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.