The party finds itself walking down the mucky roads of the Empire. The ragtag group had formed some weeks back under the shared goal of reaching Altdorf in hopes of finding profitable work. or perhaps gain some renown for their deeds. A lofty goal that was just vague enough to be 'completed' whenever the soul decided it had had enough.

Still, that was two weeks ago. The weariness of the road was beginning to set in with the group that had, unfortunately, grossly underestimated the capitol was from the rainy town of Delbrim. The uncertainty of the road and the constant fear of what could be watching was a heavy burden on the mind that was dulled only by the constant clatter of the supplies on your backs.

The sun was beginning to go down, taking the slight heat of the Jahrdrung day with it. The nights have been bitter cold lately, so it was best to start setting up camp and a fire...

Until you see it in the distance. A building! A few buildings even! A small encampment with stone buildings and a shoddy wall. It looks like a coaching in! The idea of a bed, warm food, and possibly a ride to Altdorf sounds like a blessing from the gods at this point.



OOC You can choose wither or not you know one another well or not.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:33, Thu 24 June 2021.

Mefodiv tried to get to know the humans in the group as best he could, but seemed to care little for Heth. Similarly, he had been open about his own life, but quickly kills the conversation when asked about his job or family, giving only short and terse replies of having a wife, three kids, and a brother. The constant walking and cold hasn't seemed to bother him much, in fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

Mefodiv taps Dietrich on the shoulder, pointing forwards.

"Oi, look. No sleeping in mud tonight, eh?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Thu 24 June 2021.

Blisters.  Toe cramps.  Too little shade.  It may have taken two weeks, but Aver had finally stopped humming consistently throughout the travelling.  While she had only just met her travelling companions prior to the start of this trip, she had tried her best to get to know them.  In return, she had been fairly open about her own past, though she has said little about her current affairs.  All she would say is that she had recently finished her apprenticeship in the arcane arts, and was heading to Altdorf to register herself as a licensed Wizard.  Even as little as she spoke of this, it was only to the immediate group.

She turns, somewhat excitedly to the rest of the group.  "Let us make haste!  I can smell the food cooking from here, and I can't stomach another night of these blasted rations!  And maybe they'll have ale...  and... and beds?!  Shallya's mercy, let there be room!"  Without waiting, she puts a little hustle in her step, hoping to get to the coaching inn before the cold night air descends upon them.  The clacking sounds coming from her staff and sandals are not subtle, though a keen ear can hear a slight limp in her step, likely from a blister.

Dietrich looks up in the direction that Mefodiv indicated when he tapped the young man on the shoulder. It wasn't that he was an inattentive person by nature, but most people do tend to drift off into daydreaming when they walk from sunup to sundown.

And in his case, he was dreaming the same dream he always did: winning the fame and fortune required to join the ranks of one of the many Knightly Orders, and then returning to reclaim his lands from the steward that his mother had named. He would need coin for that, as his mother had sworn not to support his return to Bretonnia, hence him leaving his city upon graduation and seeking his fortune in Altdorf. It was a beautiful dream, and probably one that would take years to reach fruition, but at least it distracted him from his aching feet. What he wouldn't give for a good Bretonnian Charger! While he was no stranger to walking, everyone that lived in a big city like Nuln was, those were cobbled streets, with sewers to wash away the much and filth. The open road was a different matter together.

He had to share Aver's sentiment.

"Oui. I see it Sudar Orlov. I agree. I have had my fill of mud, I must say," he replied with a tired smile.

Reaching up, the young man removed his cavalier hat and ran his dark brown hair. It was long enough to be considered rakish at this point, but soon he would need to visit a barber. It would not do for a man of his breeding to appear to be an unwashed peasant, now would it?

"If they have baths, I will fight anyone that tries to go before me!" Dietrich said with faux-seriousness, echoing Aver's comment.

Those that had gotten to know him over the course of the past two weeks had found him to be a friendly lad, always ready with a joke or laugh. Even the exhaustion of the road could not rob him of that it would seem.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Thu 24 June 2021.

Juntila for one, while a bit weary after that many long days on the road, didn't seem to mind their outdoors experience one bit. In fact, she turned out to have quite an able hand whenever it came to starting a fire to chase off the night's chill or spotting a suitable enough spot along the road where they may rest at sundown. Quiet and reserved, Halvi hadn't been exactly talkative during the past two weeks, what she spoke she did with a very apparent lack of filter that betrayed a not malicious but brash personality. Moreover, even though she still managed to sound somewhat Imperial, her voice carried with it an accent most definitely foreign ringing, yet hard to pinpoint to those who hadn't had the pleasure of holding a conversation with someone hailing from that dreaded land of Norsca.

Strangely enough, Halvi was the one that could be seeing giving Mefodiv or Heth that odd look or raised eyebrow. Just the kind that spoke volumes about how alien she found their looks their mannerism and their very existence. While she had grown either more accustomed to them or subtle in her bewilderment in the past two weeks, she was far from dealing with them with any semblance of normality. Not that she did much of anything with what one would call normalcy. On the other hand, her dealings with Dietrich and Aver were relatively more cordial, even disclosing to them she came from Hochland before meeting them, where the imperial part of her accent could be traced to. Other than that, one had to virtually pry a conversation out of her, with only the occasional exception of some light but clearly enthusiastic talk about whatever animals or curious plants they may happen to spot during their long trek.

With coaching inn ahead, any concern for what to eat, where to sleep and the cold night were all but out the window. "Nobody is going to fight you for that, we can all smell your need for it whenever downwind." Somehow she found the whole thing uplifting enough to afford them that much, honest or what she understood as humor... It was hard to tell.

Hethasryel, or "Heth" as he had come to be known over the past few days, was something of an enigma.

It was not that he was particularly secretive, and he was certainly polite, it was just that he was so...out of place.

What's more, he was not just out of place, but he was damned conspicuous while being so. At well over six feet and in a somewhat voluminous embroidered robe he drew stares, people whispered to themselves, and some eyed him suspiciously.

While he did not wear any jewelry, he carried himself like a high born sort, down to the small sword he wore in the scabbard at his waist (that being the straight bladed, long, double edged sort suitable for a court wear rather than the more compact stabbing implement of the same name.)

But for all his genteel ways and soft speech, he was obviously mortal like the rest of them. His robes were now mud flecked, he moved stiffly from the long miles and he had tended the blisters on his long narrow feet alongside the others.

"So it is...". He confirmed somewhat breathlessly. "A fine place for such an establishment. Some might even say ideal."

He picked up the pace with the test of them. "I would give much for a cool drink." he added somewhat to himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:00, Thu 24 June 2021.

There is almost a skip in Aver's step as she turns back, currently only a few paces before the rest of the group.  "And just what does an Elf like yourself drink?  Can you stomach an ale, for I fear they will not have any of your fine wines."  For all his finery, Aver spoke to Heth as she would any other.  After all, he was an Elf.

The party continues their weary way towards the coaching inn and sees a coach coming out of the front gates as they arrive. The side of the coach reads 'Four Seasons Company', and the miserable old sod sitting behind the reins was whipping the horses, bellowing out:

"Faster you ungreateful gits!"

As it began to move out of the gates to head down the road. He wasn't moving fast yet, but appeared to be trying to hurry along. Some hustle and bustle of the courtyard behind him brought with it the scent of fresh cooking... and horse manure in equal measure.

"Virgin's blood" he replied dryly. "Or their tears if the former is in short supply." he added before he cracked a wan smile.

"I'm actually quite fond of rainwater. But my delicate innards should be able to bear a half, or perhaps even a single modest cup of ale without too much complaint." he replied as he side stepped a yawning rut in the road, and fell silent as the coach made it's way out of the courtyard.

Mefodiv scratches his head as the coach passes.

"It normal for, eh, Imperials, to treat horse like that? Shame. What with rush anyway? Sun almost gone, he not make it anywhere before dark."

He takes a whiff of the air, then  wipes his nose and picks up his pace.

"At least dinner smell nice. Come, move legs! Or not, first meal mine either way, heheheh.""

"Men of low character do..." Dietrich spat angrily in reply to Mefodiv's question.

In Bretonnia, if any man had so mistreated a horse, he would have been executed, and his family driven off their lord's land. Here, horseflesh was more ill-treated, despite all the so called technological and cultural advances of the Empire. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. No use in the sight ruining his night. He stepped aside and let the coach pass without incident.

"I will kiss the cook full on the mouth if they are serving apple & spice pork tenderloin!" he shouted as he walked into the courtyard, mouth already watering.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Thu 24 June 2021.

With none attempting to stop or join the coach, it continues on it's 'merry' way, the sounds of the cracking whip driving the horses ever-faster into the coming night...

As you all step into the couryars, you see a pair of men tending to a team of four horses, busily rubbng them down and cleaning their coats. They barely even give any of you a glance.

Just beyond them was the inn, the source of the pleasant smells was coming from there, alongside the sound of echoing laughter. A faded banner blows in the breeze here, though not all would recall it's importance. There was an empty coach sitting outside the place, devoid of it's drivers, passengers, and horses.

