The old man happily accepts the flask and sit down in a heap of himself. He sputters and seems fit to sleep on the spot just of the way of the streets. A few urchins were already looking him over and searching him for things of value.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:46, Mon 02 Aug 2021.

"Oh, shoo you little deviants," Aver tells the street-children as she tries brushing them away with her staff.  After moving them away (and knocking one on the head), she turns to Dietrich to see if he reacts to the letter.  When turning, however, she notices the strange staring match between Mefodiv and the men.

She whispers to him, "Perhaps return the gesture?  Altdorf is full of secrets, perhaps you stumbled upon one..."  Nothing in her hushed voice is confident, as Altdorf is also full of strangers and misunderstandings.

Mefodiv turns slightly towards Aver, talking to her without taking his eyes off the two men,"This better not get me killed, or I be very upset with you."

He grumbles, and mimics the motions, scratching at his left ear with his pinky.

"Yesli etot sekret k chemu-to znakom, potoropites'. Net vremeni na igry, yest' chto prodat' i s kem vstrechat'sya."

The two men flash faces of confusion as they look at each other for just a moment with furrowed brows. They move to speak, but soon have their expressions melt to ones of relief. They move past Mefodiv and the bustling city to an open door way where a stocky man was standing. As the two men walk inside, the stocky man narrows his watery-blue eyes at Mefodiv for a moment before closing the door behind him. Strange.

"Well, you're not dead yet my friend, but I feel I speak for the both of us when I say, what in the blazes was that?"  She gives a shrug, then turns back to Dietrich to observe his reactions.  Altdorf is weird.

Agatha hefts the bag over her shoulder as she looks at the scene that was starting to take place in front of her. She watches the urchins passing by her, just to make sure she doesn't get robbed again. She looks over at Dietrich, looking a bit confused.

"Do you often get arrival announcements like this? You seem a little surprised that it transpired like this."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:56, Tue 03 Aug 2021.

"Not usually, no..." Dietrich replied to Agatha, brows furrowed in mild confusion.

"...The only time I can ever remember being announced is when I was a boy and went to a few parties in Seyoux's neighboring lands with my father, and only one or two events with my mother as a young man while in Nuln. But a message delivered in the street is...quite different," he explained, looking down at the collapsed old man with a frown.

"My mother is being much more cryptic than usual. I gather there is some kind of misfortune that has befallen the Von Dornhain estate, which is an impressive feat given that I have only been gone for two weeks. But there is no information as to the nature of this calamity. She indicates that there is someone at a location called The Boatman Inn who might illuminate the matter. Might I ask the group's indulgence and seek this place out? We need lodgings for the night anyway, and we might kill two birds with one stone," the young nobleman asked, looking at everyone in turn.

"Mein herr...mein herr! Gather yourself!" the cadet said forcefully, gently slapping the face of the old man, so that he might awaken and no longer be at the mercy of street urchins.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:44, Tue 03 Aug 2021.

The urchins retreat with one rubbing it's head, but simply reside down the alleyway, watching from afar. "Buh?! My...My apologies. Did I? ...I just had a small lapse there I feel. Just a bit winded is all. A good pint will set me straight." Says the wheezing old man. "My health isn't exactly my selling point these days. Forgive me." Strangely enough, not a single person on the bustling streets seems to notice or care about any of the commotion going on amoungst your party. Indeed, the local agitators and criers were busy enough as it is trying to vie for the attention of the common rabble. "I was sent to aid you on these harsh... streets and help you with the navigation aspects. I didn't expect you to be so taken with the Altdorf pace... or to embrace it as soon as you have." The man feels around for his glasses in his cloak that seemed to hold a large number of pockets within it's seams. Placing them gingerly upon the bridge of his nose, the natural grease of his sweat causes them to droop to the bottom, where the bulbous end of his nose was wide enough to catch and hold them into relative place. This doesn't seem to stop him from constantly adjusting them, and pushing them back up, however. "Should you need a place to purchase, trade, vend, or elsewise, I can be of relative service. I've lived here for many a year."
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:12, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

Aver listens to the Bretonnian make his request, and nods.  "Aye, I will stand by you in this endeavor.  And it is true, we could use a place for rest, though the magicks of this town are acting strangely.  Have the rest of you noticed time passing... oddly?  No matter, let us head for the inn.  But do not forget that the rest of us have tasks to attend to while in town.  I have need to seek out the college, for example."

