"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.