenting Chaos that infected their land.  He hadn't noticed it at first as he tried to defend himself - indeed his eyes noticed what was happening before his body did.  His arm was severed at the elbow joint - he could see through to the bone and blood was spraying all over the bridge like a fountain.  He knew he had seconds to live and he saw the face of his father looking down at him.  That stern face gave him a few precious more seconds of life and instead of trying to kill the mutants before him a greater need hit him, a need for safety.  He thought he heard his name, but he could not be sure in the tumult.  If he could just get into the square, maybe, just maybe he would die surrounded by people and not alone on this bridge...

(OOC:  Lukas will disengage and move away back to the town square.  It seems exceptionally unlikely that he will make many more crit rolls before he can get help and there are still two mutants on him so it looks like a Fate Point already lol)

At the western edge of the bridge the tentacled mutant flailed at Fyodor, its grey-green tentacles flexing horribly - but failing to land a blow on the phlegmatic Kislevite.

Nearby the mutant with horns and fur lands a glancing blow on Harkrim head with his club. The rugged dwarf is barely phased by the hit, his skull more than thick enough to fend off Drakwald wood.

Elsewhere Lukas finds himself running. Or trying to. He manages to move back a few paces, his back pressed to the crumbling edge of the bridge but the mutants are still coming, their eyes burning with unholy delight. The first attack from the snouted mutant Lukas managed to evade but the mutant with three eyes was there swinging his cudgel. Even as Lukas braced himself against the coming blow he felt something give way behind him.

It was the bridge. Damaged during the attack the loose stonework fails suddenly and Lukas finds himself tumbling through space with the cold waters of the River Taub coming up to meet him.

Down, down into the river and darkness...


As his horrified friends watch Lukas fall off the bridge and the mutants yell in triumph a new trio of voices shout up: "For Ulric and Untergard!"

Captain Schiller and Father Dietrich must have gained control over the panicked crowd for now from the edge of the Acherplatz help is finally coming - a trio of watchmen, swords drawn, their blue cloaks in the wind are running to join the fight.

---

OOC:

20:11, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 61 using 1d100.  Critical Hit.

20:10, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 10 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

20:09, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 40 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 41.  Charge Attack against Lukas.

20:09, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 59 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 41.  Charge Attack against Lukas.

20:09, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Harkrin 'Klinka', rolled 40 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 24.  Dodge Blow.

20:08, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 2, rolled 5 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

20:07, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 2, rolled 3 -- 2 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Attack Harkrim.

20:07, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 1, rolled 58 -- 2 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Attack Fyodor.

Map Update:



Summary of Round Four so far:

Lukas passes his sudden death roll and stays conscious.
Mutant One failed to hit Fyodor.
Mutant Two hit and lightly wounded Harkrim.
Lukas disengaged from his fight.
Mutant Three and Mutant Four Charge Lukas. Mutant Three misses but Mutant Four hits.
Lukas is knocked off the weakened bridge by the blow and plunges into the River Taub below.
Three Untergard watchmen have arrived and are moving to join the fight.

Wounded
Mutant #1: Critically Wounded.
Mutant #2: 4 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Harkrim: 1 Wound
Lukas: Dead(?)

Harkrim, Jocelin and Fyodor can act.

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:48, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

Edgar being closest to the river bank and not in combat with anyone suddenly sprinted down the side of the bridge to the river below quick as he could he moved under the bridge looking for Lukas. The little messenger was used to water or at least able to swim after a fashion if not strongly.

Intent on rescuing his fallen companion he throw caution to the wind and started to wade in up to his knees to see if the man's body was floating down stream passed him

Not wanting to miss a second time Fyodor aimed to the right of the mutant and swung the berdysh again expecting the beast would move into the oncoming blade.




OOC:
14:41, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

14:39, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 34 using 1d100.  WS - 36.

Attack
Defensive stance

Fast Weapon - 10% parry


This message was last edited by the player at 22:09, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

A weak blow to the head reminded Harkrin how to properly swing his axe. The second attack at the horned mutant proved much more effective than the first one. The dwarf began to look for another foe.

07:57, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 40 using 1d100.  WS 50 attack.

07:57, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  dmg.

There was no way she could help Lukas any longer, though Jocelin hoped maybe the halfling could. But she could maybe disarm the mutants... perhaps the momentum of the snouted one will carry its cudgel into the river!

Opening her mind once again to the Aethyr she thrusted her hands down into an unseen vessel, and when she brought them up again the palms of her hands dripped with a silvery liquid sheen ... simultaneously coating the handle of the club.

---

OOC:
10:01, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 60 using 1d100.  Channel Skill Check - Target 43.
10:02, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 5 using 1d10.  Cast 'Drop' - Casting Number 4.
Target Mutant 3: Will Power test or drop its weapon.

With a horrible mixture of a squelch and a crunch Fyodor's berdysh cleaves through the mutant's tentacle, which fell to the cobbles. There it trashes for a moment before lying still in a pool of grue. The mutant itself wore an expression of shock and pain on it's too human face as it falls down slowly, noisily and messily. After a couple of convulsions it lay still and unbreathing by it's severed limb.

The horned mutant staggers back a half step as Harkrin's axe blow cleaves the side of it's head removing on of the ram like horns and a left ear. The mutant doesn't fall but it is breathing heavily now as blood seeps through the multiple wounds visible in it's fur and rags.

Over by the bridge the snouted mutant squeals in alarm as the purloined sword it carries slips from its hand and clatters onto the bridge.

Edgar rushes to the side of the bridge but sees nothing but the fast flowing waters of the Taub, swollen by storms and running south away from Untergard. Either Lukas went straight to the bottom or he has already been dragged by the current out of sight.

---

OOC:

9:41, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 80 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.

Map Update:



Summary of Round Four:

Lukas passes his sudden death roll and stays conscious.
Mutant One failed to hit Fyodor.
Mutant Two hit and lightly wounded Harkrim.
Lukas disengaged from his fight.
Mutant Three and Mutant Four Charge Lukas. Mutant Three misses but Mutant Four hits.
Lukas is knocked off the weakened bridge by the blow and plunges into the River Taub below.
Three Untergard watchmen have arrived and are moving to join the fight.
Fyodor kills Mutant #1
Harkrim wounds Mutant #2
Jocelin forces Mutant #3 to drop his sword.

Wounded
Mutant #1: Dead.
Mutant #2: 8 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Harkrim: 1 Wound
Lukas: Dead(?)

Next up: Round Five. Edgar has already made his move so it will be the (surviving) Mutants and Watchmen next.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:13, Tue 30 Mar 2021.

Fyodor hardly has time to catch his breath before the three eyed mutant is charging across the bridge towards him. The enemy swings his club high overhead and smashes it into the Kislevite's chest. Fortunately Fyodor's leather armour takes much of the brunt but it still promises to be a painful bruise.

Nearby the enraged and now unihorned mutant attacks Harkrim in a fury and is rewarded with a hit on the dwarf's shoulder. Despite the madness in the mutant's eyes and the specks of spittle foaming from it's mouth it only lightly wounds the tough ex-convict.

The third mutant clumisly retrieves it's sword and moves towards the battle but it is immediately clear the delay has cost it precious moments.

And to your east you can hear human voices and shouts of encouragement - the Untergard Watch is almost here!

---

OOC:

20:25, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Harkrin 'Klinka', rolled 62 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 24.  Dodge Blow.

20:24, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 2, rolled 5 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

20:24, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 2, rolled 25 -- 2 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  All Out Attack against Harkrim.

20:20, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Fyodor Fyodoreski, rolled 70 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Dodge Blow.

20:19, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

20:18, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 26 -- 1 degree of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 41.  Charge Attack against Fyodor.

Map Update:



Summary of Round Five so far:

Mutant Four Charges Fyodor and lightly wounds him.
Mutant Two attacks and lightly wounds Harkrim.
Mutant Three retrieves his dropped sword and makes a Move.
The Watchmen run towards the bridge.


Wounded
Mutant #1: Dead.
Mutant #2: 8 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Fiodor: 3 Wounds.
Harkrim: 2 Wounds.
Lukas: Dead(?)

Next up: Fyodor, Jocelin and Harkrim.

The blow from the mutant left Fyodor gasping for breath, so much that his reverse slash flew harmlessly over the head of the mutant.


OOC:
13:11, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 88 using 1d100.  WS - 36.

"Die already, will ye!" the dwarf shouted as he swung his axe once again and hit once again.

22:17, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 7 using 1d10+3.
22:17, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 16 using 1d100.  WS 50 attack.

One half action: Standard attack
One half action: Parry stance.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:40, Wed 31 Mar 2021.

Jocelin thought the one-horned mutant was reeling and close to death, so she once again held her palm up. The silvery film stopped dripping and again formed into a dart. It flew from her hand into the mutant.

---

OOC:
Mutant 2
16:06, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 90 using 1d100.  Channel - Target 43.
16:06, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 9 using 1d10.  Magic Dart - CN 6.
16:07, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 4 using 1d10+3.  Magic Dart Damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:14, Wed 31 Mar 2021.

Whether it is Jocelin's magic or Harkrin's axe that finally kills the horned mutant will be a matter to debate later. The appretice wizard and the dwarf ex-convict land almost simultaneous blows on the luckless mutant which collapses into a bleeding, gurgling heap before quickly expiring.

Two mutants still stand - but only just.

---

OOC:

Map Update:



Summary of Round Six so far:

Mutant Two dies horribly.



Wounded
Mutant #1: Dead.
Mutant #2: Dead.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Fyodor: 3 Wounds.
Harkrim: 2 Wounds.
Lukas: Dead(?)

Next up: Edgar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:07, Wed 31 Mar 2021.

Keeping to the river bank Edgar moved under the bridge he wasn't a religious man but he prayered that he would come across the body of Lukas washed up against the tone supports

Beneath the bridge Edgar found a very narrow ledge he could stand on. It was cold, dark and smelly and snails crunched beneath his feet. The halfling could see no sign of Lukas in the deep waters of the River Taub.

Even as the horned mutant died yet another enemy seemed to appear out of nowhere, determined to attack Harkrin. The snouted mutant whirled a sword - almost certainly stolen from an Empire soldier - and it's furious charge ended with it sling into the dwarf's shoulder. It was not a fatal or even serious wound in and of itself but the ex-convict was starting to look bloodied from his collection of scars.

The other surviving mutant, the three eyed one who was fighting Fyodor had less luck, missing it's furious strike against the Kislevite.

At that moment with a yell of "For Untergard!" the trio of watchmen arrived to join the fray, their blue cloaks dirty and torn but still behind them. One, a blonde young woman charged the three eyed mutant though her blow didn't quite connect. The other, a grizzled bearded man and and slim youth charged the snouted mutant facing Harkrin and had better fortune, striking the enemy twice.

The two living mutants were grossly outnumbered and bloodied, yet a glance at their mad, hate filled eyes showed they'd take some killing yet!

---

OOC:


21:13, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Three, rolled 4 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

21:12, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Three, rolled 37 -- 1 degree of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Mutant 3.

21:12, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Two, rolled 10 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

21:11, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Two, rolled 17 -- 3 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Mutant 3.

21:11, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman One, rolled 97 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Charge Attack against Mutant 4.

21:10, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 58 -- a simple failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  All Out Attack against Fyodor.

21:10, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Harkrin 'Klinka', rolled 52 -- 2 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 24.  Dodge Blow.

21:09, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

21:09, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 10 -- 3 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 41.  Charge Attack against Harkrin.

Map Update:



Summary of Round Six so far:

Mutant Two dies horribly.
Mutant Three Charges Harkin and wounds him.
Mutant Four misses Fyodor.
Watchman One Charges Mutant Four but misses.
Watchmen Two and Three Charge Mutant Three and both wound him.



Wounded
Mutant #1: Dead.
Mutant #2: Dead.
Mutant #3: 8 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 4 Wounds.
Fyodor: 3 Wounds.
Harkrin: 5 Wounds.
Lukas: Dead(?)

Next up: Fyodor, Harkin and Jocelin.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Thu 01 Apr 2021.

This time Fyodor managed to strike the mutant, but despite his strength it was just a glancing blow to the creature.


OOC:

13:41, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 4 using 1d10+3.  Damage.
13:41, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 24 using 1d100.  WS - 36.

Which mutant is Fyodor actually fighting?

Jocelin saw the watch enter the fray, and thought she could be of best help to Edgar, who'd hopefully found Lukas and needed help pulling him from the water.

She ran down the embankment to the shore beneath the bridge. Seeing how dark it was she grabbed the amulet of Sigmar from around her neck and held it aloft, and channeling the Aethyr caused it to shine brightly.

---

OOC:
Half action x2: Move 8 squares to underneath bridge.

Fortune Point: extra half action to cast spell. [3 fortune points remaining today]

16:51, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 3 using 1d10.  Cast Glowing Light - CN 3.

Annoyed and distracted by the arrival of helpful watchmen, this time the dwarf missed the enemy as his axe went wide and hit the cobblestones of the bridge instead of mutant's flesh.

07:47, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 81 using 1d100 ((81)).

The two surviving mutants turn on the newly arrived Untergard watchmen, exchanging blows with these latest foes.

The three eyed mutant facing Fyoror gets the best of this contest, for though the blonde watchwoman scores a hit across its chest the mutant strikes her back so heavily Fyodor can almost hear the woman's teeth rattle. She sways and spits blood but remains grimly in the fight.

The snouted mutant opposite Harkrin seems to have a charmed life as both Untergard watchmen miss. With it's own sword the boar faced creature slices deep into the greying watchman, causing him to stumble back a half pace. Behind the mutant's snout tiny mad eyes glint in triumph.

Beneath the bridge Jocelin's spell renders the shadows beneath the bridge visible in eerie green witchlight. Unfortunately all that is visible on the riverbank is mud, old brickwork and snails and even peering into the River Taub proper illuminates only a few startled fish and a sandy bottom maybe a six feet down.

---

OOC:


11:19, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 1 using 1d10.  Ulric's Fury!

11:18, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 13 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

11:18, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 3, rolled 12 -- 3 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  All Out Attack against Watchman Two.

11:17, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman One, rolled 73 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 31.  Dodge Blow .

11:16, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 12 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

11:15, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Mutant 4, rolled 47 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  All Out Attack against Watchman One.

11:15, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Three, rolled 63 -- a simple failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 61.  Attack Mutant 3 (+20% for outnumbering, +10% for Aim.).

11:14, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman Two, rolled 80 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 61.  Attack Mutant 3 (+20% for outnumbering, +10% for Aim.).

11:13, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman One, rolled 7 using 1d10+3.  Damage.

11:12, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Watchman One, rolled 15 -- 3 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 51.  Attack Mutant 4 (+10% for outnumbering, +10% for Aim.).

