[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Feeling slightly guilty Ithelus looks at the other letters, hoping to find something that might point towards any suspicious activity.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The other letters, too, were from Marius - the whole box, nothing but a collection of the awkward outpourings of a young man's heart. They seemed to run roughly chronologically from top to bottom - some of the later letters skirted around the question of whether the previous letter had been received, or whether her reply might have been delayed, a note of tortured caution entering their passionate tone. Each one bore von Brucker's signature and seal.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus's post job buzz died with every letter he skimmed. Surely this was the wrong letter box? What value would these letters have? He closed the box again, giving the flower a cursory inspection.

Could this have been a set up? Could he have got the wrong box? the thoughts swirled around his head.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The flower seemed an ordinary rose - albeit years old, preserved only because it was pressed. The bone-dry petals practically crumbled in his hands.

"Find anything interesting, elf boy?" asked Greta with a cynical tone, from the other corner of the rattling cart.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus shakes his head, 'just a bunch of love letters' a thought however, hits him and he begins to inspect the box itself.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The box was well-made, but not unusual: varnished rosewood, its surface had been carved with a simple but elegant design of curling vines.

Seemingly dissatisfied with Ithelus' answer, Greta smirked and shook her head. “I seen elves. In Marienburg. All high an’ mighty an’ wearin’ fancy clothes.” She sat back. “Look at you, though. Down here in the gutter with us.”

“Ah, shut it, Greta,” said Ricard. “He did well. That’s what counts.”

“Maybe,” said Greta, clearly not convinced. Watching the road behind them with a sullen expression, she fell silent.

Bumping and jolting its way out into the night, the cart continued on its way, splashing through the mud on the rutted road that led out through the sprawling refugee camp of the Fields. Up ahead, the forest loomed, stretching out its black, skeletal branches to meet them: Ithelus remembered the beasts they had encountered on their first journey to the city, and sat up a little straighter in the back of the cart, keeping an eye on the treeline.

“Can’t we ditch it here?” hissed Greta. “I don’t want to get caught out here by the Wolf.”
“Any ‘ighwayman tries something with us, he’ll rue the day he was born,” muttered Ricard in return. However, he signalled for the cart to stop. “Right. Let’s ditch the cart in these trees. We can come back for it later.”

Jumping down from the back, he brushed off his tattered jacket. “Walther, you walk Griselda back into town by the road,” he said, gesturing to the old nag that pulled the cart. “If you’re on your own, they won’t stop you. The rest of you, with me.”

Leading the way into the woods, Ricard set off with a purposeful gait – Ithelus and the others followed him hesitantly between the dark tree-trunks, the damp husks of fallen leaves rustling under his feet.

In the dark of the night, it was barely possible to see more than a few feet ahead – Ricard seemed to know where he was going, however, and the great thicket of bare branches overhead served to ward off the seeping damp of the rain. Passing through a steep-sided dell, then scrambling up the other side and slithering down through a great tangle of undergrowth, they found themselves at the edge of the Delb – upriver of the city, where the withered grass and bracken of the Middenland winter gave place to a low, sandy rivebank.

“We follow the river back in,” said Ricard. “Look inconspicuous.”

Trudging along the muddy edge of the water, they headed back towards the dim glow of the town, once again exposed to the rain – it helped to veil them from the refugees of the Fields, however, as they passed the fires of the camps to their left. After what seemed an age, his legs aching from effort of pulling his boots from the clinging silt, Ithelus saw the buildings of Delberz rising up around them. A few night scavengers were still picking over the banks of the river as they came in towards the centre of town, looking for any scraps that the better-off might have left behind or thrown away – the beggars moved warily out of the newcomers’ path, keeping their heads down just as Ricard and his followers did their own.

Up ahead, the stone embankment that delineated the edges of the river by the Gods’ Row bridge began, rising up against the calm, rain-stippled water: the black silhouette of a sewer outlet protruded from its side, the outline of a ragged little beggar-man slumped against its edge. As the thieves approached, he looked up and scuttled away, pulling his hood down closer over his head as he got out of the larger group’s way.

“Right,” said Ricard, his voice a low whisper. “There’s a manhole ‘bout seventy feet from here. We go in, we climb out, we’re back on the streets.” He peered into the black gullet of the sewer, making sure there were no more urban vagabonds sheltering inside. “You first, Mister Ith. You elves can see in the dark, can’t you?”

