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.