[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Pieter calculated his net earnings and put a quarter of the sum (eight pennies) in a different pocket: this money would go to the first beggars he met tomorrow.

"Yes, I'm going to stay at the Arms for a while, I think. But I'm not here during the day."

Because I'm too busy trying to solve a bunch of murders.



OOC: Can we expect to time-skip to tomorrow in the near future? If it's going to take a while, I'll find something else to do before bedtime.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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((Rare moment of internet access; don't count on more before 9/13))

At Maria's question, Raffy makes a bold move: he scoots over to her and puts his arm around her.

"Maria, when I came here, my job was to investigate. When the elf said she sensed witchcraft around you, I had my share of questions. But from the first moment I met you... I have always had the greatest respect. Maria, I trust you, with all my heart."

((This may lead into some confession or further question from her. If so let's resolve that first. Later in the night I have the following to offer as well....))

"You're so tense. Maria, I believe I know who the thief is. I'll be after him tomorrow. Here..." He reaches into the breast pocket of his brand new jacket and withdraws the flower that is tucked there.

((If needs be I am willing to spend a Fate point to have the flower handy; given the time of year it may be a holly cluster, snowdrop or some local winter-blooming plant.))

Shifting his position, he runs the flower along the back of her neck. He traces outlines on neck, shoulder, and jaw. He keeps it light enough that it tickles and barely brushes.

He waits till he sees goose-pimples rise on her skin and then waits a little more, continuing to torture her with the flower's caress. Only when she can't stand it and is about to break away does he place the corsage in his teeth to free his hands, and begin to rub her neck and shoulders, assuaging both the itch from the flower and the tension of the robbery....

((Okay I don't want to get into too much mushy description and break a PG-13 rating here. But yeah, unless something else she says above completely precludes it, or she shoves him rudely away, he is making his move. Women don't beg their admirers to spend the night 1-on-1 in their room unless they are interested. So, imagine the massage moves to kissing and then whatever else. Hopefully young Sparrowhawk makes love to his darling this night.))

((OH! And if it will help moves things along at all, he makes the following confession: "Maria, I love you." And he means it. But if it isn't necessary to say, then in true Jane Eyre fashion, he holds back stating his feelings out of uncertainty.))

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus shakes his head, 'Got jumped, beaten. Some sort of anti-elf thing I think. Can you treat and bind my cuts? I don't want them to get infected.

[LCP]

Raffy

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At Maria's question, Raffy makes a bold move: he scoots over to her and puts his arm around her.

"Maria, when I came here, my job was to investigate. When the elf said she sensed witchcraft around you, I had my share of questions. But from the first moment I met you... I have always had the greatest respect. Maria, I trust you, with all my heart."

“Thank you,” she said, quietly. Her eyes returned to the fire, but her hand snaked back to brush against the front of Raffy’s shirt. “Rafale, this robbery... there’s only one person who can be behind it.” She closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. “So stupid of me, to underestimate him... he knew, he knew what I was expecting. A mailed fist, not a... a thief in the night.”

Opening her eyes, she looked up at Raffy.

“There are things I couldn’t tell you when you first came here. Things I still can’t. The Lector would use them to burn us out, to bring us all down. You have to believe me – the cause of all this, the single greatest threat to Delberz, is that man.” She moved her hand to his arm. “I’m not talking about politics, or philosophy. I’m talking about the murders. About the Cathedral. The thief – it means his Templar means to destroy me.”

She hesitated, watching Raffy’s expression.

“I have to leave this house. Please believe me. I have to hide, and when I do, you have to be gone. They can never know you were here.” She paused. “I’ll find you. Once it’s safe. I know it’s so much to ask – but I need you to believe me, just once. I need your trust.”

OOC: Still continuing with the second half of your post? If things get to the point where the others are waiting to move on and it would be too long to wait, I’ll assume so.

[hr]

Ithelus

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Rasen gave an extremely grudging nod.

“You’d best come in, then,” he said. Shutting the door behind the elf, he vanished upstairs, returning rather haphazardly dressed. Gesturing wordlessly for his patient to take a seat on the table, he fished among his tools: Ithelus couldn’t help but think twice about his decision to come to the doctor at this late hour, as the man still seemed to be half-asleep as he rummaged through the gleaming metal objects in the drawer.

Turning back to the elf, Rasen looked him up and down, looking closely at Ithelus’ cuts: mumbling to himself, he shovelled his tools back into their drawer, cutting off a length of clean white bandage and going to work.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Some heavy bruising, but these are very shallow cuts.” He looked up at Ithelus’ face. “Where’d it happen?”

