[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (III)

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter & Co

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Pieter did his best to regain his seriousness. This was important: if he got executed, someone had to stop the sorcerer, even if that someone was a conniving, tyrannical, bigoted old vulture.

"Not long ago, my friends and I were almost eaten alive by a horde of rats while in the tunnels," explained Pieter. "So we know that's where the rats are. I've been deeper in those tunnels than any of your men. Now, you may not believe me, but I found... slave pens. Grimy, emaciated slaves kept in cages." His eyes grew flinty and his voice hardened at the memory. "They say you were once a true man of Sigmar. If you're still so much as a shadow of that man, Herr von Kemperbad, you will send a party of men into those tunnels to free those slaves and stop the sorcerer. And you will do it before tonight."

"As for an access... I might have a lead," he said vaguely.

[LCP]

Pieter, Raffy, Lothar & Illiiya

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"Which you will tell me," breathed the Lector, stepping forwards to fix the initiate with his adder-like gaze. In the gaunt priest's eyes, Pieter could see the gleam of the torture-chamber, Jagrun's iron-fanged instruments of interrogation seeming to grin at him through the castle's stone bowels.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter & Co

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Pieter held the Lector's gaze.

"You do realize you're trying to threaten a man with nothing to lose, right?" he said coolly. "You don't exactly hold the higher ground, Jowls. If I tell you what I know, the only thing you will give me in return is a slightly less unpleasant death. I'll pass."

A joyless smile touched his lips. "So... I won't tell you. But maybe I can show you. And your men, of course. They're going to need me down there. I don't know much of the tunnels... but I still know them better than anyone you have."

[LCP]

Pieter, Raffy, Lothar & Illiiya

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Von Kemperbad held his silence for a long moment, seeming to inspect every inch of Pieter's face for the hint of a lie. At last, he seemed to make up his mind.

"Put him back in his cell," he commanded the guards. "See to it he stays there." He looked round. "The rest of you, load the others into the wagon."
"Shouldn't the Baron -"
"The Baron has been informed," snapped von Kemperbad. "Do as I say."

The guards complied, hurling Pieter back into his cell - the door slammed behind him with a rattle of metal as the key turned in the lock, the others making to haul Raffy, Lothar and Illiiya towards the stairs...

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter, alone

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Only then did Pieter start to grow truly nervous. A few minutes ago, he at least had the small comfort of being in the same boat as the others: even the thought of execution was more bearable when you knew you would not stand alone on the gallows. But now...

This is the last time I see them, he thought gloomily as Raffy, Lothar and Illiiya were taken away.

Alone again. Ever since the beginning, events conspired to make him remain an outsider. Perhaps this somehow served Ranald's purpose...

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

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Since their defeat and her injury... Illiiya had been silent and somewhat vacant in manner, not moving much or giving the soldiers trouble. She looked and felt defeated. Despite her best efforts to spare them, the only people who had ever cared for her would die alongside her... and Raffy had been mangled in the reckless attempt to save her.

She was quiet... though this was hardly shocking considering the gag they had fitted her with. She did not seem shocked in the least to see the the Lector... and put up no fuss when they hauled her from her cell. In fact, short of looking sadly to Pieter as they were dragged off, she did not react at all. She seemed resigned to die just as before.

At least she would not be alone...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus walks out the door hoping that today would be less chaotic. He takes a roundabout route to the Guardhouse, trying to assess the damage to the town. Once at the guardhouse he will stand on the opposite side of the square and watch the activity.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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One would need to seek a higher place to see the full extent of the damage the fires had done, but, making his way to Judge's Square, Ithelus got a good enough idea: the periodic trails of smoke showed up sharply against the pale dawn, stretching from the Altdorf road to the south to somewhere around the Walden road to the north.

Reaching Judge's Square, he tried his best to look inconspicuous, standing in an out-of-the-way corner the other side of the square from the Guard House - the place was surprisingly empty, the occasional guard hurrying across towards the west side while sparse trickles of citizen flowed rapidly across the open space. There was a distinct directionality to their wanderings - they seemed to be headed towards the Tempelplatz, drawn like iron to a lodestone...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus watches the guardhouse for a while, was that where Illiiya was being held? His interest turned to the citizens, and with a shrug he followed their path. After all, Lothar said he had things under control, Illiiya was in no great danger.

