[Language unknown: "PROME?!?!"] Dietrich roared, jumping to his feet so quickly it sent his chair skittering across the floor.

[Language unknown: "Om FOULPE ourereres ca thedinderera evsise?! Out blema trawermanica lo iv? Fi ereousrom popr yinos fi nd ine e ncewilble! K trnc mi headmato sansheman inginehasers Illartpreateone ee on Meseev! Tha tic ck esto mi wiacpaatha a te Manoulore! Era u ichwhitic larantpro Erahishou! Eeon na i daythaher inove tiothuart!"] the young man practically screamed, face turning almost purple with unbridled fury.

Quite unconsciously, his left hand fell to the hilt of Armel, and he squeezed the wire-wrapped hilt so hard his knuckles popped, and turned white. From the wild look in his flared eyes, he didn't appear to notice. His breath started coming in laboriously, as if he had been running a marathon. He looked ready to kill someone in that moment, perhaps several someones.

[Language unknown: "ERSTNI E!!!"] he bellowed impatiently, slamming his right fist down on the table hard enough to make the wine bottle jump.

He had never, ever spoken to Ernault like this before. He had too much love and respect for the old servant, but right now he was ready to tear the head off a Dragon and beat a Giant to death with it.

[Language unknown: "Oerivevir k an verratlar stplrionplwi esss ivthe atetheres il roos omthek liwant, plma ers Icti-pltrbe Enprsamiol. Einghe vir p heri ne sipro el evleprek ndwhwe Allrutncevereen. N e teho has ers, ect p wa yin ssho asto. Leest caloch niica niutom wh ncie asisha nt laramewer ndfi'wani er ad our fireha."] Ernault says soothingly, standing up from his chair to gesture Dietrich into the streets. Looking around at the now silent tavern who was glaring at Dietrich, Ernault clears his throat. "Perhaps a walk? There is a fine temple nearby." He offers, trying to soothe the situation. Ernault's voice is even, measured. Though he was understanding and saddened by Dietrich's display, he does his best to mask his expressions in his words.

Aver looks to Mefodiv, after putting the plate of food in front of the man, and asks in a hushed tone that is likely difficult to hear over the din of the inn.  "Is this dwarf to be trusted?  I could use a guide, as I hear the college I must visit is quite... illusive..."  Even mentioning the College of Magic, Aver looks around with an almost-practiced paranoia.  You never know who might offended by those words.

If the Kislevite says yes, she turns to the dwarf.  "Master Gorrim, I could make use of your services, as I have need to visit a very singularly unique location in the city, and I have no worldly idea where it might be.  I seek one of the Colleges of Altdorf, the one belonging to the Bright Order.  I seek to work on my licensing, and they have instructions and guidelines I must learn and follow.  Would you be able to take me there, or at least point me in the right direction?"  Again, she drops into a whisper when mentioning anything about magic or colleges.

Mefodiv bows his head, digging in as soon as Aver's hand moves away from the plate, but stops himself after a bite to speak.

"Spasiba vam. Oh aye, you trust Gorrim as much as you trust Mev. Have business to take of myself, and could use hand getting around. Suppose we go together, after meal. And.. _{will pay back for kindness. Plan on getting something special.} Need to find buyer for few things from, eh, incident on trip. And get proper weapon. Could deal with while you take care of.. that."

Mefodiv flicks his wrist and wiggles his fingers at that, imitating a spell.

[Language unknown: "We, enc us icul omere not na herstiave ha iobut osie. Entan mi thce earpl si ansalo, has!"] Dietrich snapped back, pulling back from being lead out of the tavern.

[Language unknown: "Strut la mo ou Teatlasiof Nocksatelo t iveateall in li loit'ngming!? Ie ad ortek wh astsetrutder ismi ore ac Hisbutver! Ntti shederiou ilpeisma il thi Ilhotareul al ecthi Ortek! Ate ha etonee waunin o intintred elieteie. Ashe eefock areshenti heravethe? Mo leshe illhasate! Tinie ling el are itarceel toailo k li onch un ear evtieili oeril tindinsom ulmonacausma?"] he asked, exasperated.

