Fyodor swung at Rolf and grazed the man.


OOC: This is getting ridiculous

08:36, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 37 using 1d100.  Dodge Blow - 36.

08:35, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 1 using 1d10-1.  Damage.

08:34, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 9 using 1d100.  Attack 41 - FP.

08:34, Today: Fyodor Fyodoreski rolled 73 using 1d100.  Attack 41.

Eyes narrowing as the scrappy brawl begins to spill out to anger the barkeep, Pieter throws two punches at Rolf in quick succession, the second landing heavily

16:32, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 70 using 1d100.  Unarmed.
16:32, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 2 using 1d100.  Unarmed.
16:33, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 8 using 1d10-1.
16:33, Today: Pieter Marik rolled 27 using 1d100.  Dodge Blow.

Pieter's punch clock's Rolf in the jaw and the entire tavern gasps as the big man stumbles back a step. His shakes his head and spits out a bloody tooth, still on his feet but only just.

At that moment before anyone can react further the door to the inn opens and a scruffy urchin of ten or twelve bursts in. "'Ere listen up! The dwarven brewery near the Southgate is paying a silver piece to anyone strong enough to stand up after drinking Thorgrim's Thunderhammer, a new ale they are taste testing. They only want gen'ine reviews from 'ardy but 'onest men!"

Rolf's goons look at each other, at the boy and then at Rolf. '"We better 'urry boss," one says.

Rolf spits out another broken tooth and - noticeably swaying - stands up. "Aye," he gives one last glowering look at Fyodor, Pieter and Klinka then staggers towards the door with his men. "You three better not be 'ere when get back!"

As he leaves Pieter finds Gretchen tugging at his sleeve. "If you and your friends know what's good for you you should leave. Rolf has a mean streak and he'll be back with a lot more of his mates." The tavern wench hesitates a moment and then smiles. "Watching you clock Rolf was the most fun I've had in a long time. You or your friends ever need a friend on the streets you can find me most evenings on Prinzessin Louise Straße."

She makes the sign of the crossed fingers with her left hand and winks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:29, Thu 10 Nov 2022.

"I really should teach you a thing or two about throwing punches, lads." Klinka said with a grin. "But we better listen to you friend there. I'd hate to have to pay for all that damage they've done." he added quietly, looking around.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Thu 10 Nov 2022.

Lukas walked back into 'The Drowned Rat' with a rather satisfied smile on his face and rubbed his hands together, grateful he wasn't in a puddle of his own blood.

"Well, that seems to be all sorted then," he added, looking around the trashed inn.  Those who could see out of both eyes still may have noticed that Lukas was not alone and was accompanied by one rather better dressed than he.

"This is Herr Eshbern, says he knows our posh wizard friend Jocelin."

"You run purple Goblin Lover." Fyodor yelled at Rolf as he the thug and his group left the tavern.

He turned to grab his drink from the bar but saw the mug had been knocked over in the heat of the battle. Not being a man of much money he picked up the mug and wiped as much of the spilt back into the mug.

Satisfied with his job he takes a big swig before suggesting to the others they should go check out that brewery competition.

"You know I'll take you up on that, miss", smiled Pieter, throwing her a cocky salute - two slightly crossed fingers to his brow. With that he turned and laughed at Klinka's offer, "Best you do, my friend"

"And glad you're back", he continued, as Luka re-entered the room, "Any truth in that rumour of ale, or was that you using your brains?"

His eyes took in the stranger, a wizard if his eyes read right, "Herr Eshbern. Best we find another tavern and you and young Lukas tell us how you met"

"It's amazing what a few brass pennies can buy in this town," laughed Lukas.  "None of you are badly hurt?" he asked, feeling a little self-conscious in the post-brawl inn (not that it was anything to do with him).  The idea of moving on seemed quite a good idea...

"Are you local, Herr Eshbern? Perhaps you can suggest a respectable inn where people don't start a day by throwing punches at you? I'd very much like to have some well-deserved rest from fighting. At least today." Klinka said, offering his hand to the man. When he noticed the hand was all bloodied, he smiled apologetically and wiped it clean in his shirt before shaking man's hand. "They call me Klinka."

Congratulating Lukas on his ingenious plan, Magnus calmly waited in the shadows outside the inn until some of the brawlers exited the inn and headed towards Southgate, before walking in after Lukas, tapping the floor with his staff to announce his presence.

