[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)

[LCP]

Ithelus

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There was no sound from the other side. Apart from the sleeper in the far room, this entire floor seemed to be deserted.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Again the elf tests the door, hoping to find something on the other side that could prove useful.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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This door opened into a room that looked more inhabitable. It was a study, a heavy oaken desk set in front of a window that looked out into the side-alley through which Ithelus and the others had approached: an old, dry inkwell was the only object on the desks's surface, a padded leather chair placed before it.

A couple of sparsely furnished bookshelves framed the desk, a small fireplace set in the wall behind them: the room had been kept dusted and clean, but by the clean, empty grate and the way everything was squared so neatly away, it looked as if it had not been used in a long, long time.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus makes a mental note of the study, perhaps he might have a chance to copy whatever was written on these letters before handing them over. He makes a cursery inspection of the room's contents, looking in draws, and then leaves and moves down the stairs.

move silently: (1d100)[34]

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The drawers were mostly empty - a few yellowed old deeds rested in one of the lower compartments, signed with the name Markus Samtzunge.

Stealing softly down the stairs, Ithelus found himself on a much more lived-in-looking landing - a rich rug stretched out at the base of the steps, while tapestries and the odd portrait of Samtzunges past adorned the walls. Sizing them up, Ithelus observed that the lady's ancestors had not all shared her good looks.

Turning in on itself, the staircase descended another floor on his left - ahead of him, another right-angled passageway ran between the rooms on this storey, three dark oak doors set into the walls. From the ground floor beneath him, Ithelus thought he could hear movement, the occasional snatch of muffled voices drifting up to where he stood.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus fiddles with the handle of his sickle as he edges forward to the closest door and places his ear to it, using the rug to muffle and noise he might make...hopefully.

move silently: (1d100)[54]

[LCP]

Ithelus

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There was no sound from within. The door seemed to have no lock.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus tentatively opens the door, hoping no one or thing is inside.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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On the other side was a bedroom: while lavishly furnished, with a small four-poster bed and its own fireplace, it did not look very lived-in - or, for that matter, like the bedchamber of a lady. A spare bedroom, perhaps?

Up against one wall were a large oak wardrobe and a chest of drawers, both patterned with an intricate inlay on which the veneer was starting to darken. Thick curtains were drawn across the small window, while the floor was covered by a soft, deep rug that looked like it had come from somewhere far-off and foreign.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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As much as he was itching to investigate Ithelus made himself close the door. The objective took precedent. he left the room and moved to the next doorway, putting an ear to the door.

move silently: (1d100)[16]

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Again, nothing but silence, and the occasional fragment of voices drifting up from below.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Getting more tense by the second the elf again slowly tries the handle and enters.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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On the other side was a magnificent library - the walls were lined with bookshelves, every one stuffed with books. Occasional breaks made room for the odd painting, but for the most part, the room was awash with literature - in the centre, between the oak-panelled walls, little tables and big, upholstered chairs stood in an elegant circle.

Books were portable, if a little hard to sell. Some of the volumes looked old, too - it was anyone's guess how much they would fetch, but in the hands of the right buyer, the figure was probably very high. Orders of magnitude greater than one could ever aspire to make lifting purses...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Fingers itchy Ithelus struggled to close the door and continue, he could always come back but the letters were more important. he moved over to the last door and listened.

silent move: (1d100)[71]

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Backing off from the library door, Ithelus closed it quietly behind him - as he headed to the final door on the landing, another floorboard creaked underfoot. How ancient was this house, that every floor groaned like an old man?

There was no sound as the third door. Either anyone on the other side was being very quiet, or this floor was currently deserted.

[hr]

Raffy

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When their meal was finished, Alfons cleared it dutifully away, Hans seemingly grateful to follow the rules of Raffy’s buddy-system if it meant following the old man out of the presence of his betters – or at least, his better. Raffy himself felt stuffed – if this was how the nobility ate when their servants weren’t even bothering to cook, he had to secure himself an invitation to a proper banquet.