[Language unknown: "Unan i hatut deroutnce oneconver ai art iopowe p k ticdinlin ta ereredrom a plishi llri ain ingei n ain ngaist but reelonac o Loanst Mounsi saner peeihemedi, nti ponte k liund aveatiave t u ainaveteryin..."] the enraged man growled darkly.

"College? Oh, you're one of those. Sure, Sure. Come on, while I can still stand. I have a few barrels of ale to catch up on before we head out. Oh! Maybe I'll see if they got anymore of that tollfat cheese. Makes a wonderful chuff, and no mistake." Gorrim seems to have no problems with Aver's 'condition', treating her secrecy around it with more amusement than concern. "As for a weapon? Ho ho! You've come to the right place Onkri! I know a good dawri craftsmen who can make you something proper. Better than any manling make, no doubt." He speaks with confidence and begins walking into the streets to lead you about the city to help you handle your chores.

-----------------------------------------
[Language unknown: "Ncethuain ome lielhi, chulna! Sheithand lelar ortandour utelesas aveat ourck ant aveherdinkor houlatwhihou ntlo a houwheessoun ionatilat iohe hock chhoiv!] Ernault scolds quickly. Speaking in a hushed irritation. [Language unknown: N hi el tith ce setonscom whi nc lame enplpo, re ate nglick K ngerur u nde, ngilck haave p not Thumi Dinentamethince wilse? Ateera'everat!"]
Realizing he himself had been elevating his voice as well, Ernault takes a moment to adjust his collar and brush himself off as he collects himself. [Language unknown: Caseho thu mi... ngetetistr. Und O mafoic enclatvor nout'osit, eser enel whiounvor oerol ut t acpa ateanyforthiantint. K iefi pre onwh mimi o pear rutiththi m p intho, ekit a enne was foric o nene mangan. Sipane verul ouslesatiwerhis wil lesll wader. To und stitraugh acie eenontwi thu manri hasandeen alen wa siosfo.] Hearing the last line, Ernault mirrors Dietrich's grim expression as he moves to stand toe-to-toe with him. He begins to adjust the young cadet's collar and fix the buttons as he had done many times before. There was, of course, a more sinister air to the actions this time, as his eyes stayed trained on the Brettonian's. He speaks with a dry hostility to his voice, like a father talking to his son who'd just broken a neighbor's window. [Language unknown: Ta oultiosom eiwe beecmo trpl icer mansoneen Arnt'eepa. Ith rut ort a m ouslo. Rele undillave a trasheure e poas'arcech elnte onsll laleis, oun romlatmanundand houndeant ac llssecou anfi tewi lecame prehasred th tiec ithima. I elis il icck e adle sslo vir N prus chlebe at ec. Ro int wheameter riwa o ardoertha Pa wasartsethis herec m inta ie ompape si ineprohateau il th lestedate, whe sancseutunno inetr reatraort i o ficastca.] Ernault finishes fixing Dietrich's buttons and looms mere inches away from his face as he speaks to him with a reserved agitation about his person. [Language unknown: Enre nosemiiset enour mi na namo iveearsansom earithstaave housheing pl oneencall oless towiic. Hou anhis T ck t proineinestr toet waweni ec ioulindin ectli adwimi no Isecpa Ndmandpeng of urestrble. Elaiet. P er ne si enponota, t ressanrut, e ecttionte butounhis di wheonsenc conai. Ai ss hebe Fi wilichlar yinwasrut, ek toadac beisio u hain An ck nde ich he aiwhss butss nc ameearyin paes ntununpe m utel ounughlar ni she. Eteve undallicahis, ac her. Ad ck hethi wh on, entom ndto antbleredkor. Nein his loect elio wheantkor la daywildin.] With a huff, Ernault deflates a little as he takes a step back. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. He speaks in reikspeil to clear the air, as he waves off the stress of the situation. "Apologies young master, I forgot myself for a moment. We can speak more later tonight. More... brass tacks I believe is the expression. If you have need of the city proper, I can give you directions in the meanwhile." Ernault looks exhausted for a moment, a weakness he quickly buries to appear as strong and stalwart as possible.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:38, Mon 09 Aug 2021.