Map Update:



Summary of Round Six:

Mutant Two dies horribly.
Mutant Three Charges Harkin and wounds him.
Mutant Four misses Fyodor.
Watchman One Charges Mutant Four but misses.
Watchmen Two and Three Charge Mutant Three and both wound him.
Fyodor attacks and lightly wounds Mutant Four.
Harkrin attacks and misses Mutant Three.
Jocelin follows Edgar under the bridge.
Watchman One attacks and wounds Mutant Four.
Watchman Two and Three both miss Mutant Three.
Mutant Four badly wounds Watchman One
Mutant Three badly wounds Watchman Two

Wounded
Mutant #1: Dead.
Mutant #2: Dead.
Mutant #3: 8 Wounds.
Mutant #4: 9 Wounds.
Watchman One: 6 Wounds.
Watchman Two: 7 Wounds.
Fyodor: 3 Wounds.
Harkrin: 5 Wounds.
Lukas: Dead(?)

Next up: Edgar.
</quote>

Edgar took it slowly as he went into the dark his natural night vision allowing him to see a far distance into the gloom.

Just as he got halfway under the stone structure he was startled by a green light suddenly appearing before him. His hand went to the club at his belt but as his eye became accustomed too the light he spotted the young mageling that had been chucking darts at the mutants a few moments earlier and he relaxed somewhat.

" I fear we have lost the one called Lukas to the river. He did not pass me as the river is flowing the other way, I can only guess that when he it the water he was swept down river. "


He listened to the fighting above them for a moment " when the coast is clear I will gather nibbles and ride down stream to see if I can at least find a body to give a burial to if nothing else"

The defenders of Untergard are bloodied with unbowed and with one last effort the watchmen cut down the last two mutants with their swords. Despite their own wounds and exhaustion they raise a ragged cheer as the final foe collapses.

"Untergard!"

The cheer is echoed back in the Acherplatz where the civilians have crept back out of their hiding spots, chattering with giddy excitement. The reassuring figure Captain Schiller (still with his wine stained cloak) and a pair of watchmen approach the fighters on the bridge.

"Nice work, men. I dare not think what these beasts would have done to the townsfolk if you weren't here to stop them." The captain looks at the mutant corpses strewn around the marketplace and furrows his brows. "Cut of their heads and mount them by the gate. Let any Chaos-spawn left in the area know that there will be no easy pickings for them in Untergard." he motions at the two fresh watchmen.

"Jocaim, Hilde, Leopold good fighting, get yourselves patched up," Captain Schiller says to the three watchmen who had actually fought in the battle, before turning to Fyodor and Harkrin. "You have my thanks, as does the young wizard and the halfling. They fought to save their town as did poor Lukas Kohl, Morr watch over him, but you four are strangers. We're in your debt."

As he offers his hand to Fyodor and Harkrin to shake an older woman comes walking up. You all know her at least by sight and reputation. Granny Moescher, the oldest woman in Untergard and the local healer and wise-woman.

"I heard about the fight. Ah, looks like some of you dearies will need old Granny Moecher's healing," she clucks, tone more like she is colding one of the orphans in her care for forgetting their chores than someone arriving on the site of a bloody battle.

---

OOC: Well done on the fight! :)

We are out of strict combat time so feel free to post at will.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:12, Thu 01 Apr 2021.

When the last mutant goes down Fyodor leans his berdysh against the bridge and loads his quickly arquebus.

"Da. Fight not over. Shooter across bridge." he says in his heavily accented Reikspiel as he watches the other side of the river where he had seen the sniper earlier.


OOC:
16:41, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 100 using 1d100.  Perception - 27.

Other side is definitely safe! :D

Harkrin nodded to Captain Schiller. "We'll have to check to other side anyway. Better keep the civilians from the platz until we make sure it's safe. And keep a few bottles of that wine for us. Killing always makes me thirsty." he grinned and wiped blood from his axe using one of the mutants' corpses.

OOC: Can we get some quick healing from the Granny and then move on with checking the other side?

Granny Moescher fusses over Fyoror, examining his wounds, asking him to stick out his tongue and peering in his ear. She finally produces a strongly smelling salve from within her leather satchel and smears it on the worst of the injuries. It stings like anything but after a moment it soothes down and the big Kislevite even feels a bit better.

Harkrin proves more of a challenge and it is clear the wise woman has never tried her herbs and poultices on a dwarf before. Still she smiles at him as she makes the effort. "Never mind dearie, an ale or two will help don't see if it won't!"


The Priest of Sigmar, Father Dietrich has also appears and tries his luck with the wounded dwarf but is forced to shrug and nod at Granny Moescher's assessment: "Thaks be to Sigmar it wasn't worse."

More people are joining the hubbub now. Fyodor hears one of the watchmen with the Captain mutter to another; "It must have had a Hochland Long rifle, surely nothing else could have shot so far."

This suggestion causes another round of nervous yammering and Captain Schiller raises his hands for calm.

At that point, a watchman rushes up to the Captain from across the square. He's a gangly lad named Sprenz, one of the detachment that is stationed at the town and despite not being involved in the battle at the bridge he looks tired and bloodied.

"Your pardon, my Captain. It seems this was but a distraction. There has been another assault mounted against the gate! We fought them off but many men are sore injured and several killed."

---

OOC:
14:38, Today: Game Master, on behalf of Father Dietrich, rolled 57 -- 2 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 30.  Heal Harkrin.

14:38, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Granny Moescher, rolled 92 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 56.  Heal Harkrin.

14:37, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Granny Moescher, rolled 3 using 1d10.  Wounds Healed.

14:36, Today: Game Master, for the NPC Granny Moescher, rolled 56 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 56.  Heal Fyodor.

07:55, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 51 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 39.  Set Trap.

07:55, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 39 -- 2 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 18.  Outdoor Survival .

Bad luck Harkrin. Fyodor you recover three wounds.

"Ulrich's Axe, that's all we need," growls Captain Schiller. He turns to Harkin and Fyodor (and Edgar and Jocelin if present.) "I better see to the gate. You four better check across the bridge just to make sure there isn't anything else left there. Report back in a few minutes and you'll have your bottles - and more thanks!"

Turning he marches towards the gate defenses with most of the Watch.

Edgar had crossed under the bridge and made his way back up the bank to meet the others " I fear pour Lukas is gone from us. I heard of another assault, on the gate no less. I will postpone my search for the man's body until the town is secure but I will then take nibbles and go find him. A brave man such as he must have a proper burial"

With that he picked up a dozen stones from the ground and put them in a pouch. " so I heard someone say we should cross the bridge to look for the shooter. I say we break the bridge to allow the stretched town watch to focus on defending the gate. The river is high and I doubt even those beasts could cross it. But I also know how the town views this hunk of stone so I suppose we need to secure the other end for them instead"

Jocelin was surprised to hear the halfling suggest the destruction of the bridge.

"But... this bridge is these people's livelihood... without it they'd be destitute. Well, even more destitute." Her attitude brightened. "Besides, Imperial forces know of this threat and already the army has been here to defend Unterwald from the beastmen. Surely those in Altdorf know of these people's needs and the threats they face. By Sigmar, they'll come again if needed! Surely we cannot destroy the bridge, but fight to preserve it, for the glory of the Empire!"

Edgar looked at the mageling " with the bridge intact it might be more than their livelihoods they will loose next time but that call is not mine to make just an observation. As for the army coming back, I've been a messenger for many years I've carried communications in the heat of battle and one thing I can tell you the army that helped here were passing through they won't be back this town is nothing inthe great scheme of things sadly these people will live or die due to the decisions they make and waiting for the army to save them wouldn't be a good one."

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bridge " my dear I commend your view of the world but it is not truly like that" he spread his arms indicating the town around them " little people, innocent people such as these are like flies on the arse of a horse any moment they will get slapped by the tail and be gone that is the nature of it. What you have to decide is do you attempt to cut the tail off or jump at the last moment and leave the rest to die"

Fyodor awkwardly thanked the old woman for her help and finished reloading his gun. He nodded grimly to Captain and the orders to secure the bridge and slung the rifle over his back.
If there was indeed a Hochland Rifle, then that would be a major find. He had heard rumors about such a weapon.

"Bridge stay. Lets go."

Grabbing his trusted berdysh he started crossing the bridge, eyes peeled for the sniper.

Jocelin sniffed. "I'm sure the people of Uberwald would listen to the camp-following halfling."

She walked off after Fyodor shaking her head. "Tsk. And he thinks I'm naive!"

---

OOC:
Jocelin will have dropped the Glowing Light once she's out of the darkness beneath the bridge.

Edgar laughed at the mage reply "I don't doubt your words no one will listen to me I'm sure but can we get one thing straight I'm not a camp following halfling. I am a messenger of the guild of messengers. I have a badge to prove it. In the scheme of things and to such lofty people such as wizards and the like it might not be much but the guild of messengers keep villages and towns connected to me that's a vital service I give"

He jumped down off his seat "oh and if a halfling were to be part of a camp they definitely wouldn't be a follower they be the head cook" he added with a grin as he moved across the bridge

"Report. Har." Harkrin grumbled. "First pay, then expect reports." he muttered to himself and followed Fyodor across the bridge, looking around in search for an ambush or another enemy.

The stone bridge over the River Taub is in bad shape but for the most part seems stable; it was built a century ago to allow the passage of carts while also being high enough to allow barges to travel beneath up and down the river.

Ahead of you looms what the locals often refer to as 'Ostgard' the eastern and newer section of Untergard. Though smaller than the western half it was actually wealthier, and you can easily see the fire-gutted ruins of once fine houses. Now the once bustling side of the town is silent. Even the flies are gone, disappearing once the dead had been removed after the original battle (an unpleasant task some at least of you took part in.) You boots echo across the cobbles.

Fyodor makes for what had been the coaching house, a large building edging out onto the river. and it is here he soon finds the mutant sniper - or what had been the sniper. The mutant in its haste to retreat had clearly stepped on a weak  floorboard on the upper floor crashed through and broken it's neck. It lay in a crumple heap amongst the rubble, face turned up.

The mutant was a young human woman and might once have been quite pretty with her slim figure, pale complexion, blonde hair and and almost aristocratic features. Even the rags she wears look like they must once have been a dress of quality. However the left side of her face bares the unmistakable mark of the altered - blue scales cover what had once been human skin and the open left eye is snakelike yellow with a slit pupil.

Nearby lies her weapon, a long and complicated firearm that looks both dangerous and difficult to use - and so heavy it might have added to the mutant's fall. The weapon is bent at ugly angle and even Fyodor, who is far more familiar with the firing of black powder weapons than their construction, knows that it will need substantial repair by an expert if it is to work again.

Jocelin followed Fyodor into Ostgard, looking this way and that but seeing only the destruction left in battle’s wake.

She looked at the woman sniper and saw in her aristocratic features a potential reflection of her own future, corrupted by the immaterium after a moment’s weakness or break in concentration. Not that she voiced her concern — these peasants needed to be shown confident and capable leadership from Imperial officials like herself.

“An advance party, perhaps?” she asked. “Should we look through this part of town for others?”

---

OOC:
17:43, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 78 using 1d100.  Search - Target 41.

"well we've found the sniper which is a good thing but as Jocelyn said this could have been an advance party or as the watch said a decoy to draw us away from the gate....either way we need to make sure the immediate area is safe. " suggested the halfling.

"also if we can't destroy the bridge then we need to get the watch to barricade it in some way to give the town's defence time to move from one area to the other to defend it if attacked again"

Harkrin poked the corpse with his axe.

"Do you think we'll get some extra wine if we bring the head of this one back to Schiller?" he asked casually, but without directing his question to any of his companions.

There doesn't seem to much sign of anything living in the ruins of 'Ostgard' beyond the four of you and the lice in Harkrin's hair. There is a faint scent of beast men on the air but it is very stale and given how much they reek and the recent rain wet beast man fur would assault your nostrils like a musk based battering ram if any of the chaos monsters were nearby.

Five sets of footprints are indentifiable in the mud, quite clearly belonging to the mutants you slew on the bridge and the luckless sniper. Further investigation reveals an hours old trail of what might have been a cat, dog or fox but what is clearly some four legged animal.

From back across the bridge you can hear raised voices. It doesn't sound like a fight or a panic more like a heated debate back in the Acherplatz.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:05, Sun 04 Apr 2021.

Fyodor grabbed the large rifle and studied it. He wondered how much it would cost to fix and who the original owner was. A woman sniper. He then knelt down next to her body and searched it for any sign of her identity and more important if there was any spare ammunition.

Rifling through the dead mutant's clothing Fyodor discovers four brass pfennigs, a plain silver ring with an inscription he can't read, a knife and enough powder and ammunition for a single shot.

The warrior takes the gun powder and shot for himself and slips it into his belt pouches. Grabbing the coins and silver ring he hands it to woman known as Jocelin.
He didnt trust magic, but she had proven her worth, so maybe she was trustworthy.

Standing up he finally takes the long rifle and slings it across his shoulder.


"Kaput. But maybe one day fix." he says and pats the rifle.



OOC: Is it a Hochland Long Rifle? and would Fyodor have a guestimate on the cost of fixing it?

Edgar was about to move further into the ruins when the sound of an argument drifted across the bridge.

With a sigh " looks like we might have problems in house as well as from without. shall we band of heroes go find out what the heated discussion is about?"

With that he started off back across the bridge towards the town square

Jocelin smiled in surprise at the spunk of the halfing, and said nothing, but followed him towards the Acherplatz.

The dwarf spat at the mutant's body, poked it once again with his axe and followed the rest back to the Acherplatz.

Departing 'Ostgard' you walk back across the Taub towards the Acherplatz. The crowds are once again milling about in confusion and excitement but you can easily make out Captain Schiller, Father Dietrich and Granny Moescher trying to restore order.

The Captain notices you walking over and smiles ruefully, stroking his steel grey moustache. "Ah welcome back. You again have my thanks but it seems we might have to rethink our plans. Tell them what you told me Hans."

Captain Schiller addresses this last point to a bearded man in his thirties, nearly as big as Fyodor and as hairy as Harkrin. He stands with a knot of perhaps a dozen or more exhausted looking civilians, men women and children. They look like strangers but Hans himself is familiar at least by sight - like your missing comrade Lukas Hans is a woodsman from the outskirts of Untergard who has been acting as a scout and game hunter for the past few weeks.

"I've been scouting the surrounding countryside and picking up stragglers. These folks with me" - Hans jestures to the survivors he brought with him, "are the survivors I found wandering in the woods. They come from villages all over Middenland.

"As I was bringing them back. I found fresh Beastman tracks south of here. It looks like a warherd some 200 strong is headed towards Untergard. I rushed back here to warn you.

"I will of course defer to Captain Schiller but it's my feeling that we should leave Untergard before these Beastmen arrive. I don't know if we could withstand them alone and there is no help to be found in time. I visited Grimminhagen six days ago and it's a wreck. We can't expect help from there. What else is new, eh? I must also report that while Grimminhagen was sacked, Graf Elster Sernhauer survived by hiding in his keep."