Maria seemed to study her hand for a moment, before looking back to the fire. Turning to Raffy, she put her head slightly to one side, looking directly into his eyes.

“Rafale,” she said, “do you think Illiiya is... well? I mean, when we first met, she seemed such a shy creature, but even then... it worries me.” Her face was a picture of concern. “If she had an outburst like today somewhere more public – somewhere where the Witch Hunter might hear – I’d be afraid for her safety.”

Before he could reply, she blinked, and looked up. Glancing back at Raffy, she furrowed her brow.
“Did you just hear something?”

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The man's departure did not erase the smile from Pieter's face, though his eyes grew a bit sad.

"Sam, uh? Does anyone know where I can find this poor child?"

He could not possibly save every orphan in the Empire, but it was hardly an excuse to stop trying. He, too, had been a lost child when old Berthold chose him to be his pupil, so many years ago.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Mentally the elf was reciting every curse in his considerable repertoire, yet quietly he tried the door, heart thumping.

[LCP]

Pieter

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"They had their tent over the eastern edge, sir," said one of the grubby, hungry-looking children around the campfire. "I can show you, if'n you like."

There was a certain avidity in the boy's expression - clearly he was expecting some payment in return.

[hr]

Ithelus

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The door opened smoothly and quietly. On the other side was a stately bedchamber, dominated by a great, red four-poster in the centre of the room.

Jackpot.

This room was the most richly-furnished of all. On one side of the bed, a massive wardrobe loomed, its intricately carved feet and frame showing the workmanship that had gone into its creation: a second, smaller one lurked by the window on the other side of the room, velvet curtains allowing only the tiniest chink of moonlight through to illuminate its solid lines.

Like the other bedchamber, there was a fireplace, this one looking like it saw fairly frequent use: an old bear-skin rug, thankfully without the head, was stretched out in front of it. To its side, there was an antique dresser, and beside that a full-length mirror with a gilt frame: next to the bed itself, a small chest of drawers stood, surmounted by a delicate glass oil-lamp and a slight dusty imprint where a book had been lying. Finally, by the door itself, against the inside wall, there was a sturdy-looking oak trunk. The whole room smelt of perfume and luxury, its contents probably worth more than every coin Ithelus had ever touched put together.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus gulped, he was so close now but something was not right. He felt tense, worried at any moment that Maria would appear, glowing red and firing all sorts of magic. Or perhaps she had a bodyguard or two, indeed Illiiya's threats must have had some effect. Kliener had said that she would not be entertaining tonight... so why did it seem like the house had not gone to sleep yet? With a grunt he moved across the room to the dresser and began to search its contents.

move silently (1d100)[34]

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The initiate smiled kindly at the boy, who was acting exactly like he would have acted some fifteen years ago.

"Yes, lead me there, please."

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Moving across the room with a silent, professional grace, Ithelus began to systematically go through the drawers of the dresser – there were powders and pastes, all sorts of makeup standing in closely-packed ranks in the upper drawers. Other drawers held neatly folded handkerchiefs, a few bottles of perfume, a hand-mirror, and in the one nearest the bottom, undergarments.

If the box was in this room, it was not in the dresser.

[hr]

Pieter

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Scrambling to his feet, the scrawny child led the way through the tangled guyropes of the tent town, Pieter almost finding it difficult to follow the boy’s nimble path through the Fields.

Coming to the edge of the great agglomeration of canvas, rope and humanity, the boy pointed at a lonely tent on the edge of the dark, little more than a scrap of hide stretched over some poles – a tiny figure crouched at the flap, wrapped in a threadbare blanket and watching the outside world with a furious intensity, as if it was likely to try something any moment.

“That’s him, sir,” said Pieter’s guide. “Just sits there, most evenings, keeping watch.”