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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Rafale, this robbery... there’s only one person who can be behind it. So stupid of me, to underestimate him... he knew, he knew what I was expecting. A mailed fist, not a... a thief in the night.”

He holds her tighter.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at Raffy.

There are things I couldn’t tell you when you first came here. Things I still can’t. The Lector would use them to burn us out, to bring us all down. You have to believe me – the cause of all this, the single greatest threat to Delberz, is that man.

"I know," he breathes.

She moved her hand to his arm.

“I’m not talking about politics, or philosophy. I’m talking about the murders. About the Cathedral. The thief – it means his Templar means to destroy me.”

She hesitated, watching Raffy’s expression.

He simply held her gaze with his own, not a trace of doubt or scorn in it.

I have to leave this house. Please believe me. I have to hide, and when I do, you have to be gone. They can never know you were here.... I’ll find you. Once it’s safe. I know it’s so much to ask – but I need you to believe me, just once. I need your trust.

He nodded a calm, reassuring nod. For a moment his eyes turned back to the fireplace, leaving her own searching eyes in the privacy of the dark room.

And then he turned back to her and kissed her, a long kiss that pushed her back somewhat in the chair. The passion and urgency of any young lover was amplified by the great danger they were in...

((So yeah, cue mushy stuff, with or without rose-blossom goosebump massage.))

[LCP]

Raffy

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Maria pulled her head back a little – then she kissed him back, rather enthusiastically.

“I knew you’d understand,” she breathed, the fearful tremor evaporating from her voice. She looked at Raffy with a strange smile. “I was wrong before. What is the point of fighting for our liberties if we give them up them along the way?”

She wasn’t looking for an answer. In the kitchen, Alfons shot a suspicious glance at the door, then shook his head and looked down at the floor...

OOC:

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So yeah. Feel free to write anything more you wish for the night, although for the sake of my own comfort zone, PG 13 . Otherwise, this seems a good place to break things off - I'll move things on when enough time has elapsed for the others.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Pieter walked over to the innkeeper's counter and paid for another night at the Graf's Arms.

Haggle 20: (d100)[14] (Success. How much do I save?)

Although very tired, he got out into the chilly night to take a long walk and clear his head before going to bed. He kept his eyes open for beggars or street children to whom he could give the handful of coppers he had set aside.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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((Actually, that is a perfect discretion shot. I see no need to write anything further of their lovemaking, except to say that this is (I think) the first time an RPG character of mine was able to court someone in a grand romantic sense, and that is pretty awesome.

I assume we get little if any sleep, since it was 3 am when we started, and she needs to leave early. If possible please describe Raffy to other PCs as looking tired but very happy.

Is there any special plan Raffy needs to help with for getting her out of town? If not....))

When morning's glow embraced the ominous streets of the Manor District, the Sparrowhawk gave his beloved a final kiss on the cheek... the neck.... eventually the lips. "How will I find you," he says, lacking the rising tone of a question.

Once he has this information, he assures her, "I will be there, Maria. We'll find each other again."

Then, pulling his hat on over his mussed and henna-decked hair, he let himself out the front door of House Samtzunge and goes in search of a gunsmith.

((Raffy wants to buy 1 or 2 pistols, depending on what they cost, and takes his satchel of money with him.))

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya and Lothar have a moment of bonding that pulls her back from the edge of an emotional crisis that keeps her from going insane and killing ever.... oh, now I've given away too much.

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Lothar shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pulling at the stiff, too-warm collar of his new coat. "I'nt speakin' for everyone. That Pieter, he seems a bit- snivelly to me, a bit wormy. He might not be as kind or fun-loving as me or Raffy. An' I'm not goin' to pretend that what you said- that wasn't scary-like." He shook his head, pushing the near-empty mug aside.

""Cause it's a right frightenin' idea, that you might go- I dunno. Might go 'somewhere else', and some weirdo takes your place, kills you dead without touchin' yer skin. But. I believe you. An' we're yer friends, and it's a big ol' world out there, and so I'm willin' to trust you."

He reached part way across the table as if to take Illiiya's hand, and paused uncomfortably. He cleared his throat instead and looked away, signalling a barmaid. "Ah, how about we talk about something else, then? Or drink some more. Or I could show you dice. Let's do that. Dice're good fun. Specially with, um. Friends."

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I... um... a-all right. Illiiya muttered uncertainly, but with the faintest hint of a relieved smile, I don't really know how to play. Can you teach me?