At the mention of the Graf, many in the crowd boo. Even Granny Moescher looks disapproving with a scowl crossing her face. On hearing all of this, the crowd that had momentarily lapsed into silence re-starts loudly debating what should be done.

None of you are Untergard natives but you do know there is enough bad blood between the people of Untergard and those of Grimminhagen to flood the Taub and Graf Sernhaur is a name you've often heard spoken in anger.

---

OOC: Fyodor, you've never even so much as seen a long rifle but it might be one from the stories you've heard. It likely won't be cheap to repair but probably cheaper than buying a brand new one!

Edgar didnt like the sound of having to fight more of the creatures they had already lost a good man to a small band a force of 200 would be like a swarm of locus on a field of corn.

He stepped into the square and cleared his throat but the noise of the crowd drowned it out so he picked up a stone put it in his sling and shot it towards the bell tower striking it with a resounding ring.
once there was silence he cleared his throat again to get peoples attention

" I am not a warrior I am a mere messenger but I have been on a few battle fields in my time. It seems to me that we are poorly prepared to fight off 200 beastmen let alone 20 it might be the best plan to retreat from the town and head for the hills to better set up a defence. Stay here and we could be trapped with food and water in low supply if the monsters don't do for us then starvation will."

"I admit i am not one of you so my word might seem hollow and without the pride of your great town behind them but pride never saved a life as far as I know but pride can definitely shorten one. A town can be rebuilt a community cannot."

He looked at his fellow defenders " if a small group were to track the warband see where it is heading, it might just pass by if it does then we have valuable information to pass onto our army, if they head this way then they gain nothing but a deserted town. If they find our tracks into the hills then the group can try to lead them away. It is dangerous I know but I feel staying will surely result in nothing but a ghost town"

"The hills?" gasps Karl Hauser, the innkeeper turning ghostly. "There are trolls and worse up there and we have women and children here!"

There is a chorus of agreement from some of the townsfolk, and a filthy look from Hilde the blonde watchwoman who had helped fight the mutants on the bridge. She clears her throat and states: "Untergard is ours! I say we stay and fight!"

Another serenade of agreement, though not quite so loud this time and from notably fewer people.

Father Dietrich raises his hands to speak. The lanky Sigmarite has been nodding along to Hilde's declaration. "Well said! Brothers and sisters, I know I am not Untergard born but I swore an oath to the Heldenhammer to serve and guide the people of this town and I will not lightly abandon it. Beyond the wall, covered in lime lie hundreds of dead beastmen and mutants who thought they could take this town. This warherd is a rabble who don't know they've already lost the war. Let us stay and fight."

Hans Baumer grimaces and gestures at the ragged band of survivors he escorted to Untergard. "With respect Father they've been through enough battles. Aye I'm not sure the hills are a smart idea but the halfling is right about us going and that towns can be rebuilt."

This provokes another vicious argument between those who want to stay and those who seem ready to flee at once.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Tue 06 Apr 2021.

Edgar raised his hands in exasperation then turned and walked back to the others "well I did my best but humans seem to put more value in material things than their own lives."

Fyodor watched in silence the villagers discuss the situation. He had seen villages razed back home and knew how attached people could become to the only thing they knew and called home.
Looking around he knew that these 50 odd people didn't stand a chance against a horde of Beastmen.

He scratched his beard and thought about the options. He could just leave and continue on his journey and quest, but he quickly abandoned that thought. His father would not approve of him leaving the less fortunate to be slaughtered. They could fortify the village and destroy the bridge to reduce the front lines. Then they could hide in the woods or hills, which seemed like a bad idea.

He was not familiar with the local politics and normally didnt care about them but in this case their best chance of survival seemed to be Graf Elster Sernhauer's keep.

He made his way up to the Captain. "Graf Elster Sernhauer Keep. Seek protection. Reorganize. Fight back. Survive." he made a gesture towards all the villagers.

"Homes aren't mere things, and if your skill is in carrying others' messages, then do that." Jocelin said matter of factly.

"But he's right that the best we four can do is try to lead the beasts away from here... towards a stronghold where the herd can wipe itself out in a futile attack on the might of the Empire. Do we know the garrison of the Graf's keep?" she asked Baumer.

"I'll need more than one bottle to deal with that." Harkrin grumbled and let the humans squabble about the impossible: either defending their ruined town, or seeking refuge at the noble's house. He had no intention to get involved in the whole argument. Not only he was not a local, but a dwarf. It was rather improbable anyone would listen to his advice, no matter how good it was.

So he stood to the side, trying (and failing) to look serious rather than bored with the whole affair.

edgar looked up at Jocelin for a moment " I did not indicate they were mere things I understand the value of a home after all I am a halfling and a warm fire and comfy chair is something we all dream of. But what I was trying to say is a home can be rebuilt but a home is not a home without people to live in it and if that horde descends on this town again there will be no one left to make a home."

"If the captain requests the services of the messengers guild then I of course will take a message anywhere he asks but by the time I deliver it, an army is raised and sent this town will be dust. So we have to come up with a plan and fast if these people are to survive"

“Ugh!” She said, letting her frustration show. “That’s why I said you were right about baiting the horde! Do you listen or just talk?!”

She planted her fists on her hips and scowled at the men from the town. “Ok, boys, this is your County, not mine. The Graf’s keep is a strongpoint. Are there any others near here we could draw the herd towards, if that’s what we do?”

Edgar laughed "my dear it might be that I spend so much time alone that when Im around others my mouth runs, away with itself..... Or it might be you have less air up there than down here which means my brain works on many different levels because it has more oxygen" he added with a smile

"seriously whatever the town decides it better be decided soon otherwise we'll be deciding who we want to be eaten as the horde storms the square"

Jocelin rolled her eyes back down to him. “Answers would come quicker with fewer high-octane interruptions, Paige.”

Back to the men. “Well?”

Captain Schiller straightens up and looks around, his rather stern but not cruel features and gray eyes leaving a mark on all. He takes a stand on the steps leading to the old well, giving him enough height to look out over the crowd in the Acherplatz.

"I have listened to all sides of the argument." begins Captain Schiller, "and now, as Untergard's rightful leader, I must make a decision. As much as it pains me to say, I agree with Hans, Fyordereski, Stoutfoot and Miss Herzog here... we cannot hope to stand against so many Beastmen. However nor do I think we will find any refuge with the Graf. Far too much bad blood there and if Hans is to be believed he has abandoned even Grimminhagen. Likewise the hills are almost as dangerous as the forest a most here are townsmen and women. Therefore there seems to me only one direction we can go, and that is to the City of the White Wolf. At first light tomorrow, we will head north to Middenheim. It is a long journey and we likely need scouts and those who can handle a sword or an axe but there is a road. We know Count Todbringer is there and within the city's walls we can find safety. With the Count's aid, we will return and finish rebuilding our homes. Untergard will rise again!

"Now let us enjoy the Count's bounty and then prepare to depart. There is much to do before sunrise."

There is some grumbling from a few of the townsfolk and Father Dietrich looks grim but it is clear that most are happy with the decision... or at least willing to follow Captain Schiller's orders. The immediate prospect of wine and bread may have helped sell the message at least a little.

Edgar listened to the captain and nodded his approval before turning back to jocelin

"I'm actually called Edgar my sister is the one called Paige"

"DAAAA" the kislevite said at the captains suggestion at having a bite to eat and drink.

"Let's drink to the glory of our past and future victories." Harkrin said to his companions. "Once the forests are free from mutants and beastmen, you may return and rebuild your town. And if there's enough of wine, I may even come back with you and help with that!" he added with a brief smile to Captain Schiller.

"I'm sure your sister is delighted her name is your job title."

Jocelin looked around the town and bridge. These people needed hope, but she feared the bridge wouldn't survive the beastherd; it would be collapsed out of malice or of cowardice in fear of the Imperial forces which would eventually destroy the foul menace. So few as these couldn't rebuild it even if they had decades, and without the bridge, was there anything for these peasants to return to, really?

She pitied them the loss of their identity, ripped from their homes by chaos and the prudence of men.

The watchmen share around the bottles of wine and loaves of bread sent by the Count. Split over more than ninety people it is hardly a feast but Karl the tavernkeeper also provides the last of his watered ale and a few opportunistic or lucky types have sourced a few fish from the Taub. The survivors celebrate in the Acherplatz, big bonfires lit to crackle away in the night and warm the souls of everyone. Songs are sung - 'Elke, Queen of the Drakwald', 'Ode to Magnus' and many more of varying quality. Much to Harkrin's surprise Karl, giddy after drinking and sharing a dance with Hilde (which she led) even sings a verse of the dwarf drinking song 'Bugmann's Lament'. He's not very good at all - no human voice can quite capture the sheer gravel in the song - but it's a game effort.

"My da' fought alongside the dwarfs at Ubersreik," he explains to Harkrim. "Back when he was in the army."

Among the merriment there is no fully hiding the tears glinting in flames shadow - and the resilience too. Untergard might be abandoned but its people were not broken.

As the stars and the moons wheel overhead and many begin to drift away to get some sleep for what promises to be an early start, Captain Schiller comes to you, handing you a precious bottle a piece. "It's a few days journey to Middenheim and we won't be moving fast. You're under no obligation to stick with us, you've already helped a lot but I'd appreciate good fighters like you en-route in case we hit anymore trouble."

" ah so you think me a servant, I am sorry to disappoint you princess but I am a free man and beholden to no one, I am a messenger of the guild of messengers, I deliver packages, documents and communications but I serve no one but the person who hires me to do my job."

He looked at the others for a moment " well if we are not about to be over run by beastmen I will go and feed nibbles she will get extremely grumpy if she does not get her food and I've already given her one of my fingers I do not wish to loose another" he said holding up his left hand to show them the stump of his little finger.

"call me if you require my assistance or if these good fellows decide what they will do next"

With that he pulled out a pipe from his belt pouch put some leaf in it and walked off towards the inns stable block with a cloud of sweet smelling grey smoke trailing behind him

Fyodor enjoyed the bread and wine as much as the next villager. It didnt take him long to finish his ration and pulled out a waterskin from his backpack as the Captain handed him a new bottle.

Nodding thankfully he put the skin back and opened the bottle. He took a big swig of the wine.

Before answering he wiped his mouth with a hand that could easily be the same size as a bear claw.

"Fydodor will help. Fyodor was going to Middenheim."

"Well of course you're beholden to no one, and none to you. Should I be surprised you can't find a vassal to trust you, mootling?"

Jocelin declined the wine. She hadn't had any alcohol since the unfortunate mishap at the Academy when the drunken 3rd year decided to impress her and her friends but instead was pulled skin-first screaming into his belly-button. No vintage was worth that.

She did try to dance with the company, but never could find a partner. Probably because she knew different dances.

Nibbles neighs in greeting at the return of her master. The pony has been lonely in the stables with the other horses long gone but at least she has been safe - the trio of Captain Schiller, Granny Moescher and Father Dietrich are more than enough to deter any adult troublemakers (though Egar does occasionally find children slipping in to pet the animal.)

Outside the party winds down and everyone is off to bed. Soon the only sounds to be heard are coming from the chapel as Father Dietrich, guarded by several watchman carefully deconsecrates the building lest the beastmen seek to defile it.

---

With the sun just peeping over the horizon everyone assembles in the Acherplatz. Granny Moescher waves over Harkrin and offers him a drink that smells strongly of weird bitter herbs and tastes potent enough if an Elf was to try it they would probably dissolve.

"Something for your scars dearie," she coos as if the hardened dwarf convict was one of her wards.

Captain Schiller presses small pouches into each of your palms before you set out. "Not much I know but the best I can manage."

An dawn the sad group of survivors head out. Some of Captain Schiller's forces are in the lead, followed by the townsfolk, mostly on foot. There are barely four score remaining of the once thriving town. A total of three ox-drawn carts have been assembled, one with Granny and the orphans she cares for, one with general supplies and one with those too old, young or infirm to do much walking. With more of Schiller's troops at the rear.

Captain Schiller also posts men along the flanks to watch the woods on either side of the path as they head up the long, indirect path that will take them to Grimminhagen, then through Immelsched and then finally to fabled Middenheim.

"It's the thirteenth of Vorgeheim and we'll be at least five days on the road," Captain Schiller muses. "More likely six. Still we should be in the City of the White Wolf well before Geheimnistag Ulric and Sigmar willing."

---

OOC: Everyone take 10 GC in the pouches Schiller gave you. Harkrin your wounds are healed - Granny Moescher might look like an apple left in the sun too long but she knows her elixirs.

By default you are with the main group but decide which positions you are taking at least for the first day of travel.

The large warrior was one of the last to go to bed and one of the first to rise as the sun came up. During the nights festivitas he had spoken about his past, he had been part of one of the elite units, known as the streltsi, in the Ice Queens army. He did not specify why he was in the Empire but his face had grown dark and worried when asked about it.

In the morning he packed his meager belongings, ate anything that could be defined as breakfast and joined the caravan.

He took position on the right side and in the middle of the caravan next to the 2nd cart so he was able to support the front and rear in case of an ambush.

Jocelin travels near Father Dietrich, wherever that is.

Edgar saddled up nibbles early in the morning and was ready to travel as soon as everyone else was.

He spent the journey between riding with the main body of the group and spending time as an outrider checking that the road ahead was safe

Grumbling, Harkrin collected his belonging and joined the small caravan. He said something about people being ready to fight for their lives rather than rely on those who can fight, but soon he got quiet, taking a post at the rear of the column.

He kept his axe in hand and his eyes scanned the surrounding forest. He felt better thanks to the strange elixir, but the scars on his head still itched. He scratched his beard.

Middenheim was the right place to be, but the dwarf knew that the trip will not be an easy one.

As the group sets out Hans Baumann and a few others with the experience join Edgar in scouting ahead. As much as beastmen and mutants they are also on the lookout for game and edible nuts and berries. While there is a little food it is thin helping for ninety souls facing several days march and a stag or even a rabbit is a prize worth taking.

The road is dominated on both sides by the dark green of the forest, but to your right you can see the land rise up into the Howling Hills, their bare summits poking above the treeline like islands in the sea.

Father Dietrich, who is travelling with a leather satchel he keeps a tight grip on converses with Jocelin as they walk near the middle of the caravan: "I've never been to Middenheim but I imagine it won't be much like our Altdorf. I do know there is a Sigmarite temple there but it is overshadowed by Ulric - in that city, across most of Middenland the lord of winter still reigns."

The first day and night of the march pass uneventfully. Progress is painfully slow as the group can only move as fast as the slowest townsman. Carts and Children, as well as food shortages further hamper progress. Halfway through the second day, the convoy approaches Grimminhagen, a town which at least from the distance looks of larger size than Untergard. Without a word Hans begins leading the column around the ruins of the town. You've heard enough from the townsfolk to know why... The people of Untergard are not welcome in Grimminhagen and no solace will be found there.