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter Is Doing Something Decidedly Unexciting But Not Entirely Devoid Of Interest

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So Halbermann likely has no ties here, Pieter thought. Either his son has always lived here or he's been following his father around. Provided, of course, that he's really the sergeant's bastard. Gossip is not always reliable.

"Halby does look ex-military to me," he said. "He's what, forty? Not many men this age are unmarried. Of course, it might also have something to do with him having all the charm of a wild boar. He'll probably die alone. Good for him."

He slid two pennies in the pot and shuffled his deck.

"People like him are drifters," he went on, keeping his voice low. "They follow their predatory instincts, never get close ties with anyone, and make enemies quickly. I'm confident he and the rest of the Hounds will leave this place when the political climate changes. They have no values, no ideals. As soon as they're no longer on the winning side, they start looking for the next winner."

He distributed the cards around the table, his hands moving like a blur. He had a lot of practice at this.

Gamble 57: (d100)[6] (Edit: ...I think that's a success.)

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Oh the gods must be laughing. First his job to steal from Maria and now he is plunged back into the sewers. Someone was having a joke. 'Stick close' Ithelus says as he begins to move into the sewer. He pulls his sickle from his belt in case of rats or an attempted backstabbing.

[LCP]

Pieter

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The men around the table looked doubtful – as much due to the long words Pieter had used as their opinion of the truth in them.

“Most o’ the Hounds are local lads, though,” said one of them. “Wouldn’t be leavin’ town just because Halbermann shut up shop. They’d just go back to whatever they were doin’ before.” He paused. “If some bleeding Schoppendorfer ain’t taken their job for less, that is. They’ll work for nearly nothin’, them out on the Fields.”

Another shook his head. “Things ain’t goin’ to change. The Lector’s here to say, and while the Baron’s still married to that slip of a girl, the Lector’s word is law.” He looked up at his friends. “Ain’t no way he’s goin’ to outlive her, neither, the age difference between them two, and it’ll be many years yet before the young Captain inherits. You ask me, sooner or later, the Hounds’ll replace the Guard. Or gobble ‘em up and become one big job-lot of watchmen.”

“Things bloody well better change,” muttered the man who had spoken out in favour of the Society’s pamphlets. “All these murders, and what have the Hounds done? I tell you, I’m this close to packin’ up and leaving tomorrow. I’ve lived in Delberz all my life, but it ain’t a town worth dyin’ for.”

“Sigmar’s sausage, mister, you're good.” exclaimed the fourth man, as Pieter collected his winnings once again. “Still, ‘long as it’s just for pennies…”

The five men bought in again.

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(1d100)[6], (1d100)[99], (1d100)[46], (1d100)[10], (1d100)[29]

"Looks like you win again." The pennies crossed the table once more. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

[hr]

Ithelus

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Leading the way into the sewer mouth, Ithelus was suddenly grateful for the neckerchief the thieves had loaned him – drawing it up over his mouth and nose, it warded off the worst of the stink.

Splashing through the film of effluent that gathered at the bottom of the circular tunnel, he led the way – there was so little light that even his elvish eyes could make out little. Twice, he whirled round at the noise of what sounded like skittering claws close by – but if there were rats, he couldn’t see them.

“Right up here,” whispered Ricard. Following the thief’s instructions, Ithelus took the right fork of a junction between two passageways, nearly having to double over to fit his head under the lowered ceiling of the sewer: sure enough, after a few more agonising minutes of progress through the cramped tunnel, they found themselves at a rusty iron ladder, hammered into the wall.

Pushing the manhole cover out of the way, Ricard led the way up back into the night air, shaking off his boots. They had come out just over the road from the outer edge of Tempelplatz – with Manor Row already behind them. Ithelus had to admit, as a plan, it worked: they had passed directly under the part of town where the alarm might already have been raised.

“I reckon we take the goods straight back to Kleiner,” said Ricard, quietly. “Don’t want to get caught with ‘em on us, ‘specially if that bastard got a good look at our elf friend.” He started north-west. “We’ll take the back streets. This way!”

OOC: Just a break in the action to give you a chance to react to anything you might choose to. If you want me to continue, just say so.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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"Nuln. Marienburg. Altdorf. Middenheim."

Pieter was starting to understand the locals' bitterness. He still disagreed with the Society's rabble-rousing, but was oppression for generations to come really preferable to a riot or revolt?

"The best, of course, would be to show the baroness what the Hounds are really like. But you know how nobles are, they don't understand how the people live."