"I am not, I only arrived a few weeks ago but I do believe there are inns a plenty with better customers," Magnus replied to Klinka with a ghost of a smile, taking the proffered hand in his own in a firm handshake before going on, "I strongly suggest we find just such an inn as soon as possible before the upstanding folk who left to Southgate find out no one will be paying them money to drink ale."

Gazing at the others in crew that had accompanied Jocelin, he tried to glance inconspicuously at their equipment, to see if he could glimpse the sword Jocelin had mentioned. "Jocelin is well, aiding the gate guard in their duties. She told me about you and wishes you well," he added.

Fyodor look disappointed at the new comer. "No free ale and silver?" he asked in his Kislevite heavy accent.

You mutually decide to leave 'The Drowned Rat' before further trouble arrives, whether in the form of a returning Rolf and his boys, the Watch coming to investigate or the increasingly angry looking tavern keep decide he might demand payment for the damages after all.

Outside the air is cooling and early evening is setting in with the beginnings of a fog settling in. As you walk down the street Fyodor - still inconsolable about the non-existence of free ale or silver - nearly squashes a diminutive halfling hot pie seller trying to sell his wares to the diminishing crowds (the enterprising seller still tries to tempt you with his pies - "hot and fresh just like your grandam used to make!")

Magnus is certain he has heard of a delightful inn that stocks excellent Bretonnian brandy and is justly famed for it's roast Hochland duck and friendly flaxen haired and buxom barmaid. He's even heard his fellows at the Guild speak lovingly of it. Alas he can't quite recall where in the city it lies and after a couple of false turns gives up and leads the others towards the Westgate-Sudgarten district where he is reasonably certain there are affordable inns.

'The Drowned Rat' faces west onto Kupferstrasse, one of the wider and better lit streets in the Southgate district. True enough to the street name you do see several coppersmiths, their businesses marked with hanging signs in various ingenious shapes. The buildings here, mostly half timber and with thatched roofs seem a little larger and more prosperous, but are still narrow and high in the Middenheim style. This is still Southgate but a better end and after a walk you reach an east-west street, cross it and enter the Westgate-Sudgarten district.

A large city inn stands across the road with a jaunty painted wooden sign of an unsmiling man in a belled hat beneath which are painted the letter 'The Sullen Jester'.



As you enter you are greeted by an elderly woman not much taller than Klinka with iron grey hair in a bun and an expression easily as grim as the jester on the sign out front.

"You'll be wanting rooms I suppose?" she asks, looking at each of you in turn in case you are miscreants or Sigmarites. "Common room is five pence a head, private room is ten shillings. No pets, no elves, no girls after dark, no loud noises. Baths and food are extra. This is a proper Ulric-fearing establishment and we have standards to keep."

"Private room, mother", requests Pieter respectfully, thinking of the bundled blade on his back, "And food, stew or pie if you have some?"

Sighing inwardly to himself, he adds after a moment's thought, "And a bath, if its hot?"

If they're to find work in this town, he's smart enough to know that appearances matter.

He forces his smile wider, "Well recommended, Master Eshbern"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Sun 13 Nov 2022.

If Lukas was worried about the persistent threat (and actuality) of violence in 'The Drowned Rat', he felt altogether more threatened in 'The Sullen Jester' which felt altogether more upmarket.  Indeed, walking in the inn and facing the stern looking proprietor he felt for the first time in his life that he may just, well, stink a bit.

"A bath and hot food would be most welcome Frau," he said very respectfully to the fierce matron, "This is much nicer than the first place we went into," he continued honestly, "a good Ulric fearing establishment is just what we need."  How the god of battle, wolves and winter would view his earlier trickery was one he didn't wish to contemplate right now.

"Is the common room clean?" Klinka inquired scratching himself. "I wonder if bath would be a good option... But then if there are no elves in the premises, I can safely assume it is clean, eh?" he said to himself, looking around the room. If there was another Rolf around, it was better to find him before he finds them.

The matron sniffs. "Of course the common room is clean Herr Dwarf. I am Frau Speight and I assure you there is not a speck of grime in this establishment. There are several gentlemen staying there at present but they should not disturb you."

She looks over the rest of you. "Well I suppose it will have to be three... no better make that five baths and I shall I summon Henryk about the food and Magda about laying out a private room. That young lady from Praag is occupying one of the private rooms but we still have a couple available."

“Praag “, enquired Pieter, as politely as he might muster. He had heard the tales of Kislevite women, of course. Fierce, one and all

Magnus entered The Sullen Jester, still disappointed in himself for not remembering the other inn with the buxom barmaid. Still, this was a better establishment, and clean. Pieter at least seemed to like it.

