[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus laughed at the man's plight. 'Drop your weapon! Hound' He calls as he moves with the crowd, 'Get the one going for the bridge!'

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Some of the members of the mob heeded Ithelus' call, but the running Hound already had a head-start: on the elf's right, his colleague vanished beneath a sea of ragged bodies, fists flying as the man struggled to bring his halberd to bear. His screams were quite alarming.

OOC: The crowd are too far behind to catch the fleeing Hound, but if Ithelus chose to gave chase himself, he's faster than these apes...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus curses but keeps pace with the mob, no use singling himself out. If the mob is becoming too separated he will urge the front group to wait whilst punishment is being given to the Hound.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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((OOC: I loves my doctor. ))

“A whole keg? Ulric’s teeth, what d’you want that for?”

"That's exactly what they'll ask you. So listen carefully. "'Mister, what with this Sparrowhawk on the loose my boys and I are going to keep armed just in case. May as well stock up 'afore prices rise from the whole town in a panic.' Say it with me. 'Mister, what with this Sparrowhawk on the loose...'"

Once he's satisfied the man can competently handle this purchasing run, he'll slip him the money it'll take to buy the goods. "Don't haggle. And you might think of makin' a runner with it... but if you do?" He leans in and whispers in the man's ear. "The Sparrowhawk will kill you."

If the man still has the gall, Raffy will walk with him toward the Altmarket. If there is a pump or well along the way he'll drink a full quart or so of water, and make the man drink at least a pint to boot; get the smell of liquor dampened down at the very least.

He'll wait about a block from the store, in a place where he can see its entrance. With his shabby coat on he can just slump down against a wall and look fairly beggarly; might offer a chance to overhear people's opinions on the duel as well.

((Any sign of guards or hired citizens at sewer-grates?))

[LCP]

Ithelus

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The second Hound was fast vanishing out of sight up ahead – meanwhile, the first resurfaced, bloody and stripped half-naked, as the mob tossed him up above their heads, throwing him back and forth like a hunting-party with a trophy. The man yelped and wailed, the crowd surging forward once more towards the river...

OOC: More will follow when I can make sure I have everyone up to speed: since you’ll be headed to uni, I don’t suppose I could get a rough plan for Ithelus’ actions? That way, I can follow at least until it hits a significant obstacle.

[hr]

Pieter

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”An adventure!” said Lira enthusiastically. Mother only shook her head, looking warily at Pieter.
“Alright...” she said, reluctantly. “I s’pose...”

The prospect of a reward still pulling her along like a hooked fish, she followed Pieter towards Judge’s Square. They were just arriving when a commotion broke out on the other side of the square, a man wearing the ragged ribbon of the Hounds sprinting out from one of the eastward streets.

“The Fields!” he shouted, not stopping but running straight in the direction Tempelplatz. “The Fields are revolting!”

[hr]

Raffy

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The man was inebriated enough to be easily intimidated – and easily led. Mesmerised by the sparkle of Raffy’s coins, he assented, the Sparrowhawk practically having to guide him through the now-crowded streets to prevent the misty-eyed drunk losing his way.

Unfortunately, they passed no pump on their path. Perhaps simply because the doctor had raised it in his mind, or due to the number of layers he was now wearing – or perhaps due to loss of blood – Raffy was beginning to feel uncommonly thirsty by the time they approached the Altmarket. As they did so, a figure streaked past them on the road ahead, wearing the white ribbon of the Hounds and moving at a flat-out sprint.

“The Fields!” came the militiaman’s receding shout. “Revolt! Rebellion! The Fields!”

OOC: You see no sign of anyone standing watch at sewer grates.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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"My gods," breathed Pieter. "It's started." He fidgeted, not knowing what to do next. "Sorry again, madam, but perhaps you should go home for the time being. Things are about to get ugly."

[LCP]

Pieter

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Watching the Hound run, the woman nodded.

"Right you are, sir," she said. "Come on, Lira."
"But mummy, I want to see what the man's shouting about..."
"I said come on!"

Seizing her daughter's arm, the woman hurried quickly out of the square. "It was the big pipe!" shouted Lira to Pieter as she was dragged away. "He went into the big pipe!"

Guards were filtering out of the door of the Guard House, staring at the running militiaman as he pounded out of the square. Ducking out of the doorway, Pieter recognised the Captain...

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The initiate grinned fiercely in spite of himself. He'd see the captain later: now was not the time to get arrested. Quickly, he put on the brown robes in which he had preached to the refugees, and ran northeast.

He had to make sure his revolution did not get out of hand. But most of all, he had to make sure his revolution did not happen without him.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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"Good gods man," Raffy said, slipping his new friend an extra coin in anticipation of a sudden price hike and giving him a shove toward the shop. "Be quick about it."

He takes his seat as planned and braces to see what will happen next.

Duplicates.... he thinks. If I just had some duplicates.

[LCP]

Pieter

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Moving quickly, the initiate followed the perturbed wake the Hound had left among the people of the square - heading in the direction of the Altmarket, he asked quick questions of the passers-by as the man's trail began to dissipate. He didn't need to do so for long - drifting on the wind, angry voices were rising from the direction of the North Bridge...