He bet two coppers again, but decided to lose the next hand on purpose. Good gamblers might make money, but not friends. The gossip he had gleaned from this conversation was infinitely more valuable than his meagre earnings.

[LCP]

Pieter

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"You've travelled about a bit, then," said one of the men, seemingly impressed. He picked up his hand, consulting the cards. "What's your line of work?"

The fellow who had given the pessimistic prediction about the Hounds shook his head.

"The Baroness doesn't give two coppers for the 'people'," he said, flicking his stake onto the table for emphasis. "She needs to act all high and pious-like to keep that old lech of a Baron out of her bed, and she's too thick to jus' pretend. Hang the people - she'll think what the Lector tells her to think."

Dealing out the cards, Pieter threw the game as subtly as he could.

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(1d100)[77], (1d100)[56], (1d100)[50], (1d100)[57], (1d100)[99]

Chuckling to himself, the man who had won drew his stake towards him with a satisfied smile.

"Well, looks like they don't teach you every trick in all those fancy places you been, eh?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus nods and follows the man's lead, replacing his sickle in his belt. 'Let's just hope I got the right box.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Winding back through the narrow streets, they made their furtive and roundabout way back to Kleiner's pawn-shop. The place was dark, the shop-front locked up - but a candle burned in the attic window in which Ithelus knew the crime lord kept his office. The slightest wisp of smoke was rising from the chimney, quickly shredding apart in the rain-filled air.

Leading the way around the side of the building, Ricard gave a peculiar knock on the back door - a beat, then a long pause, then three more. After a few seconds, the door opened, the withered old man who usually stood behind the counter during the day peering out at them. Grunting to himself, he stood aside, allowing them in.

Brushing the water off his clothes, Ithelus and the others found themselves ushered quickly up the rickety old staircase, where Kleiner sat hunched in front of a miserly fire, seemingly half-asleep. One of the man's guards coughed loudly - he sat bolt upright in his chair, looking around with an expression of sudden alarm as he woke from dozing. Seeing Ricard and Ithelus returned, his face lit up, a look of pure avarice stealing across his glittering eyes.

"You done it, then?" he said, wriggling his fingers. "It go to plan? What'd you find?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus steps forward. 'Not at all, sir. In the end I had to scale the wall and then climb into the building. Also sir, it turns out that the Lady was entertaining, specifically a guest with a loaded blunderbuss. I managed to get these before I had to bail out of the window though.' He hands over the two boxes, 'I'm not sure if it is what you were after but I didn't have time to make a full search of the room.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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His face falling, Kleiner held out his bony hands, snatching the boxes away. Carefully opening one after the other, his stony expression improved a little as he saw the contents of the jewellery box.

"Well... this is very nice, still, very nice." Clapping the box shut, he stowed it greedily away beneath his patched blanket. "I'd say you'll get your share, but I'd need to know whether I'd be tryin' to get it to you on a gallows stand, first." He looked around the group. "Any of 'em see your faces?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus hesitated, 'Well, her guest... I've worked with him before, I think he might have recognized me, he did get a good look at me... after he tried to shoot me'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Kleiner stared long and hard at Ithelus, blinking occasionally. Then, a torrent of swearwords erupted from his mouth, the old crook muttering such a stream of obscenities that it took the elf aback.

"You know him," he snapped. "Will he talk? We need to shut his mouth?" He glanced towards the window. "What's his name?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus visibly flinches. 'I reckon he will... although I might be able to talk to him first. If we can arange a meeting.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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"'Might'? 'If'?" Kleiner barked. "Them's two words I don't like, Mister Ithelus. Two words I do not like at all."

"He mighta already blabbed," said Ricard, darkly. "There was a watchman with him."

Muttering an oath under his breath, Kleiner shook his head, looking in the box of letters again as if to reassure himself that it was in his hands.

"If I'm right about our client... which I am, on account of being me," he said, slowly, "no-one's goin' to be listenin' to the lady in a day or two. This'll blow over if we can wait it out." He looked at Ithelus. "So you find your friend, you find out if he's talked, and if you can't stop him, you stall him." He glared directly into the elf's eyes. "But first, you're goin' to tell us who this man is, and where we can find him, in case they're waitin' for you. You get yourself caught, we ain't none of us ever met you. You got no proof we did, neither. You understan'"?

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus nods, 'But I want your assurence that you won't move to bump him off without informing me?' he pauses... 'Actually I have a plan.' He moves towards one of the big bouncers. 'Hit me' he says.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The various humans around the room stared at Ithelus. Slowly, the big man looked sideways at his boss.