---

OOC: Anyone who wants to go looking for food make an Outdoor Survival roll.

Anyone wanting to get a closer look at Grimminhagen make a very easy (+30%) Perception roll.

Fyodor gets his arquebus ready as they approach the village.


OOC:
19:22, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 10 using 1d100.  Perception 57.

As the column was passing by the Grimminhagen, Harkrin took a closer look at the town, surprised by the human nature. What was the point of avoiding the nearest town due to some old grudges if they were all threatened by beastmen and mutants?

13:31, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 1 using 1d100 ((1)).

Edgar rode his pony just short of the outskirts of the town as the column move along behind him and kept an eye on it until they had passed



16:59, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 62 using 1d100.  Perception target 65

Jocelin is happy to speak of Altdorf with Father Dietrich on the road. "It is a sign of Sigmar's mercy and forbearance that the old faiths are supported and sustained, so long as they recognize where authority comes from, of course! After all, Ulric's wrath and sullen natures are comprehended within Sigmar. What do you think of the teaching I have heard that the northern gods are prefigures of Sigmar, and if are not the complete Truth, are elements of it?"

As they passed Grimmenhagen Jocelin lamented the animosity among Imperial subjects. "Unity is what it needed in the face of the Unspoken; it is such a shame these divisions beset us so!" She wanders to the edge of the caravan's path to take a better look.

---

OOC:
13:08, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 25 using 1d100.  Perception - Target 71.

Father Dietrich looks a little surprised and impressed at Jocelin's academic grasp of religion. "I'd say all the gods have their place and there is much wisdom in what you say my child. Be warned though that most in Middenheim - in Middenland for that matter - do not think the same. Relations between the churches are... difficult at times"

As you near Grimminhagen on the afternoon of the second day each of you get a good view of the town. Hans Bauman had described the place as a 'wreck' and he wasn't exaggerating; Grimminhagen was larger than Untergard and had once possessed perhaps a thousand inhabitants but now it was a fire blackened ruin.

It was not however abandoned. Even from a few hundred yards away you can clearly see people (and they are obviously humans rather than beastmen or mutants) clearing debris, repairing palisades and otherwise engaged in activity.

Harkrin, who manages to find just the right spot can make out further details; the survivours look like townsfolk not terribly different from those of Untergard and there is a banner flying from a stone structure that is probably the town hall - a green flag with a stylised black dragon emblazoned upon it.

"So... are we going to negotiate with them and suggest they join us?" Harkrin asked and looked around to find that no one from the rear guard was really interested. Cursing, he slowly made his way towards the front of the column, pushing aside anyone getting in his way.

"Aside from more civilians." he said when he finally reached Captain Schiller "they seem to have some sort of military out there." he pointed his axe at the town, the blade missing some unfortunate guard by inches. "Would be safer to join the forces perhaps?"

Captain Schiller looks at Harkin in obvious surprise. It is not immediately clear whether the watch commander is more surprised at the question or the questioner. After a moment silence he creased his iron grey brows and replies.

"You ask a fair question dwarf, but there is ancient bad blood between the people of Untergard and those of Grimminhagen. Most of the people here would sooner march with orcs or fimir than them. Let Graf Sternhaeur look after his own."

The Captain glanced around then continued. "That said you and you your friends are outsiders... I doubt you'd find a happy audience but perhaps you could warn them of the beastherd on the march. We're moving slow enough with the ox-carts that you'll catch up with us."

Jocelin took heart at the Captain's suggestion. "One never knows how hearts may be turned towards unity in the face of Chaos... I'll certainly go! And if their hearts are hard... they will know where help may be found, if it comes to that."

Fyodor stayed quiet for the time being awaiting what the group decided to do. He wasnt opposed to trail off and visit the burned down city but doubted they could convince them to join the caravan if the hatred was a strong as the Captain said it was.

"Why so mad with Grimminhagen" he asked the captain.

Edgar rode back to the others "I have to agree if nothing else they need to know the beast men are moving their way. I will not stand in the way of a fued but it is right and proper they should be aware of their potential fate if they stay."

"And as the good captain states as outsiders our word might carry more weight than if he were to speak them"

"Untergard was founded a hundred years ago by people from small villages and farms near Grimminhagen," Captain Schiller explains to Fyodor. The watch captain stroked his steel coloured moustache as he reminisced. "Our ancestors, my grandfather among them were fleeing the unjust taxes of Graf Sternhauer - the current Graf's own grandfather. Our forefathers built a great town in the wilderness and Ulric willing Untergard will rise again."

His expression turns grim and he looks coldly at Grimminhagen. "We've never forgiven them and they've never forgiven us."

The forest road leads down a slight incline directly into Grimminhagen - in fact the convoy has probably added at least a couple of hours onto the journey by skirting the town - but none of the Untergarders seem to be looking with longing at Grimminhagen. Many indeed are ignoring it ostentatiously and you can catch a glimpse of Granny Moescher's normally cheerful face turn into a scowl as she looks at the ruins.

As the four of you (or five including the faithful pony Nibbles) turn down the road towards Grimminhagen you get a good feel for the place. Like Untergard it bridges the River Taub, though this far upstream the river is maybe half the width it is at Untergard. A stone wall surrounds two hundred or so buildings. There are holes in the wall now and most of the buildings are in sad shape or outright ruined but as you near the gate there is still a flurry of activity from within.

Two men emerge carrying halberds. They look tired and unshaven, their clothing is torn and dirtied and their maroon cloaks tattered but it is clear from their bearing and the practiced way they hold their weapons that these are either watchmen or state troopers.

The duo look at you suspiciously, then at the refugees behind you, then back at you.

"Who goes there? State your business in Grimminhagen," the taller says.

Jocelin starts to respond, but stops. She looks at the mootling with narrow eyes, thinking: ~~ If he's to be useful, now would be the time. ~~

"Well go on, Messenger. Convince them of the need to stop these petty squabbles from dividing us."

"Har! One hundred years! It's nothing! Some family arguments among my people can last that long! Can you even imagine that? Having a wife who doesn't speak to you for decades?" Harkrin said to no one in particular and then quietly followed his companions towards the town. He was about to speak to the watchmen, but decided that perhaps he was not the most suitable representative of the group.

Fyodor was walking next to the dwarf as they approached the village. He chuckled at the wife comment but said nothing. As they got closer he checked his arquebus and kept it at hand in case of trouble.

Edgar followed the two men on his pony. He wasn't sure if they would listen to them but it was worth a try. And it it meant he didn't have to listen to Jackson's slightly condescending comments for a while it would at least give his ears a rest

The guards exchange glances with each other, then look back at you.

"Well? Ranald got your tongue?" the taller asks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:48, Thu 15 Apr 2021.

Jocelin realizes none of the men care to talk. "Pardon, guardsmen," she begins, "the mootling is not normally so quiet."

She points in the direction of Grimmenhagen.

"I am Mistress Herzog, Apprentice of the Winds, representative plenipotentiary of the Academy and authority in Altdorf by right. We come bearing greetings to the brave volk of Grimminhagen, its Lord Graf, and dire warning.

"That the Pax Sigmarium may be maintained in unity among the free volk, let us pass. Convey us to your lord."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:00, Thu 15 Apr 2021.

The kislivite chuckled having not understood at least half of what the wind witch had said. When the guard looked at him he just shrugged.

Edgar slid off his pony and approached the men " what my lady is trying to say is we bear a message for the leader of your town. I am a messenger of the guild of messengers" he showed his papers with the seal to prove he was indeed what he said he was

" if you could allow us through your defence we can deliver said message and be on our way. We have a number of messages to deliver to a number of towns and villages along this route and dare not tally as what we need to say is important and urgent"

"Ah, the mootling managed to find his tongue. You have our apologies."

"Just step aside and let us do our job." the dwarf grumbled impatiently.

The watchmen stare at Jocelin uncertainly for a moment, but with Edgar adding his claims of a message and 'Klinka' his characteristic friendliness they evidently decide you aren't a danger to the town.

"Fine you can go in. Entrance toll is normally two pennies, but I guess if you are on official business... you can find the Balif at the town hall in the Leopoldplatz. Can't miss it, just walk straight ahead." the taller guard says. He and his comrade stand aside and you are free to enter Grimminhaegen.

Inside the gate you quickly get the impression of a town that is at once bigger than Untergard (had been) but also poorer. The buildings are plainer and built to an older style and the streets narrower. A variety of pale faces appear at windows or step outside doors to look at you pass and you hear snatches of whispers about the newcomers. The vast majority appear human but you notice a handful of halflings among the citizenry.

The Leopoldplatz itself is a square at the centre of the town, backed by the tall narrow buildings favoured across so much of Middenland. A particularly large stone structure, clearly the town hall stands on the side nearer the river, a green pendant with a black dragon flying from the spire. The door of the hall is closed and guarded by two grim looking men with halberds.

The other significant structure in the platz is, of all things, a large tent in the middle of the cobbles. Perhaps a score of civilians are milling about it under the eyes of a trio of armed guards.

Edgar slipped off his pony and tied her up and walked over to the three guards " I am Edgar Stoutfoot at your service" He said with a formal bow " I wish to speak to the person in charge I am a messenger of the guild of messengers and have a very important message to relay to them" he waved his hand towards the others " these good people are with me to corroborate the contents of said message"

Fyodor nodded in the most official way possible before taking a deeper look at the people in the square.


OOC: How are the guards armed and clad? And is there any indication on how large the remaining city guard force is?

"And we don't have much time to waste." Harkrin added to what the Halfling just said.

The tent reminds most of you of the kind of thing that might be seen in a travelling circus or at a carnival, a great gaudy green and yellow structure with gold trim. It was patched and faded in places and to the more cosmopolitan Jocelin it seemed strikingly tasteless but it was clearly intended to be magnificent.

A lot of people are bustling in and out of the tent with pensive expressions on their faces and their is a hint of (cheap) incense in the air, wafting from inside.

Outside the entrance are three town guards with the same maroon cloaks and halberds as those you saw at the entrance. One, seemingly the leader, a tall red haired woman taps the haft of her polearm on the cobbles and studies you with critical grey eyes. "A schilling each for non-townsmen to see the Emperor's Shrine," she states as she sees you approach. "A schilling and a half for the dwarf."

At Edgar's statement she raises an eyebrow and points at the door to what you presume is the town hall. "You'll be wanting the Baliff - he's in there."

As far as can Fyodor can tell the people here seem much like those of Untergard. Tired, hungry looking civilians, some bearing wounds from recent battle. Including those on the gate and a few on the street the Kislevite has made out maybe a dozen armed men and women. That's about the same as the surviving Untergard watch under Captain Schiller but given there seem more people in Grimminhagen it could be twice that, maybe more including able bodied civilians.

Edgar nodded his thanks and moved off to the town hall, he had little use for human gods and looking upon a shrine was of little use to him.

As he entered the building he stopped anyone nearby and asked for directions to the Balif

Harkrin snorted at the price, but decided to remain quiet. He followed Edgar to the building, making sure that his presence and angry face would give them the safe passage to the Bailiff.

"What is Shrine?" Fyodor asks curiously as he tries to get a peek inside.

"His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Karl-Franz set up his war tent here four weeks ago when the army passed through Grimminhagen," the lead guard tells Fyodor. Her voice swells with pride. "I saw him myself and heard him speak. We've set up a shrine here where for only one schilling you can pray here."

One of the other halberdiers, a rangy looking fellow who has poorly disguised the fact he is eavesdropping pipes up: "If you are interested I have a locket of hair took from the tail of the Emperor's horse. Only six pfennings!"

Edgar and Harkrin find their requests answered with a shrug and a gesture via thumb into the town hall. "He's in there messenger."

Harkrin notices the guards at the townhall look notably grumpier than their counterparts at the tent but they are not actively hostile.

Fyodor wondered where Karl Franz's army was headed. He fished out a schilling from his pocket and gave it to the lead guard.

"Where did army go?"

Jocelin loved how the Emperor was able to stir such feelings of loyalty out in the provinces. "Oh, of course we will pay our respects to the passing of His Imperial Majesty, and will gladly donate to the cause of Grimmenhagen, for it is just. Come, Fyodor; I will pay for you. Let us offer our respects." She pretended not to hear the pfenning-begging guard.

From her coin purse she draws three schillings and hands them to the guard, saying, "Please excuse our companions... the mootlings and the dwarfs are stout allies in times such as these, but..." and she trails off, shrugging, leaving the rest unsaid but understood.

Putting her arm through Fyodor's elbow she leads him inside the tent.

Fyodor looks surprised at Jocelins gesture but doesn't object to it. The large warrior is unfamiliar with the Empires etiquette so he mutters a quiet thank you and then escorts the young lady into tent.

Harkrin let Edgar lead the way into the town hall, but even inside he kept his hand on the axe safe hanging from his belt. With humans, one could never be sure what to expect.

The tent interior proves to be home to what is clearly a makeshift shrine. A wooden table covered with a heraldic Middenland banner is topped by a life sized wooden bust of the emperor, garlanded with laurel leaves. Around it are a half dozen large white-yellow candles, bathing the tent interior with flickering light.

On the table there is a bowl of what is presumably blessed water for pilgrims to dab  themselves and a collection of token offerings - copper rings, small coins bearing the Emperor's likeness, pewter and wooden talismans marked with the griffon or the wolf, several hammers and even a sword that looks like it has seen better days.

As Fyodor and Jocelin watch a young townswoman enters, shyly drops a cheap looking bracelet on the table, kneels before the shrine and whispers a few words in (presumably) prayer, then makes the mark of Sigmar's hammer on her forehead before leaving.

---

Meanwhile Edgar and Harkrin find themselves walking down a corridor in the town hall and entering an office. Dusty portraits of aristocrats stare down at them from the walls. The bulk of the room is home to a huge wooden desk and behind that desk, nearly buried by parchments and books sits a portly moustached man in dark blue brocade. He is evidently writing something as you enter and looks up, quill still in hand, expression tired.

"Well?"

Fyodor watched in silence as the lady left and then walked up to the table to study it more carefully. He gently picked up one of the talismans and studied it before putting it back down.

He then circled the table to see if there was anything else of interest.

"My lord I bring a message from one of the scouts for the town of Untergard, my friend and I were there not so long ago while a raiding party of beastmen attacked." he said as he moved towards the seated man.

" the news is not good, there is a large horde of beastmen moving in this general direction and will be upon your town in mere days if not sooner. The people of Untergard are travelling towards the city to look for protection. I suggest you rally your people and do likewise. Not even your defenses will stand against such a horde."

Edgar didn't think his words would change the situation Humans had a knack for getting into trouble and being in places they shouldn't. They were also stubborn, sometimes even more so than his friend the dwarf. But he was asked to deliver message and now he was free to join the Untergard towns people and head away from danger.

