[Warhammer Fantasy] The Thousand Thrones

[Balthazar]

He took in every speck of information around him, his gaze casually passing over the Black Hats.

 

He considered bribing them, despite the fact that he suspected he would have to pay over the odds for cooperation. He quickly dismissed the idea, not because he resented paying the gold but because he didn't want word to get around that an Arab was asking difficult questions.

 

Despite the multicultural nature of Marienburg there still weren't all too many Arabs or Elves for Sahra'a'Saif to feel confident that they could lose their identities in the crowd, and if he could pay them to look the other way then it wouldn't cost too much for someone to pay the guards to tell them about himself

 

No, they would have to be dealt with, dead men tell naught. The Arab looked around for somewhere to sit without arousing suspicion, somewhere that he could look how busy the square was and how the guard rotas changed so that he could decide whether to attack by daylight or wait for the night time.

 

If no obvious perch presents itself then he will meld in to the shadows and work his way to the roof tops, firstly to watch the square and the guards and secondly to see if there is a roof entrance to the temple of Sigmar

 

Quietly the Arab fills the elf in on his plan, and enquires as to whether the elf feels able to join him or if he has other ideas

[cn3wton]

Ziegel didn't like the smell of that place anyways he thinks as he walks away. Dusty, tail between his legs and staying close to his friend seemed to agree. "No good, no good..." Ziegel says as he trudges away. 

 

He is unable to read so the note does little to surprise him, he is intent on leaving, it is only Dusty who keeps him from wandering too far from the group as they leave.

[DarK_RaideR]

Waiting for kzacher to post Kalomikai's reactions to Sahar'a'Saif's idea. The plan is going to take more time than the visit to the orphanage did, so shaarawy and Wolfenstein, when you make your posts, please don't forget to mention if your characters will go to the Templewijk to meet up with the rest of the group or do something else. Once I know that info, next part will be posted.

[shaar]

Waiting for kzacher to post Kalomikai's reactions to Sahar'a'Saif's idea. The plan is going to take more time than the visit to the orphanage did, so shaarawy and Wolfenstein, when you make your posts, please don't forget to mention if your characters will go to the Templewijk to meet up with the rest of the group or do something else. Once I know that info, next part will be posted.

 

Thanks for this; a gentle reminder is always appreciated.  I'll post my reply in a couple of hours!

[shaar]

Yussie's fingers tremble gently as she reads the note with wide eyes; reading it three times in succession to make sure she's seeing it right.  Sister Kunh...?  She chances a glance back over one shoulder quickly, but no one has followed them, suspicious or otherwise.  Her heart beating like a caged bird in her chest, Yussie relays in hushed tones the contents of the note to her companions.

 

She trusts us... Yussie imagines her hand carving the long, lean stroke of the T for trust, her thoughts whirling madly.  What a raucous, risky thing to do, but for the truly desperate, is there really any other choice?  Her heart aches for the woman, chained to her life by a path that had turned on her with no warning like an angry beast, slowly being poisoned from the inside.

 

The small piece of parchment was folded tight between deft fingers, and she unconsciously took a step closer to Lanric while keeping an eye on Dusty and Ziegel.  A note for a note, eh?  Yussie felt a swell of emotion - excitement?  Danger?  Hope?  She felt a sudden yet strong determination that she had been brought here for a reason...

 

"We need to go to the Temple of Sigmar straight away," she announces in a quick burst of confidence.  "Someone is trying to aid us by pointing us there.  There is a woman there who can help..."  Tucking away the note for later, Yussie momentarily loses sight of her own trust issues, instead glancing back over her shoulder one more time in the direction of the orphanage before hurrying off towards Tempplewijk.

[cn3wton]

Ziegel dutifully follows Dusty as he works his way among the other travelers legs. Slowly but surely the dog begins to fall behind, once behind them the dog darts down a small dark alley.

 

Without pause or hesitation Ziegel follows. He hears the woman say something about a temple, but pays it little heed.