[hr]

Raffy

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Swaying into the shop, the man disappeared from view - as he waited, Raffy began to hear a faint but growing clamour of voices, angry shouts and yells growing closer. It was hard to tell, but they seemed to be coming from the direction of the North Bridge...

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Running as fast as he could without tripping on his robes, Pieter headed toward the North Bridge. He made sure his shortsword was loose in its scabbard: soon he may be fighting for his life.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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Meanwhile, Lothar was having difficulty with his Hound companion. The soldier tried to convince him to head to Halbermann, to give the sergeant his report: "Kid's gone to ground. Gonna try diggin' up some of his friends." The Hound was having none of that; the formerly-bearded mercenary had managed to rid himself of the baggage of the other Hounds, and the fellow knew his orders.

So, resigned to his belligerent bodyman, Lothar Fischer set out in search of a Kislevite Playwright, in the hopes that he may find a hint to Maria Samztunge- and from there, the Sparrowhawk.

[LCP]

Lothar

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Making quick time to Wishbone Street and the eclectic hodge-podge of decaying architecture that the place called a theatre, Lothar and the Hound stood looking up at the building’s painted facade, the gods, demons and heroes that danced above the door looking down just as they had the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that.

“Right,” said Lothar, dusting off his hands. “There’s a little yard round back. Got someone I need to ask a few questions of.” He turned to his companion. “You wait here, watch that front door.”
“Wait – hey, wait!” shouted the militiaman, as Lothar began to move off. “You ain’t going anywhere without me, mister. Sergeant said we were to keep an eye on you. Jus’ ‘cos you got rid of the others, don’t mean you can lose me too.”
Lothar raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t have a problem with that at Herr Kleiner’s place.”
“Yeah, well, that were a little shop. An’ there were three of us, and we had it surrounded, and one of us went in with you. Jus’ like’s gonna happen now.”
Lothar nodded. "Quite reasonable. Alright, then- come with me, but stay in the 'yard? Or cover up that white brand- you'll spook people."

He sighed. "If you like, I'll point out the sinners later."

Nodding in agreement, the Hound removed his armband, shoving it in a pocket – his rusty hookbill still marking him out fairly obviously as one of the militia – the man following Lothar like a bloodhound on a trail, they made their way around to the side, letting themselves in via the yard which Lothar had seen the others use before.

It seemed to be a fallow time for the theatre – understandable, perhaps, in the present circumstances. A couple of stage-hands were loading up a wagon with something or other, their attention more on the job than on the newcomers.

“’Scuse me, gents,” said Lothar, as amiably as he could. “Either of you seen Mister Vanya around? The Kislevite fellow. Playwright.”
“Ol’ Dmitri?” said one of them, looking down from the back of the cart. “Wish I ‘ad, sir. Mister Ziegeberger’s livid. Ain’t no-one seen him this whole mornin’. Room’s empty, all his scripts and stuff just lyin’ about.”
“You ask me,” said the other, in a deeper, more gravelly voice, “they’ll find him soon enough. Lyin’ in the gutter somewhere, that’s the clever man’s bet.” With a grunt, he shifted a baulk of timber up onto the wagon. “Likes his drink a little too much, ol’ Dmitri does.”

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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Lothar's hand went to his own hip flask and grinned. "Oh, I think I understand. My ma's from Kislev, see. Any of you strong Middenlanders know where he liked to get his drink? Or where he likes to go a-wanderin' while composin' his artistic heart... or whatever it is them writers say."

The soldier slipped out the flask and offered it to that strong chap lifting all that drought-inducing timber.

[LCP]

Lothar

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The timber-shifter accepted the drink, but shook his head.

"Wasn't one for socialisin' much with us. For all he was skint, he always used to hang out with them nobs up Manor Street way." He shrugged. "Dunno where they'd go of a night."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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"Ah, soddin' nobs, eh? Always badgering you except when you need one o' the buggers for somethin' else." He scratched at his ear circumspectly. "He didn' wink a lot at a special chorus girl or somethin', did he? She might know where to find him..."

[LCP]

Lothar

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One of the men sucked his teeth, seeming to consider the question.

"Don't think so," he said. "Nah, can't think of anyone here." His companion smirked. "I always thought ol' Dmitri played for the other side," he said, taking a moment to lean against the wagon and indulge in idle gossip.

"Yeah, could be," said the first one, shrugging. "Or both. Looked the sort. Like I say, he din't frat-ernise with us much." He looked back at Lothar. "Why'd you ask?"

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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Lothar blinked, and gave a sort of half-grin. "Oh. Uh, right- yes." Sigmar's teeth, I'm from the damn provinces. "Right, well, maybe I'll just slip in, ask Herr Ziegeberger if he has any ideas. The man's neglectin' his duties, might as well help out."

The soldier offered another swig at the alcohol, figuring that would help ease the unanswered question.