Turning to the winded old man, "Sir, if you would not mind directing us to this "Boatman's Inn".  Let us be off."  She takes a step or two before pausing, then checking her pockets and pouches to ensure they were still present.

Agatha puts a hand on her hip as she listens, starting to scowl as she listens to Aver.

"Now that you mention it, yes. I've had this strong sense of deja-vu since we've arrived. Only time will tell as for why, perhaps. I also need to spend some time at the Temple of Rhya as I have an offering, and prayer to do. I also need to report my travelings to the temple, but I would like to visit the Inn first."

She pulls the bag up as it had begun to sag out of her grip. Seems like she's starting to get blood on her from the sack...

"Right... Right-right. Tally-ho, aye? No rest for the wicked... Hrrng. Or the elderly it seems." Whines the old man as he rises to his feet. He pushes on his back and you hear a sequence of cracking that would give an orc's favorite choppin stik a run for it's money. Feeling more lumber, and still looking like a sweaty travesty, the old man begins moving into the crowd, quickly adapting to the rushing pace. "First rule of Altdorf. Keep the pace and don't stand out. You all stick out like sore thumbs stuck in rotten plumbs. Which, was nice for me to be able to find you. Been waiting quite a while for someone to match your picture Mister Baudelaire." Already huffing and puffing from the walk, the old man was wiping his brow again as he makes his way down towards the docks of Altdorf. The roads were filled to the brim here as well, but with more river folk rather than the usual merchant and agitator. "Ah, here we are. Thought it might've burnt down last frostfall, but it's a resilient little hole." Before you was a long line shoddy buildings with various offers of solitude, entertainment, 'entertainment', and cleaning services. All of this was heralded in by the large sign, lovingly named 'the Street of a Hundred Taverns.'

The Street of a Hundred Taverns runs downhill from the Königplatz to the riverfront. Signposts and road signs mark the many names the street has borne in the past, including the weathered Street of Many Taverns sign on the junction with Universitätsstrasse, and the Street of a Thousand Taverns signpost that leans drunkenly by the Breasts of Myrmidia, one of the less salubrious establishments on offer. It looks like when something falls down here, the solution is likely to simply build atop it, as evidenced by some of the leaning, taller establishments. Betwixed all of the calling and cooing escourts and tarts in the street, lays a simple and smaller building. 'The Boatsmann's Ine' Sitting just outside of the boatsman was a Strange, flabby creature with large tusks, chained to the floorboard. Just above it read a sign that said; 'Do not feed the bear'.

Mefodiv quietly follows the old man with the others, confused from his interaction with the strange men earlier, and slightly worried over the unwanted attention from strangers. A look that can best be described as "slight disgust mixed with discomfort" forms on his face as they walk past the Breasts of Myrmidia and groups of escorts. Upon arriving at the Boatsmann's, his eyes narrow, a grunt of confusion coming from his mouth as he looks the "bear" over.

"You call this bear? Eyes go bad or something? Is walrus, look at tusk!"

_{21:48, Today: Mefodiv Orlov rolled 82 -- 5 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 30.  common knowledge kislev - identify animal.}
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Thu 05 Aug 2021.

"Thank you. Setting aside the need to sleep, I would have answers to this unusual message. I would not part company at this time if I had the choice. Especially in an unfamiliar city. Speaking of which..." Dietrich said gratefully, giving a slight bow to the group.

"...thank you for your assistance mein herr, but I will have your name, for the second time," he said curtly to the old man as he lead them.

"Now that you mention it...I have felt like I keep waking from a daydream since we have arrived. I simply assumed it was the grandeur of the largest city in the Old World," the young mans shrugged.

"Perhaps 'the Bear' is simply the poor creature's name?" the Bretonnian replied mildly to Mefodiv as he stepped past him and entered the Boatman's Inn.

"By the gods, what is a walrus?!" Aver asks Mefodiv, eyeing this strange creature.  "I have so many questions about this beast, but don't know where to start?  Your land must be a strange one, my friend.  Are they dangerous?"  She keeps a cautious distance from the 'walrus/bear', but lingers outside observing it.

After some time has passed, she heads into the tavern, where Dietrich has likely been waiting.

Having a small army of people along the street trying to ger her attention was both confusing and amusing an experience. Never mind that they did the same for the countless other people prancing up and down the street. Were she not part of a larger group, she would should fall prey to their attentions and end up with an empty purse before nightfall, whenever nightfall was in that strange place. Halvi kept a respectful distance to the creature, unsure of what it could do with those tusks. "What is it doing here? Some kind of city watchdog?"