[LCP]

Raffy, Lothar & Illiiya

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Up the cramped, winding stairwell, past the age-beaten door that had witnessed their capture: Raffy, Lothar and Illiiya were herded out into the courtyard like animals, a caged iron wagon waiting with its barred door yawning unpleasantly open. The chill of the previous night had settled: white streaks of snow mottled the flagstones and iced the high roof of the keep, the occasional snowflake still zig-zagging its lazy way down from the cloudy sky.

One of the guards escorting them giving Raffy a helpful jab in the small of the back to remind him to keep moving, the three were loaded into their wheeled cage: emerging from the door behind them, the Lector cast the prisoners a last disdainful glance before crossing the courtyard ahead of them, swinging himself up into the saddle of a powerful black horse. The gatehouse portcullis rattled up, two liveried guards standing to attention to either side of the open gateway – spurring his horse on, the high priest rode away towards the town below. The last they saw of him was his black robes billowing behind him as the horse rose to a canter, the poor beasts enlisted to pull their own less glamorous transport beginning to plod steadily forwards in his wake.

As they rolled out past the curtain wall, the chilly vista of the town spread out below them – Lothar’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. Framed against the pale dawn light, dirty trailers of smoke twisted up across the eastern side of the town, staining the sky as they rose to mingle with the cold, grey clouds. The fires had evidently done significant damage before they could be brought under control – but even beneath such chaos, the pattern was evident. The blackened pock-marks on the face of the city traced the path of the murders, extended north as far as the Walden Road. If what the Lector said was true, the rate of the killings had more than doubled – the circle was closing, faster than ever before.

The carriage rattled and bumped down the pathway from the castle mound, its carthorses picking up the pace to a weary trot as their route levelled out: on their right, the solid wall of the Morrgarten marked their path, the snow-dusted tombs on the other side seeming to Lothar an ominous signifier of things to come. Ahead of them, the Cathedral reared, an ornate stone colossus – staring up at it, Illiiya realised it was almost complete, only the uppermost reaches of the belltower still shrouded in scaffolding. For now, however, the wooden walkways were empty of their workers.

Jolting over a gutter in the cobbled street, their wagon rounded the corner into Tempeplatz – Raffy found himself staring at the biggest crowd he had ever seen. Burghers and beggars alike rubbed shoulders, in a sea of faces that packed the entire square – some stood on unharnessed carts to get a better view, others peering out of windows or perching on rooftops where the space to stand ran out. Frosty clouds of their breath hung in the air, all eyes forwards as a strange, tense quiet hung in the air: Delberz was watching.

Beneath the shadow of their temple, the Hounds were gathered: a long rank of militiamen in the best of their scavenged arms and armour stood as a breakwater against the crowd, holding them back from the wooden platform that was rising in front of the Cathedral steps. Its purpose was abundantly clear: in its centre, a thick wooden stake had been secured, two Hounds pitching bundles of firewood onto the pyre beneath as a black-robed priest of Sigmar looked solemnly on.

A familiar figure approached – Halbermann grinned up at them, traces of soot still lingering on his yellow-bearded face. For once, though, the man’s heart didn’t seem to be in it – there was a flicker of something behind the militia sergeant’s twinkling eyes, uncertainty or fear robbing his expression of its usual gleeful malice.

“’Allo again,” he said. “So, helpful Mr Fischer was in league with his heretic mates all along, eh?” He smirked, still unable to resist the temptation to goad Lothar. “Shocked I am. See this,” he said, pointing at himself as he assumed a exaggeratedly deadpan air. “This is my surprised face.”

“Sergeant!” called a sharp, commanding voice – Lothar felt the hackles on the back of his neck as he recognised it as the Lector’s. Ulric knew he had had enough of that man for one day.