[Wild Wolf]

I'll post tonight guys- Mother's Day weekend has me busy

Wolf

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Buff Brogan]

Kalomikai agrees with Sahar'a'Saif about what needs to be done, both in gathering information as well as dealing with whomever would need to be dealt with.

 

he knew the arab was very cunning, and this was much more his home/area of expertise than his. were they in the woods these roles would be reversed.

 

"whatever the cost..." Kalomikai told his partner, and somehow the arab knew the elf wasn't referring to anything monetary"

[Wild Wolf]

Lanric could see the worry and excitement on Yussies face. Ziegel and Dusty seemed to be fine by themselves and Lanric got the feeling that was how Ziegel liked things any ways, so Lanric made up his mind to accompany the young girl to the Temple. He had noticed the note that she quickly stashed away, curious at its content. Long ago, before the Pits, Lanric was an educated man. It had been years since he was able to read anything and missed the smell of old parchment paper. The smell always reminded Lanric of his wife. So sweet she was, with her obsidian colored hair, long and flowing over violet eyes...

 

Lanric forced the memory back, suddenly becoming angry as his ears turned red and his face went flushed. The warrior clenched his fists hard, causing his knuckles to turn a deathly white, the same knuckles that had pummeled many of men. He took a deep breath, his mail armor clinking and clanking with the inhale.

 

"If it's ok with you Miss Yussie, I would accompany you to the Temple? Ole' Ziegel and Dusty seem to know their own way." Lanric gave a toothy smile as Yussie nodded in approval, still very shy but showing more personality now. Lanric gestured his hand out for Yussie to lead the way and he followed her like a massive, imposing shadow, hand always at the ready to draw his weapons...
 

[DarK_RaideR]

The Templewijk is a busy district, so blending in with the crowd is no issue. There’s even several elves wandering about, so Kalomikai can also lose himself while he and Sahar’a’Saif keep a watchful eye over the two Black Hats by the post. The Arab’s trained eye notices a silver hand bell on each guard’s belt. He has seen watchmen use bells, whistles or similar means to summon reinforcements. Violence doesn’t seem like the most effective option, unless he can manage to get rid of both guards before they have a chance to sound the alarm.

 

Meanwhile at the Doodkanal, Dusty notices Ziegel and Yussie walk away. After a few barks that bring Ziegel back from his momentary haze, they follow the others to the Templewijk. By the time they arrive there, it is already high noon. Joining Sahar'a'Saif and Kalomikai, they all visit a nearby tavern for lunch, taking care to pick a table by the windows overseeing the plaza. The group uses the opportunity to catch up and exchange findings, all the while observing the guards by the post. The Arab asks the newcomers to hang around for a while, fearing that if he and the elf go out on the street again, they might be noticed by the guards for spending almost all day around the plaza. The evening is spent munching and drinking and chatting with the locals for minor rumors, but nothing seems to change outside. At times two new guards come by to relieve the previous, but the prisoner is never left alone, not for a minute.

 

As the sun sets into the sea and the shadows grow longer, Sahar’a’Saif blends into them and takes a walk into the surrounding alleys. The crowds disperse along with his fear of being seen, but most of the buildings around are too well kept, making their walls too sheer to scale. Balconies, ledges or even flower pots are non existent in the rainy city, so after a good search, he takes the best shot he’s offered; two buildings stand close to each other, barely leaving enough space for someone to walk between them. The Arab presses a foot and hand on each wall and begins his dangerous ascension to the rooftops. Once he’s up, he looks around for the area’s landmarks, so that he can navigate to the plaza that is his target. With feline grace, he jumps and balances and climbs until he’s at a vantage point that lets him see what he needs. The Temple of Sigmar has no roof access, but the post is unguarded. Barely holding the leash on his excitement, he reminds himself that it makes no sense that the prisoner would be left completely unguarded at night. Indeed, several minutes later, a patrol of Black Hats strolls buy the plaza.