The 'bear' roars a gruff grunt, but does little more than lift it's head to stare sidelong at you as it's chain leash rattles. The discoloration around it's neck lets you know it's been here awhile. You can roll an animal care if you want to learn more about it in-depth with an examination. It seems passive enough. Agatha's dog sniffs at it inquisitively, but flinches backwards when the thing blows a puff of air at them.

Strolling into the boatsman, you can see a number of tied up boats behind through the large bay windows. All manner of vessels are tied up along the riverfront, from high-masted ships to smaller barges and houseboats. The Boatman Inn is just one of many establishments along this embankment, but it appears to be one of the more cheerful places; a little tatty, but inviting. A number of riverfolk are inside the inn. Many were in colorful waterproof fishing gear, while others were clad in much less, but held with the royal navy's colors. All walks of the ocean's proverbial family. The atmosphere is cordial and friendly, with the food
and drink reasonably priced and of good quality!

No one takes very much interest in the party as you enter aside from a gleeful bellow of a portly dwarf with a peg leg, and a luxurious triple braided beard lined with golden bones. "Mefodiv! You old sodden mess you! You're alive! What are you doing here?!" Asks the dwarf who moves to stand, and catches himself on the table...where his peg leg was still sitting. He grumbles a few curses in Khazalid and moves to attach it so as to stand when he meets the party.

In the corner sits a man who stands out entirely from the ruffian crowd. Rather than ale, grog, whiskey, or beer, he sat drinking wine politely as he was scratching somethings into a book with a quill and ink. Seeing the party enter, he stands and removes the hat upon his head to hold it respectfully to his chest. "Young master, over here."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:33, Sat 07 Aug 2021.

Mefodiv heartily chuckles, motioning to the animal before heading inside.

"Walrus not to be afraid of! They good meat, plenty of fat and oil for soap. Plus, tusk make good drinking horn. Or normal, playing horn. Forget which."

His eyes light up as he hears a voice within call to him, rushing over to the dwarf's table.

"Oppa! Gorrim you stubborn goat! How do?"

Halvi lingered a little while longer observing the strange creature. However, there wasn't much more she could tell about it other than it wasn't a bear, without getting so close as to touch it, which she wasn't going to. And so, she went inside after the rest, where they seemed to be as popular as everywhere else. Suddenly, Halvi was glad to be in her current company, her peers surely seemed to have friends everywhere in this strange place, who hopefully extended them some hospitality.

12:23, Today: Halvi Junttila rolled 48 -- 2 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 20.  Checking the mighty bear!

Finally, a place where the crowds are mostly stationary.  A place where Aver can breathe.  She goes off to grab two plates of food, for herself and Mefodiv, before returning to find him with a strange friend.  The man had been such a mystery before, it is a wonder that he should find a friend here of all places!  She approaches the two, but stays silent.

Agatha follows the party, looking around as she does while keeping her dog close after the bear scared it. She frowns at the sight of it, looking fairly disappointed.

Might as well just butcher it, pretty foul. But on par with Altdorf...

Once Mefodiv runs off to his dwarven friend, she follows behind at a casual pace, still holding a bloody sack like it's some sort of luggage.

"You two know each other, I take it from back home?"

"Ah ha ha! Knew I smelt somethin different in the air today, had I known it was you, I would've held onto a bottle of bugmans!" Gorrim says cheerfully with a bump to Mefodiv's shoulder. He offers all four of you to pull up a chair. "Striking out on your own at last, eh?" He says with a grin. "Not before time, you young rascal! I knew you had more in you than your old life could satisfy! Come! Tell me of your story, how's it been? A trustworthy manling's hard to come by, and there's been an awful drought since you up an vanished! Where've you been? And what're you doin' here of all places?" Gorrim waves over the barman who brings out a large bottle wrapped in decorative fish netting and fish hooks. As he listens to the party, he pours glasses for everyone up to the brim. It was a golden-amber liquid with a strong scent to it.

Mefodiv waves dismissively, sitting down at the table and laying his jerkin against the back of his chair.

"Bah! Run of bad luck is all! Nothing change of, eh, scenery and company cannot fix! And what bigger change than to go from ice and snow to cobbles and street? Even have new scar, and few stories, but that is for later. Where are Mev's manners?"

He turns back to his travelling companions, motioning to the dwarf, before pointing to everyone in order.