Handing his horse’s reins to a pair of Hounds, von Kemperbad was striding across the cobbles towards Halbermann.
“Where is young von Brucker? He is supposed to be here.”
“Dunno, sir,” said Halbermann, caught a little off-guard. “I mean – I don’t know, your Eminence. We sent word, he said he’d be here. The Guard are watchin’ the bridges, like you asked – keepin’ the Fields people from crossin’.”
“How many does he need to guard a handful of bridges?” snapped the Lector, irritably. “I want the others here. Here.”
“He seemed in a bit of a mood, your Eminence,” said Halbermann, helpfully. Von Kemperbad only shook his head, looking out at the watching crowd with a calculating gaze. Scurrying away from the side of the prison-wagon, Halbermann sidled up alongside him: Illiiya’s keen ears could still make out the man’s words as he lowered his voice, attempting to talk in secret.

“If you don’t mind, your honour, there’s still that... thing... I were tellin’ you ‘bout. The feller with the knife, last night.”
“The one who attacked you?” said von Kemperbad, coldly. “I agree. Most alarming. I think you’d best find him as quickly as possible, don’t you?”
His sergeant suitably chastised, the Lector looked back at the crowd.
“Push this rabble back, sergeant. There should be a proper space around the platform.”
“Aye, your Eminence.” Snapping off a faltering salute, Halbermann scuttled away, roaring orders at his subordinates as he gladly fled von Kemperbad’s presence – shooting a last poisonous glance at the prisoners in the wagon, the Lector turned away, stalking off towards the wooden stage.

Around them, the line of Hounds began to push forwards, clearing the citizenry from the foot of the steps – the tense quiet of the crowd dissolved, people clamouring and shouting in the sudden crush. For a moment, it seemed like they might push back – then, their struggling ceased, all eyes turning to the tall figure of the Lector as he ascended the steps onto the stage.

Three Hounds approached the wagon: turning a key in the lock, rough hands grabbed Illiiya, pulling her out into the square before the metal door slammed behind her. Two of them began to drag her away, one remaining behind with a crossbow in his hands as he kept a wary eye on the other two prisoners.

“People of Delberz!” cried the Lector, his voice cutting through the icy air. “Our city has stood upon the brink of the precipice for too long. In Sigmar’s name, it is my sacred duty to usher it back into the light.”

The crowd fell silent as the defeated figure of Illiiya was marched up the steps behind him.

“The serpent of Chaos has flourished in our midst,” von Kemperbad declaimed. “It has suckled at the teat of heresy, and grown fat. Well, no more.”

Stretching out one arm, he gestured to Illiiya.

“This inhuman creature is the source of your suffering. She hid her sorcerous powers from Aldric Jagrun of the Templars, and when he was about to exact Sigmar’s justice upon his challenger, she used her witchcraft to intervene.”
A low murmur rose from the crowd.
“Last night,” continued von Kemperbad, raising his voice to cut through the noise, “she was seen to confer with a rat, the very same night that the sorcerous killings have doubled. She is the ally of the so-called ‘Sparrowhawk’, Jagrun’s murderer –“ the murmuring redoubled “-whom we have also captured.”

An amazed silence settled on the crowd – the gathered Hounds cleared a path to the wagon, so that Raffy and Lothar could be seen.

“This is the youth who has set out to make himself your 'hero', Delberz,” continued von Kemperbad, scathingly. “The enormity of his crimes is matched only by those of the heretic and deceiver who has used him. Her name is known to us, and I say it now: Maria Samtzunge.”

“She has used these pawns – her sorceress and her assassin - to slaughter your kin. Under her influence, this lunatic has murdered a Templar of Sigmar, and the Baroness herself. She wishes nothing more than the destruction of this Church, and all we have worked for, for she has sold herself body and soul to the Ruinous Powers.”

The Lector straightened his back, letting his words sink in.

“She has failed. Despite the crimes of her minions, the Cathedral will be completed. Hear me now when I say that no new tithes will be levied, no taxes will be raised. A benefactor has come to the Church in her hour of need. All he asks in return is to be allowed to provide a bell with his own dedication for the tower – a request to which I have happily acquiesced.”

Von Kemperbad paused, swallowing – for just one moment in his rhetorical barrage, he seemed slightly uncertain of himself.

“As such, the tower will be completed today. The Mason’s Guild will be paid in full for their work so far, and for as many men as they need to finish the task. The blasphemer will witness that the will of Sigmar’s people cannot be undone by one such as she.” The priest’s tone rose, taking on a fire-and-brimstone sting that could not help but cow the peasant in Raffy and Lothar’s hearts. “Even now, the agents of Sigmar’s will seek her out, to bring to her the inevitable judgement that befalls her cat’s-paws today. She is excommunicated from Sigmar’s Church, to wander in shadows until the darkness that has taken root in her soul may be purged by fire.”

