[WFRP] The Bloody Crown X

[LCP]

27th Vorgeheim

Weaving through the winding streets of the Old Town well after sundown, the warm haze of the Fat Fish’s ale began to give way to a cold weight in Elsa’s gut. They had discussed not walking the streets alone after dark… but the killer was only targeting priests. A wizard was different from a priest. Wasn’t she?

Quickening her step just a little, she hurried to the house in Half Moon Alley. Adelbert had already gone to bed, and took some time to answer her determined knocking. When at last the bleary-eyed priest opened the door, she spared a quick glance back over her shoulder before stepping over the threshold. There was nothing there.

The Lazar house was cramped and shabby compared to her quarters in the keep, though it felt a little cosier than those austere stone walls. From the window of the attic room, she watched the moons rise high over the rooftops, lighting the flitting to-and-fro of bats from the old Arabyan minaret on Tower Street. She did feel she was closer to something, some power, out here than behind the stone walls of the castle.

Dragging her gaze away from Morrslieb’s gibbous face, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Her familiar nested down on her shoulder, the two of them drifting off together in the light of his unwholesome namesake…

Elsa

Spoiler

Show

Elsa’s dreams felt jumbled and disjointed. She saw Astoria’s pale body, eyes staring glassily back at her. She saw her reflection in the Brethren’s mirror, dissolving and blowing away into dust. She saw Dragos, standing with an expression of bafflement on his face in a desert of bone-white sand beneath a bottomless black sky. On an altar before him lay a feather, a pair of scales, and a long, hooked knife.

The dream fractured again, and she found herself back in the Shade-runners’ cave. She was alone here, but for the smeared pool of blood Dragos’ demise had left behind. As she watched, a sleek shape padded out of the shadows towards it. Bigger than any of Dragos’ mastiffs, it was an enormous jackal, its coat as smooth and black as onyx.

Slowly, it lowered its long head to the floor, lapping up the spilt blood. Elsa gave an involuntary intake of breath, and it stopped – lifting its head again, it sniffed the air, its long, pointed ears angling forward. Its burning eyes seemed to stare right through her.

You think you are strong enough to face him? croaked a cracked voice in her ear, bringing with it the scent of woodsmoke and burning flesh. She thought she felt the faint touch of a hand – or claw – on her shoulder. The jackal continued to stare, like a man squinting through thick fog.
No mortal is strong enough alone, whispered a second voice. The jackal looked away at last, as if satisfied that it had only seen a shadow.
So little time, rasped a third. Before the sand runs out.
Three times we shall come, hissed the voices together. Do not forget us.

Turning away, the jackal stalked into the darkness at the back of the cave, seeming to dissolve bodily into the darkness there. Feeling something wet run over her toes, Elsa looked down to see dark water lapping at her feet. The river was rising.

She turned and made for the open air, but the water was rising too quickly, its current dragging her off her feet. Throwing out her hands to catch her fall, she felt the rising tide flow over them. It was warm and thick, its coppery tang filling the air. Not water. Blood.

She struggled to her feet as the blood rose to her waist, looking back over her shoulder for someone, anyone to help. As it rose to her chest, she saw two points of light glimmer in the shadows. The jackal saw her now, of that she was certain. In the last glimpse she caught before the flood closed over her head, its face looked more like a bare canine skull than flesh and fur...

She woke gasping for air, her lungs taking a few breaths to convince themselves that she wasn’t drowning. What any of it meant, if it meant anything, she couldn’t say for sure – but she felt a stronger sensation of being watched now than she had at any point on her lonely walk through the streets. Rising from the chair where she had dozed off, she closed the shutters to block out the sickly moonlight, and at length slipped back into more restful sleep.

---

28th Vorgeheim

Elsa

The relentless barking of Dragos’ dogs was a welcome change from the silent ones in Elsa’s dreams. Ignoring their slobbering and scratching against the bars of their cage, she got them to accept some water before throwing them the sausages, at which point the interior of the cage descended into a barking frenzy that scattered water bowls and dirty rushes left and right. Her efforts to soothe them were utterly lost in the din, and she found that even her patience for the animals had limits.

Another day, she thought, watching the largest of the mastiffs wrench a link of sausages from the jaws of one of the others. They’re not going anywhere.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

1s 8p for the sausages
1gc 5s for the spade
1s per bowl for the bowls.

Modifiable by Barter as usual

The Dockside Display

Some of the people in the crowd looked skeptical at Ludo's promises of an end to crime. Dragos had hardly been the first of his kind to tread the streets of Savonne, and he was unlikely to be the last. Perhaps some potential contenders were even watching as he spoke - but then, perhaps those people understood his message a little better. Either way, Ludo's oratory seemed to make the atmosphere briefly less grim, and a few people made approving sounds at the idea of this particular racketeer not darkening their doors again.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Not sure whether to ask for a roll as I'm not sure what Ludo is aiming to achieve - just putting a less intimidating gloss on Sieghard's speech?

In terms of gathering a good-sized audience, just having your Dragos-on-a-rope is setting a very high baseline that speeches etc. only slightly modify. If you want to proceed to a recruiting pitch you should go right ahead.