"Explain," snarled Kleiner, curtly.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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'well, I can make up some noble reason, or at least some expliation as to why I robbed the Lady, and I know a good one. Then, if you don't object, I'll claim I was betrayed and the group made off with the boxes that I had intended on returning. It is a stretch but it might satisfy him.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Looking at the elf long and hard, Kleiner made a face as if he was sucking on a lemon. At length, he nodded to the big man - and suddenly Ithelus found himself on the floor, his head ringing from the force of the blow. The man had punched him right in the eye... that was going to swell.

"Alright, Mister Ithelus, you can give your plan a shot," came Kleiner's voice through the clearing fog of pain. "But 'less you want Gunther here to keep on hittin' you, you're goin' to tell us how we find this man, an' what he's called, before you leave. Just good business, you understan'. Don't want to leave loose ends lyin' about."

Pulling himself back up into a sitting position, he saw Kleiner looking sceptically down at him.

"You fix this, I'll see to it you get your share," he said, jingling the jewellery box. "You bungle it, and we ain't never met, that clear?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus bites back a retort, his head ringing. He gets up, 'Raffy Sparrowhawk, I don't know where you can find him, he rents rooms.' He steadily gets to his feet, turns and lifts up an arm, exposing his ribs. 'Better give me a few more, make it realistic.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Grinning to himself, the big man struck him again, the force of the blow making Ithelus stumble. Cracking his knuckles, he surveyed his handiwork, nodding to himself.

"Alright, you'd best be jumpin' to it," said Kleiner, with a peremptory air. "No time to be lost. As for you and your lads, Ricard - you said she'd be alone. I think we need to have a talk."

Thumping hard on the floor with his stick three times, he folded his arms as footsteps rose up the stairs - looking round the door, the narrow-faced man who ran the pawn-shop appeared.

"Mister Ithelus here was just leavin'," said Kleiner. "Show him the way out, would you?"

"This way, sir," wheezed the old fellow. "This way."

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus walks down the stairs, his breath comming in wheezes. The things I do to keep you alive Raffy.

As he leaves he also draws his dagger and grimacing begins to cut his forearm, methodically drawing the knife a few times before also - with a flinch- giving himself a small cut on his neck. If you still want me arrested I'll kill you myself you ungrateful bastard. He then heads towards the Crow, if Raffy is not there he will head to Doctor Raseen.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The initiate smiled.

"Ranald is fickle like that, I guess. But believe me, many places I've gone are none too fancy." He glanced at the man who had asked about his line of work. "I like to travel. I don't think I'll ever be able to settle. I started out as a kind of errand boy for my uncle. He's a cloth merchant, and he always needs someone to travel to other towns... make deals, move goods, collect payments... But to me it's just an excuse to escape Middenheim. It's quite possibly the most boring city in the Empire. Wouldn't want to spend my whole life in it."

Whenever Pieter started inventing himself a life, he could go on for hours on end. He forced himself to bring the conversation back on track:

"The current baron won't rule forever, will he? He's getting old. And once Marius is in charge, even the baroness won't be able to stop him from curtailing the Church's power."


Gamble 57: (d100)[87]

(Again, I assume last hand's winner sets the stakes.)

[LCP]

Pieter

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"Middenheim too boring, eh?" said the winner of the last round. "I heard there was some excitement around there not too long ago. Just a little bit." The others chuckled at his joke.

"Tuppence stakes good by me," he said, shuffling the cards. "As for the Captain... well, it's grand that you're on first-name terms with 'im, Mr Kurt, but I don't figure he cares any more than his dad for what the commoners suffer through, and von Kemperbad's got powerful friends in Altdorf." He began to deal. "A young nobleman doesn't want to make enemies of people like that, not when he's pissed his early years away playin' at soldiers and runnin' some little joke of a town watch when he shoulda been making friends hob-nobbing with the other nobs."

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(1d100)[70], (1d100)[55], (1d100)[75], (1d100)[77], (1d100)[17]

This time, it was the last man in their circle who took the prize - the wary mumbler from before. Scooping up the coins, he began to gather up the cards to deal again.

"What's your interest in all this, anyway?"

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The initiate shrugged.

"All trade is about understanding the market's climate, and that includes politics. My uncle figured the new cathedral would need tapestries. Mind, he also thought the refugees would bring a whole world of possibilities, but it turns out they're too busy trying not to starve to worry about wearing nice clothes. I'm telling you, if their lot hasn't improved in a few weeks, there will be riots. How about one last round?"