"Technically, you don't have to join people of Undergard. Since you hate each other so much." the dwarf added. "We merely suggest you follow them for your own safety."

Jocelin kneeled at the altar and made her offering to Sigmar and thanksgiving for the Emperor. She stood and looked at Fyodor. "How long have you been traveling in the Empire? I'm sorry I hadn't asked before, but... so much going on, you know! Why don't you tell me about where you come from while we walk and make sure the others don't get themselves in trouble with the Graf." Again she slipped her arm around his elbow and began to walk towards the exit.

The bailiff (presumably) grimaces at Edgar's mention of Untergard but his expression grows more concerned as the halfling continues and as Harkrin adds his own blunt statement.

"I see... well I will have to inform the Graf of course before I take any decision. I should warn you though not to mention the name 'Untergard' in this business should you talk to anyone here."

The baliff picks up a fresh sheaf of parchment from his overflowing desk, scribbles a few illegible lines on it and seals it with his signet ring. Then he picks up a small brass bell and rings it. A few moments later and a guard appears in the doorway.

"Viktor, carry this letter to Graf Sternhauer at once," the bailiff states

"Yes Herr Beck," the guard says, saluting, taking the letter and disappearing the way he came.

With a sigh Herr Beck leans back on his hard wooden seat (which creaks audibly), appears to think about something for a moment, then opens a desk drawer and retrieves a small money pouch that clinks as he handles it. The portly official pushes it across the the desk towards Edgar. "Thank you, and take this for your troubles. Best I can do. Is there anything more you can tell me?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:09, Mon 26 Apr 2021.

Fyodor watched the wind witch as she made her offering to her god. This time he was much less surprised when she grabbed his elbow.
He escorted her out of the tent and listened to her questions. The warrior towered over the woman and he wondered for a brief second what her story was. He then spoke slowly in his broken Reikspiel.

"Six months. In Empire."he answered her and he scratched his chin before continuing "Me from Kislev. Cold North. Dangerous area."

"Apart from the beastmen? Not much. They're well armed and pretty dangerous, but that's something you already know." the dwarf said and turned to Edgar "We should be going and catch up with the rest. I don't fancy travelling these woods alone."

OOC: Unless Edgar has anything else to discuss with the man, Harkrin will get back outside and hurry his companions to return to the Untergard column.

The message of warning delivered you begin to make your way back to join the refugees, leaving the citizens of Grimminhagen to there own fate whatever it is.

By the time you exit the gates a light rain is falling and moving up the road you can see the caravan of refugees has only moved on a little way - in fact moving up the trees you can see one of the rear guards (probably Hilde, judging by the shape the flashes of blonde hair escaping from beneath her helmet) talking to some other people to your immediate south as you rejoin the main road.

---

OOC: The pouch Herr Beck hands Edgar turns out to have ten silver schillings in it.

Easy (+10%) Perception checks please.

23:30, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 21 using 1d100.  Perception target 45

16:01, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 78 using 1d100.  Perception 25.

Edgar can make out four figures talking to Hilde - two unfamiliar men (red haired slender man and a tall, lean brown haired man with a bow), an olive skinned, raven haired beauty of a woman and one other figure.

Impossible as it seemed, this final figure looked like your supposedly dead comrade Lukas Kohl.

Fyodor grabbed his rifle as he spotted the four strangers. One could never be too careful in these times.

Harkrin walked over to the strangers and studied them in silence. "Why are you standing here?" he finally asked.

"Yes...I suppose they are..." Lukas replied to Hilde, who was supervising the rear of the train heading North.  His voice trailing as he saw the figures leaving Grimminhagen and heading closer towards them.  It wasn't hard to spot them, they were the only people who didn't look like desperate refugees.  The Dwarf and the Halfling stood out as one would expect but the giant Northman, a good head taller than the rest of the party and the strange woman in the colourful robes marked them out as the outsiders who he had briefly camped with in the ruins of 'The Bawdy Goblin'.

He felt a curious feeling of relief that they all appeared to be in one piece, but then it turned into another feeling that he didn't care for.  It was one of resentment and he felt his anger build inside him as they tramped up the hill towards them.  He bit his lip hard, and felt the coppery taste of his own blood at the tip of his tongue.  When the time came to defend Untergard they all held back and let him fight the mutants on his own.  When he fell from the river they left him to die.  He'd practically sacrificed himself and neither the town nor the outsiders cared less and now here he was, feeling angry about himself for feeling so hurt.

He breathed in and tried to calm himself, turning to his new friends who had held back from the conversation with Hilde.

"These are the people I was telling you about," as if it wasn't obvious by their distinction from the rest of the townsfolk.  Whatever they decided wasn't his concern in any case, really he felt he was doing everyone concerned a favour.

He steeled himself to let his feelings pass and greet them with a friendly 'hello' and just let the others decide what they thought best.  That was until the sullen dwarf made it to the top of the hill and asked them what they were doing - like he owned the Drakwald!

"What am I doing here?" he added incredulously, with a look of wide eyed astonishment on his face.  "Why am I standing here?" he snapped, as if it was an affront to the Dwarf that he should be alive and talking to people he knew and called neighbour.

"We're talking to Hilde here.  What's it of your business?" he added dismissively, turning away from the dwarf and deciding not to explain himself further.

"Ah, so you are alive." the dwarf said and poked Lukas gently with his axe, as if to check if the human was really standing in front of him. "Good." it was all he had to say, though in his mouth it sounded as if it was the proper expression of happiness that Lukas survived the fall.

"I can see you are standing and talking. Why aren't you moving? In fact, why isn't the column moving? With tempo like that, you'll all get old and die before we get to Middenheim." he grumbled.

Jocelin continued to walk with Fyodor asking him about his homeland she knew hardly anything about. She felt like she had to ask lots of questions though; she supposed Kislevites were a terse people.

When they joined up with Edgar and Harkin she decided not to ask the mooting about it; no doubt he’d be testy about anyone questioning whether an accredited bonded journeyman Messenger 3rd class with double-stars or whatever he was could deliver a message. Not worth the bother, or so she hoped for the Grimmenhagen volk’s sake.

Some time later when they came upping those waiting in the road she viewed them with suspicious curiousity until Lukas spoke. “Lukas! Lukas! Thank Sigmar’s Shield!” she cried, tugging on Fyodor’s arm. “We thought you perished! The mooting and I searched for you in the river, but you’d been swept away past us to your death, or so we mourned. Have you heard?! We’re taking your people away to the safety of stout Imperial walls; they’ll be so happy to see you safely returned to them!”

Fyodor finally recognized the man after Jocelin called out his name. He was the one who had led a single person suicide charge against the mutants on the bridge. A real heroic sacrifice, but a strategic catastrophe. Fyodor wasnt sure how he had survived but somehow he had.

"You alive but you crazy." he said tapping his right temple.  "Next time, no charge. Stay close. Together" he waved at the group "we stronger."

Lukas blinked at the taciturn dwarf's statement and prod of his axe.  He was certain he was trying to provoke him and Lukas felt somewhat even more annoyed.  That was until the funny woman from Altdorf in her robes exploded in a flurry of words (indeed, it wouldn't surprise him if she did explode such was her exuberance).  Lukas blushed deeply, not so much at the words at her expression of excitement at finding him alive but more what she had said.  The little halfling and her had come to look for him but it was to late.  He couldn't change the facts of the matter but he did feel somewhat ashamed - he hadn't been completely abandoned and that knowledge made him feel a little guilty at feeling so wretched when he thought he had been left to die.

It was the man from the North's turn to speak next and his words were indeed wise.  Lukas bit his tongue again, not to quell anger but to avoid a retort which would serve no use (along the lines of, 'how was I supposed to know when the mutants attacked you were all going to wait for them to launch into the townsfolk').  It would be a stupid argument and serve no purpose.  He'd learnt his lesson and would not try to be a hero again.

He coughed, and looked around as though he was saying something rather secretive but really he didn't mind those present hearing.

"I'm not sure if I am going to Middenheim straight away actually.  I'll probably catch the caravan up later."  He did feel an affinity to the townsfolk of Untergard but it wasn't a given he was 'one of them' and would automatically follow.  "I've got some business escorting my friends here to Grimminhagen first," he said nodding to the trio who saved his life.

One of the trio Lukas has indicated steps forward. He is a thin red haired man who looks at the rest of you suspiciously. "Are these the friends you mentioned Kohl?"

Beside him a beautiful woman with olive skin tones and dark hair and eyes, watching you. She too seems to be judging the situation but her expression seems left doubtful - or she is better at hiding it.

Fyodor notices the woman watching them. He nodded a friendly greeting to her and then turned his attention back to the Lukas and the new speaker.

Lukas glanced at Gunther for a moment, before turning back to quartet from 'The Bawdy Goblin' and nodding.

"Yes Gunther, these are the people I told you about."

He turned back to Edgar, Harkrin, Jocelin and Fyodor.  "This is Gunther and his friends.  They saved my life and in turn I'm helping them with a bit of local escort duty of my own to Grimminhagen.  I can vouch for them, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

"Um," the olive complexioned woman says, her accent Tilean. "I tink we are actually going near Grimminhagen-" she slowly and carefully pronouces the Reikspiel. "Not in it. Si Gunther?"

She looks at Gunther. The red haired man does not look happy at this sharing of information but nods in assent.

Fyodor warned the foreigners "Grimminhagen danger place. Big beastman roam. And mutants. Beat shit out Lukas. No army, no go."

for a moment Edgar was at a loss and allowed the others to talk over each other at Lukas then he stepped forward " You big human loaf of stale bread.... you gave me a near heart attack when you went over the bridge. I dived down the back and searched the river bank for your body I was even going to ride nibbles down river to at least find your body and give it a proper burial......" for a moment there was a stern anger in the halfling's voice but soon it dropped away and a smile spread across his face

 " don't you ever do that to me again ....you hear if you intend to die do it on land so I can morn over your body" he then huffed and held out his hand ....as his dad used to say a handshake resolved all issue between friends

Jocelin brightened at the olive-skinned woman's accent. "Oh, charming! Ah..." She attempted a halting phrase in a foreign tongue.  "Ha, sorry... I'm rusty, it's been so long since I've done more than read that language!"

---

OOC:
DM, would you set up language groups for us?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Wed 05 May 2021.

For a few moments Pieter let the others handle the introductions, his learned wariness helping him fade into the background, but their clear begrudging  delight at being reacquainted with Lukas prompted him to step for, “Pieter. Lukas has said much of the Defenders of … the town”
This message was last edited by the player at 04:43, Thu 06 May 2021.

Lukas smiled at the halfling's words and felt rather embarrassed at his feelings of anger and abandonment.  He had jumped to conclusions but he had no reason to dispute the words of Jocelin and Edgar.  Lukas shook Edgar's hand warmly and returned the smile, "I promise I will die on land next time," he laughed.  He pretended not to hear Luciana's comments about where they were going.  He felt he could not speak on behalf of Gunther and his plan even though Luciana had let slip Grimminhagen wasn't their final destination.

He caught Luciana's eye and raised his own eyebrow in interest.  It was a curious position, he had loyalty to Gunther and his group - what Luciana did for him he would never forget and yet he was but a guide for them.  He also had a kinship with the people of Untergard and this band of individuals who he lived with in the aftermath of the assault on time.  Both in and out, he was both alone and the conduit to these groups.  He had advised Gunther, passing on both his recommendation and caution.  His sense of loyalty though prevented him from speaking further.

Pieter forced a smile at Lukas' attempt at banter, though it seemed warm enough, "Luciana is right, our errand is close by the town, not in Grimminhagen. We should be in and out before the beastherd catches our scent..."

His own eyebrow unconsciously mirrored that of the charcoal burner, raised at Luciana, "Can we let Lukas discharge his debt, let him and his friends continue on with the ... people .. of Untegard? Or do we need him a little longer?"

As he asked, his eyes flicked to the man's companions, a steady bunch, useful in a pinch, and hoped she received the interfence

"We are near Grimminhagen." the dwarf pointed out to the strangers. "I assume you are looking for some other near?"

Harkrin was not particularly happy about their presence and their talk was difficult to follow. Sure, they were looking for something around the town, but the way they put it... well, it sounded like they tried to hide something. And that made him distrust them. At least for now.

The Tilean woman's eyebrows shot up as Jocelin spoke, and she turned an amused looking smile and wink at the wizardess. [Language unknown: "Hat di be Tinughvir. Ilme Notres'hasore? Wi Somthashe unsi Ingndestr."]

Gunther snorted at this but said nothing.

Hilde, the blonde watchwoman walks past you. "I hate to break up this friendly meeting but the rest of us are heading North," she gestures to the convoy of refugees which is indeed slowly pulling away from you.

Gunther glances at the others then comes to a decision. "Yes, we're heading north too, we'll join you for a while. I ah think our destination lies further along anyway." He looks to both Pieter and Lukas for your confirmation.

"Indeed, past the town and north for a while", nodded Pieter warily, though he pasted on a smile. His eyes flicked between Gunther and Luciana, then back to Lukas as well, "We're happy to keep the column moving and our eyes open, if there's a warm fire or some bread we might share, Frau Hilde"

"These people won't have much Pieter, but the folk of Untergard are nothing if not generous with what little they have," suggested Lukas.  He doubted there was enough to feed the convoy let alone others but he also knew that Schiller would be grateful for a few more eyes and blades covering the trek to Middenheim.  How close they would go is another matter.

"It's settled then, we'll bring up the rear of this column until our friends need to depart.  Hilde, we'll get word up to Captain Schiller that there are a few more joining us for a short while.  Ulric knows it will be needed, we narrowly escaped the attention of a band of beastmen just last night ourselves."

Lukas warily eyed Luciana.  He did not understand her words when she spoke in her native tongue, but he suspected she was glad to use it.  Neither Gunther nor Pieter seemed overly impressed with her at the moment but Lukas chose to trust her judgement, after all it wasn't really his business.

Agreeing that they had to move on Lukas began to walk.  He turned to the assembled group to ask how they had fared in Grimminhagen.  "Did you go to warn them of the incoming beastherd?  Were they as stubborn as mules?"

He suspected that before the people of Grimminhagen left they would count every brass penny less they drop one on the walk to Middenheim.

The big warrior shifted his on his feet and pointed at himself "Fyodor"

"We go. Herd be here soon." he said as the group seemed to have agreed on joining forces.