Moving forwards, the men holding Illiiya hauled her up onto the pyre, unshackling her wrists to bind her arms behind the stake. A kettle-drum began to roll, a Hound passing a flaming torch to the Lector – the crowd began to murmur, a rising swell of voices breaking the hushed silence that had reigned.

“We commit her servant now to the flames, as a promise of what is to come. Bear witness and heed this lesson – for so perish all those who welcome the taint of Chaos.”

Turning to face Illiiya, a nod saw the gag removed from her mouth. A single drifting snowflake melting as it drifted into the path of the burning brand in his hand, the Lector took a single step forwards, the old man’s hard eyes meeting hers. He lowered his voice, addressing her directly.

“The time has come, witch,” he said, over the rapid rattle of the drum. “Confess your sins, and perhaps your suffering can be lessened.”

[hr]

Ithelus

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Heading for the Tempelplatz, Ithelus picked his way through thickening currents of humans, headed in the same direction – reaching the edge of the square, he found himself at the back of a vast crowd, bigger still than the one that had witnessed Jagrun’s death. Beggar and burgher alike the packed the plaza, swarming like ants before the soaring face of the Cathedral – it was almost complete, only the very uppermost stones not yet raised into place atop the belltower.

By the Cathedral steps, the Hounds held back the crowd – behind them, a wooden platform had been raised, the ominous outline of a pyre dominating its centre. The odd flake of snow still drifted down from the sky, the crowd’s breath misting in the frosty air – they held an odd, tense silence, waiting quietly in their uncounted masses before the wary militia.

With a rattle of wheels, a caged iron wagon rolled into the square from a side-street at the Cathedral side – Ithelus felt his heart skip a beat as he caught sight of a familiar face through the bars, before the grim carriage moved out of clear sight behind the line of the Hounds. Pushing his way further forward through the crowd, he found his way blocked by the sheer number of people, the citizens of Delberz packed together like sardines in a can. Some had mounted unharnessed carts to get a better look, others sitting on window-ledges or rooftops around the square – every spare space was packed.

Mounting the wooden platform, a gaunt, black-robed figure looked out at the crowd – the Lector’s bony frame was instantly recognisable. Surveying the crowd like a lord surveying his demesne, he raised his voice in oratorical proclamation, rich, deep syllables cutting through the chill Middenland morning.

“People of Delberz! Our city has stood upon the brink of the precipice for too long. In Sigmar’s name, it is my sacred duty to usher it back into the light.”

The crowd fell silent as two Hounds frogmarched a figure up the steps behind him – Ithelus felt his heart sink into his boots as he recognised Illiiya, beaten and bedraggled, as their hostage. Her head was held low, her clothes stained with blood.

“The serpent of Chaos has flourished in our midst,” von Kemperbad declaimed. “It has suckled at the teat of heresy, and grown fat. Well, no more.”

Stretching out one arm, he gestured to Illiiya.

“This inhuman creature is the source of your suffering. She hid her sorcerous powers from Aldric Jagrun of the Templars, and when he was about to exact Sigmar’s justice upon his challenger, she used her witchcraft to intervene.”
A low murmur rose from the crowd.
“Last night,” continued von Kemperbad, raising his voice to cut through the noise, “she was seen to confer with a rat, the very same night that the sorcerous killings have doubled. She is the ally of the so-called ‘Sparrowhawk’, Jagrun’s murderer –“ the murmuring redoubled “-whom we have also captured.”

An amazed silence settled on the crowd – ahead, the Hounds made way, letting the Lector’s audience see clearly to the iron-barred wagon Ithelus had seen arrive. Within, Raffy and Lothar could be seen, caged like convicts.

“This is the youth who has set out to make himself your 'hero', Delberz,” continued von Kemperbad, scathingly. “The enormity of his crimes is matched only by those of the heretic and deceiver who has used him. Her name is known to us, and I say it now: Maria Samtzunge.”