 

Sahar’a’Saif begins counting seconds under his breath. Roughly half an hour later, the patrol shows up again. Is it by accident or are they precise in their routes? He waits again, counting as the humidity makes the sea breeze bite right to his bones. The patrol arrives again, not on the exact time mark, but more or less after half an hour has passed again. He has the time. If they all sneak up to the post, they’re more likely to get noticed. No, he’ll have to do it alone and he’ll do it tonight.

 

Sahar’a’Saif makes his way back down to the streets and an alley overseeing the plaza. He sits down and curls up, hoping that any passers-by will think he’s a beggar or a drunk and not pay any attention. Once he sees the patrol pass again, he lets a few moments go by, then sneaks to the post. The woman raises her eyes in a mix of surprise and tired resignation. The Arab makes a sign to let her know he means good and she should stay silent. Reluctant to cut her bonds, as it would prove to the guards that someone had been there, he removes the cloth gag from the prisoner’s mouth. Her voice is dry, too raspy to make any sense, so Sahar’a’Saif comes closer to make out the words.

 

“Water… I... beg you… please… water”

 

The Arab presents his waterskin and offers the woman a few gulps. Once she seems to be out of her daze, he asks her about the boy. “The boy was brought to me seven years ago by a witch hunter named Osric Falkenheim” she responds. “He told me that it was found in the hands of an evil cult; worshipping something in a ruin, deep in the Cursed Marsh. We did not realise the child had some awful power about him that bent the will—it made those who looked upon him love him. I was slow to see its effects on my charges, but when I did, I ordered Gerda Lutzen, my prioress, to give the boy back to the witch hunters, for surely it was the work of Chaos. That is the last I knew of him, until a crowd brought him here and Helmut declared him Sigmar’s Heir“. She pauses to draw a few breaths before continuing. “I knew it could be no other than the child I thought long dead. I confronted Gerda and she admitted she had hidden the boy and raised him in secret. Yet I forgave them, for Shallya teaches mercy and I knew the child’s power over the heart was not easily put aside. I was a fool. I did not realise they were still his slaves. I brought Gerda and the other guilty Sisters here to confess their crimes and reveal the truth about the child. When I tried to speak, Gerda and the others denounced me. They declared me apostate and claimed I was a witch who sought to kill the child. If not for the Black Hats, the crowd would have torn me apart. Instead, Gerda’s mercy was to have me put in this cage to die“. A bitter smile makes her lips curl, but she continues with determination. “You must know this. When the boy was brought to me, he had no birthmark of a twin-tailed comet upon him—no mark of any kind, I promise you! He is not the Heir of Sigmar. I have already staked my life on this and I still believe it. But as to who he is, I cannot say. If the witch hunter Osric still lives, he is the only person who can lead you to where the boy was found. Go now, seek him out with the blessing of Shallya, and stop this evil before more suffer for my blindness.”

 

Sahar’a’Saif thanks her with a nod of his head as she offers a blessing from the goddess. The woman accepts the gag back, along with her destiny. The Arab tells himself he couldn’t have done anything more for her, but make sure her sacrifice isn’t for naught. They have to find out more about the child and the one who’ll tell them is the witch hunter, Osric Falkenheim.

 

Optional quest: Find 3 of your fellow Rebels that have disappeared as of late. Post in their Challenge threads/Battle logs or send them a PM to check up on them

[Balthazar]

A large puzzle unfolded in the Arabs mind, spanning across multiple dimensions. He couldn't fathom the picture, he knew he barely had any of the pieces at the moment but he rotated it round and round in his minds eye, looking for patterns and clues anything that could help fill in some of the spaces.

 

Stalking the dark, deserted night time alleyways alone he allowed himself a brief moment of emotional reflection, a small almost imperceptible loosening of the muscles in his face, a moment where his calm visage revealed the sorrow he felt for being unable to end the ladies suffering. And as quick as thought it was gone again and his face resumed it's normal, calm state - if he had killed her then his enemies would know that someone was on their tale and before that happened there was a death that he desired more.