There is, of course, the surrounding area you could always explore as well. The Coach and Horses was quite a large place after all, and there were a few other areas within it's walls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:29, Fri 25 June 2021.

Mefodiv beckons to the others, entering the inn.

"Well? What holdup? Inside, come come! Need to get rooms settled before moonrise!"

Moving towards the inn with haste, Aver slows for a moment to inspect the emptied coach.  She looks at it, then down to her feet, then back to the coach.  "I don't know about you all, but I would be much happier riding the rest of the way to Altdorf... as I don't know how much more my poor feet can take.  Shallya willing, some respite may be in store for us."

As she heads into the inn, following the booze-smelling Kislevite, and points herself towards the nearest source of ale and information.  After all, a coach driver doesn't necessarily look like a coach driver once they have stepped into their cups.  She will have to ask for one.

The coach seems fine. It was painted a fine blue and gold with the metal fringe polished well. Aver could see there was a few things inside the Coach still, if she wanted to snoop...

Mefodiv, however, leads the charge into the Inn proper. Pushing the door in with all who would follow him. The aroma of roasting meats and baking bread washes over you like a welcoming tide. The laughter you had heard from outside is coming from a pair of drunken men in plumed hats and matching uniforms. Their hands looked to be slick from the spilled ale they were drinking from a collection of pitchers around them.

Across the room, the weight of an icy stare descends upon the group, as a finely dressed young woman glares at the new arrivals. She sits at a table with two others; a tall and heavily built woman, and a small, almost mousey looking woman.

There was also the curious case of the young man absorbed in his book at the back of the bar, scribbling away and flipping pages as he lightly chokes on the bread he was half-heartedly trying to eat.

At the bar itself sits a foppish looking man who gives a critical glance to the arrivals as he looks you all over. Seemingly satisfied with a breif look over, he turns his attention back to the bar.

Lastly were the two gents behind the bar. A spindly looking man, with heavy eyebrows that hid his eyes and made up the majority of his face, and a portly man in fuffed and slashed fancy clothes that look to have been mended more than once. The plump man appears to be talking at length to the bartender with a jovial expression. He hasn't noticed the party's arrival it seems.

...There was also a large crow sitting on a guano-stained beam above the bar, looking about and cawing occasionally.


OOC If you want to inspect the coach roll a Challenging (+0)
Perception Test, or an Easy (+40) Trade (Carpentry) Test
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:41, Fri 25 June 2021.

Walking past the coach, Aver takes a moment to inspect the vehicle.  She looks for signs that it is still operational, as well as if it seems to be currently used.  In addition, she takes a quick glance for any recent signs that it has been in a skirmish, such as divets from arrowheads.

Regardless of what she finds, she heads inside just behind the rest of the group.  She hurries over to an empty table at which she can kick off her sandals (ignoring what the floor may look like), and looks pointedly at the bartender.  If nobody comes to the table, she will ask one of the men to place an order for her, for food and ale.  Priorities.

---

20:47, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 20 -- 1 degree of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 36.  Perception - Inspect the Coach.

Mefodiv sits at the bar proper, giving a wave to the two men there before addressing the foppish one.

"Ho, friend. You own inn? How much for round of what make them so merry, five plate of dinner, and room?"

At"them", he thumbs towards the two drunks beside him for emphasis.

With the attention being brought to bear on the party once again, the portly man talking to the bartender beams at the party and throws his hands out in their direction.

"Greetings!"

He bellows with a hearty laugh as he begins to waddle to the party from behind the table. The man had a grin about him, and an overbearing aura of effusive charm. He hurries his way over to you and stands extremely close to the door, placing a hand on each of your shoulders as you pass through the threshold into the inn. He shakes any hands that are offered to him and points you all to the tables.

"Welcome to the Coach and Horses! Do have a seat. Take this one by the fire where you’ll be nice and warm. Would you like drinks and food? Yes? Of course, drinks first. How foolish of me. I'm sure the road has you plenty parched."

On the beam above the bar, the large crow was mimicing the portly man's tones almost perfectly, but mixing his words up:

‘Welcome to the seat? Take a nice by the foolish? Would you drinks by the Horses?’

Cries the crow.

"My name's Gustav, the owner of the Coach and Horses. If you should have need of anything let me know. I'm really quite decorated in the hospitality game you know. I've been running this Inn for well over fifty years since my father passed, Peace take his soul."

He seems perfectly in swing with his conversation... To say this man has 'the gift of gab' is an understatement...

"My name's Horses. Should have need in the hospitality game. Peace take his years."

...A gift the crow shared apparently.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:42, Fri 25 June 2021.

A talker. Good. Dietrich could work with a talker. Most of the students at the Aquila Academy had been children of some of the finest families in the Empire, and if there was one thing they liked to do, it was talk. That was a world he could navigate well.

"Bonjour! Well met good innkeeper, a pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Dietrich Baudelaire, son of Brion Baudelaire, Baron of Seyoux. And these are my companions! Please tell me you have food and drink for road-weary souls...to say nothing of many available rooms...Not to be too demanding, but if you have baths in this fine establishment, I will name my firstborn after you, Herr Gustav," Dietrich called with a charming grin on his face, playing the part of the friendly noble to the hilt.

Aver gladly shakes the chatty man's hand, enjoying his exuberant nature far more than those of her quiet and gloomy companions.  She smiles wearily as Dietrich makes the request for food and respite, joining in whenever asked a direct question.  She finds herself looking at the crow more than anything, as talkative birds were quite the rarity.  They only existed in folklore, right?

"Herr Gustav, we have intentions of travelling onwards to Altdorf, and would find much appreciation in hiring a coach and driver.  Perchance is the coach outside for hire?  Is the driver available for negotiation?"

Her toes draw circles on the floor beneath the table, showing a clear appreciation for the warm structure that they find themselves in.  As she waits for her food, fingers slowly drum a quiet tune on the table.

Turning to her hirsute foreign travel companion (Mefodiv), she speaks with a voice that is stern in an almost motherly way.  "Do be a dear and try to restrain yourself this night.  After the spectacle you made last you were in your cups, perhaps some temperance is in order."

---

OOC: Mefodiv, what happened at the last inn we visited (possibly where we all first met and from where we set out)?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Fri 25 June 2021.

Heth trickled in with the rest of them, stamping off the mud on his boots before he made his way to the proffered table.

There was some adjusting of his satchel and his scabbard as he found his seat, and he watched with interest as Dietrich and Aver engaged the proprietor in turn.

Like Aver, he spent a few moments looking over the crow, although his expression suggested more pity than fascination.

"Indeed. A coach would be more welcome...if I may, how are the roads on from here? Has there been any trouble as of late? he asked after Aver, watching the rotund man's reaction closely.

"Ahhhh, bone-jeweler! Well-met Mr. Baudelaire, it's quite the coincidence to have two notable names in the house. I take pride in my stonework, but I never expected to host the Emperor's summons in the Coach and Horses! Not that we aren't in great standing mind you, I've met the emperor before, swell man. Good taste in hats if I recall..."

He thinks thoughtfully to himself as he tries to remember, but waves it off with a shrug.

"Food? Food my dear boy, of course! Finest in the realm. We've got soup-chef's surprise, with a cut of brown bread and a smattering of butter, three pennies. For a bowl of a heartier beef stew, and a mouth watering pie bigger than your fist? Six pennies. If you're really blown out we can get you sorted with a full plate of daily roast with sausages, vegetables, and plenty of that crunchy bread I bet's catching your eye, yeah? One shilling. Our beer is made in-house and beloved by many weary souls, lovingly dubbed 'The Coach and Hops' it's just two pennies a mug... Though we DO have some imported wines for the highborn sort. If you wanted something more refined. Karl Franz himself used to drink the very same brand with my father many years ago. 'A treat for the nobility and grognard alike'. As he used to put it. Wise man that he was."

Gustav turns on his heel to face the other questions, hardly even stopping to take a breath...

"There are in fact! Those two fine men over there with quite the tab! They're taking the night off before setting out tomorrow I believe. If you wanted a coach ride, you should speak to them. With the way they're drinking, they will no doubt be needing the additional coin to get out of the bill they're building. Why, I haven't seen anyone burn through the barrels as quickly as this since the time-"

"Oi! We can hear you, you old codger!"

The drunken pair interject before Gustav could continue his story. Gustav clears his throat.

"Right, well. We have accommodations available to stay. Ten pennies for space in the dorms, fifteen for a deluxe spot, and ten shillings for a private room with the best accommodations, I assure you."

All the while he's talking, the large crow is mimicking his conversations in broken confusing echoes.

"Trouble? Here? Oh nooooo, never!"

You hear a scoff from within the inn.

"Why we even have the privilege of hosting Lady Isolde tonight. Terribly mysterious her..."

He waves his sausage like fingers in the air as though he were talking about some astounding, unknown creature as he looks back at the finely dressed woman in the room. The woman's face contorts in a mixture of disdain and annoyance as she averts her eyes and returns to picking at her food.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:53, Fri 25 June 2021.