Mefodiv walks beside Gorrim, looking about the streets as he speaks.

"Need to unload few things for spending money first. After, first order of business is tracking down bow from home. Then, smith for weapon and extra armor. Tailor, for warmer shirt. Last, brewer, to buy you keg of ale for putting up with Mev, eh?"

He crouches down a bit and pat's Gorrim's shoulder, chuckling and quickly whispering something in his ear.



_{19:33, Today: Mefodiv Orlov rolled 14 -- 2 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 37.  gossip to find kislevite shortbow-free daily reroll.}
This message was last edited by the player at 00:24, Tue 10 Aug 2021.

Gorrim seems taken aback and looks sternly at Mefodiv. Seemingly sober and free of his carefree attitude as he stares at his manling friend with concern. He whispers back at him with sharp words...

Mefodiv sighs and stands back up, looking a bit dejected.

"Suppose if you ask, it too much to afford. Oh well, worth try. And, eh, is not for that. Maybe I.. overthink thing."

Gorrim shrugs and returns to his laidback demeanor. He flashes a smile with a wink. "Yeah, probably. Keep things simple, that's what I always say! A fine drink and a new axe never steer me wrong. Now, about that trollfat cheese..." Gorrim walks around showing Mefodiv the best places he knows to buy the things on his list as they come up. Aver, however, is directed to a single, simple building with more litanies and wax stamped notices than a library. Twice as musty as well. Inside was a portly mand with an overzealous hat that held ribbons, feathers, and an assortment of candles that were held together by a sword atop his head. His beady face, and olive eyes looked meek in comparison. He gives her the directions to the bright college's apprentice area, where she could file for a new tutoring wizard... Or look around for other things...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:08, Tue 10 Aug 2021.

After two weeks of travelling with her current companions, it was strange to be off on her own.  She wished for silence, but the city was not accommodating.  Instead, she began to hum and walk down the twisting roads, following the directions she had been given.  Only once or twice does she get herself turned around, but manages to find someone to tell her the direction of her intended cross-streets.  Naturally, she doesn't divulge to where she is heading.

Aver diverges from the busy crowd of Altdorf, to a ruined section of the town, where a fire had burnt down most of the quarter. A bunch of burnt out buildings, and smoldering ashes that gave off the occasional wisp of steam.

Agatha listens for a bit before quietly turning, and walking away, and out of the inn with her bloodied sack. She whistles for her dog to come along as she pets her snake.

I've dawdled enough. Time to visit the temple and offer prayer, and catch up with my initiate tasks.

She begins to walk the streets of Altdorf, keeping an eye out for anymore thieves as she does, heading for the Temple of Rhya with the offering she was given.

Upon reaching the site of the burnt section of city, Aver gives pause.  She had but open her third eye to perceive the arcane college before her (assuming she was in the right place), but hesitation set in.  She had only recently learned of her magic, and had spent time under the tutelage of only one mentor.  Her experience with magick was quite limited, as one would expect of a mother from Wissenland.  The very notion of a college of people with magical talent was overwhelming to one as small as she.

But Aver was not one to back down from a challenge.  She cleared her throat, cracked the kink in her neck, and took several deep breaths.  Recalling her training, she centered herself and focused only on the moment, focused on the breeze blowing through her hair.  She blocked out the noise of the city behind her, and drew in a deep, sooty lungful of air.  And she looked.

---

17:49, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 15 -- 4 degrees of success using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 63.  Magical Sense.

Aver disappears for a time following a trail...