Edgar looked up a Lukas " yes I delivered the message myself....and yes they are as stubborn as a dead mule, sadly I doubt we will see any of them alive again" he fell silent at that sobering thought and continued to walk

Jocelin beamed at the foreigner. "[Language unknown: Esieus, Resiouine! Rutthawas Oerhouear ne adur n. T ca areatewhi Hisereiouort all esseauvir, mo encentwhi hiwema latvormen! Ers itul teev Com? Mi! Int larer laressugh sihaar, reic teprse. oTa proonesti tr chlo ssek ineainwer wihawi no ndesaninedin be k llaica ssriis wil traome'oertin les whnot thhoil u butai!e]"

She nodded at the prospect of traveling with Lukas' friends, and only tut-tutted the predicted fate of the Grimmenvolk at the halfling's dire prediction. "Oh this one is so dramatic. The volk have the right reverence for Sigmar: they'll pull together despite the hardships, though, yes, they will grieve for those lost for lack of help..."

Lukas smirked at Jocelyn's enthusiastic, hopeful yet perhaps naive remark.  He appreciated her force of nature and enthusiasm which was like a flash of colour on a grey day at times.

He did however share Edgar's assessment of the situation and nodded along with the halfling.

"I imagine that in your trade it is rarely good news you are carrying and it is messages of worry and sorrow you have to impart.  If you wish to enamour yourself with the people of Untergard and raise their spirits and speed to Middenheim I'd tell them what you told me.
There are a fair few here who would be glad to see the back of Grimminghagen!"

Perhaps it was inappropriate to jest about the sacking of a town after what befell his own home but these times brought the grimmest of humours....

"Aye, the locals are as stubborn as those damned dwarves of Karak Norn." Harkrin added.

"sadly my friend if I was going to speak the message aloud to the town it would cause more panic than would be advisable.." he looked back at the town as they left to rejoin the column sighed " this will be a town of the dead soon enough"

Pieter simply nodded, not wanting too much attention and seemingly pleased that Lukas had suggested they take the rearguard

Introductions having been made the expanded group finds itself part of the rearguard of the slowly moving column of refugees. Grimminhagen gradually falls behind, lost behind the dark green wall of the tree line.

As the day marches on the weather grows cooler even as the sky remains blue and clear, promising a morning frost. Luciana, hailing from sunny Tilea looks notably chilly and wraps a cloak ever harder around her frame but the Imperials are less affected - and to Klinka and the Kislevite Fyodor a little bite to the air still feels positively balmy.

As the evening approaches Captain Schiller passes word down the line that they intend to camp for the night by the side of the road.

---

OOC: If anyone wants to go up to talk to Captain Schiller (or Granny Moescher or Father Dietrich for that matter) they can easily do so - the refugees are moving at the rate of the slowest ox-drawn wagon.

Jocelin insists Luciana come with her to Granny Moescher, as she seems most likely to have (or know who would have) a thick northern shawl for her new acquaintance. She'll then suggest they visit with Father Dietrich as the other educated (and most cosmopolitan) member of the company.

A day's march would normally leave one weary but the pace of march and the threat of what lay behind them made him feel quite anxious.  It was right to camp for the night, carrying on would do the people no favours although he felt they were terribly exposed on the road. Soon he would make himself known to Schiller, he suspected he'd have already heard the news of his miraculous return from the dead but nevertheless he respected and owed the captain that news first hand.  He would also assure Schiller that he would take a watch at the rear of the group during the night.

But first he needed a moment's rest and sat down next to Pieter and rested his bones for a while.

Edgar sat next to Lukas please his friend had survived. From his backpack the halfling took out a small black pan and some potatoes which he peeled the skin off in long thin strips.
He then diced the potatoes up and added dried herbs and seasoning before adding some water and just a little ale from two bottles. while that bubbled away he took the skins and placed them on a small iron plate he also took out of his pack. to these he added a small cut of fat he kept wrapped in greased paper as they cooked he sat quietly tasting thing every now and then.

Finally he took out two wooden bowls and spooned a helping of spiced potatoes and crispy skins into them before handing one to Lukas " its not high fare but it is tasty and will keep you going perhaps tomorrow one of us can catch a hare and I can add meat to it."

With that he put a lid on the pan intending to offer a serving to the others when they turned up before sitting quietly and eating his supper

Lukas broke off his whispering to Pieter about the weather or whatever and smiled at Edgar.  He'd come to the assumption that the halfling was a decent fellow really and that was accentuated when he starting peeling potatoes and before sautéing then in his little pan.  It had mostly been mushrooms, berries, roots and small game since his dip in the river which had sustained him but hardly been fayre one would ever ask the town crier to yell about.

He wasn't going to ask for a share but he felt his eyes drawing to the diced potatoes simmering in the ale, and at one point he was embarrassed when his stomach rumbled.  When Edgar offered a share Lukas was genuinely grateful.

"That's very kind of you Edgar," he said warmly before spooning a mouthful.

His taste buds exploded.

Lukas didn't know what seasonings were used or how Edgar had turned simple potatoes into something heavenly.  He had heard the rumours about halfling food but couldn't ever remember trying any.  In fact, he could count on one hand the number of meals he had which neither his deceased father or himself had made.  For him, cooking was purely functional and for sustenance.  They were the best potatoes he had ever had.

"These are delicious Edgar," he cried in between mouthfuls (excitement had removed any table manners he may have had), and then he realised he may have just offended Edgar, who he imagined with a proper kitchen, time and ingredients would be able to rustle up any kind of wonders.

"I mean it, really," he said sincerely, "just what I needed, and yes tomorrow it will be easy enough for us to slip off and catch something for the pot," he added, before catching Pieter's eye at the inference of his words.

He looked at the bowl, the food already 'well started'.  He passed the bowl to Pieter , urging him to try the food.

"Here...try these, they're really good Pieter."

He turned back to Edgar and smiled, "I have to share 'em... no matter what life throws at us, having someone who can cook is a lifesaver!'

As lukas went to offer his bowl to Pieter the halfling stayed his hand before pulling out another bowl and filling it from the pot handing that one to Pieter instead.

"the pan of a halfling is there for all to share" he said with a warm smile. It was not in a halflings make up not to offer his food to others and has the host of the pan tonight he was going to be the best host he could in the situation they found themselves

At the day's end, Pieter found himself a log and watched the refuges as they deported themselves. His eyes were wary, empathetic perhaps, but expression was hard as memories of his own past imposed itself. He tucked one boot beneath where he sat, massaging some feeling back into his toes and sole and scraping the worst of the day's wear from both, before repeating the same ritual with the other and then replacing both boots. It was an unconscious motion, and he was clearly used to privation, though he chanced a smile when Lukas sat himself by and muttered a few words. He nodded in response, an acknowledgement and perhaps a promise to consider what had been spoken, but he said nothing. His eyes had taken in the halfling approaching and he chanced a second smile as the Stoutfoot deftly prepared something in his pan.

His mouth watered, following the sample that Lukas tasted, saying nothing.

His smile was far more genuine at the gesture from the burner, and then by the maker of their meal, and he bobbed his head in thanks, tasting and then lingering over the well-prepared treat, "You have my thanks, Master Stoutfoot; I have heard tell of the pans of the smallfolk, but this exceeds those tales"

" no the pleasure is all mine, I am on the road most of the time so it is a real pleasure to be able to cook for others now and then especially those that appreciate simple things. If we ever find peace you are both invited to my small holding, if it is still there, and I will cook you both a seven course meal that will be so rich that you will not be able to move for at least four days" he said with a grin.

As a messenger he had been taught to give good and bad news and this put him in good stead to be able to distract people who were in difficult situations. A simple meal was a good distraction from the horrors encountered and those they might meet along the way.

Pieter laughed, “Any more than roast game and a few vegetables and it would be too rich for me; I’ve not had proper fresh bread for …”

He paused, frowned, “Years, now”

Fyodor had walked with the two foreign ladies and listened to them converse in a strange language. As they setup camp he nodded to the captain and took it upon himself to walk the perimeter to ensure they werent camping close to anything unpleasant.

"Aye," replied Lukas almost solemnly at Pieter's words.  He'd never been one for 'fine fayre' and he salivated, yet felt daunted at the Halfling's offering and generosity.

"That's a kind offer friend, although I doubt I would move for a month with seven courses Edgar!  Tell me, where is home when you are not being fleet of foot for the Empire?"

He'd heard of a land of Halfling's but he had never been there, much like he had never really been anywhere beyond the outskirts of the Drakwald.

The column of refugees sets up camp a couple of hours later in a large clearing by the side of the road, backed up by a sea of Middenland oaks standing like sentinels. The plip-plip of rain has turned the evening damp but overhead both moons and a few stars are visible, providing some light.

Captain Schiller issues orders for watches to be set and various preparations for the night to be set up. Tonight's dinner - for those without Edgar's skills with the skillet and long experience on the roads - includes hard bread, a little cheese and a few rabbits caught on route. All of it makes for thin pickings for the group but with more than half the distance to Middenheim covered there seems to be a little optimism in the air and people are willing to talk to take their mind off their empty stomachs and aching feet.

Luciana is happy to chatter away to her new friend, though the two quickly find they need to speak slowly to fully communicate.  As the two woman stroll through camp (attracting several admiring stares) they arrive at the ox-drawn wagon that houses Granny Moescher and her wards... only to find it empty.

Part of the mystery is quickly solved. Several of Granny's orphans are soon found wandering through camp. They are crying and wailing. "Granny, Granny, where are you, Granny?" A quick scan of the camp does not turn her up.

Captain Schiller frowns. "Taal's Teeth! What now? Someone's going to have to find her." He mutters something under his breath about not being a babysitter, although you're pretty sure that his lack of desire to watch the children is a mask for his concern for Granny Moescher.

Edgar looked off into the distance for a moment contemplating Lukas question " I have a little cabin in the Moot up north. It sits in the middle of nowhere on the edge of the river Aver.My little sister, her husband and three children live there and tend the fields."

He took the lid off the pan and stirred the contents " I intend to build a little place on the edge of our land for myself once I get too old to deliver messages and have a chair by a large roaring fire with my larder shelves stacked to the ceiling and my cellar full of wine and ale" he gave a smile and put the lid back on the pan.

" but that is for another day, if I never make it back I want  to know that I did all I could in my small way to protect my family from what these poor people have faced and will face in the coming days."

Lukas felt comforted just listening to Edgar.  There was something about the halfling that promised warmth, safety and a full belly.  He didn't know too much about their ways but he knew that 'home' was very important to them.  Lukas felt he could identify with that somewhat, even though he had no family and no home to speak off anymore there was something in Edgar's words that were worth clinging onto.

"It sounds like a fine future my friend, how good it would be to grow old and be content rather than just survive and hope that we get through the next day..." he said quietly.  Now they had to run, and move and just try and be safe of course.  Even growing old seemed to be an ambition out of reach at the moment.

"There's part of me that always would have been content with my little place in the woods and my burner, but there's no going back there now..."

Of course, he was only being slightly truthful.  There was a part of him now that had been awakened and needed the thrill of adventure and excitement now that he had a taste of it.  He didn't like to admit it but in some ways it was just as appealing as a warm fire and full larder that Edgar spoke off.

As he ruminated about the past, present and future his ears, and then his eyes were drawn to some commotion further away within the camp.  His eyes caught the colourful robes of the wizard and then he was sure he saw Luciana with her talking to Captain Schiller.  Part of him thought, 'just leave it' and to focus on his potatoes instead but something wasn't right.

Lukas gesticulated to the disturbance in the camp and tried to indicate Jocelin, "what do you think she's up to then?" he asked those assembled nearby.

“Nothing but trouble”, muttered Pieter to the burner’s question, moving quickly to join the search; if the old woman wasn’t found , it meant the beast herd was upon them. Or worse. They needed to understand exactly the peril they were in, to measure it. Years of hiding in the Drachenvald had taught him that

Edgar stood up at the commotion and listened for a moment "I think I heard someone shout Granny Moescher is missing. I suggest we make a sweep of the camp quickly she can't have gone far and I can't believe the good captain hasn't posted guards a little way out. If she's not passed them she must be somewhere between the camp and their locations"

He quickly, more out of instinct than thought took the pan off the fire and laid it down on a nearby rock.

Taking up his club he nodded to lukas then moved out. He didn't take a torch his night vision made moving about in the dark no issues for him

"Captain Schiller, don't be troubled! I'm sure Granny simply slipped off for an herb or two for someone in need. I'm sure she'll be close by." Jocelin turned to Luciana. "[Language unknown: Inek la taieec ut he o?]"

She tried to gather all of Granny's orphans together and sang a song to comfort them. "We're going to play a game, isn't this fun! Now, close your eyes... think of what she looks like, from her silver hair, to her shawl, to the funny things she can do with her spots. Ok, have it? Now... imagine where she was when you last remember seeing her DONT SAY IT! ... just think." Jocelin put her hand under the chin of the oldest girl. "Ok, sweetie. Open your eyes. Do you remember? Can you point the direction of where that was?"

For a few minutes, Jocelin talked with the children to find out where Granny had walked off to before eventually heading in that direction and talking with the refugees she met if they had seen her.

---

OOC:

21:10, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 5 using 1d100.  Gossip - target 34.

What time of day is it? Dark, twilight, late afternoon?

Fyodor came back from his patrol and noticed straight away the commotion and crying children. He joined the wind witch and the new exotic lady and asked in his accented Reikspiel.

"Something happened?"

Lukas and Pieter had moved off to look for Granny Moescher almost immediately as soon as they had heard whilst Lukas was still trying to understand what was going on.  People were moving a little too fast for his liking and he had a horrible vision of everyone just blundering into the Drakwald and getting lost.  Who needed beastmen when a man could meet his own end....

"Wait up a moment fellas, Granny probably isn't lost."  He wasn't sure why there was such a kerfuffle at the moment, even though it now appeared that Jocelin was appearing to console distraught children, a task which there was likely no spell for.  "Granny likes to be on her own, she's probably just gone to find some herbs," 'or maybe just get a bit of peace and quiet' he thought.  Granny Moescher was a little like him, known in Untergard but not really part of it.

Deciding that the best thing to do would be to head over to Jocelin and Luciana and try and listen to what the children were saying he walked a little closer, but stood back.  He wasn't really used to children (at all) and although he had taken a dip in the river recently he knew that years of soot had ingrained in his face and with his big beard he 'possibly' may not have had a kindly face children would find endearing.  Getting closer, it was evident that the wizard had managed to soothe the little ones somewhat so he decided to listen to see what the children would say.

Edgar let the others congregate he was best moving on his own with out lots of torches to mess with his vision. He took a path just outside the camp and started to walk round it in a clockwise direction.

When he got back to the starting point he took a step 10 yards further out and repeated the process increasing his range and distance from the camp

Grumbling something about people getting lost in the darkness, Harkrin joined Edgar at the edge of the camp and looked around.

"Any luck?" he asked the Halfling. "If they start walking around the forest with all those torches, they'll probably attract some unwanted attention." he muttered part to himself.