 

No sister of Shallya would act in the way that Yussie had recalled to him earlier in the plaza, something that had only been confirmed by the imprisoned woman. He would tell himself that there was perhaps still information the traitorous prioress could give him, but in reality he just wanted to end her life.

 

He stopped by a local tavern, where the group was sat in a private bay and filled them in the events of the evening, telling them that information on Osric was the next step but to tread with a great amount of care. Whatever else Osric was, he was a witch hunter first and foremost and one did not ask too many questions about witch hunters and live long enough to hear answers.

 

With his warning delivered the Arab headed back to his room, removing the floorboards from his bedroom floor before pulling up his antique puzzle chest, he worked his way through the 7 puzzles and 7 locks that were required to open the chest before removing it's contents. Dressing himself in the traditional garb of the Hashashin, placing the death mask over his face so none could identify him, and finally arming himself with a variety of inventive weapons.

 

Deity willing the prioress would die tonight, oh it wouldn't look like murder - there were plenty of ways one could 'die by accident' in a city such as Marienburg, and for one such as himself making murder look like an accident was almost as natural as breathing . . . but she wouldn't die until he knew all that she knew.

 

With stealth and care he headed out into the night

[cn3wton]

Ziegel and Dusty lie beneath a small arch covering a drain crossed with great metal bars. Ziegels faithful companion lies curled in the mans lap while he carefully runs the comb through Dusty's fur. The man cant help but smile as he cares for his sleeping friend. Dusty does not stir as he continues his work. 

 

The dripping and rushing water is music the the mans ears. Both man and dog share their warmth as the night passes. Ziegel cannot sleep and instead gazes to the stars. He thinks he sees a man moving atop the roofs and blinks. He looks to his lap and Dusty stares back, licking the mans palm before rising. He turns and waits anxiously for the man to follow suit. As Ziegel does so numerous bones creak and pop. He pays them no mind as he stows his precious comb away and both man and dog shuffle into the night.

[DarK_RaideR]

Whatever else Osric was, he was a witch hunter first and foremost and one did not ask too many questions about witch hunters and live long enough to hear answers.

Nice one, Daniel. The characters would know that info, as Witch Hunters are notorious in the Old World, but I'm not sure the players knew it, so thanks for pointing it out. Might I also remind you that your characters are working for Witch Hunter Roderick, so they also know what it's like from personal experience.

 

Sahar'a'Saif is out for the night, as is Ziegel with Dusty. It's been an easy day, so the others can sleep or go about their nightly business if they want. It's a good chance to work on your character as they party or a chance to get a headstart and ask questions about Witch Hunter Osric if you feel more practical.

 

Now, to think about the assassination part. Never thought about that one, quite the way for a player to go beyond their GM's prepared material...

[Wild Wolf]

Sleep never came easy for Lanric. This is why he trained himself on the art of meditation. Sometimes he would be in his trance for hours, relaxing his scar covered body to the point of looking dead. But meditation would have to be put on hold for tonight. Lanric was too wired to focus on any sort of meditation mantra at the moment. Osirc...Osric... where had he heard that name. Lanric wasn't the type to hang around many witch hunters other than Roderick, but he had heard of Osric before.

 

His group consisted of those that liked the dwell in the shadow. Lanric had other means of getting answers outside the shadows and straight into the sunlight. Lanric would travel back to a place he swore he would never return too, he would go back to the pits he used to fight in to gather what info on Osric there was. If Roderick, a fellow witch hunter, liked to stake out in the pits, maybe more witch hunters did the same.

 

Lanric grabbed his deep maroon cloak, his knuckle dusters, a few knives and set out into the night. He had no plans to fight tonight but Marienburg could be a mean, seductive bitch that sucked you in and spit you out mangled if you weren't careful. He would take no chances. Lanric made sure to keep his head down and just follow the winding roads of the city. His sense of direction was off with the night time life of Marienburg but he knew he would soon stumble upon what he seeked. The taverns and inns were bustling with rowdy crowds filled with men too drunk to reason right and woman, both young and old alike dressed scantly for the chance at an extra coin or two.