Agatha splits off and seeks a temple. She knows well that the god of the wild hardly ever holds with conventional temples. Shrines are often the go-to for the faithful who thrive in the wild, rather than these large cities. Still, she follows the instructions of a few passerbys who eye her bloody sack with mixed reactions. Eventually she winds up at an old abandoned temple, one that looked to have been dedicated to dwarves or some other exotic race. As evidenced by the few remaining, rusted letters above it's doorway. Some calamity must have befallen it ages ago, as the roof was partially collapsed, and nature had retaken much of the territory here. Roots and vines claimed the walls and held it's doors slightly ajar, as the scent of earth and old leaves emanated from within. Inside sits an aged man with a bear's skin and many other bones wrapped around his person. His staff, (More of a walking stick) sits idle as he busies himself chipping arrowheads out of stone. The temple holds but a single table holding the golden antlers of Taal and Rhya. Most of the pews had already been consumed by the roots of a tree that had sprouted amidst the room. "Welcome, traveler. What need have ye of the house of Taal and Rhya?"


This message was last edited by the GM at 01:36, Thu 12 Aug 2021.

Late in the evening, Aver begins to return to the Boatman's Inn.  She seems exhausted, if only mentally, as she stumbles through winding roads.  If given the opportunity, she will pay for transport through town.

Aver walks to town and meets up with Mefodiv and his Dwarf pal. Mefodiv was clad in a fresh set of clothes that looked far sturdier and cleaner than what he had been wearing previously. Gorrim was also munching on what looked to be half a cheese wheel in one hand, and a keg in the other... His display of gluttony was morbidly intriguing. And gross. Mostly gross. The cheese he was eating was grey and red, and stunk quite badly. Aver, on the upside, looked little different aside from a fine sigil of Aqshy adorning her robe. It was red like molten metal, but didn't burn the clothes it was attached to.

As you all return to the boatsman to settle in for the night, you find a manic preacher was screaming outside of it at the side of the street. A skinny, filthy street preacher dressed in rags clutches tight to a scroll as he points and screams his prophecy to any who listen. As the trio of you pass, the wild-eyed seer locks his eyes upon you and gasps. His left arm points at you accusingly, as the other holds his scroll to the sky. He screams a newfound revelation as his eyes roll up into his head...

"I see Darkness Gathering as the Last House of Joy Falls - beware, for Shadows Over Bögenhafen stir! Then Beloved Morr, resplendent in Vestments of Green, stands astride Sigmar’s Great River. Yea, I see Death on the Reik and I despair! For then the Stained Hand guides the Once Mighty Lord, and this Power Behind the Throne curses us all. Lo, the Horned Rat then claims the Broken King atop his Throne of Lies, and the White Walls Fall, leaving our Empire in Ruins! Tremble in fear, ye mighty, for the End Times have come!"
The prophet of doom then collapses, blood-flecked foam at his mouth as he shakes uncontrollably and eventually passes out. Gorrim doesn't even seem to notice him and steps on him to get into the boatsman where he was hoping to find a few more bottles at hand...

Mefodiv waves to Aver, tapping his new helmet with a scimitar, before knocking on a shield with it and posing with a beaming smile. You can faintly hear the rustle of leather and clank of chain as he moves.

"Not bad, eh? Like to see mutant get through this! Even find bow from home, in perfect shape for how far it travel!"

He pulls out a tied bundle, handing it to her.

"And, here. Told you I repay for kindness. Open later tonight when alone, not want others to get jealous, eh?"

The smile fades from his face as the lay preacher shouts at them, and in its place, a grimace grows as he collapses in a fit, muttering in Kislevarin before trying, and failing, to shake it off and go back to his normal demeanor and moving to the door with Gorrim.

"_{Klyanus' bogami, perestan' boltat.} Hum, inside to chat, yes? Light of Dahz fade fast."

Aver grabs onto Mefodiv's arm with excitement.  "A gift?  You shouldn't have!  And might I say the new sword suits you.  Come, let us swap stories of the day over an ale."  She follows the Kislevite towards the door, and shows the same hesitation near the doomsayer.

Once they had crossed the threshold, "Sigmar does inspire many to greatness... but such greatness is maddening for many.  Folks such as he are far too common among these parts, especially in the heart of the city where there is nowhere to breathe or think."

After finding a table, she goes to gather ale and food for her new friends, while looking out for her other traveling companions.  She tells Mefodiv of her day at the Bright College, though she speaks fast and with much excitement and therefore is likely difficult to understand.  Clearly it had been a day.