"A private room for me as well," he replied to the matron, following the others into the commons. "And some stew and fresh bread," he added.

As they moved to take seats he surreptitiously tried to see if any of the companions were wearing any special seeming sword, anything that might appear like Jocelin had remarked.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Tue 15 Nov 2022.

When Fyodor heard the name of one of the cities from his homeland he smiled broadly. It had been a long time since he had seen another Kislevite and was now curious who the lady was.

"Praag lady. What her name?" he asked Frau Speight as he dug through his almost empty purse. He dug out enough coin for a night in the common room, food and ale and put it on the counter. Then he grabbed a few more and with big grin said "Bath too"

"Anastasia Tereskovna, an opera singer or so I gather," Frau Speight says, her frosty tone thawing slightly with the pride of having such a glamorous guest in her inn. Her blue eyes narrow. "I hope you do not intend any funny business with the lady?"

Funny business or no she seems willing to book two private rooms and disappears into the depths of the inn. You can here her voice echoing through the building "Magda, where are you girl, I need you! Henryk the kitchen! Henryk now!"

A little later you find yourselves in the inn's common room seated at long wooden tables. A large fire blazes in a hearth at one end and a pallid, red haired serving girl (presumably 'Magda') serves you portions of hot vegetable and mutton stew and loaves of bread along with mugs of beer.

"I'll run your baths now," the girl timidly says before disappearing upstairs.

Despite the coldness of the proprietoress you can't deny it is a fairly comfortable inn and the food is nourishing. The décor is old fashioned and decidedly northern, all dark wood, stuff board heads and portraits of men and women looking very pious and very serious.

Of the famed Anastasia Tereskovna there is no sign but there is a party of burghers at one of the other tables deep in private conversation. They nod to acknowledge your presence but don't seem inclined to come over.

Fyodor finished his meal faster than anyone thought possible and was waving at Frau Speight for another round of beer.

The large warrior had placed himself at the table so he could watch the anyone coming down the stairs, hoping that Anastasia would be arriving soon.


He pointed at a piece of the bread in front of Lukas "You eat?" he asked.

Magnus was seated close enough to the fire to feel the waves of heat at his back. The mage knew if he chose to use his Wytch Sight he would see tendrils of Aqshy swirling about in the fire.

He still had his hood up to shroud his features from a casual glance, but it did not interfere with eating his stew which admittedly was quite good.

Magnus felt he had heard of Anastasia, perhaps from one of his instructors or from any one of the magisters gossiping among themselves in the College, but could not exactly place the reference. Whatever the case, he hoped she would remain in her room; they had been through enough excitement for one night he felt.

"So Jocelin tells me you have an interesting sword in your possession," he said finally, gazing at the others once the inn staff, including Magda, were out of sight. "It is frankly the reason I sought you out, and I would very much like to inspect it."

---

ooc: Making a test to recall anything he may have heard about Anastasia.

Common Knowledge (The Empire): 60

"Yes, I'm hungry," replied Lukas to Fyoder who was eyeing up his bread.  Lukas scooped his hot stew with the bread and the warm food, roaring fire and relative peace softened him.

He gently waved to Frau Speight and asked her, "I am sure your establishment receives many compliments, but this is the best stew I have had in months."  This wasn't an attempt to ingratiate, more a simple matter of fact.  "Please could we buy another couple of loaves for the table?"  Lukas felt a bit sorry for the Kislevite - a man that size was possibly always hungry.

Lukas looked pointedly at Magnus when he inquired about a sword.  Knowing the cost of how it was obtained he wasn't going to bring it up when it wasn't really his place to.

"Please more ale." the large warrior chimed in and added to the order.

He then also turned his attention to the newcomer and his question about a magical sword.

Pieter focuses on his stew to begin with, somewhat wary of his manners having spent so much time on the road and in the woods. He sips at his ale, examining the room and the newcomer among them, eyes narrowing when the question of the blade comes up.

He puts his spoon down carefully, exhaling softly and slowly. In his mind's eye he can still see the sprays of blood and hear the screams of his companions as they died. Upon his back, nestled between his shoulders and wrapped carefully in clothes and tags, the sends a shiver down his spine.

"You share the same skills as Jocelin, Master Eshbern", he began, circling the topic, "You think it might be more than it appears?"

He shook his head, "Here is not the place"