Rapidly mesmerized by the crow and it's talking antics, Halvi didn't pay much attention to the man greeting them. That is, until the conversation was steered towards the warm meals they so craved. She listened to Gustav while weighting her coin purse, doing just the same about her options.

Junttila didn't have to ask the rest regarding the coach, them hiring it was a fact. The cost was the only thing left to settle, letting the men know too, although that would be best settled in the morning. What couldn't wait much longer however was warming up and filling their bellies. "Stew and beer." Halvi stated looking at the others expectant interest. She would had settled for some soup to warm up her stomach but perhaps a more filling meal when they had the chance was a more measured choice.

"Opa! Well, I take dorm spot, two chef surprise, and eig-eh, three, mugs."

Mefodiv sets two shillings on the counter, and takes the meals and drinks to the table with Aver.

"Bah! Not happen again! Eh, probably, anyway. Not drink as much tonight, at least."

Mefodiv pushes one of the specials and mugs toward her.

"Now, eat. Then we talk to coachmen, arrange ride and speak of road."


OOC: There *may* have been a *minor* altercation over a *civil* dispute involving the quality of Kislevite horses and ale compared to the Empire's. Calling for guards was wholly unnecessary, I was gonna let him off with a warning, honest.

Almost before the Kislevite finishes sliding the plate across the table, portions are already being shoveled into Aver's mouth.  Two large bites, then a sheepish look around the table as she remembers her manners.  "Thank you, Mefodiv.  It would seem not everything they say about your people is true."

She returns to eating and drinking, only standing one she had finished to request a second ale and a dorm spot.  Still barefoot, she walks to the table with the heavily sudded and animated coachmen.  "Gentlemen, I would speak business with you for but a moment.  My companions and I are looking for transport to Altdorf, to depart as soon as possible.  Perchance are you available for hire come the morning... or afternoon?"  She adds the second part after a quick lookover of the men.

"My good Herren, the words you speak are a balm to my heart!" Dietrich said dramatically, clutching at his chest as though he were on stage at the theater.

"I will have the full plate, two ales, and one glass of Sauternes to finish off the evening if you have it. And I will take the private room. I will treat myself tonight before being responsible tomorrow. And my future self will simply have to deal with it," he continued with a cheeky grin.

"Ah, and as to my question about baths on the premises...?" the young nobleman asked, hope blooming in his cold toes.

"Ah yes, very good. I'll make ready the feast while you get comfortable."

He gives Dietrich a thumbs up with a broad smile.

"Only in the private rooms! A washroom and two beds per room. Spacious, gracious, and clean. I keep the staff here on their toes with personal inspections and inspiring direction every morn. It's well with the silver, I assure you!"

With that Gustav strides into the kitchen to begin wheeling out the ordered foods. The man behind the bar pours the drinks, but does not leave the bar aside from retreating ino the cellar to fetch another pitcher of beer. Gustav delivers both the food, and the drinks you order directly to you, always offering a small tale or topic of interest about himself or his Inn as he does so.

Those who were sitting at the tables eating can't help but notice the foppish looking man at the bar starring at them. Only looking away when you return his gaze.
------------------------------------

The two jovial men were in the middle of reveling on about a joke that loosely contained something about dwarves and a cheese stall in Middenheim. They hardly seem attentive to Aver, but there was also the heavy slur of intoxication in their voices.

"Wod did she shay?"

"She neeeeeeds uhhhh... a ride."

"Why's she ashkin' me?"

"'Cause we own a coach for a livin you eejit."

"Oh yeah... we got shpache in the cart don' we?"

"S'pretty full. We could takem tooo the next inn, right? 'Inn of the Seven Spooks'?"

"Shpokes. It's... It's sheven shpokes you moron. Kehehe."

There's giggling from one that leads the other to start cracking up as well.

"Right! Right Seven spokes. That'd be... fifty miles?"

"Can't be arshed with numbersh."

"It's a fair way to ol' Altdorf, so three shillings per-"

"Four."

"Four shillings per person, and we'll give ya a lift."

A realization dawns on the left one as he whispers to his partner. He makes a light 'Ahhh' sound in agreement as he nods.

"But you...You gotta pay in advance. Now, that is. So we can purchase...uhhh..."

"Provishions."

"Riiiiiight, provisions."

ooc These men do not seem set on a price and rather tipsy. They might be bartered with to lower the price. But you might run the risk of insulting them as well.
------------------------------------------------------------

Amidst the hustle and bustle Halvi finds the crow had been watching over the tavern with interest, enthusiastically watching Gustav's movements to copy his voice at every opportunity. However, it was watching the robed figure in the back of the room when Gustav was busy in the kitchen. It seemed to flutter it's wings softly whenever he turned a page in his book.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Sat 26 June 2021.

'Four shillings a person?  By the gods, they must be drunk to offer such a low price for ride!  Or perhaps it is adequate compensation for the quality of vehicle...'

Not wanting to ruin a good deal, Aver spits into her hand and extends it, a common practice in Wissenland to strike a binding agreement.  "Agreed, four shillings a person.  There are five of us, so that comes to..."  She turns and retrieves her purse, mumbling as she counts the coins with her back turned to the coachmen.  "...one crown eight shillings.  But, so that you can afford extra provisions, how about we call it two marks?"  She slaps two gold crowns on the table, hoping the weight of the coin would carry its sweet ringing sound into the ears of the drunken men.

---

OOC: The price for a coach in the rulebook is usually 1+ gold crowns, but Aver is hoping that the coachmen are drunk and greedy enough that any sort of gold on the table will be satisfactory.  Gold looks better than silver, after all.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:08, Sat 26 June 2021.

The two drivers look at each other with bewildered faces and shrug in unison.

"It's your coin. Works plenty well enough for me!"

The right one states quickly as he snatches up the coins.

"BUt it'ds jusht to the other...an the cabin's full of the... fanchy one."

"We'll find space for em. Alwasy do. But! For noooow...."

The grin at each other and clink their cups together.

"ANOTHER ROUND!"
"ANOTHER ROUND!"

Another cheer from the two of them as they seem to be in higher spirits than the stuff they were downing.

"Gustav! Bring me somea that bretonian port to wash this beer down!"

"And another pitsher!"

Feeling guilty about taking advantage of the inebriated coachmen, Aver leaves them to their drunken revelry.  She returns to her own table to inform the group that she has paid upfront for the transportation.

Nursing her ale, she looks around some more.  The foppish man that keeps looking at them.  The quiet man whose book is interesting to a bird.  The smug woman and her companions.  Picking her next conversationalist, she wanders over to the man with the book.

"Good evening, sir.  It's not often one runs across a learned man such as your self, and even rarer in backwaters such as this!  If you might indulge me, what brings you on your own travels?"  As she asks this, she tries to get a look at the title of the book, curious as to what could be interesting to both man and crow.

"Eh?"

States the hooded young man with a startled jump as Aver addresses him. The young man was pale and thin, looking through his momentary confusion with eyes that resembled runny eggs. It was apparent he didn't sleep much. He takes a good eight seconds of starring at Aver with his mouth slightly agape as cogs in his mind began to turn again. It dawned on him that she was speaking to him.

"Oh...uhm...reading. Got a lot of studying to do. If you uhh... don't mind. I'd like to get back to it."

He states in a sluggish, tired voice.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:44, Sat 26 June 2021.

Finishing his meal, Mefodiv heads outside to the two men tending the horses, giving them a wave.

"Ho, there. Head to Altdorf recently? Any trouble on roads?"

The two men cleaning off the horses were a dirty sort, as is often the case when one shovels dung all day. One was an older halfling standing on a stoll to reach the top of the horses, the other was a younger man with an eye patch and a busted lip.

"Good evenin' m'lord. I don't much travel t'all. Too dangerous out there. Beastmen been eatin' travelers."

The halfling scoffs.

"Beastmen? No lad, look here. The road to Altdorf's got it's fair share of problems, but the real one be bandits. Only last week, a coach failed to get through! Not even the roadwardens wannae do anythin about it! Gods dammed shame of a system it is. Things is only gettin worse, and it's about time that the Emperor started looking after the common folk!"

The younger man makes a light cough and takes a few steps away from the halfling, not wanting to be associated with him. The hlalfling takes the hint and clams up with a grumble.

Ooc: He seems to have more in his mind. You can try to convince him to say more with an Easy (+30) Gossip test, or an average (+20) Intimidate test.

Dietrich's ears perked up at the mention of bandits. Not only was such a blight a disgrace to the men and women sworn to uphold the law, but so brazen a crime near the capital of one of the greatest nations on the Old World? Shameful. He would have to keep an eye out on their journey. Do his civic duty if it came down to it.

"Herr Gustav you should be sainted..." he finally responded to the man's answer to his earlier question.

"Is it hope beyond measure that you might have staff that does laundry...?" Dietrich asked dreamily, looking down at his mud-spattered uniform.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:04, Sun 27 June 2021.

Heth seemed hesitant to spend the sort of coin that the others had at first, but when the tone was properly set, he too opted for privacy and a glass of wine.