OCC: We can call our chat there and move ahead if you like. Unless you've got more GP, Illiiya's gonna be quiet and shy, but almost... happy, for the rest of the night.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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'On the edge of the town, I was doing some work...' he trails off. 'Sorry to bother you at this time.' He drops five schillings on the table after his ministrations as he leaves and heads to Faulkes street.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

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The ‘barmaid’ of the Carter’s Rest turned out to be a rather burly man with a thick, straw-coloured beard. Striding over to their table, he looked down at Lothar and Illiiya with beetling brows.

“Yus?”

After a small initial misunderstanding where Illiiya tried to ask for wine and the man stared at her as if she had asked for the moons on a plate – although that might just have been her appearance – the evening began to pass more comfortably, the elf examining a mug of ale as if it was some kind of strange elixir. Surprisingly, it was quite good – strong, too, none of the weak, acrid water they served in the Crow. The inn’s customers were mainly rural men, and they knew what made a good ale. Half of them probably helped transport it here in the first place. Lothar could not find anyone to join their dice game – those who he asked mumbled and sidled away, their superstitions regarding elves clearly getting the better of them. Nevertheless, Illiiya seemed to follow along as he explained the rules, and quite quickly Lothar found himself glad that they were not playing for money.

As the hours wore past and the night began to blur together, Ithelus failed to show his face, Illiiya growing progressively more concerned. Peering out of one of the inn’s shuttered windows, Lothar could see a fine mist of rain descending through the dark, turning the rutted mud of the road outside into even more of a quagmire. Faulkes Street was some way away: the idea of the slight little elf making her way back alone didn’t seem right, and the idea of going with her didn’t seem warm or dry either.

Turning to the landlord, Lothar secured a bed for Illiiya: the man looked at Lothar with raised eyebrows, but said nothing, merely pursing his lips as he counted out their money. With one last reluctant glance towards the door – as if Ithelus would come through it any moment – Illiiya went upstairs to sleep, Lothar following soon after.

OOC: There will be a short break while I resolve just one more thing for someone else. Deduct rulebook prices for however much drink you feel is appropriate, bearing in mind that the Carter’s Rest does not sell anything ‘fancy’. GP, your accommodation costs for tonight are doubled, obviously.

[hr]

Ithelus

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Heading back to Faulkes Street, Ithelus silently let himself in through the front door – there was no sound or light inside, the entire house as still as death. It would be, at this hour: quite aside from his bruises, the elf felt dog-tired. There could not be that many hours left until morning.

Opening the trapdoor to the cellar, he saw that Illiiya wasn’t there: she must have stayed somewhere else for the night. Before he could descend the ladder, he noticed something – a smell in the air, like raw meat that had been left out.

Closing the trapdoor for a moment, he noticed that their miserly landlord had been busy – planks had been nailed over the cracks in the skirting-boards, the old man evidently having read Marius’ announcement. The smell seemed to be coming from upstairs: looking at the narrow staircase, he noticed a thin streak of what looked like sawdust that seemed to have drizzled down the topmost two or three steps from the upper landing, showing bright against dusty wood of the stairs...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus drew his sickle from his belt. Why tonight? He began to walk up the stairs, praying that he wouldn't find what he feared he would. Images of the grining skull played into his head. He was torn between calling out or not....

'...hello?' He swallows, 'Hello?' he calls out louder

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Slowly ascending the stairs, the source of the sawdust became apparent: one of the landlord’s rat-proofing boards was practically in two pieces, a ragged-edged hole gnawed straight through its centre to reveal a dark cavity in the wall behind. Chips of wood had been scattered in all directions: they, however, did not draw Ithelus’ attention. What drew his attention were the dots – little red dots on the dusty, uncarpeted floorboards, little red dots rubbed up against the base of the wall beside the hole.

They formed a broad, irregular trail: following it to its destination, Ithelus found himself looking up at the door to the old man’s bedroom, standing slightly ajar. Keen ears straining through the silence, he thought he could just make out the faintest sound of scuttling from the other side.

[hr]

Pieter

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Stepping out into the deepening night, Pieter quickly found himself drenched to the skin: the rain was not a heavy, driving rain, but it fell in a slowly-descending, all-permeating mist that seeped through the initiate’s clothes as if they were not there.

Heading north along the Delb, he made his charitable donation to the first beggar he could find – a hunched little man, all swaddled up in rags, caught the discarded change, mumbling something along the lines of “bless you” in a hoarse, reedy voice before scurrying away. Across the west bank of the river, the cathedral reared its scaffold-shrouded head at him, frowning down as if in disapproval as it reflected the night lights of the town.