 

The pit fighter walked for another half hour before he came upon some familiarity in the area and knew he was close to his destination. He turned left down a narrow alleyway when a figured stepped out, his silhouette standing out against the moonlight. Lanric never broke stride and continued down the alley, casually fingering his knuckle dusters into place in his pocket.

 

The figure spoke, his words hissing out. "I would stop if I were you." He held authority in his voice.

 

"I'm in no mood for a fight, so I suggest YOU move." Lanric spoke, standing upright to show off his imposing size. The man didn't seem intimidated by the pit fighter and made an advance towards him. Lanric nearly laughed out loud. If only this fool knew who I was, Lanric thought to himself. As the man advanced, two other men followed behind, one hefting a rather large club while the other carried a heavy chain.

 

"Gentleman, it seems we are at a stalemate." Lanric spoke with a cool calmness. "I will give you this one warning and one warning only: Move, now, if you desire to see the sun rise again."

 

Lanric received his answer by the war cry of all three men as they charged him. He cursed under his cloaked hood. In a flash of rage and skill, the pit fighter parried the first blow by grappling his arm, twisting it in an ugly manner and throwing him sideways against the alley wall. The man with the club was much faster than Lanric had anticipated and the warrior was struck in his ribs, sending a sharp pain up his side and momentarily knocking his breath out. Infuriated, Lanric recovered with expert skill.

 

The one with the heavy chain sent his weapon flying like a whip at Lanric. The pit fighter had expected this and let the chain wrap around his forearm. He pulled with a force like a bull and sent the unlucky victim flying over his head and slamming to the floor. Two down and one to go, Lanric spun quickly upon his attacker, grabbing his neck with one hand and holding his opponents left wrist with his other. He slammed the man against the wall and heard crunching as he did so. The club fell from the mans limp body as Lanric let him slide down into the ground, barely breathing. The rush of the fight had excited Lanric, bringing back suppressed memories. 

 

The original assailant, whose arm was twisted, began a slow crawl away from the pit fighter. The warrior let him crawl a little bit before he grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hoisted him up. To Lanric's surprise it was a young man, not much older than 18. "YOU FOOL! DO you not know who I AM? I am the Lion of the pits, the roar and rumble within your soul, I am the fucking boogie man!"

 

The young man's eye's lit up with fear and the smell of piss filled the air. Lanric had done his job. "Now, you're gonna tell me WHO sent you and WHY. If I don't like your answer than you will pay the consequence. Don't test me boy, I haven't had me fill of meat today and I'm hungry!"

[Wild Wolf]

[OOC]

 

Hey DR, if I'm completely out of line bringing in Adalbert "Cassanova" Henschmann, then please let me know, I'll change the RP around, no biggie . I just read that he's the boss of the largest and most vicious criminal syndicates in Marienburg and I thought I would add in some flavor on my side. I just don't want it messing up the story, so let me know if I need to change it.

 

Wolf

[DarK_RaideR]

I like the writing, I like the initiative to dive into the underworld even if Lanric is not exactly the criminal type and most of all I like the fact that you went the extra mile of doing some reading on the subject. You're on to something, but Casanova probably wouldn't be involved in the matter or send hitmen out to get you just for doing what you've so far done. And even if he did, he'd make sure to send enough (or the right) people. He's not the Crime Lord of Marienburg for nothing. I deleted the last two paragraphs and the mention to Casanova. This keeps your narrative and allows me to provide the boy's answer when it's time to make my post.

 

Waiting on shaarawy and kzacher, then we're good to go.

[shaar]

Will do this tomorrow morning!

[Wild Wolf]

I like the writing, I like the initiative to dive into the underworld even if Lanric is not exactly the criminal type and most of all I like the fact that you went the extra mile of doing some reading on the subject. You're on to something, but Casanova probably wouldn't be involved in the matter or send hitmen out to get you just for doing what you've so far done. And even if he did, he'd make sure to send enough (or the right) people. He's not the Crime Lord of Marienburg for nothing. I deleted the last two paragraphs and the mention to Casanova. This keeps your narrative and allows me to provide the boy's answer when it's time to make my post.