" no nothing at the moment" replied the halfling " lets keep ahead of the torches so we don't loose the use of our dark sight" he suggested happy to have the dwarf at his side especially as they were still just ahead of a horde of beastmen

"We woke in the cart and Granny was gone!" the copper haired girl sobbed to Jocelin, her big hazel eyes flush with tears, even if Jocelin's soothing words seem to be calming her. The wizardess didn't really know the orphans well but the oldest was maybe twelve at best. There were still younger children in the convoy but they still had family looking after them.

Captain Schiller, who had walked over to see what the fuss was about looks at Lukas with obvious surprise, though he quickly recovers. "Still alive Kohl? Good man, I'm sure there is tale there worth hearing when we aren't immediately beset with problems."

He glances thoughtfully at Pieter, Gunther and Luciana, and raises one grey white caterpillar of an eyebrow. "More strays?"


Luciana offers to take temporary care of the orphans and Captain Schiller orders Father Dietrich to go among the other refugees and calm their nerves before the disappearance provokes an active panic. "We'll organise a search. Mistress Herzog, any chance she has spirited away by magic?"

Meanwhile Edgar and Harkin have found what looks like a foot print in the mud at the tree line.

It is now dusk and with the moons and stars peeping through the clouds there is still enough light to see without torches.

---

OOC: Can I get either a Follow Trail or Outdoor Survival roll from anyone looking to do some searching.

Jocelin you can make a Magical Sense roll (and one of the above rolls too if you are also searching.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:33, Thu 20 May 2021.

17:09, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 89 using 1d100.  Outdoor survival target 35.

18:53, Today: Harkrin 'Klinka' rolled 86 using 1d100.  Outdoor survival vs 15.

Lukas gulped when he saw Captain Schiller.  He had meant to say 'hello' earlier in the day but for one reason or another he had not got round to it yet.  It was quite rude of him not to have made the effort to let him know he was back from the dead and he did at least respect the Captain.

"You could say that Captain," he said, "and there will be a tale when there's some ale, I can tell you that."  He noticed the look towards the trio from the Drakwald and could instantly see Schiller thinking 'three more mouths' but also more likely sizing them up for anything useful that could help them get to Middenheim safely.

"They're with me Captain.  Good people too, I'll vouch for them."  And Lukas meant it too, though just how much he could vouch for someone he'd known for a couple of nights was another question.

You know what Granny's like Captain, she likes her own space but we'll look for her anyway, though if she's in a grump when we find her we'll tell her you sent us," he added with a smirk.  Turning to Gunther and Pieter he said, "If you want to get in the Captain's good graces you should join the search."

And with that, he tried to find Edgar and the dwarf.  Alas it was getting dark for him and he was somewhat preoccupied so he felt his contribution wasn't really helping.

(OOC: 19:52, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 93 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 44.  Outdoor Survival (Int 44).)

"See in night. Me. Da" Fyodor say while pointing to his eyes and then at the dark forest. "Help search."

The Wizard turned from the children and brightened at Luciana. "Oh, please call me Jocelin! And that is so good of you to offer, they do need looking after and the men are just so helpless when it comes to it."

She to saw the others walking around the camp, and glanced about shaking her head. "Other's eyes are keener in this dim light, but..." she closed her eyes but opened herself up to the Winds, that she might see the unseen; when she opened them her irises had variegated, and scintillating light danced on the surface.

---

OOC:

09:03, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 82 using 1d100.  Tracking/Survival (Untrained).
09:04, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 85 using 1d100.  Magical Sense - Target 43.
09:06, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 42 using 1d100.  Magical Sense - Target 43 FORTUNE POINT.

3 Fortune Points Remain

Offering a painted smile and a bowed head to the Captain, Pieter joined the search parties eagerly enough, though his watch was as much on those behind as the quarry they sought

14:13, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 89 -- 7 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 18.  Outdoor Survival

It is in fact Lukas who discovers a trail of footprints in what is probably Granny's size leading off into the undergrowth. The charcoal burner literally stumbles across the tracks by tripping over a trailing tree root and landing with his nose inches from one of the prints.

Fyodor, Edgar and Harkin all of whom are able to see in the dark are able to see Lukas's discovery more clearly and could probably lead a group to follow.

---

OOC: You all have ridiculously bad skill with dice! ;-)
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:14, Wed 26 May 2021.

Fyodor chuckles as Lukas goes headfirst into the muck. He grabs the man by his collar and pulls him up on his feet and brushes the muck off Lukas's clothes.
With a pat on his back he says "Back you. No charge this time." which makes the Kislivite break out in laughter.

With that he grabs his arquebus follows the trail as the lead scout.

Club in hand Edgar followed Fyodor but not before he stopped next  to Lukas " are you ok my friend I would not see you hurt because of a tree root after all you have been through. Walk behind me my eyes will be your eyes in the dark"

Jocelin stood rigidly upright with her straight arms extended slanting towards the ground at her sides, fingers spread, her wide eyes crackling with light. "Friends!" she called, her voice both distant and ringing in the ears. "I would speak with you 'ere the trail of earth you follow! Light aethyrial guides the path untrammeled to those with Sight. Come, palaver, and account not the time spent in council!"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:59, Wed 26 May 2021.

Picking himself up off the ground he bristled at the Northman's quip (despite the absolutely sound advice it contained) and smiled at Edgar's kindness of offering a hand through the undergrowth.  Despite that he didn't feel particularly keen on a ramble through the dark without a torch of some kind.

It was then that he heard the tones of the wizard cry for them (at least that's what he thought it was).

"Hang on a moment Edgar, I'd better see what it is that she wants...." he muttered (a little grateful to get out of the gloom).

Leaving the edges of the woodland he headed back to where Jocelyn and Luciana were, close to the children.

"Hello Jocelyn, did you just call about something?" he asked, keen to mask his lack of understanding of her High-Altdorf lexicon.

edgar sighed but decided to wait for lukas to return "let me know what our young mage is trying to tell ous in her flowery words when you return"

Pieter closed his eyes slowly, hoping it was only a meandering woman they were after with the chit chat happening. He said nothing, but kept his eyes peeled as best he could in the half light

Harkrin scratched his beard with the chisel. "Are we looking for the old woman or not?" he asked, confused by Jocelyn's distraction. With a shrug, he began carving some runes into the nearest tree.

Jocelin had not noted Lukas' approach, and remained looking past him, past the world, for a moment. The light faded from Jocelin's eyes and her arms relaxed and lay at her sides. She turned blinking to Lukas.

"Oh, yes. Lukas, yes. Sorry," she shook her head and spoke to herself to clear her mind. "... Many merry maids march miles more most midday mornings manifesting moral manners mostly memorized..." A deep breath and exhale.

"Sorry! Ha. Yes. I, ah, I think I should go with you because..." she paused, considering her words, "... because I think Granny would appreciate me being there, and... and I think she might not want to be found otherwise. Or maybe it's she would not be found. Squirrels and birds are hard to track, you know. Ever so much harder than people."

Her bright smile returned, and she looked at Luciana, walking to her and extending her hands to grasp hers. "I didn't know! We must have a talk later, it's so exciting!" In a low voice she asked, "[Language unknown: Onseenare ome saat? P mi ni n el anyout-butessate?]"

Before the woman could answer, she brightly said, "No matter! Upon our return. Promise!" She squeezed Luciana's hands touching each cheek to hers and kissing, then released her and skipped over to Lukas, taking the elbow of his right arm in hers and looking up to him. "Ok, let's go!"

Lukas wanted to ask Jocelin if she was quite alright.  She looked a little confused or confounded for just a moment but then quickly seemed to adjust to her normal outgoing self.  Good manners combined with shy reticence prevented himself from any blunder as to her mental disposition.

"Um...good I think," Lukas replied, not quite understanding the riddles Jocelin spoke in although he found the most unusual feeling of a warm smile form on his lips when he observed the interplay between the two women.  In those days after the battle in 'The Filthy Pig' Lukas had determined that Jocelin was the strangest, most enigmatic and unusual woman he had ever met.  That crown had now been usurped by Luciana (at least temporarily) as Lukas had guessed she was both exotic, mysterious and dangerous, but also possessed of a deep kindness.  His smile was one of joy that Luciana had clearly made the same impression on Jocelin as she had on him.  He wondered if everyone who lived beyond Untergard was this exciting...

He stumbled a little when Jocelin linked his arm and they began to walk into woods where the rest were gathered.  He assumed that's how everyone walked in Altdorf but it nevertheless felt a little strange to him.

"How well did you get to know Granny back in Untergard?" he asked the lady from the big city.  "She'll be at home in the woods, night or day.  She may not take kindly to being bothered."

Lukas felt Granny Moescher had a heart of gold but she needed her own space too, "Unless you know something else?"

His question was a suggestion rather than an inquisition.

As they reached the edge of the wood and the voices of the others Lukas quietly, yet helpfully reminded Jocelin of his constraints.  "Watch your step.  Can't see in the dark as well as the others..."

"Point us the direction, girl, and let me, Edgar and the big guy lead the way." Harkrin suggested. "You better stay a few steps behind with the light you may need."

"Also" he added, finishing his carving. "I'd suggest you stay more quiet in the woods than you were in the camp. Drawing any unwanted attention would not help us in our quest."

Luciana looks at Jocelin oddly but appears to appreciate the kisses to her cheeks. "We will talk more later?" she suggests to the already departing wizardess.

The group of Fyodor, Edgar, Klinka, Lukas, Pieter and Jocelin sets off following the trail through the forest. The leaves are slick with rain water which reflects the silver of Mannslieb, at times making it seem as if someone had dropped a few hand mirrors along the trail. Furry moths whirr by and in the distance you can hear larger animals moving. The forest is vividly alive but none of you get any great sense of visceral wrongness you might have felt in the presence of Chaos. Lukas especially is vividly reminded of his night of his shelter in Taal's shrine while Harkrin feels uncomfortable surrounded by so many trees - how can anyone breath out here?

After ten minutes you find her, and she is not alone.

You are relieved to see Granny in a forest clearing, with some freshly dug herbs in her hand. She is staring in surprise at five cloaked Elves with drawn bows.



The Elf you assume is the leader, a tall and androgynous blonde with his or her face covered by a scarlet cloak steps forward and in a voice that seems both melodic and menacing says, "Explain yourself, witch, or my arrow flies true."

---

OOC: Remember most of you will not have met or even seen Elves before, even if you will all have heard stories. There is an eerie not-quite human beauty and hypnotic grace them, especially when they move. Harkrin hasn't met any Elves either but is less than impressed being a Dwarf. Jocelin, from cosmopolitan Altdorf has seen and even spoken to Elves before so they are not quite so uncanny but even she can see these strange forest warriors are unlike the merchants and magicians she had encountered back in the city.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:45, Tue 01 June 2021.

It was often the mark of a fool when one wandered into the forest without knowing the way back out again.  Indeed, Lukas knew his tiny patch of the Drakwald well enough and rarely needed to skirt beyond what and where he knew.  Whilst others would know him as an experienced woodsman it would be fairer to say he was an experienced woodsman within the known radius of his hut.  And yet, Lukas felt generally safe as they followed the trail of Granny Moescher.  Most of his companions could see well in the dark, all were armed and indeed Jocelin possessed powerful magicks.

It wasn't the presence of steel that made him feel safe particularly, it was more that the forest was quite happy living and breathing and existing without their intrusion.  He could smell the heady damp scent of moss and leaf, a welcome distraction from the stink of man, or worse the polluted pungent stench of beastmen.

It didn't take long for them to reach the glade and see Granny threatened by what could only be described as physical tree spirits.  He'd heard of the tree dwellers before - he had heard all the rumours - they were invisible, they could fly, they could shrink to the size of a handspan but now he came face to face with them he could finally tell others - he had met an Elf.

The only problem was that they were armed, arrogant and aggressive.  Despite the beauty of their leader Lukas felt the same disdain from them that the Imperials had clearly exuded.  Arrogance and a certainty in their own strength.

Lukas searched for words and realised he was agog, he could not voice his thoughts in the presence of such an alluring figures.

Except, that he wasn't in a dream where he explored the darkness of the forest, he was ten minutes away from the people of Untergard and Granny was being threatened.

"She's not a witch!" he blurted out (and instantly regretted).  "She's a healer and she's helping people!" he cried without really considering that the difference between witch and healer in rural parts was really one of perception...

Edgar stepped into the clearing with his hands out to his side when lukas shouted.

He raised his hands in a sign of platitude.

"we mean no harm we have just come looking for our elderly friend.... As my companion said...." he gave Lukas a stern look before continuing "... Granny here is a healer no witch craft involved. She tends our people for their ills and she wondered off from camp to find supplies. "

Having delivered messages to elven folk in the past, though not Wood elves it had to be said the little halfling made sure he showed all the respect he could muster

" please accept our humble apologies for our trespass it was not intended and if we had known the forest was protected my elven folk we would has sort permission before hand."

He waved his hand behind him "we are camped on the edge of the forest, a rag tag collection of human refugees heading away from the danger of a beastman horde to seek protection from our Lord in his city. We only wish to pass and wish you no ill will"

The Kislivite had heard about elves as a mystical race living in the woods on a far away island, but had never really given them much thought. He had fought orcs, goblins and things from the Chaos wastes and the occasional dwarf but never an elf.

Maybe this was a chance he thought to himself. The small group was outnumbered and out armed so he hoped they werent aggressive.

He let the others do the talking while he kept his rifle in his hand, ready in case they would have to fight them.

Trailing the others, those with better eyes for the gloom, Pieter's eyes narrowed and he took a sharp intake of breath as he made out the shadowy fey-like creatures. Like many of the downtrodden border-folk, he had only heard of these ethereal kin, perhaps glimsped the shadow of their passing if they were taunting woodsmen in the Drakenwald. But these, these hunters were very clearly making themselves known

His eyes narrowed and he let out his breath, wondering what they wanted. His weight shifted, aware of his unwashed state and raggedy clothes, but his hands he kept away from his bow and blade

Wonderful, elves.

Harkrin kept a careful eye on them while he moved to the side, hand on his axe, to ensure he had a clear line for a charge at them. Much like Fyodor, he left the talking to the others. Why would anyone want to talk to elves anyway?

Jocelin stopped short and pursed her lips at the newcomers.

~~ Elders, ~~ she thought with suspicion.

She had met elves in Altdorf; she had even attended elven magical demonstrations of Ghyran at the Academy. They were wise and subtle in the craft, but every time she encountered them the ... inhumanity of the creatures whispered a warning in her mind. Their motives were their own and inscrutable, even those who had acculturated themselves to Altdorf life.

But these were no scholars or merchants... of these kinds she had heard: unscrupulous capricious and pitiless alien minds, born more of root and wood than mother and father. Jocelin clenched her teeth and held her tongue, but looked around at the forest surrounding them. How many times had she heard the stories of the forest itself coming alive at their beck? How many times had innocents been drawn in by their other-worldliness to their doom, while these fey demons capered covered in their victim's blood?