It was no night to be out. Huddling up against the rain, Pieter completed his walk at a brisk pace and headed back to the Arms...

OOC: Hopefully wrapping up the evening soon. Hang in there!

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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It would be a bad night for the refugees who did not have a tent, but there was nothing the initiate could do about it. He hoped the foul weather would not stop the lazier guards from doing their job.

Back at the Arms, he went up to his room, sat on the wooden floor and drew his dagger. He then patiently cut his mandrake root into the tiniest bits he could manage, following the instinct that had led him to pick it up in the first place. The whole process took him nearly twenty minutes and proved enormously soothing for his nerves.

He put the bits of mandrake root into his pocket and knelt for his evening prayer.


Give me cunning and luck, Ranald. I'm going to need it.
Help me protect the people, the refugees, the beggars.
Help me rescue the slaves.
Help me prevent any more violence.
Save Maria from harm.
And may all Hounds get a nasty venereal disease that leaves them impotent for the rest of their lives.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Taking a deep breath Ithelus kicks open the door

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The door slammed inwards under Ithelus’ boot and rebounded off something on the other side – the elf recoiled as a bloody hand slumped into view.

The landlord’s corpse was blocking the door – it looked like he had died reaching for it, one arm outstretched. Sprawled across the floor, his cheap clothes were a shredded mess: they and the rest of the room had been soaked with the old man’s blood, red gristle glistening where the flesh had been practically gnawed from his bones.

Three little black rats still remained in the room, worrying at the dead man’s innards – as Ithelus opened the door, one of them looked up with a high-pitched squeak, scuttling out of the opened belly in which it had been foraging and making for the window. It sleek fur matted with gore, where it ran its paws left specks of red behind. Just like the marks outside, just like the marks at the first murder he had witnessed. The footprints of the swarm…

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus reacts fast and with a grunt he dives after one of the rats, hoping to catch it, even as his stomach begins to heave.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Lunging after the nearest rat as the three rodents scattered, Ithelus seized it up - its fur was slick with the old man's blood, however, the little monster slipping wetly through his hands and dropping to the floor. Chittering angrily, it scuttled away faster than Ithelus could pursue, darting through the open door and vanishing into the chewed hole in the landing outside like a streak of black lightning.

Rolls

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Ag Test - (1d100)[67]

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus made it about two steps after the rat before his threw up, dropping to his knees. The skull was infront of him again, laughing at him as he emptied his guts. Why is there always so much blood?

Crawling from the room he wiped the spittle from him chin, still dry wretching. He made his way down the stairs and out the front door. He stumbled along the street heading to the guard house.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The Guard House seemed a long, long way away – fleeing the Faulkes Street house as quickly as he could, Ithelus stumbled through the darkened streets, the night’s exertions catching up with him. On his way, he couldn’t help but see them: the rats in the corners, the rats in the shadows. There were rats everywhere in the Lower Town. Forcing his aching legs to obey him, he broke into a run.

At this hour of the morning, the Guard House was practically deserted: a single watchman sat behind the desk in the front hall, slumbering by the fitful light of a glass-cased lantern. He woke with a start as Ithelus entered, his hand straying to the shortsword at his belt as Ithelus entered.

“Gods’ blood,” the bearded man grunted. “What happened to you?”

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus stumbled to the desk, trying his best to clean his chin of dried vomit - his blood soaked knees, bloodid hands, bandages and newly devolping black eye he could do nothing about. 'There's been another murder' he pants, 'At Faulkes street. It was rats! I saw them eating him!'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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"Y'what?" asked the Guard incoherently, nerves getting the better of him as the dishevelled elf came closer. "You mean - another one of them killings?"

When Ithelus failed to assure him that no, it was all just a practical joke, he looked around with an extremely reluctant expression.

"I'll, um... I'll just wake Gruber, then. Got t'have someone on watch. I mean, I suppose... I suppose I'd best go with you?"

Again, the questioning tone was disappointed. Waking the guard in question from an adjoining room, he adjusted his dirty uniform and picked up a halberd that was leaning against the wall.

"Well," he said, doing his best to sound authoritative and bold, and not doing very well. "You'd best take me to, um - to the scene of the crime."

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus nods and points the guard to the door. He then leads him to faulkes street, almost comically hiding behing the Guard with the big shiney axe.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Making their way back through the drifting cold of the rain to the Faulkes Street house, the guard and Ithelus looked up at the shadowed face of the house: the door was still hanging ajar where Ithelus had fled.