Gamble 57: (d100)[80]

[LCP]

Raffy

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Sprinting after the dark figures, Raffy saw Ithelus turn on his heel and flee – behind him, the light of the watchman’s lantern drew nearer, the guard and Hans running after the Sparrowhawk as he leapt into the chase.

Weaving down narrow alleys, his feet flew over the rain-slick cobbles, skidding around another corner to see Ithelus and his mysterious running hell for leather straight ahead. Shouting “BURGLAR!” once more, he charged after them, leaping over a black rat that chose that moment to scuttle in front of him: the elf was damnably quick on his feet, drawing away as he approached another junction of the streets up ahead.

A right, and then a left – closing on his quarry as they turned a sharp corner, Raffy rounded it hot on their heels, his impromptu allies lagging behind. Up ahead, a battered cart occupied the narrow street – the driver looked around as he saw the chase coming his way and whipped his horse into wakefulness, the rickety conveyance starting to move just as the mystery men reached it. Leaping up onto the back of the vehicle, one of them held out a hand for Ithelus, the elf scrambling up behind them – all four clinging to the boards of the cart, one of them shouted something to the driver, the cart taking off at a rate of knots as Raffy put on a last, desperate burst of speed to catch up.

It was no use – accelerating through a trot and then a canter, the horse pulling the cart drew its passengers away, Raffy stumbling to a stop in its wake as it rattled away faster than he could pursue. Glaring back at Ithelus, he heard Hans and the watchman come panting to a halt behind him, the guard bracing his hands against his knees as he coughed and hacked from the sudden run.

“Here,” he wheezed, “you – you’re one o’ the captain’s men, ain’t you?” Straightening up, he leaned against a wall, trying to regain his breath. “What – what just...”

“Burglary,” said Raffy flatly. “Tell the captain –“

Investigation would mean explanations. At this stage, he couldn’t really care less what happened to Ithelus, but the elf’s crime could rebound disastrously on their investigation... not to mention Illiiya. And to tell the Captain what had happened, he would have to tell him about his presence at Maria’s - to protect her, yes, but somehow he doubted Marius would see it like that.

“I’ll tell him myself,” he muttered. “They’ve already got away.”

“No, no,” wheezed the guard, still leaning against the wall. “We can head ‘em off... at the... at the bridge...”
Trying to stand straight, he fell over.
“Yeah,” he said, breathing deeply. “They got away.”

[hr]

Back at the front of the house, Alfons stood in the door.

“She’s not happy,” he said to Raffy as he passed, with a kind of fatalistic glee. “She’s not happy at all.”

Upstairs, Maria was turning her room upside down, frantically searching for something that didn’t seem to be there: Looking up as Raffy opened the door, she fixed him with a look of genuine distress – the second time that day he had seen her usual iron composure break.

“They took it,” she said, seeming almost on the verge of tears. Untying Ithelus’ rope with a sudden motion, she flung it into the corner of the room and stared at it. “It’s too short. How did they get in?”

Practically pushing past Raffy out onto the landing, she shouted Alfons’ name – the old servant hobbled up the stairs, even as Hans was coming back in through the front door.

“Search the whole house. Find out how they got in,” she said, abruptly.
“I should go with him,” said Raffy. “Or Hans –“
“He’ll be fine!” snapped Maria. Hesitating, her tone softened. “I’m sorry, it’s just – please, he’ll be fine.” She looked sideways at Alfons, still standing there. “Go!” she exclaimed, gesturing furiously with one arm.

Glancing back at Raffy, she lowered her head.

“It wasn’t the rats we had to worry about, was it?” she said quietly.
“Maria, what did he take?”
“Letters. Personal letters.” Stepping quietly back inside the bedchamber, she pulled open the top drawer of a little pedestal chest of drawers that stood next to my bed. “And my jewellery-box.” She seemed singularly unconcerned about the second item in comparison to the first. “I suppose it would be worth... quite a lot.”

Sitting down on the bed, she covered her face with her hands, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Covering one hand with the other, she looked up at Raffy.