Looking down, he saw the boy was holding out an open palm.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus stalks over to the chest of drawers, but first he slides a hand under the pillows on the bed, granted a cliched place to hide somehting but you never know. If he finds nothing he will then begin to search the drawers.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Biting the insides of his cheeks to refrain from laughing, Pieter dug into his purse and gave a handful of pennies ((d5+2)[6]) to the boy. Then he turned to the orphan, greeted him with the sign of Ranald and slowly walked over to him.

"Hello, Sam," he said softly. "My name's Pieter." He slid his hand into his sling bag. "You hungry, lad?"

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Beneath the left-hand pillow, his hand brushed against something small: drawing it out, he found himself looking at a short dagger in a tight-fitting leather sheath. Someone was maybe expecting unwelcome visitors, then. That wasn't good.

Moving swiftly on, he began to rifle through the drawers, doing his best to slide them in and out as silently as possible. They were full of an odd miscellany of objects - books, coins, small items of clothing. In the uppermost drawer, a locked jewellery-box sat, looking invitingly stealable.

Reaching the last drawer, Ithelus felt his heart sink as he saw that it seemed to contain only folded night-clothes - by the look of them, old and unused. Half-heartedly turning them over to check there was nothing lurking beneath them, he stopped: sure enough, a small rosewood box stood in the corner of the drawer, hiding beneath the layers of fabric. It didn't seem to have a lock...

[hr]

Pieter

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The boy stared suspiciously up at Pieter.

"How'd'you know my name?" he asked. A loud rumble from his stomach somewhat undermined his air of wary hostility.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Still trying to shake the feeling that he was playing into a trap Ithelus pocketed both the jewelry box and opened the second one. If it did indeed contain letters then he will close it and proceed to exit. Now, he could try his previous means of entry or perhaps find a new one. He quickly looked around the room for windows, and to see if there was any means of climbing out of them.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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"A magpie told me." The initiate pulled back his hood and sat cross-legged in the grass. He smiled, but his eyes were grave. "I understand you're on your own. Just like me when I was your age. I wouldn't have survived without help, and neither will you."

He offered the boy a handful of nuts and dried fruits from his rations.

"May I teach you a few things?"

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The jewellery box rattled slightly as he pocketed it – opening the other, Ithelus’ nostrils were assailed by a strong, sweet, musky scent. The cause was immediately apparent: a pressed flower, so old as to practically crumble at his touch, rested over the folded papers that made up the box’s contents, themselves looking aged and fragile. They were unmistakeably letters, each one of them neatly folded in two to fit inside their container.

The bedchamber had two windows, with rich velvet curtains: they opened onto Manor Street, each seeming to open via a simple iron latch. It would not be too difficult for Ithelus to fit himself through one of them – but the room was high off the ground, and Manor Street was cobbled.

[hr]

Pieter

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Sam greedily snatched the food, wolfing it down faster than Pieter would have thought possible. Looking sideways at Pieter, he seemed unsure of what stance to take.

“Magpies don’t talk,” he said, stubbornly. There was a long pause. “I ain’t paying you.”

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus looks around for any drain pipes or other means to climb down. Failing that he seizes up the latch, wondering if it would take his weight on a rope.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Pieter chuckled.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting any payment. I believe that's what they call charity. But of course, you can't count on it all the time." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Hey. You ever stole food? That's real easy, you know. Just make sure no guard is around. Oh, and wait till the vendor is busy with a customer. Even if he sees you, he won't leave his stall unattended just to run after you. Worst he'll do is yell at you."

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The latch was small and delicate: he wouldn't fancy its chances of bearing any serious weight. Brushing the curtain aside, Ithelus peered out through the glass of the window, looking left and right in the hope of a convenient drainpipe: no such opportunity presented itself. The front face of the house was practically sheer.

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OOC: You're now actually getting ahead of the others - while this activity is excellent, I'm going to have to wait for some of them to catch up before I can update any further for Ithelus.

[hr]

Pieter

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Sam looked up at Pieter in bewilderment, his wary defensiveness utterly defused.

"Who are you?" he asked, simply.