"Is Gorrim! Old friend from home, and good businessman beside. Gorrim, is Aver, Dietrich, Halvi, and, eh.. Agatha? Yes? Now, I tell of us, what of you? What bring to Altdorf?"

"It's the boatsman's inn! Clue’s in the title. Whenever I’m in Altdorf, I have to visit at least once. Best beer north of the Reik, I says. Not exactly a bugman's but better than you're likely to find elsewise. Come on, let’s have a drink!" The dwarf says, drinking heavily from the tankard he's been holding onto for far too long for a dwarf's liking. He sighs with relief after having drained it in mere moments. He begins to pour himself another one as he slaps a colorful flyer onto the table.




"I'm also looking for some hands for the journey down the river. A fair's brewin in Bögenhafen, and I've got hopes to sell some dwarvern wine at a premium there. It's called Schaffenfest, if any of you are familiar? It's a big one. Attracts all sorts." Gorrim takes a moment to poike one of his fingers at the handbill as he takes another drink of the hearty beer he we was serving up. "One 'Graf Wilhelm von Saponatheim' and the Grand
Duke Leopold of Middenland are going to be there Amoungst plenty of other noble sorts. Heavy purses with less sense than shrapnel. Get me? Which... if you had interest, I 'd be willing to hire yours for a crew. But we can talk about it more later tonight. We should celebrate today while it's young! If any of you need a walk about the city, I know it better than most." He offers, content to sit for now.

You are free to explore the city and seek out or handle any business you had in mind; Buying/selling, visiting a shrine of your faith, seeking rumor's or work, etc. Those interested in signing on with Gorrim can immediately enter into the boatman career for 0 XP
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:09, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

Despite not wanting to appear rude to Mefodiv and his old friend, Dietrich quietly slipped away with a polite bow to see the man in the corner. Though his ears did perk up at the mention of a tourney. Any red-blooded Bretonnian nobleman loved the clash of lances, and the thrill of victory. May entering would help secure his name and win him enough prizes to achieve his goals...He'd have to join a House though, which may be problematic for his family later...

But that would have to wait until he had finished his meeting and discovered source of the mystery that had caused his mother to dispatch the family majordome.

[Language unknown: "Mocaomtr, Ersderson Sticil,"] he said warmly as he approached the man.

He wanted to give the aging man a big hug, but he knew that Ernault's sense of propriety would never allow it.

[Language unknown: "Eiund sapros ngpo he Plcaun u ho korwerest? Lineis ame t ssaing thliad etro paun-ulpe o o, rom I plrut witinemen fiast latsaness inan sti entthuwas ol thugh reanceereomeenc strti essderugh m. T u topa traconpro orendepre eessaies thientkor, re tinsetsan a ng dingel k ee en us ar yinnt?"] Dietrich asked, sitting down opposite the family retainer.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:34, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

Ernault closes his book and puts a cap upon his inkwell before setting them aside and folding his hands on the table politely. He scans the crowd for a moment, and seems pleased enough to clear is throat offers Dietrich a chair. "Sit." He says simply, being much more informal than usual. He seemed on guard, and watching the scenery rather than focusing on Dietrich entirely. He didn't even move to stand to greet him, which should come as a surprise. Waiting in silence for a few moments, Ernault raises his arms to put his elbows onto the table so as to lean forward and rest his face on his hands. Speaking through his hands, Ernault tries to speak quietly, but pointedly enough to keep any miscommunication to a minimum. [Language unknown: Eaueenfor li pana no, Tr omeithtra. I entteding, llshe k vorreskor plha. Onie miieer ne.] He takes a moment to take a drink of the wine with a grimmace on his face from a developing bad taste in his mouth. He resumes his inconspicuous method of talking through his hands as he watches to look for prying individuals. He speaks in an unusually solemn and quiet tone. [Language unknown: Essie urehertio pa sheearble ngbesassai us aratanpeou he ainhattho. Rutbleons'iveome nong forro undiouvir stich ine inseosek reant omurtrlo thlo ol ee ing.] Relaxing a bit now that the brunt of the 'conversation' had been given some air, Ernault huffs a sigh of tension, clearly uncomfortable with the situation despite his well-versed nature in politics. [Language unknown: Thbe to k leshe com paulch usugh iohiseilre ive uraliowi, antatiard mo hadich ticstiles. T day ncngwipe thitraeve, Tiho p chou witli o li inteatli os rut icisur ut E ted, tinntiday prosanstiwit estma sewisa ect o ioon-caesil esna o anderaort.]