~~ Stories ~~ she told herself, ~~ those are stories for children and I am no child. ~~

But to issue such a challenge here in Imperial lands? As if citizens trespassed wherever tress grew?

"Faithful citizens of the Imperial Monarch Karl Franz, long may he reign, need explain nothing within his demesne, but to his own deputies. You have no authority here, Elder; do you intend to align yourselves with the Chaos-spawned despoilers with whom we contend, or do you do so accidentally?"

If Lukas thought his outburst was a little ill-advised and tempestuous (for him at least) he was positively aghast at the wizard's words.  He looked at her profile, then looked at the elves and then back at her profile barely hearing what it was she was saying!

He didn't have the social niceties to express what was on his mind but nevertheless he doubted that these mysterious creatures of the trees recognised the Emperor, let alone recognised the authority of his citizens to roam where they liked (which again was a 'perception' rather than the reality from what he could gather).

He was about to say was, 'what my friend really means is...' but that felt presumptuous to say the least and truthfully he did not know what Jocelin meant sometimes.

"It's true there is a great evil on the rampage, a beastherd wiping out all they see and destroying our lands.  We are fleeing.  We certainly mean you no ill will..."

He doubted the haughty creatures would take the notice of him...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Sun 06 June 2021.

Edgar took a deep breath " as I have said  we mean no harm in your territory and apologize for any trespass. Please allow us to gather granny up and we will be on our way. these humans need to get to safety before they are overtaken by the beastmen. There are women, children, the old in the group. they are not fighters and cannot harm you in anyway. The men here with me are simply the protectors of the group mainly trappers, blacksmiths and anyone fit enough to swing a blade. again they are not fighters born."

"as for me I am merely a messenger of the guild of messengers caught up in this situation and just wanting to head back home to my family."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Tue 08 June 2021.

Granny seems to find her voice in the confusion. "I was just gathering redwort for the children," she says holding up a fistful of freshly picked weeds. "Good for the little dearies with sorry tummies."

The elves mutter something among themselves in a strange, lilting language none of you recognise. They keep firm grips on their bows, and at least one is now pointing a nocked arrow at Jocelin.

---

OOC: I'm going to need Charm tests from Lukas and Edgar.

Also can I get Conmmon Knowledge (Empire) tests from everyone?

00:06, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 73 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 36.  Common Knowledge (Empire).

Fyodors grip on the rifle loosened as the elves pointed a weapon at the wind witch. A good marksman kept calm in the face of danger. Made it easier to aim.

OOC: No common knowledge empire. :(

"See... it's clear she meant you no harm, she just wants to help the children as we flee from the chaotics.  No harm has been done..." pleaded Lukas, although as soon as he said his last sentence he thought the elves may view things differently.  Perhaps it would be better if he stayed quiet.  Especially since the arrow pointed at Jocelin seemed awfully close to being pointed at him...

(OOC: Even before I rolled I thought 'best not bother' :)

07:56, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 59 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 44.  Common Knowledge (Empire) (int44).

07:55, Today: Lukas Kohl rolled 85 -- 7 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 12.  Charm Test (Fel 24 / 2).)

11:12, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 27 using 1d100.  Knowledge empire target 45.

11:12, Today: Edgar Stoutfoot rolled 56 using 1d100.  Charm roll target 44

Jocelin saw the elf switch targets to her. She pursed her lips tight with her hands akimbo and tapped her foot in irritation.

---

OOC:
15:48, Today: Jocelin Herzog rolled 46 using 1d100.  CK: Empire, target 41.

edgar gave the elves a side long glance for a moment before speaking again " I see you have travelled far on whatever quest your queen has sent you on as the forest of Laurelorn is far from here in Nordland. I once delivered a message from my lord to your Queen, I have to admit it is the first and last time I ever failed to deliver the message directly but then the humble likes of me are not meant to lay eyes on your gracious royalty." he added with a slight bow

"Like you we are passing through these parts and just wish to be on our way. We will not hinder you if you allow us to be on our way with granny and her herbs here"

Pieter pursed his lips at the halfling's mention of queens and royalty; these were not circles he moved in, more accustomed to the rude courts of the wood. He said nothing, though his fingers twitched as he wanted them to close on his weapon

The Elves eyebrows raise and one of the bows swings in the direction of Edgar as he speaks. The strange figures have a hushed conversation in their impenetrable tones before the leader speaks up again.

"We shall let you pass... but we shall be watching."

He looks imperiously at the group at then at Granny before raising a hand in signal. As one the elves step back into the shadows of the trees, eerily silent and almost seem to melt away.

For a moment all is quiet until Granny Moescher sags with relief, wiping her brow with one hand even as the other still clutches the herbs and weeds she had gathered. "Thank you my dearies. I thought the the thorn-ears would have had me there."

Lukas waited for what seemed like an uncomfortable amount of time staring at the treeline where the elves had disappeared into.  He couldn't see to well in the dark anyway, and yet he believed them when they said they were watching - it was like they had just floated into the woods and become part of the forest, but he knew they were there.

"That was a relief," he whispered, although he was sure that if the woodmen could see them then they could probably still hear him too, whisper or not.

"I've only ever heard of their kind before, they are terrifying aren't they?" he carried on to the others nearby who perhaps had not shared his awe.

He bravely took a step forward and knelt close to Granny Moescher who was still close to the herbs on the ground

"Granny, what are you doing out here alone?  You could have got hurt.
You could have asked for one of us to accompany you.  Someone you trust."

He knew it was pointless.  Granny did her own thing and so did he.  Schiller thought they were both mad living outside the town but he knew Granny needed her space.

"Let's get back to the camp, we've had enough scares for now" he still whispered, only now beginning to feel self conscious about it.

Edgar's shoulders slumped with relief as if all the wind had been taken out of his sails.

The mention of the queen had been a gamble but one that seemed to have paid off though looking into the trees he could see with his night eyes shadows upon shadows and knew they were still being watched.

He turned to Lukas " It agree with your counsel it would be folly to tally here any longer" he replied with a weak smile.

Nodding to the others he turned to head back to the camp

Jocelin kept her fists planted on her hips as she watched the elves depart. "'Let us pass.' Hmpf! As if they weren't the ones trespassing!" she said quietly in a huff.

He face softened and looked at Kohl. "Are you sure Ghyran and ... Ghur..." the second Wind she pronounced with some emphasis, "weren't working themselves through us for Granny Moescher's benefit? She was protected, I'm sure, as she sought to protect those in her care. But yes, let us return."

Yawning, Pieters eyes lingered on the trees where the elves had vanished: that was a trick worth learning. He said nothing as the others wittered, returning to his blankets

Harkrin stayed on guard, being the last to turn his back to the place where the elves had been just a moment ago, making sure that no one would be attacked from the shadows. The pointy ears were, after all, known for their deceptions and ambushes. They could not fight, so they had to rely on tricks.

With one last glance at the spot previously occupied by the elves, Harkrin grumbled something and followed his companions back to the camp.

Fyodor let the others leave first before he slowly backed away from the area. His arquebus still aimed at the shadows from where the elves had first emerged. Once at a safe distance he turned around and jogged after the others to catch up with them.


"Number one elves. Not friedly. Forrest them?" he asked in his accented Reikspeil.

Jocelin softened as they started their way back to the caravan. Not understanding Fyodor, she asked, "I'm sorry, Fyodor, what was that you were asking about the Elders? If this forest was theirs?"

---

OOC:

I think you're trying to write in dialect, but since I don't quite get what you mean, Jocelin will play along, too. :-)

Fyodor nodded at the wind witch.

"Da. Forrest theirs? Da."

OOC: Yep. My Slavic language knowledge is limited so making him hard to understand in a different way :)

The wizard huffed in response. "Most certainly not," she said adamantly, the tightness of the encounter returning to her face for a moment. "They act as if any place a shade to green from the sky belongs to the Elder race, even if they can't behave amongst themselves. They are subtle and alien, not to be trusted at their word, and the Empire trucks with them for specific and limited purposes.

"Yes, they are wise in their craft," she begrudgingly admitted, "but there is a reason their race spawned the Despoiler*. Pure hedonism and arrogance brung them low, and how easily they drip that poison from honeyed words."

She shook her head and the pleasant face returned. "No, Fyodor, this forest belongs to His Imperial Majesty. And I'm happy Kislev remains innocent of much contact with the Elders. May it ever be so."

---

OOC:

*Canonically are the Elves responsible for creating Slannesh in WHFRP the same way they are in 40K, or would this be a tenuous accusation on the part of J?

"They keep the forests a little clearer of the fallen, men and beasts", offered Pieter as they returned to the camp, "At least so the tales tell. Good to have in the vicinity, but not too close"

Edgar continued his walk back to the camp but joined the conversation"the elf are a strange and elder race they were here long before humans they might have been here befors my own race who can tell. They were the care takers of the land before humans scared it with their civilization so I think they have the right to be above humans whwn they see the land damaged the resources ripped from the earth and their sacred places destroyed. "

" we should count ourselves lucky to them we were defiling the land..... Whether you humans agree with it or not they still see themselves as the guardians of nature..... And I honestly believe without them the world would be a less wondrous place"

“For an agent of the Empire, you seem quick to diminish it and place others above it,” Jocelin returned to the halfling.

She held to herself the thought, ~~ One susceptible to the Defiler — or caught in his vile grip — would speak of the Sundering of the Eldest and the blight they brought upon the world as ‘guarding nature’. For his own soul’s sake, I hope he is merely obstinately ignorant in this, as he is in other matters. ~~

"not at all just relating history..... Which repeats itself time and again.... The empire is a, wondrous thing but the fact is they invaded these lands humans spread to all corners.... Taking what they wanted by might of arms forcing their ways on the world around it. "

" those that bent the knee were taken in as the conquered those that didn't were segregated of destroyed. "

" the elves, dwarves and halflings even were invaded.... Don't get me wrong I'm not against the empire I'm just stating what happened.... Acts that are written down as fact..... But I can also see it from the other side of the coin and can see why the elves have issues with the empire.... And whatever you say and I'm not saying you are right or wrong but to them the land still belongs to them and they still protect it as they see fit"

“Saying, they have the right to be above humans is not ‘relating history’. Nor is declaring as fact their ownership of Imperial demense. Tread softly, Messenger.”

"for a learned person you don't listen much I did not say they were above humans or that they had aright to the land I was merely stating they believe it.... And I need not tread carefully as I have not said anything against the empire..."

He shook his head and sighed..." next time we encounter such people I will hold my tongue and allow you to get us out of a deadly situation...."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 18:26, Sat 26 June 2021.

Lukas had absolutely no idea who Ghyar or Ghur where so the concept of whoever they were somehow protecting Granny was completely lost upon him.  He didn't really want to mention that to Jocelin for he didn't wish to appear particularly ill informed or stupid.  He knew a lot about wood and smoke and heat and space but he doubted that knowledge was useful in the wider world.

He walked back to the camp silently staying close to the others for he knew his eyes were not as strong and his footsteps unsteady in the gloom.  One day he imagined he would be in an inn laughing about a joke about 'the halfling and the wizard' but what started off as an interesting history lesson about things he could barely follow quickly turned into bickering and a perception that the two had been chewing Weirdroot.

There was a part of him that sought to placate them and soothe their tempers but at the same time he felt that he really wasn't informed enough about history or elves or anything else they were on about so just kept his eyes and ears on the way back to camp.

"Tea.  That's what we need.  A little fire, a boiling pot and some tea," said Lukas hopefully when they got closer to the camp.  Tea didn't settle arguments but he'd feel a lot safer watching Edgar and Jocelin debate Elvish land rights with something warm in his hands surrounded by a fire and the people of Untergard.  The forest was his home of course, but recent encounters had certainly unnerved him of what lay beyond his eyesight.

Edgar looked up at his friend Lukas "sweet tea all round I think... Good idea my friend..... I think I have some dried herbs and some honey in my pack that will be spicy and sweet and take the chill of the night and the encounter out of our bones"

"Good man!" said Lukas to Edgar eagerly, "Sounds perfect," he added, then felt a little guilty for he hadn't meant to impose on Edgar but a part of him was secretly glad to have a Halfling with them.  It was clear their knapsacks contained all sorts of wonders.

"You know, I've lived in these parts a long time and never seen elves and never seen beastmen until recently.  Times are a changing, the world isn't what it used to be.  There have always been tales of course, of old veterans passing through and those to scare children to sleep, but I've never seen so much disturbance and trouble before.  Don't think things will ever be the same again.... he said as they go closer to the camp, but privately already looking forward to the tea.

Fyodor was lost in the conversation between the shortling and the wind witch. So when I recognized the word tea his face lit up and he loudly exclaimed.

"Da, hot tea. "

By now they had walked a good distance from the elf encounter so he let himself relax a little more and was looking forward to some hot tea with a little kvas in it.

As they reached the camp Edgar turned to the others " Right let us congregate at  my fire in ten minutes bring your mugs and I will have the tea boiling"

He moved over to Jocelin "Mistress Herzog I would be honoured if you would sip tea at my fire on this cold night, we might have differing opinions but we are still one group and it is best to warm oneself with friends than on ones own."

With that the little halfling moved off quickly to his camp fire and set about laying out herbs and honey, boiling water and adding a little of this and a little of that tasting as he did so until he was satisfied it was the right temperature, correctly spiced and sweet to the pallet but not overly so

The return to camp was met with cries of relief from the Untergard refugees - and tears as several of the children seemed quite overcome with seeing their guardian back. Granny Moescher seemed to be weathering it well, tired perhaps but otherwise happy to be back.

The buzz in the camp gradually settled down as people began to turn in for the evening. It looked like being a clear crisp night for once and there was reassuring sense of normal 'life' from the woods around you as furry moths danced around the campfires and an owl hooted in the distance.

---

OOC: If anyone has any NPCs they want to talk to or other plans for the night suggest them, otherwise we can skip to the morning.

Back at the camp, Harkrin concentrated on the trees, carving into them warnings in Reikspiel and Khazalid. "Pointy-ears nearby, beware." "Bloodsucking elves, kill on sight." "Women left unattended will be killed by elves." and similar ones.

After he methodically marked every other tree, he put away his chisel and went to bed. The night was eventful enough for everyone and they next day would most likely be very similar.

Disquieted by the tears and the children, Pieter nonetheless hung at the edges of the campfire where tea was being brewed - such rough cameraderie was bread and butter to him, though perhaps his experience was more akin to crust and stale water. After a time he retreated to speak to those he had arrived with

The big Kislev took a seat next to the fire and waited patiently for the tea to be ready while taking a few sips from his kvas-skin. He noticed the man going by the name of Pieter and offered the man the skin.

Pieter took the skin and a swig, with a mangled thanks - the one word in Kislevite he knew. His accent marked him as an Ostermarker, next province south of the border

“What brings you this far south, friend?”, he asked softly
This message was last edited by the player at 18:06, Fri 02 July 2021.