Waiting on shaarawy and kzacher, then we're good to go.

Ok perfect Thank you for clarifying that, sir!

Wolf

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Buff Brogan]

Kalomikai took the arab's words to heart. he retreated back to his room for a long while awaiting the dead of night; when he felt most like himself, to exit his room via the window. more than looking for answers, he wanted to be out in the brisk night air, and watch the people of the night. as he moved from shadow to shadow he couldn't help but notice he was subconsciously tracking someone. perhaps he was tired and should have stayed in after all.

 

he roamed the streets for hours and hours. awaking a bit more with every step.

 

*you need to get your pointy eared ass back to the inn*

"says who"

*says dawn*

 

Kalomikai looked up and saw the pinkish hue of the dawn approaching.

 

"fuck" he said aloud.

"did i just waste the entire fucking night?"

he looked to his left to see a man sitting on the ground propped up against the wall that looked far too well dressed to be homeless

"perhaps not the entire night..."

[shaar]

Yussie was exhausted.

 

She wasn't used to so much walking - it seemed like since she'd gotten here all they did was move.  The compound had been large, but her confinement to certain areas certainly didn't help her stamina.  With a sigh, she shut the door of her room behind her, moving slowly towards the bed and collapsing on it.  Walking combined with her seemingly constant heightened senses in this unfamiliar and dangerous place had taken a toll, and she was grateful for the lumpy yet clean bed, and a small smile crossed her face as she lay motionless for a while just massaging her achy calves.

 

She heard the gentle crunching of the parchment as it shifted against the folds of her cloak, and her thoughts traveled back to Sister Kuhn, and the giant risk she had taken in penning this note.  Dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands, but for them it was a giant glimmer of hope and direction on their journey.  Yussie stared flatly at the odd assortment of bracelets lining her slim wrist - what would happen to Sister Kuhn?  Would she escape through an odd and well-timed fluke, like Yussie had?  Or just continue to be oppressed her whole life, living out her days miserably?  Would someone catch wind of the parchment exchange and demand a quick execution for disobedience?  Or worse, slow torture until she gave up the identity of their small group?

 

It seemed too much to think about, and Yussie's sympathetic heart quieted for the night as she rolled over on the bed, instead focusing her efforts on herself and staying physically strong enough to continue their journey.  There were bound to be dark days ahead, and she needed to be prepared to keep up and do her part.  Curling into a small ball, Yussie's eyes closed and sleep pounced upon her almost instantly, ready to rejuvenate her for whatever tomorrow's tasks would bring.

[DarK_RaideR]

The shadowy form of Sahar'a'Saif glides into the night and smoothly makes it to the Doodkanal, back to the Shallyan orphanage. He takes a walk around the building to inspect and figure which way he should pick to access the Abbess' private chambers. He assumes the largest windows to be leading to rooms where the children sleep and the smallest ones to the cloisters of the nuns, so he picks one that's average in size and appears to be well kept enough to be worthy of a pompous woman as has been described to him. The plaster on the walls is already falling apart, which handily provides plenty of handles for him to climb up with ease. Lady Luck smiles upon him, as he peers through the window to see his quarry sleeping. Prying the window open is an easy task, compared to what he's been through in the past, so within minutes he's over the woman, a hand on her mouth to prevent her screams and another holding a knife to her throat. The Abbess wakes up in horror, but the feeling of cold steel on her throat is enough to calm down her instinctive thrashing. Sahar'a'Saif advises her to keep calm and just tell him what he needs to know. Her eyes seem to weigh the value of her life, but as the Arab mentions the Child, they light up with a spark that wasn't there before. The Abbess snorts and frowns in defiance, while Sahar'a'Saif realizes the error of his approach; not only does the woman adore Karl, like he was told, she probably considers him to the same as the men who kidnapped the child a while ago, something that should only fuel her zeal. With cool calculation, he moves to the next part of his plan, grabbing a pillow to smother her. He holds firm until the Abbess moves no more, musing to himself about how, in a way, he's doing the mercy goddess' work. For the Arab, justice has been served and vengeance wrought. Wrapping up his night's work, he sets up the scene to look like the Abbess died peacefully in her sleep, then slips out of the window and back into the night.