I liue of the greasy stew the Elf opted for a bowl of porridge flavored with cream and honey, normally a breakfast dish, but he was simply glad to have it.

Amid Aver approaching the inebriated Coachmen, and Dietrich the stable hands, Heth focused on the Fop at the bar, one handled cradling his wine, with a curious stare. As if he was trying to figure out just what the man was about.

The foppish man at the bar puts a coin onto the bar before standing up. Adjusting his hat and stroking the end of his nose as he does so. He stands up straight and calmly walks over yo Heth As Ryel's table.

"Good eveneeng monsieur. May I seet weeth you?"

He inquires with a thick Bretonian accent, and a polite smile.

"By all means, it would be my pleasure" Heth replied, and stood as he adjusted his seating in such a way as to give the man ample room. "Hethasryel Bravehelm, at your service, formerly of Marienburg." he offered a slight bow at the waist to the gentleman before he began to gather up his robe to resume his seat.

The beer in her belly did Aver no favors.  She was too excited to try speaking to anyone she hadn't just travelled with for two weeks.  "Are you sure you could not use assistance studying?  I have recently completed my collegiate apprenticeship, and could use something more stimulating than..."  She nods her head towards the two coachmen, neither of whom would likely be in any state to drive come the morning.

"Whatever you're studying must be of some interest, if even the resident academic has taken an interest in the words!"  With this, she nods towards the crow, and a wide grin crosses her face.

The foppish man tips his hat to Heth As Rel.

"Phillipe Descartes, trahvelair ahnd servahnt of ze realm. a pleasure to meet you mr. Brahvehelm. Eet is quite a sight to see ahn elf een zese pahrts... But where ahre my mahnners?"

The man raises a hand to Gustav as he finishes serving up the party.

"A round of dreenks fahr ahll of ze new guests. ze house special, my treat."

"In a charitable mood tonight Philip?"

Calls Gustav with a joyus chuckle. The foppish man sighs quietly at the butchering of his name. Likely for the umpteenth time. Still, he disregards the slight and focuses on the conversation instead.

"Would you cahre fahr a gahme of cahrds? I find a leettle gahmbleeng helps pahss ze time, ahnd eet's been a long time seence I've been ahble to play a hand of scahrlet empress."

He offers before looking over Heth's shoulder. He raises his glass and quickly stipulates;

"Everyone ees welcahme to play!"

He smiles at the other members of the group still inside the Inn before returning his attention to Heth.

"So, ahre you pahsseeng through fahr wahrk? or maybe a summahns? you look like ze type, eef I may be so bahld."

Ooc: Scarlet Empress is a widely popular card game in the empire. It does revolve around stakes and wagers however. Think of it more akin to poker than 'go fish'.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"No."

The academic man states as he rubs his eyes.

"I'm  studying for the... the university entrance examination. For a physician's license. You don't look like... my master. Like... a physician I mean. I'd be much more concerned if you looked like uhhh Mr. Cobb."

He stares absent-mindedly at Aver for a moment before he snaps out of it.

"Anyway, I'd prefer if you left me alone."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:45, Sun 27 June 2021.

"I'll take it as a compliment that I do not look like a physicker, nor this Mr. Cobb!  You do seem quite busy, and this is admittedly not my field of expertise.  Verena be with you in your studies."  With a bored sigh, Aver rises and walks back to the bar.  At least Gustav was willing to converse.

"Gustav, you seem like a man with a keen understanding of the people around him.  I saw several other buildings within the compound, would there perhaps be a woodworker amongst them?  For you see, I have paid the coachmen for travel come the morn, but the coach in question is clearly in need of repair."  She continues to nurse her ale, hoping to both enjoy herself this night and avoid the resulting hangover the next day.

---

OOC: You can use the code < hr > to create a line break!

"Oh, you can leave the coach repairs to the coachmen out in the yard. I'm sure they would be best suited for it. Though, we do have our very own smithy where our very own Agnes and her apprentice acts as our prestigious blacksmith, cartwright, and farrier. She's quite talented you'll find! And dedicated to her work. You might be able to find her in the smithy still, arguing with the world on anything in particular. Bit of advice, stay calm around her... Or wear a helmet. She's an excitable one. She's outside and to the left. Look for the sign with the pumpkin with hammers on it."

Gustav explains, happy to expand upon the extent of his business grounds. As he is dispensing the free round of drinks to the party, he smiles a good-natured smile to Dietrich.

"Well not usually, we do have a well and the means to do so. It wouldn't do to have you wallow around in filth, so you leave it to me. I'll fetch a basin and get someone to sort you for the night. On my honor sir!"

After giving thanks for the information, Aver sets her mug of ale down upon the table.  She wanders outside, still barefoot, looking for the coachmen tending to the horses.  Finding Mefodiv already speaking with the men, she stands silently waiting for them to finish their discussion.

In reply to Narrator (msg # 33):

Mefodiv chuckles, then takes a step closer to the halfling, crouching down to his level.

"Beastmen? And bandits?  No different from home then. But, eh, tell me. You hesitate. Something else you want to say? Trust in Mev, eh?"



Mefodiv Orlov rolled 79 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 67.  Gossip test.

"It's... I've said too much as is lad. I'm sure you lot will be fine."

The halfling says. The younger one cleaning the horse gives a quiet hum of approval. He nods at the other arrival.

"Your freind is looking for you too it seems. Better to spend your night with her than talking to lil ol' me."

Mefodiv stands, shrugs, and walks back to the inn's door.

"Have your way."

He stops and leans against the doorframe, speaking to Aver.

"Little one hiding something. Beastmen and brigand on road, and something else methinks. Trip tomorrow will be, eh, rough, to say least. But that is worry for later. Should go to dorm, find spot on floor with least piss stains to sleep on."

With that, Mefodiv retires for the night, setting up his blanket in the dorms and laying down.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Mon 28 June 2021.

Overhearing only the last part of the conversation, Aver shakes her head.  In response to Mefodiv, "The Roadwardens should have the path clear, should Sigmar deem suitable.  But if not, Dietrich seems quite capable of handling some mutants and abominations.  I will be heading to rest shortly, as I trust your judgement.  Sleep well, my friend.  Dream of your home."

Approaching the coachmen tending to the horses, "Actually, I came here for lil ol' you!  I was hoping to speak with someone about the poor condition of this coach, what with the woodworm and rot.  Now, I have paid passage in this here vehicle, and I would expect nothing less than the axles be replaced at the very least!"

"Hnng? Im a ostler miss. I take carea the horses an help park the coaches. I don't fix 'em. You oughta talk to the coach drivers. There's a paira them inside the inn proper. Gustav can help you if you can't find them."

The halfling explains, looking rather perplexed as to why he was the target of this woman's requests.

Exasperated by the seeming runaround, and ignoring that she might have simply misunderstood Gustav on account of being intoxicated, Aver throws her hands in the air and heads back into the inn.  She collects her shoes, and sits down to finish the last dregs of ale.

"By all means, certainly. It has been a long day but not so long as to rule out a few hands." Heth replied as he began to make room for the game, moving plates, cups and the like to the side.

In truth Hethasryel was not especially keen on cards, but he recognized the immense value in the conversations that surrounded the diversion.

"I cannot speak for the others I travel with, although they are hardy and seasoned travelers all. For myself I am taking a..." He paused to choose his words carefully. "Well something of a pilgrimage..." He sighed. "As some men do I suppose, when they reach a certain age."

He moved his wine glass. "But what of yourself monsieur? You appear to be a seasoned traveler yourself to have the inn keeps know you so casually?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Mon 28 June 2021.

Phillipe seems delighted to have someone take him up on his offer. He pulls out a deck of cards and begins shuffling them delicately.

"Ze buy-in ees two seelvair, zough we cahn play fahr more eef you like."

He explains as he sets the cards onto the table. He doesn't deal or place any silver on the table, waiting to see what stakes you wanted to set first.

"You ahre a brahve mahn. A peelgreemahge ees naht a light undertahkeeng. I shant pry, zough I hahpe your pahth ees a vahliant one... Ahs fahr myself? I ahm trahvelleeng to Ahltdahrf to veesit ahn old friend. I've been held up here fahr a few nights waiteeng fahr a lettair frahm zem. Lahst I hahd heard zey hahd cahme down weeth a cahse of ze pox. Fahr ahs much ahs I would lahve to be weeth zem een zese trying times... I do naht sink I would look so good weeth ze red death upahn my fahce."

He takes a sip of his wine with a satisfied sigh.

"Zough ze ownair here lahves to hear heemself tahlk, he ees quite ahccahmmodahteeng. I suppahse I hahve left a good eempression on heem." He sighs quietly. "I just weesh he could prahnounce my nahme wance. just wance. eet would be enough."

OOC: You can place a bet of 2 Shillings or more, then roll a Challenging(+0) Gambling roll
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:34, Mon 28 June 2021.

Halvi on her end of things, had no apparent interest in mingling much with the other patrons. Content with her drink and filling stew, she paid no heed either to the game of cards or the somewhat loud drunkards that were to take them to Altdorf the next day. Her attention was instead laser focused on the crow behind the bar, so much so that everyone else might as well not be there.