“They got away?”
“On a cart.”
There was another long silence. Maria looked long and hard at Raffy’s face.
“You want to stay, don’t you?”
“It’s still not safe.”
Breathing out, Maria nodded. “Yes. I know that.” She paused. “It’s not – it’s not that I don’t want you to stay, it’s just that...”
Something seemed to strike her.
“Rafale, if you’re to stay, can’t Alfons and Hans stay in the next room?” she asked, regaining a little of her calm. “I understand... why you’re worried, but if we’re still in twos... we can hear each other. If anything happens, we can call.” She looked up into Raffy’s eyes. “I have to be someone else around them. I have to be their employer. It’s not that it’s difficult, but after this... I just want to be able to breathe.”

Raffy hesitated. He could hardly refuse – this was her house, she would be within her rights to turn him out. And, put flatly, the thought of banishing Alfons and Hans out of sight to leave him alone with Maria seemed dreadfully appealing.

“You’re sure?” he said, reluctantly.
“Please,” she said, quietly. It was hard to argue with her tone.
“Well... so long as we make sure we’re all safe. Is there a room that’s close enough?”
“The kitchen,” said Maria. She laughed bitterly to herself. “They’ll be happy enough there. After all, it’s where the food is.”

Standing up, she straightened her voice, her self-control seeming to be returning by the second.
“Please, go back down. I’ll be with you in a minute. I just need to speak to Alfons.”

Following the lady’s instructions, Raffy busied himself re-heating the pans of coals he had prepared – making sure he knew where Hans was, he double-checked the fortifications of the drawing-room before sidling into the kitchen, checking everywhere for rat-holes. It was a huge room, compared to the scarred little table on which his mother had used to prepare their meals – but its walls were bare stone, quickly alleviating his fears.

After a short while – no more than a couple of minutes, Maria descended the stairs again, Alfons in tow. The little old servant scurried away, seemingly grateful to be released from his mistress’ presence: returning to the drawing room, Maria sat down in front of the fire, her easy laughter of before replaced by a pregnant silence.

Sitting down a little way to one side, Raffy tried to think of something to say – trying to draw her at first on the topics they had been talking of before, he could scarcely get more than single-word answers out of the lady, her eyes remaining fixed on the fire. Subconsciously steering a course away from the awkward silences that resulted, he began to tell his own tales – their investigations in Delberz, the beastmen on the road, his own past. The bandits and the blunderbuss, growing up in the village, leaving Delberz – Lily’s death. Words to fill the silent spaces.

By the time the intricately-crafted clock on the left wall was showing three o’clock, he had exhausted his repertoire of stories, making himself positively hoarse from the telling. Hans and Alfons were still going fine when he had last put his head around the kitchen door, although the stable-boy was pretty much standing watch over the old man as he slumbered: the decrepit servant’s constitution was not up to the strain of Raffy’s all-night vigil. Maria had left the room once or twice to attend to small things, but had always returned quickly: most importantly, there had been no sign of the rats.

“You were born in Delberz,” said Maria – more a statement than a question, it was probably the longest sentence she had spoken since she sat down. Looking round at Raffy, she hesitated.

“Raffy, do you trust me? I mean, do you really trust me?” Her eyes seemed to fix the Sparrowhawk in place. “What Illiiya said – did you think they could have been true?”

OOC: If the others reach this point in time well before you get back, I will continue with Raffy on autopilot in a subsequent post. Otherwise, I leave it here for now.

[hr]

Ithelus

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By now, the Crow was practically deserted – the landlord woke from a fitful doze at his stool as Ithelus entered, his hand reaching for the cudgel below the counter. Seeing the state the elf was in, his eyes widened.

“Sigmar’s teeth, what ‘appened to you?”
“Is Raffy here?” he asked, without answering. “Raffy the Sparrowhawk?”
“What the young lad with the hair? Nah, haven’t seen him.”

Cursing to himself, Ithelus left the inn, heading towards Doctor Rasen’s. Knocking on the door, there was no reply – the bruises Kleiner’s man had given him aching something fierce, he began to knock continuously, his patience wearing thin.

After a long while, he caught a glimmer of candlelight approaching under the crack in the door: clad in a tatty, patched nightgown, the doctor opened the door, peering blearily out at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Gods, what have you done to yourself now?”

[hr]

Pieter

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The men looked around at each other.

“Sure, one more.” The man who had lost consistently laughed to himself. “I think that’s all my purse can take.”
The last round’s winner nodded. “Tuppence again?”

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(1d100)[22], (1d100)[54], (1d100)[79], (1d100)[38], (1d100)[63]

Once again, it was one of Pieter's newfound friends who took the pot.

"You play a good game of Knives, Mister Kurt. Maybe we'll see you round here again?"