“She has used these pawns – her sorceress and her assassin - to slaughter your kin. Under her influence, this lunatic has murdered a Templar of Sigmar, and the Baroness herself. She wishes nothing more than the destruction of this Church, and all we have worked for, for she has sold herself body and soul to the Ruinous Powers.”

The Lector straightened his back, letting his words sink in.

“She has failed. Despite the crimes of her minions, the Cathedral will be completed. Hear me now when I say that no new tithes will be levied, no taxes will be raised. A benefactor has come to the Church in her hour of need. All he asks in return is to be allowed to provide a bell with his own dedication for the tower – a request to which I have happily acquiesced.”

Von Kemperbad paused, swallowing – for one moment in his rhetorical barrage, he seemed uncertain.

“As such, the tower will be completed today. The Mason’s Guild will be paid in full for their work so far, and for as many men as they need to finish the task. The blasphemer will witness that the will of Sigmar’s people cannot be undone by one such as she.” The priest’s tone rose, taking on a fire-and-brimstone sting. “Even now, the agents of Sigmar’s will seek her out, to bring to her the inevitable judgement that befalls her cat’s-paws today. She is excommunicated from Sigmar’s Church, to wander in shadows until the darkness that has taken root in her soul may be purged by fire.”

Moving forwards, the men holding Illiiya hauled her up onto the pyre, unshackling her wrists to bind her arms behind the stake. A kettle-drum began to roll, a Hound passing a flaming torch to the Lector – the crowd began to murmur, a rising swell of voices breaking the hushed silence that had reigned.

“We commit her servant now to the flames, as a promise of what is to come. Bear witness and heed this lesson – for so perish all those who welcome the taint of Chaos.”

Ithelus watched with widening eyes as von Kemperbad turned to Illiiya, stepping closer with the burning brand in his hand. As he watched, his mind racing, he heard voices on his left, a group of young men shoving their way through the crowd.

“Make way, make way, there!” hissed one of them – glancing through the thicket of human faces, Ithelus recognised them as the men from the Society, Klaus and Karl. “Make a lane! You, off that handcart!”

The two of them – no, more, they’d brought friends – were climbing up onto the cart in question to raise themselves above the crowd, standing straight with a piece of paper in their hands. The people’s eyes were still forwards, fixed on the scene upon the platform – the Lector seemed to be saying something to Illiiya, his voice too low to be heard from Ithelus’ position...

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus almost collapsed. What was? Why? His heart began to pound against his ribcage. Why was Illiiya up there? What about Lothar?

Lothar said he had it covered. Lothar said....

He lied.

The skull was back, flashing in front of his face. It was grinning at him, mocking him.

“She has failed. Despite the crimes of her minions, the Cathedral will be completed. Hear me now when I say that no new tithes will be levied, no taxes will be raised. A benefactor has come to the Church in her hour of need. All he asks in return is to be allowed to provide a bell with his own dedication for the tower – a request to which I have happily acquiesced.”

Ithelus's eyes widened in shock, his stomach turning as if he had been dealt a physical blow. That poem he had read yesterday, and the rats in the sewers. He stood frozen in indecision. If he moved now he might be able to stop the bell, but if he tried to save Illiiya and got caught then the whole town would be lost.

Seeing Klaus and his friends he barged his way over. 'Klaus! Klaus! Listen, I'm a friend of Pieter and Raffy's.' He grabs the man's arm, 'Listen to me! You must stop the bell from being put up. It's up to you. If the bell tower is finished we all die!' Ithelus tries to shake the wild look in his eye, willing the man to believe him.

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Klaus looked round, surprised by the elf's sudden appearance - his eyes narrowed as he saw Ithelus' face.

"I know you," he said, warily. "You're that elf from the Tongs. The one who was so full of the Emperor's praises."

He pulled back as Ithelus grabbed for his arm. He was carrying a piece of paper in his hand - Ithelus couldn't see what was on it, but it looked like a printed handbill.

"If the bell tower is finished..." he said, incredulously. "What?"

The other face he recognised - Karl - moved forwards between them.

"We don't have time for this. Klaus, it has to be now, or that woman is going to burn..."

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus stops dead. Save her? Could they save her? could that piece of paper save her? He wasn't taking chances. Abandoning his attempt at reason he subtly drew his weapons and began to move through the crowd to the cordon of Hounds.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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As the wagon hauled them through the crowd to the plaza, Raffy kept a serene expression on his face. Once the wagon was surrounded by the people of Delberz, he leapt to his feet. Grasping a bar with his good hand, he shoved his wrecked stump out between the bars and held it up in the air like a sign of victory.