Advancing to the door, the man slowly prodded it open with his halberd, looking around slowly at the darkened hall.

"Where's the, um... where's the body?" he asked in a whisper. Before Ithelus could answer, a high-pitched sound split the air outside, strained and distant from somewhere away over the rooftops towards the south-western edge of town: a woman's horrified scream...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus shivered and made a warding guesture, 'Evil's afoot tonight,' He almost whimpers. 'upstairs, although you might want to go check that out, the body's not going anywhere.'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The Guard made the sign of the hammer over his chest, mumbling a prayer to Sigmar under his breath.

"It's been afoot most every night, these last few days." He breathed out, lowering his voice. "Sigmar preserve us, it's happening again..."

Seeming to make up his mind, the watchman shook his head. "There oughter be someone on watch. It ain't our concern. I mean - I mean, it's in the 'ands of the law." He looked up the stairs, swallowing nervously. "This one's our concern."

Heading upstairs with some trepidation, the watchman's eyes followed the trail of blood from the hole in the wall to the old landlord's door - looking away, he covered his nose and mouth, going a little paler than he had already been.

"Aye," he said. "Aye, that's... that's a body." He looked back at Ithelus. "How'd you find him?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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'I'm renting out the cellar, came back and followed the trail...' He trails off into mumbles, 'I heard scratching, they was eating him when I came back...' He shivers. 'I think I'll find somewhere else to stay the night.' He nods at the guard and turns around. He heads in the direction of the [insert inn name here]

[LCP]

Ithelus

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"Yeah, I suppose you would... you would want to..." said the guard, trailing off as he tried to keep his eyes off the corpse. "I'll, um, I'll make sure the body gets taken care of."

He looked at Ithelus. "You're one of the Captain's investigators, ain't you? He might want to speak to you tomorrow. Since you're, um, you know. A witness."

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus aknowladges the man with a wave of a hand and a mumble. He then turns and staggers towards the Cater's Rest. Who knows? he thinks bitterly, I might make it by sunrise.

[LCP]

Raffy

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As the dawn twilight began to lighten the sky outside the window, Raffy woke, not even realising he had fallen asleep. Maria had already risen and changed: perhaps for the first time, he saw her face completely clean of powder or rouge. The effect was strikingly unchanged. She was looking at herself in a small mirror on the wall – as she realised Raffy was awake, she turned to look at him, passing her left hand gracefully over her right.

When morning's glow embraced the ominous streets of the Manor District, the Sparrowhawk gave his beloved a final kiss on the cheek... the neck.... eventually the lips. "How will I find you," he says, lacking the rising tone of a question.

“I’ll find you,” she murmured in reply, keeping her voice too low to be heard beyond the walls of the room. “Count on it,” she said, with a mischievous smile. “You won’t be able to keep me away.”

Glancing out of the window, she placed a hand on his chest.

“You have to go. Now.”

[hr]

Stepping outside, Raffy looked back up at the stone face of the house: Alfons was systematically working his ways through the upper floors, shuttering up the windows.

A strange sense of warmth still suffusing him, Raffy brought himself to turn away, pulling his hat down over his tousled hair. The weariness in his limbs seeming as distant and irrelevant to him as the shores of Lustria, he set out towards his next destination.

OOC: Which is? I presume you’re no longer going gun-shopping.

[hr]

Lothar, Ithelus & Illiya

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Rising at first light, Lothar and Illiiya headed downstairs to a surprising sight: Ithelus was slumped in one of the rough chairs of the common hall, sleeping deeply against the surface of the wooden table before him. The left side of the elf’s face was horribly bruised, a great blue-black shiner practically swelling his eyelids shut: his hands and forearms were bandaged too, Lothar taking a moment to note the elf’s back still moving up and down before making any assumptions.

“He a friend of yours?” asked the barman, gruffly. “Came in here some ungodly hour this mornin’, hammerin’ on the door to wake me up. Said ‘e knew you.” He sniffed. “Weren’t goin’ to give him one o’ my beds, lookin’ like that.”

OOC: Exeson – feel free to wake up whenever you feel appropriate

[hr]

Pieter

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Morning came with no screams of newly-made widows to herald it – at least, not in Pieter’s immediate vicinity. That, at least, was something.

The sun was rising, the first slivers of its light casting rosy reflections against the squalor of the town’s eastern sprawl. Another day.

Time to get moving.