By the time she was done with the beer and virtually all of the stew, she stood up and made her way to the bar, right in front of the crow. Junttila took one of the small meat portions that she had set apart and taking her axe by the head, set the meat on it's butt end. Using her improvised extension tool, she slowly brought the meat as close as she could to the crow, leaning and even climbing on top of the bar to achieve her goal if necessary.

Befriending the talking crow.
13:07, Today: Halvi Junttila rolled 2 -- 2 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 30.  Charm animal.

"Merci beaucoup my host, I will make sure to tip well before I leave," Dietrich said with a dramatic bow, sweeping off his feathered hat in the process.

That done, he grabbed his plate and began devouring the food with a neat, efficient pace that spoke of years of experience in a dormitory setting, where unattended food quickly became someone else's. That "full plate" was quickly becoming an empty plate if he kept up that hungry pace.

"Húsfreyja Junttila, if you are a fan of birds, may I suggest the fine art of falconry? A gyrfalcon or a raven makes a fine companion..." he said between mouthfuls.

The barman raises a brow and watches Halvi with slight bewilderment and exasperation. "Please do not feed the bird. Gustav handles all of Blackie's matters, and is particular about what he eats."

Blackie, however, does not seem to have any protests hopping to the end of his little beam to pluck the morsel off of it. It puts it under a foot to pluck away at it with it's beak. "Enjoy the road? Have a chicken to drink! Plenty more honor sir!" Cries the crow, sounding a bit more excited than usual. It seems to have a bit more pep, and was rehearsing all of Gustav's best lines.

Jaw agape at the antics of Halvi, Aver finishes the last of her ale.  She pays whatever remainder she still owes, and heads off to the dorms for some rest.

'Between the talk of Beastmen and the condition of the coach, it would be most unwise to be still drunk come the morning.  Mefodiv has the right idea.'

Halvi answered Dietrich in a hushed way, not wanting to startle the creature, though one would be safe to assume that chatter didn't precisely disturb an animal accustomed to living in such a place. "Not just birds, I've never seen a talking crow." Junttila Held one last small bit of meat with her hand and held it out for the crow. "This is all I got." She said perhaps to appease the barman as she completely ignored his request. "Blackie the talking crow, this place sure is blessed."

Blackie begins to flap and begins to fly. He doesn't go for Halvi's offered food, but rather fly's past her. Onto the outstretched arm of a beaming Gustav, who had moved his way behind Halvi. "Quite the wonderful little beast isn't he? I found Blackie as a chick, and raised him since. But he's a bit of a glutton you understand, so he's got to stick to his proper meals!" Talking more to his bird than Halvi, Gustav accentuates his point by tapping Blackie on the beak before petting him with a single sausage like finger.

The irony of telling the bird it needed a diet was lost on Gustav. Blackie appeared to be more like his master than originally met the eye.

"Quite the wonderful proper Blackie! He's a bit of a meals! So he's got to stick to his glutton!" Cries Blackie. Gustav's smile fosters a look of pride as he listens to his pet crow prattle on.

"Yes, he's quite the spectacle. Would you like to hold him? He's quite the charmer you'll find." Gustav offers, outstretching his arm. "He's quite the yes. Would you like to charmer? He's quite the hold you'll find." Blackie cries.

Stuffing the rejected piece of meat in her mouth, her face spoke volumes and left no need for Halvi to assert her desire to do so. Junttila gulped down the meat as she intently stared at Blackie, she hesitantly reached out with her arm only to withdraw it and continue stretching it out again a second later after mustering her courage once more. What felt like long minutes of struggle, hesitating every step of the way as she inched closer to her mark, was actually condensed in under five seconds in reality. Nervous excitement and fear of starting the cherished talking crow can warp one's perception of time it turns out. In the end however, she had her arm stretched out in a manner that she felt more appropriate in her rudimentary attempt to mimic Gustav's posture.

Gustav makes a slight clicking sound with his tongue and wiggles his arm a little. Blackie hops from his arm and unto Halvi's. It takes him a moment to adjust his footing with a few flaps of his wings, but settles in well-enough to turn back to Gustav and tilt it's head slightly.

"A handsome maneuver, if I say so myself. Ha! Look at that, you're a natural." Gustav says, winking at Halvi and Blackie in equal measure.

"A handsome natural, if I say at that. Ha! look at you're maneuver." Blackie retorts.

Gustav looks over and seems to remember something. "Ah! but look at the time. I have to settle other matters. So please do give a call if you need anything!" He says with a superfluous bow. He turns and begins to walk up the stairs to the Inn's second level. Blackie takes heed as well and begins to flutter, flying back to his preferred perch overlooking the bar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:06, Mon 28 June 2021.

Seeing the interplay between the crow and his traveling companion, Dietrich took a moment to think. Wiping the grease from the sausages from his beard, and taking a long pull on his ale to make sure his throat was clear, he turned fully to Halvi and considered her and the bird for a moment.

"Húsfreyja Junttila, would you like to own that ebon-feathered creature?" the young man asked, no hint of his usual mischief or sarcasm in his voice.

The bliss Halvi was in was very short lived but as the words of wisdom went, the hangover was part of the fun of drinking. She watched Blackie fly away and relented in her fixation, for the time being anyway. "No. Besides, no amount of coin would secure you ownership of that crow."

Junttila sat back at the table, with those who still remained, her attention then divided between them, that game they were playing and the occasional glance at the bird. "Do you have a particular interest in birds Dietrich?" She inquired a bit offhandedly.

"You would be surprised what men will part with for coin. Especially here in the Empire..." Dietrich replied wryly.

"Non, not especially, Húsfreyja Junttila. You just appeared to share a connection and fascination with the creature. I thought it would be a shame to sever that connection. My interests are more...well, regrettably cliche. In no particular order - wine, women, weapons, and horses. Songs and poetry can move me as well, but not in the same sublime way as the others. My mother is so very proud of my interests and hobbies!" he laughed into his ale before taking another long drink.

"Beasts have no use for coin, most of them anyway." She had heard about magpies being keen on coins and other shiny baubles.

Staring at Dietritch with a blank expression as he listed his hobbies, she asked, perhaps not really expecting an answer. "Why would she? Those seem pretty average interests for the average man in these parts. Or did she expect less of you? Different maybe?"

The elf and the Bretonian have a small chat about the state of affairs in the world as they play some cards. The barman lets the two drunkards it's last call for drinks before the Inn shuts down for the night. Hans an Gunnar quickly buy a pitcher each to keep the night alive a little longer.

"Last call folks, if there's anything else you need, please do not hesitate to ask!"
"Last need else, if there's hesitate else please do not anything, call you need ask!"

Calls Gustav and Blackie in near unison. They must have sang these same words out many times before.

OOC: Those who purchased a dorm space for 10p will be sleeping on the floor. The area is dry at least, but there are no blankets or pillows. You also have to share the space with other drunk or snoring travelers.
-The deluxe dorm space is the same as above, except you get a bed to lay on. Moderately better from the floor at least.
-The private rooms are well made with pillows and blankets, a lit candle for light atop a table and chair. There was even a little screen you could prop up for changing in privacy if the need arose.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:11, Wed 30 June 2021.

"Oui. She wished me to be Saint Wilhelm III reborn, with the learning and wit of Detlef Sierck, and ideally, marry Emperor Karl Franz's daughter. What a disappointment I have turned out to be," Dietrich replied to Halvi's question with a kind of sad chuckle.

He didn't often go in for card games. He felt only fools left their fortunes in the hands of strangers and chance. He might wager on a fight that he himself was participating in, but that was only because his fate was in his control at that point. Still, passing a few hours with a friendly game, a big meal, some after dinner port, and idle conversation was a good way to relax after a long journey on the road. When last call came, he simply went up to his room, stripped out of his mud-spattered clothes, placed them in a neat pile outside his his door to be laundered by the inn staff, and utilized the private bath of his room.

He had no straight razor unfortunately, so he had to awkwardly shave with his dagger. When the time came, he would have to employ the services of a good barber, but this would have to do for now. That done, he washed thoroughly, and then relaxed in the heated water for some time, drifting closer to sleep by the minute. One bit of paranoia he indulged in however was to rest his sheathed sword against the tub, to be within easy reach. The Old World was a grim place, after all.

OOC: What is my tab up too at the moment?

Comfortable in a bed, Aver dreams of the hearth.  Her dreams have all been of fire, since the Winds first caressed her skin.  But fire is more than destruction and ruin, it is warmth and safety.

But regardless of what form it takes...

She dreams of fire.

The party turns in for the night as the rest finds them easily off of the road. Eben those who slept in the dorm could find solace that the loud man snorring into their ear wasn't a bandit or creature of the night coming to slit their throats in their sleep.





Morning comes, evidenced by the hustle and bustle of the world around. The birds crying in the morning air seemed determined to end your 'sweet dreams'. The morning is misty and overcast. The three women from the night prior; (The fancy one, the brutish one, and the mousey one) are all sitting in the tavern alongside Phillipe, eating a morning breakfast. You are welcomed to join them as they wait for the drivers to be ready to leave.