[LCP]

Lothar

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"Sure," said the stage-hand idly, glad of the proferred drink. "You'll find him round the front somewhere, down by the 'counting office. Want to watch it, though, 'e might not be too pleased to see you." He raised his eyebrows significantly. "Man's got a shorter temper than a powder-barrel, and today ain't helpin'."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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"Right you are then," the soldier said, heading into the theatre. He made his way through the confusing labyrinth that is the backstage of a theatre, eventually emerging -dustier and confused for the trip- somewhere near the front.

Spotting a grumpy looking fellow haranguing his staff, the soldier trusted to luck and came over to the man. "Herr Ziegeberger, I presume? Lothar, on behalf o' the City Watch- I hear yer missin' a playwright."

[LCP]

Lothar

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Looking up from the desk of the accountant he had been leaning over, Ziegeberger frowned intensely at Lothar. A short, wiry man with a pointed black goatee and a tight-collared, expensive-looking jerkin, he had the look of a man perpetually on the brink of apoplexy.

"City Watch?" he snapped. "You mean the Guard? I don't see your uniforms. I didn't send for anyone, either."

He looked from Lothar to the Hound and back.

"Mr Vanya is missing, yes. How did you know?"

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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Lothar shrugged. "It's my day off, see, and my cousin -Dieter- well, he's friends with Dorothee-Maria, and her brother works out back and said somethin' to her when she came by with his lunch. Dieter was all worried, 'cause he really loves your shows, but without the writer, figures that there might be delays, so he sent me t' look into it."

Lothar somehow managed to keep a straight face. "So I hear you think he's off sleepin' in a gutter someplace? What's his favourite waterin' hole? He got a little ladyfriend -um, or whatever- he might be seein' to? I'll go lookin' for ya, save you some trouble and help out my cousin. Dieter."

[LCP]

Lothar

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Ziegeberger’s irascible expression seemed to be mollified somewhat by the idea that he was talking to a theatre-goer – or at least, the representative of a potential theatre-goer. Straightening up, he coughed, clearing his throat.

“I see. Well, um, you shouldn’t be – you shouldn’t be concerned, sir.” He paused. “Mr Vanya is a rather temperamental man, you see, being, ahem, an artiste” – he managed to say the word with a contempt usually reserved for words like “gutter-scum” – “and I’m sure he will reappear shortly. We have had a few... personal differences of late, about things like, ah, deadlines, and editing.”

He shook his head.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you where he might have got to. If I knew, I would have looked there.” He paused. “We don’t get on,” he added, as if it needed saying.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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"Well, Herr Ziegeberger, is there someone else about? Those fellows out back, they said he don't talk with them much either, but he's no Shallyan hermit, all locked in a cell scribblin' away?" The soldier tried to look worried, but the smile twitching at the edge of his lips probably meant that he just looked constipated.

"Maybe the, I don't know, the costume manager? Another artistic type?"

[LCP]

Lothar

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Ziegeberger shook his head.

"He's never exactly made friends here, Mr, um, Lothar. Only came down to Delberz after Erengrad was sacked, I believe. Has some friends in high-born circles that he chooses to associate with. Other than that, he comes here to do a job of work."

The man's face was sour.

"When he can be bothered."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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"Well, I'll just have a quick nudge about his room, then. Maybe there's be a convenient flagon with a restin' cart on the side, sort of thing." He sounded doubtful. "Then I'll get out of your hair."

He paused. "Um. My, uh, my cousin was wonderin'- well, he sent me to help you out, so he was wonderin' if he could get a discount maybe. There's this girl he's seein'-"

[LCP]

Lothar

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At the mention of the word 'discount', Ziegeberger went a deeper shade of puce.

"Absolutely not!" he said, raising his voice again. "Off with you! Off with you, sir! Your Captain will hear about this, you may count on it."

The door of the accounting office was slammed behind them. Turning to his 'friend' and shrugging, Lothar made his way back to the little side-room in which he had seen Illiiya question Lenkster and Vanya so... forcefully before.

The door-handle rattled under his grip - the door was locked, although it looked cheap and flimsy enough.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar

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"Heh," Lothar chuckled. "That was fun."

He rattled the door a bit and frowned. "Oh!" He cried loudly. "I've-" slam "-fallen"- slam "-into the door. Oops."

(1d100)[81]
(1d100)[12]

[LCP]

Lothar

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The door banged open on the second 'fall' - stumbling through, Lothar found himself in the familiar paper-strewn office. There was the rickety desk, the bottle that had been resting on it the last time he had been here conspicuous by its absence - an ill-kept pallet was jammed up in one corner, while the ashes of last night's fire were still cooling in the tiny fireplace - more of a stove than anything else.

OOC: Looking for anything in particular?

[goblinpaladin]

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Anything out of place. But I wasn't kidding about the stein with a tavern's logo on it- fancy places might have something like that.

Originally I was looking for anything written that might be off, but Lothar can't read. Oops.

Here, have a dice roll-- wait, no, don't. You make a dice roll. Yes. I'll spend a fortune point.