"For ULRIC!" he yelled. "For ULRIC! For ULRIC!"

He keeps up this chant until the Lector prepares to speak, when he takes on a respectful silence... until the Lector introduces him by his moniker. Then he raises the stump again and yells in his loudest bellow,

"GIVE ME ANOTHER WITCH HUNTER! ONE MORE TO TAKE WITH ME!"

He tries to keep the crowd's attention, until Illiiya is brought out of the cart. When her gag is removed he yells once more - this time in a softer, more personal tone, not the rabble-rousing roar of before.

"Lay 'em low, Illiiya! Give 'em what they came to see!"

[goblinpaladin]

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Lothar shrugged at Halbermann, his face in a wry twist. "Nah. Tried to sock Raffy inna mouth, didn't I? But the git got me involved, and that's how it goes." There was no distaste in the soldier's mouth- weariness, yes, but a certain undercurrent of warmth. As if it were good to see someone he knew, even someone on the other side of the line as it were.

"Don't s'pose I could have a smoke, could I? You know, a last request and all that. I'd be much obliged- put in a good word with Morr for you, sort of thing." He smiled faintly beneath his unkempt new beard.

[LCP]

Raffy, Lothar & Illiiya

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(Back in time)

Halbermann shook his head.

"Sorry, Fischer. No fraternisin' with prisoners." He banged the side of the cage with the flat of his hand. "You and the boy've got plenty of time, though. We ain't got a gallows ready yet, see. Best make yourself comfortable in there, eh?"

He turned as the Lector called him away, scuttling off towards his master.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya the Witch

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Illiiya looked about... seeming defeated and broken down. She was bound. Helpless. She only hoped that Ithelus was far, far from here. The Lector went about his speech, as she gazed warily about... and her eyes settled on the tower.

The lector. Raffy's accusations. The circle. The tower...

"A benefactor has come to the Church in her hour of need."

Her blood ran cold. She had been wrong. So very... very wrong.

Y-you... you have...

The Lector glared at her face to face... his arrogance swollen up in him to consume all his being. His smugness at his seeming victory reminded her of loathing she had not felt in so long. Of hate she had done so much to sever from herself. It surged up in her... her face contorting as she gave a horrible shriek.

.... and bit him. If she were free, she would wrap her fingers around his throat and choke him until he passed. Instead, she moved forward like an angry beast, turning her head to bite the Lector as hard as she could... hoping only to see the arrogant man's blood flow.

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I have NO idea what the roll is to "Hannibal Lector" the Lector. She's not even expecting it to do much. But god DAMN is she angry right now.

[LCP]

Tempelplatz

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With a cry of alarm, the Lector staggered back, clutching at his face – he glared at Illiiya, blood running freely down his cheek and over his hand. A stunned silence settled on the square, all eyes on the bleeding priest.

Straightening up, von Kemperbad wiped his face on the sleeve of his gown, raising the torch high to the crowd.

“The witch Jaelrae has refused to recant. In Sigmar’s name, it is my sacred duty to purge the forces of Chaos from her – with fire.”

“Stop!” came a shout from the crowd. Looking round, Raffy and Lothar saw a lone figure standing on the back of a handcart, holding a crumpled handbill in one hand.

“That woman is innocent. There is only one villain here, and he stands before you! These are the victims of the Lector and his Hounds!”

On the platform, von Kemperbad lowered the torch, looking round – as the figure stood his ground, Raffy realised it was Klaus. The Society were in the crowd.

“Arndt Stocher and Gustav Muller, lost on the Middenheim road carrying stone for the Cathedral. Agata Heches, beaten and broken for her neighbours’ suspicions. Gabrielle Thenardier, bled to death because she did not know the Reikspiel for ‘bribe’.”

The crowd began to mutter and murmur, unsure of what to make of this sudden interruption. The line of Hounds shifted uncomfortably, waiting on an order as they watched the mass of humanity before them.

Stepping up to the edge of the platform, von Kemperbad glared at the speaker, pointing one bony finger out across the crowd.
“You! Get down from there.”
Klaus remained where he was, continuing to read from the paper in his hand.