...

An hour passes and it begins to become apparent that they weren't coming inside the tavern... Where were they?

Prior to coming downstairs, Aver takes a moment for herself.  Just as her mentor had instructed, she kneels down on the (admittedly filthy) floor and contemplates on the images from the night.  Sweat-drenched and trembling, she works on centering herself prior to examining the scenes that ran through her mind.


With her reflection complete, she heads downstairs.  The first priority, even before seeing who or what was present, was to order food... and a heavy tea.  When, and only when, one of the two had been procured, she takes the time to look around.  Seeing the noblewoman and her two companions present was no surprise.  Seeing the lack of coachmen was even less surprising.  It was likely that they would not awaken naturally for quite some time.

Aver sits at a table with her traveling companions if any are present, giving a weary and groggy smile to any who join her.  "We may have some time this morning before we depart.  It would behoove us to speak with the blacksmith about reinforcing the coach, on the coachmen's tab.  I couldn't help but notice yesterday that the condition was less than... acceptable.  If one of you would care to join me, I hope we can do our part to guarantee a safer travel."  It was likely that much work could be completed, perhaps with some haste, prior to the awakening of the coachmen, or the time it would take for them to eat and sober up.  When asking for someone with whom to speak to the blacksmith, she looks towards Mefodiv in particular.

---

21:26, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 4 -- 3 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 38.  Fortune Point: WP Test - Interpret Dream.

21:26, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 83 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 38.  WP Test - Interpret Dream.

Despite the meal, soothing bath, and private room, Dietrich's dreams were so fitful as to make the whole experience a rather wasted effort, for he felt less than well rested when he rose and changed into his freshly laundered clothes.  As he splashed water on his face to attempt to return to full wakefullness, he tried to interpret his strange dream beyond a surface reading. But just when he thought he had it, the dream slipped through his fingers, as they often did.

Coming downstairs he paid his bill, and considered Aver's request.

"Fräulein Eldebrandt, it would be my honor to escort you on so necessary an errand on so fine a morning," he declared loudly, removing his hat and bowing comically low.

There really wasn't much for him to do anyway at the moment, so why not?

OOC Mechanics
08:25, Today: Dietrich Baudelaire rolled 36 -- a simple failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 30.  Willpower Test.

Mefodiv wipes the sweat from his forehead with his jerkin as he wakes with a groan.

"By the Bear, what shit sleep. Never eating chef surprise again."

He heads downstairs, opening a bottle of kvas, and waves to Dietrich and Aver, sitting with them and taking a long drink before turning to Aver with a raised brow.

"What with look? I sleepwalk last night?"



12:29, Today: Mefodiv Orlov rolled 82 -- 5 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 29.  Willpower for dream.

Juntilla stared at Dietritch, clearly the man had some pending issues with his family. "Better you betray their expectations that they betray yours. You are the one who has to live them, she'll come around." And with that, she went to catch some sleep.

---

Halvi suddenly rose up, promptly dashing towards the bar, to check on Blackie. Only once she set eyes on the bird and visibly relieved, she headed outside intending to wash her face with some cold water. Perhaps the cold water would take with it the strange omens, not that they unsettled her, but it was best to take on the road ahead with a focused mind.

22:06, Today: Halvi Junttila rolled 54 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 36.  Dreamy dreams.

Aver looks at Mefodiv joining the table and immediately pulling out the alcoholic beverage.She lets out a quiet but exasperated sigh.  "No, my friend, I don't know of any sleepwalking.  I was just curious if you would wish to join the two of us," she says, gesturing to Dietrich, "as we speak with the blacksmith about coach repairs.  Based on what you have told us of your past, you might be just the person to negotiate the work."  She declines any offer of the kvas.

Blackie clung to it's perch and appeared to be preening itself, as Gustav was busy with matters of the inn at the moment. The bird looked strangely unkempt and ruffled than usual, and quiet even. The bartender cleans the plates and glasses as you finish your meals. The three women begin talking amongst themselves.

"Janna, where are the coachmen? We were supposed to depart an hour ago!" Hisses the well dressed woman to the mousey looking one. "I do not know my Lady. Perhaps we could get someone to rouse them?" The meek woman offers. "Do it quickly. I paid to be in Altdorf by festag!" The meek woman gives the royal one a bow as she begins walking over to Aver, Mefodiv, and Dietrich...

"Hello? Umm...good morning. I've sussed that you have plans to ride the carriage currently in the yard. With us. Could you... find the coachmen so we can depart soon? Thank you." She speaks with a meek whisper, and the same trepidation as a field mouse. You feel a loud sound might send her fleeing with how timid she appears to be. She doesn't wait for a response from you, as she gives you a slight bow before speed walking back to the well dressed woman and the large woman in half plate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Thu 01 July 2021.

"Halvi, would you mind taking a look for the coachmen after you finish your breakfast, while the rest of us speak with the blacksmith?  Don't rush, as we will need some time ourselves.  And perhaps find where our Elf friend has disappeared to?  Last I saw, he was speaking with that... dandy."

Aver looks generally uninterested in taking orders from some timid woman.

In reply to Aver Eldebrandt (msg # 71):

Mefodiv rubs some sleep from his eye and scratches his face, halfway offering the bottle before being declined and taking another swig.

"Aye. Could go for a bit of walk anyway. Ready when this bottle empty, just give word. Should at least check if coachmen are sober enough to drive straight later, when return after chat with smith."

"Those two shouldn't be too far." Nodding and paying what she owed, Halvi went back outside to look for the two drunkards that were meant to take them to Altdorf. The first stop was going to be the coach itself, presuming that the two would be either collapsed inside or subverting her expectations, seeing to it that the coach was ready.

Aver waits for the Kislevite to finish his far-too-early drink, before heading out the door to look for this blacksmith.  It was possible that she (the smith) was still asleep, but tradesmen often rose with the dawn to complete as much work as possible.

Mefodiv, Aver, and Halvi take a walk outside the inn to get a fresh breath of air. The light snowfall on the ground did wonders for helping conceal the stench of manure out here. Your little trek doesn't last long as you follow the sounds of metallic clanging ringing through the morning air, (To Mefodiv's dismay).

The smithy was modest at best, and looked to be a strong breeze away from falling over with the misaligned wood planks nailed over cracks acting as a bandage for the shabby place. Many were even painted with symbols of faith and seals of inspection or other faded documents hastily nailed in. Inside was a stocky looking woman with an eye patch and shoulder length brown hair that was smoldering at a part of the ends. She was hammering some red hot metal on a battered anvil with sweat rolling down her face, and a slew of colorful words out of her mouth.

Taking in the scene, Aver couldn't help but be drawn to the smoldering hair.  The smell of burnt hair was something she was all too familiar with.  Having to approach seemingly-aggressive tradesmen- tradeswomen, really- was not.

"Might you be Agnes?" she calls out over the ringing of metal.  Before continuing, she waits for the hammering to cease.  No sense in yelling when unnecessary.

"WELL IT'S ABOUT DAMMED TIME!" Barks the blacksmith with a spray of spit to her words as she points a hammer at Aver. She points down to a bundle on the floor as she wipes her greasy brow. "DELIVERY FOR THE COACHMAN, BE LATE AGAIN AND I'LL DIP YOUR OTHER HAND IN THE COALS!" With that, she returns to whacking the heated metal with her hammer.

The bundle at the base of the blacksmith's workbench was oblong and lumpy. It looks to have been wrapped in a hurry, and filled with something.

If her apprenticeship had taught her anything, it was to follow instructions.  Aver jumps a bit and scurries to the bundle, unwrapping it slightly to examine the contents before attempting to pick it up.

Mefodiv scratches his head and peeks at the bundle as well.

"What? It that simple? More time to look for drivers then, no?"

The bundle you open contains a large amount of metal shot, alongside a metal orb that was engraved with weird symbols. Aside from that it contained a collection of horseshoes to fit four horses. The bundle was quite heavy. A note inside reads: To me luvle Gunar. Stae safe on the rodes. I sent me aprentise to giv you wat we oes you. Til next time. -Agnes Something tells you this bundle wasn't meant for you.

Sack contains: Firearm shot(20), Horseshoes (16), Strange metal orb (1).

You can try to identify the orb's markings using a Knowledge skill you might think relevant.

Taking only a quick glance at the contents and an even quicker evaluation of the orb, Aver quickly rebundles the package to give to the drivers.  With such a quick glance, hastened by the embarassment of opening something likely personal, she is unable to identify the markings on the orb.

She turns to Mefodiv, shaking her head.  "Alas, this is not what we came for.  We must ask about repairs for the coach, not the shoes of the horses!"

After the package has been closed up again, she tries calling out once more over the ringing of metal on metal.  "Smith Agnes, we are not here for this!  We come to speak of the coach and needed repairs!"  Aver seems anxious at all of this, standing on her tippy-toes to yell out, as well as fidgeting.