 

Dusty leads Ziegel into the night and Marienburg's alleys. Once the dog pauses to take a leak, Ziegel looks up and grins. The building is a two storey wreck facing the canal with a single window that's boarded up. A sign hangs over the door, depicting a merry man doing what Dusty's also doing a bit lower. Taking it perhaps as a sign, the dwarf pushes the door to step inside. The interior is no more welcoming. It’s dark, with a few lanterns making a feeble effort to pierce the gloom. Surprisingly, the place is busy, filled with sinister men nursing tankards of ale and casting wary glances around them. Conversations are whispered. At the bar running along the side of the building is a suspicious fellow with a filthy glass eye, who examines anyone who approaches with his one good eye. Ziegel picks a spot and places his order. The ale costs a standard price, but it has a bouquet of sewage. Nothing a Rat Catcher can't handle. For five more pennies, he's brought a meal of meat pie, though the contents are anyone’s guess. Fascinating place.

 

Lanric shakes up the kid that attacked him, but it appears that it was just a case of desperate thugs trying to make a night's work. Obviously they picked the wrong man to mess with, but despite his gut feeling, they were not sent by anyone to rough him up. His night at the pits is no more charming, but at least he's wise enough to not get carried away by the fights. Lanric takes it easy, not standing out too much but not getting too roughed up either, he lets the toil of the fight work its magic and build a feeling of trust, brotherhood and community among the fighters. Then, he gets to work. Chatting with them, then the serving staff and anybody who would place a bet on the fights, he tries to dig up some information on Osric. His attempt yields nothing and he's about to walk back in disappointment, before a street urchin runs up to him in the street. "Oy! Mister!" the kid shouts. Lanric stops, turns around and lets it approach. He is well aware that such children are often paid a few pennies to deliver messages, so he lets the kid go on. “A fellow knows where to find the man you’re looking for and wants to meet and discuss a price. He said Warehouse 13, Suiddock District, tomorrow after sundown”

 

Kalomikai turns to face the man next to him. "Penny for your thoughts" the man smiles. "Or a little extra for mine" he goes on, flashing a gold coin for the elf to take. Kalomikai raises a suspicious eyebrow and cautiously takes the coin. "I represent a very respectable lady who would like to aid your current investigation" the man continues as he reaches into his garb to produce a handful of gold coins. "If you would please follow me, I would take you to her so you can hear her offer'. The elf grins and pockets the extra cash. "Keep 'em coming" he snaps. "Oh but of course, there's plenty more where these came from" smiles the man as he leads Kalomikai to their destination.

The elf is led back to the Old Money Ward and an imposing villa. It is obvious that it could use a little maintenance to look better, but there's a regal air about it, exhuding an air of pride and nobility that can be traced back for generations. Once inside, the elf is introduced to the owner of the estate, the widow Selena Reiva. The woman seems to be keeping up wonderfully despite her age, to the point that Kalomikai wonders if there's any elven blood running through her veins. Perhaps there is, since he feels a growing attraction to her, spiced up by the mention of being a 'widow'. The elf's mind wanders along some dark, yet spicy paths of thought before he composes himself and pays attention to the woman's words again. "... therefore I would be willing to fund your investigation on whether this child is indeed Sigmar reborn and reward you and your associates with 100 gold crowns. All I ask is that you take the time to report your findings to me". The elf is unable to say anything besides "Of course, milady" and for some reason takes a little bow before her. Her smile is of mixed relief and satisfaction, something the elf cannot shake from his mind for several hours after their meeting.