Mefodiv simply sits and listens, having no real excitement of his own that day.

"With college business settled, what now? Could stay in Altdorf, poke around for odd job or two, go with Gorrim to.. eh, Burgerhaven, or... could try to think on letter you found at carriage crash."

She looks around conspiratorially, before hunching over the table and looking at Mefodiv.  "I did not have time to look into the letter.  Perhaps Gorrim here knows the name?  Otherwise, finding a clerk tomorrow might be a priority.  My business here is settled, and I just need practice... and funding... before I need return.  Mayhaps we look into it first thing tomorrow before making any other decisions?"

"Name? Letter? What's all this about Onkri? And when did you learn how to read?!" Gorrim accentuates his playful jab at your character with a physical one as he bumps mefodiv in the side with his elbow. "You should put that brain of yours to work with me again! Even my old wife can see we make a good team. And hey! Whatever happened to yours? Weren't you-"

The noise in the the inn dies out as the door creaks open.

A tall, gaunt man saunters into the room. He has aquiline features with a deep scar across his left cheek. Everyone in the tavern turns to look at him, to which he greets them with a sneer. "What's the matter? Where's the chatter? The joyous laughter? I've only just arrived." The man stalks across the room as the dim lighting of the inn reflects dutifully off of his black leather clothing. Patrons flinch visibly as he passes their tables. He demands a bottle of brandy from the tavern owner as he throws some coins on the counter. Grabbing his bottle, he moves to a table in the back of the room... It's old inhabitants quickly evacuate and leave the tavern in a hushed hurry. Gorrim sighs heavily and focuses on his drink.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:39, Sat 14 Aug 2021.

Mefodiv quietly clears his throat, returning to his drink as the smiles fades from his face.

"Hum. Aver read, not Mev. And.. wife is touchy matter. Best to let sleeping bear lie. If we manage to get lead on letter, would be big break. If not, Mev will look for you at docks tomorrow."

"Lead on letter? Lend it to me, I'm a dab hand around these ports." Gorrim offers in a quieter voice. Moments not long after, two young nobles and their four massive bodyguards enter the inn. "I saaay, chaps! What a quaint establishment!" They giggle to each other in high-pitched, aristocratic tones. One of them swaggers over to the bar and says, "Two of your finest beverages, landlord!" The two nobles are both already drunk, and giggle like children at the comments they pass back and forth between themselves about the inn, its patrons, and commoners in general. They are obnoxious and insulting to everyone in the inn, calling them ‘filthy commoners’ and ‘smelly oicks’. From their banter, one seems to be called Jacob and the other Georg... Before long, they start a drinking competition they call the ‘brandy bounce’, a game they are far too happy to announce before they begin. The game is a wretched one that involves gulping down pints of brandy and then throwing it up over anyone in the immediate vicinity. Unfortunately, one of their targets just happens to be Gorrim. Despite the dwarven pride burning in his eyes, you see the one-legged dwarf deflate with a huff. Both young nobles think this is great fun, but Gorrim reminds you that these were from a noble house. Men with money, influence, and more importantly; four bodyguards who are stone-cold sober and itching for a fight.

OOC: You can roll an Average (+20) Intuition test, or other tests if you think they will give you more information here.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:57, Sat 14 Aug 2021.

Aver allows Mefodiv and Gorrim discuss the business, allowing for their natural raport to dive into the matter more efficiently than if she were to butt in.  She gives the Kislevite a nod when the Dwarf asks about the letter, but is quite glad that he didn't have an opportunity to take it and have it ruined by brandy and vomit.

She observes not only the drunken nobles doing as nobles do, but also their bodyguards... and the strange, intimidating man sitting in the back of the room.  It was only a matter of time before an altercation between the two groups sparked, and she would likely want to be anywhere else when that happened.  Overall, it just seemed like drunk, rich folks enjoying a night on the town.  Altdorf is weird.

---

13:17, Today: Aver Eldebrandt rolled 67 -- a simple failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 61.  Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Sun 15 Aug 2021.