---

21:59, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 49 -- 1 degree of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 36.  Academic Knowledge (Magic) - Identify Orb.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:05, Tue 06 July 2021.

"Whit...? You aint...?"

The blacksmith stops her work to lean over the counter and squint at you. Her eyes go wide with agitation and frustration in equal measure.

"Give it back then ya worm-eyed drifter! I've got work t'do without snoops an the like pretendin to be wot they aint! You want something fixed you bring it to me. I ain't playin guessing games. Git!"

Speaking with an uneasy tone and spitting as she speaks, the blacksmith seems more embarrassed than genuinely angry, though a woman of her size, clutching the hammer in the way she was, gives you the impression that she isn't one to ask twice.

ooc: You are fairly certain the orb is not magical in any fashion.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:24, Tue 06 July 2021.

Seemingly scared of the woman, Aver cries out, "We will be speaking with the coachmen soon, as we have hired them to drive us today!  We can take this to them!  But..."  She takes a moment to steel herself, a deep breath taking in the smoke.

Aver leans over the counter, two hands planted firmly on the counter.  "But the coach itself is in shoddy condition, the frame is about to fall apart and the woodwork is sloppy.  I see that you are not a carpenter.  But I'm sure you could slap some metal together to brace the frame, and keep the wheels from crossing the road before the horses!"

---

OOC: From your prior post, it sounded like the blacksmith had turned away from the counter to continue working, which is when we started poking around her personal belongings including the orb covered in dirty runes.

"And I TOLD YOU. BRING. IT. HERE. Do don't do deliveries.  You want some braces? Give me a budget and I'll 'slap' some metal. You give me anything other than a sack of crowns or a carrige to look at, and I'll slap you with some sodding metal. Sigmar as my witness, do I make myself clear?"

She says, looking visibly frustrated with you now. She waits for your response with an excessive amount of huffing. There was a loud tolling coming from the main building once again.

OOC correct! Her back was to you when you picked up the bag. Once you said you werent here for it, she whipped around to face you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:45, Wed 07 July 2021.

Halvi makes a trek over to the Carriage that was supposedly meant to be on the road an hour ago. To her surprise, she does find the two coachmen there... still fast asleep and surrounded by emptied pitchers of ale that gave the entire coach a thick scent of alcohol. So much for getting on the road soon.

Hardly surprised by what she found. Tapping her cheek with a finger as she stared at them, Junttila finally decided to take her axe out and use it's butt to gently prod and bonk the closest of the pair. Spent as they seemingly were, there was no shortage of people depending on them at the time and Halvi would not not have all of them suffer the drunkards antics. "Hurry, wake up and get out! The coach is on fire!" She shouted at coachmen to instill some sene of urgency in them.

The two coach drivers wake with a blurry-eyed start and a myriad of curses. Despite Halvi's bluff, the pair of them seem more worried about the agony surround their heads. With a blech and a cough, the pair of them slowly saunter to their feet to see what was going on.

"Horses." Is all Gunnar manages in a hoarse croak, barely recognizing Halvi as a person. He moves past her with an agonizingly slow trudge. Hultz follows along, speaking illegibly
"Mmrghhhh...Sigmar...thst'lll be... frasssm."

The pair seem disoriented and miserable. But seem to remember well enough that they were supposed to do something today. They began walking towards the stables together in quiet, hangover-fueled misery.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:08, Thu 08 July 2021.

Eyes widened, Aver glances between her two companions who seem content to let her speak.  "All right!  I'll have the coach brought down here!  Sor..."  She seems to catch herself in the middle of an apology, which would likely only further anger the blacksmith.  Aver spins on her heels, and strides out of the smithy, heading back towards the main building to see if Halvi had found the coachmen.

Aver and her silent companions wander over to the carrige where a stumbling pair of Coachmen were getting the horses ready, and the three womenfrom the tavern were getting into the Carriage. Halvi was standing there with Phillipe, both of whom were watching the pair fix up the carriage to move out.

"Well dahne" Phillipe tells Halvi, revealing he had been standing behind her. "We may ahctually be ahble to leave befahre sundown." He muses as he crosses his arms and watches the coachmen work in quiet misery.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:49, Thu 08 July 2021.

Mefodiv scoffs as they leave the smith.

"Are all Empire types like that? In Kislev we have word for people that run business like that. Unemployed. Bah, is of no matter. Why women enter carriage if we take for fixing?"

Aver shrugs at Mefodiv's question about the smith, agreeing nonverbally.  "I may have neglected to tell the other passengers about the current state of the coach, so we will likely have to talk them out.  Sigmar give us strength..."

Approaching the coach with Mefodiv, she waits for the likely-still-drunk coachmen to recombobulate enough to discuss repairs.  After some time passes, she makes her move.  Aver begins pointing out the issues with the coach that she had noticed the night before, and insists that some minor patching be performed prior to departure.  "We'll never make it to Altdorf like this!"

"I never knew coachmen to be so careless about their work." Halvi answered to Phillipe as she watches the men finally in motion. "I hope you are right, I am not keen on the idea of setting out with little light ahead, drunk or not is just as well so as long as we get moving."

When others came and aver began to make her case about the deficiencies of the coach, Junttila corrected her previous optimism. "Or perhaps not. Did you have places to be?"

"Mnnnh'll...bine furrnnnll oww." Comments Hultz. "Ready..." Adds Gunnar, clutching his head.

"Oh no. I'll have no more delays! I've bought a seat here for tonight! Not in a couple of days! We are not squatting in this dismal hut any longer!" Cries Lady Isolde from within the coach. "If this coach will not serve them, they will wait for the next one. We are leaving." Speaking with an uncharacteristic venom from such a noble lady, the responses from the coachmen are unintelligible grunts as the horses are locked into place. There's asmall sound of whispering coming from the mousey woman beside her, trying desperately to calm her down as the brutish bodyguard sits as silent as ever beside Lady Isolde.

The coachmen clamber up to their spots atop the coach with a grunting effort and slump into their spots.

"All...aboard." Rasps Gunnar.

Pierre pinches the bridge of his nose. "Altdahrf preferahbly. Zough, lookeeng aht ze stahte of sings, eet's going to be a lahng way cahmeeng." He gestures to Halvi. "Ahftair you."

Mefodiv sighs speaking to Aver.

"I talk to them then. Watch."

He jogs up to the noblewomen, calling out to them as he raises his hands disarmingly.

"Good women, please! Would it not be unbecoming to show up to Altdorf in such shabby coach? Please, wait bit longer, let us take carriage to be fixed up. It look nicer, and be safer."


_{Today: Mefodiv Orlov rolled 67 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 37. charm to persuade nobles.}

"No! No. We paid to leave today. Today! Not tomorrow, not next Festag, today! You want an elaborate one, wait for the next."

The noblewoman was unconviced and the coach still looked to be setting off soon. With three inside, there were three spaces inside the coach. Anyone else would have to ride on the roof...

OOC: Anyone else may also roll an average Perception (intelligence) roll if you want to.

Under her breath, Aver mutters to Halvi.  "Well, these coachmen will be the ruin of us long before the frame gives out... assuming this woman doesn't drive us insane first."

She turns to the rest of the group.  "With the four of us, perhaps there is room at the bench for one?  Mefodiv here knows his way around a horse, by all accounts."

---

19:40, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 42 -- a simple failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 36.  Perception - Notice Something?

"What?! No! I've paid for this coach. Any who would dare encroach upon what is mine will feel the full wrath of my family. And believe me, my connections in Altdorf are more than enough to make the band of your lives miserable. Even by your dismal standards." She hisses as her fearful assistant goes silent. The leer of her bulky body guard gives you the feeling she isn't bluffing. Gunnar and Hultz don't seem to mind any of the commotion as some snoring could be heard coming from the reins.

Those that wish to sit inside the coach will have to win over Lady Isolade. Perhaps a suitable song or recital: (Easy +30) Entertain or Play Test, Or an (Average +20) Charm
could be used. Note: when dealing with Lady Isolde, all Charm Tests from Silver or Brass tier Characters suffer a penalty of -10 (see WFRP, page 50). If they fail to win over Lady Isolde, any Characters who cannot fit into the coach will have to travel on the roof.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:05, Fri 09 July 2021.

Aver clears her throat in an attempt to gather attention.  Ahem!  "I have paid fair coin for this ride for myself and my companions.  If you have gripe with this, it is the coachmen with whom you must discuss this issue, not us!  You as well as anyone knows that seats unpaid for are seats available.  And as finance does not seem to be an issue with you, there is no justification for this outrage... at least towards us!  Now if you'll excuse me, I will be taking my bartered seat and enjoying a comfortable ride for as long as this rickety ride will take us!"

The woman speaks clearly and with a precise selection of words that is common to the nobility, but shows a lack of experience with the tact that glues the words together.  She gives a long stare to the armored woman as she pushes past to find a seat.

---

20:59, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 35 -- a simple success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 38.  Charm - Ain't gonna ride on roof.
Untrained (18) + Average (20) + Etiquette (10) - Status (10) = 38% Target Number

Dietrich almost snorted at the antics of Lady Isolde. This was the kind of behavior that he was used too. Entitlement and disregard for others. Well, he had spent many years learning how to navigate these waters. Straightening up, he swept his feathered hat off his head and bowed low to the noblewoman.