 

The next morning, everybody meets up for breakfast. Along with the usual eggs and bacon, the landlord also brings a message in writing. Yussie opens the envelope and reads the letter, announcing to the group that their employer, Witch Hunter Roderick, has left Marienburg in pursuit of his quarry. In the letter, he has left them explicit instructions to follow all leads about the boy and learn what they can about his origins and actions in the city. Once they have exhausted all possible leads, they are to rendezvous with him in Altdorf. Lanric takes the opportunity to share the invitation he received and everybody agrees they should attend.

 

As the sun sets, a group of four men, a woman and a dog wander the Southern Docks in search of Warehouse 13. As they look around for signs and numberings, they are approached by a man with a wide, powerful frame and enormous arms. The remaining hair on his balding pate is grey, and grows in a fringe on his lumpy head. His fat nose is crooked to the left, from having been broken many times. All in all, he looks like a typical dockworker. The man nods to Lanric as he remarks that he must be the man seen at the pit fights the night before. "You're the one who asked to see us" Lanric returns the remark. "Aye. You've been after a man who doesn't want to be found. If you don't want your legs broken, I suggest you stop your questioning and get back to whatever it was you were doing". The pit fighter can't hold back a laugh at the threat, but Sahar'a'Saif has a thought and Kalomikai is the one to give voice to it: "Who's gonna do that, you against the five of us?"

 

The stevedore pulls out a whistle that's been hanging by a cord around his neck and under his shirt. Seconds after he's blown it, a bunch of rough looking men appear behind crates and barrels. With a quick glance there appears to be over a dozen of them, maybe fifteen or more and some are armed with clubs. "I've brought some backup, just in case" the man says as he takes the whistle away from his lips. "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. What will it be, chums?"

 

Mandatory mini-quest

You can try to talk your way out of the situation, either by "charming" / intimidating the man, or you can start a fight. There's 5 of you, so it's up to a vote.

If you pick talking, your mini-quest is to reach out and reconnect, contact somebody you've fallen out of touch with. Phone/internet is acceptable but actually meeting up in person means your characters get more information by the dockworker

If you pick fighting, your mini-quest is to do at least 150 pushups during a single day. Any extras will provide a more favourable battle outcome

 

Dont forget to make a post with your vote and report your mini-quest results before posting any actual RP

 

P.S. I've left the morning description intentionally vague. Not sure if some folks (especially Sahar'a'Saif or Kalomikai) are willing to share the night's experience.

[Balthazar]

Whoever has sent this man clearly knows something about our quest or about Osric otherwise we wouldn't be experiencing this encounter right now. This man facing us has information that I think will be valuable, either he will directly know things himself or he will at least know who has employed him so we know where to go to get more answers.

 

We can try to charm him in to telling us, but looking at the state and hostility of our current situation it seems unlikely he will tell us anything.

 

or we can try killing all of his men, and roughing up the head guy a little bit to tell us what we want to know.

 

I think that if all we do is charm him the best we can expect is to walk away without a fight and without any information

 

thoughts?

[shaar]

 

IT'S CLOBBERIN' TIME~

 

(My vote is for clobberin' time, 150 pushups in a day sounds like a goddamn epic challenge to get them done in the office, YAR)

[Wild Wolf]

I'm with You guys. We're already in a pickle with guys that want to kick our ass, so I'm game for 150 push ups-I'm going for more just to get some "favorable" outcome for the group lol.

 

With Yussie being somewhat on the NON-fighting side, scribe and all, I'm going to write in that Lanric kinda stays near her to protect her if that's ok Shaarawy?

 

And how do we all want to write the fight scene? I don't want to step on any toes, but I want to include badass stuff the rest of the group is doing, while Lanric is doing his thing.

 

Wolf

[shaar]

 

With Yussie being somewhat on the NON-fighting side, scribe and all, I'm going to write in that Lanric kinda stays near her to protect her if that's ok Shaarawy?

 

 

YES!  I was thinking about this over lunch today, she could probably defend herself (or make a rational escape) in a pinch, but NOT with 15 burly dudes around them...!!