"My dear lady, I am Dietrich Baudelaire, son of Brion Baudelaire, Baron of Seyoux. And these are my companions! Surely you would not deprive tired, paying customers from enjoying the luxury of this fine coach? I assure you, that despite our colorful appearance, we are most stimulating company. My conversatons were legendary in the taverns and academies of Nuln," Dietrich said in his most charming voice, and flashing his most boyish grin.

OOC Mechanics
20:09, Today: Dietrich Baudelaire rolled 4 -- 4 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 47.  Charm.

The lady seems conflicted with these responses, but buckles with a sigh. "Fine. We can abide you two. No one else! It's miserable enough without elbows and knees of the plebeians jetting into your side. Let's be off already!"

Those who climb into the Coach find it a little cramped with the bodyguard seeming to be more attentive to your presence than usual. The lady is already regretting your presence, and he quiet assistant was nervously playing with her hands.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:33, Sat 10 July 2021.

Mefodiv climbs onto the roof with a quiet shrug, sitting cross legged and whistling a tune to himself.

Nodding to Aver, Halvi watched her and Dietritch talk their way into the coach. As ready to leave as anybody there, She climbed atop the coach, seemingly unwilling to argue entry or having no interest in the experience. "Roomy enough for two." She said to Mefodiv as she laid down.

"Ma dame, you are a paragon of charity and compromise..." Dietrich replied evenly, betraying none of his sarcasm.

Placing his cavalier hat back upon his head, the young man entered the cab and set himself into his seat as comfortably as possible. As all wise men do when sitting down, if only for comfort, he removed his sheathed weapon from his belt, and simply held it against his person.

"Ah, travel within the Empire...is there anything more fine?" he drawled, still in that voice that didn't reveal if he was being sarcastic or not.

As Dietrich speaks with presumed sarcasm about travel through the Empire, Aver has her face pressed up against the window in a rather undignified manner.  "On a beautiful day like today, I couldn't agree more!"  She hadn't managed, even over these few weeks, to quite figure out her companion's sass, likely to his amusement.

After almost two hours of being late from the original departure time, the coach was finally moving with everyone on board. Whipping the horses to get things underway, the coach began slowly drifting down the path. Gustav is, of course, there to see you off with a wave. Blackie sat starring at you all as you leave, perched on Gustav's shoulder.

The way is quiet, and Lady Isolade is very clearly regretting her decision to allow anyone inside the coach. Huffing and adjusting herself constantly as her smaller companion tries to calm her with various tasks like brushing her hair, and polishing her shoes. He bodyguard does not move much at all, and simply stares upon the other passengers with soft interest and a bored expression.

Meanwhile, those atop the Coach get a rather scenic view of the 'wonderous' woods you've all been trudging through for the past few weeks. The sheer amount of brambles and thistle that grew around here was a painful reminder to be thankful for the coach, rather than an on-foot journey. There were all manner of droll plants growing about the path, and the occasional rustle of birds overhead. Otherwise it's rather peaceful in the fresh air.

It doesn't take long for you all to realize that this 'grand speed' of about two miles per hour wasn't just to clear the coaching inn's walls. Even on the road proper, you weren't gaining any momentum. At this speed the coach’s movement is a slow, gentle rocking that is easy on the coachmen’s aching heads, but it is obvious that the coach will not make it to the next inn before dark!

Mefodiv looks at the sun, and scans the treeline anxiously. He jostles one of the driver's shoulders.

"Oi. Pick up pace or let me drive. Not make it anywhere before dark at this rate, and travel by night bad idea."

Gunnar was already asleep at the reins, but Hultz looks at Mefodiv with weary eyes before pulling the Coach to a stop momentarily.

"Sure. Sure. Here. Just follow the road. Shouldn't be a problem."

Hultz tells Mefodiv, offering him the reins.

OOC If you have the drive skill you can drive the coach quite quickly. If you do not, you have to pass an average(+30) Drive test.

"This how you make good time."

Mefodiv hops on down and takes the reigns, speeding up gradually until the carriage looks like it may fall apart, or begins to shake a bit too much, whichever happens first.


_{OOC i have drive, what horseman wouldn't have it as a skill?}

Mefodiv finds the coach was a breeze to drive. He should get himself one of these someday. After all, how much money could these drunkards be making from sleeping off a hangover right now? Nearly an hour passes peacefully with nothing but the clip-clop of hooves and the sound of a rickety axle to lull the silence.

Suddenly, a loud crack from the sky rings out as the midday sun becomes blackened with clouds. It begins with a trickle, but before you can fish out so much as a second layer, a thick wall of rain descends upon the coach and it's inhabitants. The downpour drenches those that were outside of the coach proper, and even manage to jostle Gunnar and Hultz awake with a low curse and yawn between them.

Inside the cabin, something has changed behind the burly bodyguard's eyes as she stares intently at Aver, looking over her person with interest. She makes no attempts to hide the fact that she was mulling something over.

"Are you hungry, Lady Isolade? It's been some time on the road." Inquires the small woman beside the noble. She has a hopeful look on her face. "No." The lady quickly responds. "Our lesser guests' stench does wonders to curb one's appetite." The maid has a withered, tight-lipped smile forced upon her face as she looks down at her hands and tries to avert her eyes from everyone in the coach. Lady Isolade stares at Dietarch with a repugnant look of distaste on her face, looking away with a scoff should any meet her gaze.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:22, Sun 11 July 2021.

Mefodiv swears out loud, driving with one hand for two brief moments as he shakes his arms dry and takes the cookpot out of his backpack to wear as a hat, to keep rain out of his eyes.

Aver had spent the trip daydreaming, her eyes focused on nothing in particular outside the coach.  The trees creep by at a slow pace until Mefodiv takes the lead, a change that goes unbeknownst to most inside.  She even manages to ignore the snide comments from the noblewoman...  but her bodyguard, that might be a problem.

She crosses her arms in a protective stance, a common position for those with a secret.  A common position for those who had not yet received their magicking license.  She doesn't confront the woman, as that would make this uncomfortable trip even worse.  Instead, she retreats within herself, turning back to the window (while still continuing to glance at the bodyguard).

After some time passes, she begins snacking on the dried rations she had purchased previously.  She offers some to the other women, but in a manner that is obviously obligated rather than out of kindness.

After taking a glance to the road ahead, making sure that she wouldn't get bonked by some low branch, Halvi's drenched head creepily comes into view from one of the sides. "Looks like we are going to make it before the day is spent, turns out drinking yourself into stupor is as bad for coachmen as is for the headsman." She announced with cheerfulness to spare.

The pair of coachmen don their wide brimmed hats in unison to keep the rain off of themselves. "Good thinking that is." Gunnar comments with interest. "Quick thinking even." Hultz corrects with a chuckle.

"Keep your scraps. I don't wish to experience a commoner's blight from their undercooked 'foods'." Snaps Lady Isolade at Aver's offered meat. The maid quietly declines. The guard also doesn't seem to have any interest in them, but doesn't speak a word.

The ride continues in the rainy  slurry of day for a few hours before it lets up. Those who were outside of the coach were soaked to the bone from the exposed elements. Eventually the coach reaches the junction with the main Middenheim–Altdorf road. A milepost by the roadside claims: ‘Altdorf, 120 miles’. Another coaching inn was here, 'The nail an Hammler'. It seemed to be quite popular, and had it's fair share of hopefuls wishing to hop atop the coach as well.

"Keep going. Bloody hate this place." Gunnar instructs, having no intention of stopping here.

OOC Those who were outside the coach, roll an average(+30) disease check.

Everyone gets +50 Experience for finishing the prologue.
+10 Experience to Dietarch and Aver for successfully Convincing the 'fair' lady Isolade that they should ride inside the coach.
+10 Experience to Mefodiv for successfully driving the coach for the coachmen.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:38, Mon 12 July 2021.

Dietrich felt bad for his companions on the roof of the coach. He really did. It must be awful, just sitting in the rain all day with nothing but your traveling clothes to protect you from the elements. But he felt that sympathy from the warm, dry interior of the coach, and showed no signs of giving up his hard-won seat.

"Oi! Coachman! Why are we not stopping here?!" he called out of the window.

"S'fulla brigands. Road wardens don't patrol here often, so they flock here to fleece arrivals. Shite tavern, shite people." Gunnar explains with a bellow. "An Hammler is a Taal worshiper, a rube, an don't care about his patrons after they pay 'im for the night." Hultz Holds his head. "No need to shout. We'll be at the next one soon, it isn't that far from the Crone's Perch."

The wagon continues down the trail, into the forest proper and away from the muck of well-traveled roads. A feeling of unease washes over you for just a moment, like the sound of a popping cork just outside of your perception was going off, and the foam within was flowing over you. It quickly fades and you're left wondering what on earth THAT was about? Hopefully it wasn't some kind of lice or flea...

Proceed to Chapter one: The old road...