“Richter Schneider, Otto Weber, Edgar Lang and Dieter Hoffman, their throats slit while the Church did nothing!”

“Insolent wretch,” snarled von Kemperbad. “Sergeant,” he snapped, the tone of command clear in his voice. “Arrest him!”

“Johann Biermann!” called Klaus, as Halbermann and a dozen or so of his Hounds began to push their way roughly into the crowd, forging a path towards him. “Berthold Brauer, Eckhart Jung, Elise Vogel, Felix Lang, Heinz Kortig, Rudiger Nussbaum,”

“Out of the way, there!” came the Sergeant’s shout. “Out of the way!”

“Gretchen Weiss, Wolfgang Pfeifer, Siegfried Schreiner, Klara Strauss. Ludmilla Zimmer, Carlott Sudenaller, Marhilde Bechenbauer, Hanna Amsel, Albrecht Kappel, Abtei Nelms!”

“Damn your eyes, out of the way!”

Already packed tight by the corralling line of militiamen before the table, the crowd was not taking kindly to the Sergeant’s trampling intrusion – it twitched and quivered like a live thing, ugly murmurs running through its ranks. The names were hitting home, recognition of the victim’s identities spreading through the assembled citizenry as the list grew – enough people were gathered here that a fair few were bound to recognise each of the dead.

“Beatrix Schulz, Ulrich Metzger, Constance Kuhn, Honoria Altmann. Dietrich Atzwig. Winifred Herzog, Adelle Drauwulf, Jost Drakenhof, Leopold Delfholt, Max Jochutz, Desdemona Niederlitz, Lena Veit, Dieter Riese, Hildemar Meusmann, Frieda Schultz, Keterlyn Kalb. Consumed by sorcery, while von Kemperbad left them to die!”

At these words, shouts broke out in several quarters of the square - Halbermann and his men were still struggling through the crowd, their path becoming more impeded by the press of bodies with each passing moment.

“Thirty-eight men, women and children of Galsburg! Sixty-seven of Schoppendorf, eighty-four of Grimminhagen, one hundred and thirty-four of Wolfenburg, who have died on the Fields while the Cathedral consumes the coin to feed an army!”

“Freya Weisemann – Murdered by Theophilus von Kemperbad for the sin of bearing him a child!”

Silence fell like an anvil once more. The Lector stood at the edge of the platform, his face white with shock and fury as the torch continued to burn in his hand. Crumpling the handbill into a ball, Klaus hurled it at the oncoming Hounds, leaping up onto the corner of the cart to lift himself higher.

“The Lector has lied to you! He has stolen the bread from your mouths, he has stolen the coin from your purses, he has taken your freedom and your liberty from you! Now he means to take another innocent’s life as the scapegoat for his crimes! People of Delberz, will you allow it?”

A scattered chorus of “No!”s volleyed from various corners of the square, growing in strength as those around them realised they were not alone.

“People of Delberz, who will speak for the dead?”

“Enough!” roared von Kemperbad. Turning back to the pyre, he flung down the torch – with a slow, malevolent crackle, the mound of firewood caught light, black smoke rippling back through the stacked timber as the crawling fingers of flame began to spread. Turning back, he flung out one outstretched arm towards Ziemlich.

“Sergeant! Shoot that man!”

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya "Soon to be crispy" Jaelrae

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ARROGANT MONSTER! Illiiya shrieked out through bloody lips, All of this is YOUR fault!

She struggled against her bindings furiously. She could not let him do this!

OOC:

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If she can get a hand free, she can cast. I shall try like HELL!

[goblinpaladin]

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Lothar stared at the agitator in horror, the names burning into his mind. Hundreds starving in the field. Hundreds! Shallya's mercy. I knew there was hunger, want- but that is a far cry from starving to death.

He shook himself and stared at the Lector with hate. "Yes, Servant of Sigmar! Shoot the man who tells Delberz of your sins! Silence him as you did Weisemann, as you have Galsburg and Schoppendorf and Grimminhagen, the people of Wolfenburg! To survive the blades of the north, the plagues of the Fly: only to starve so you may erect a blasphemous tower to the God who commands we defend the people of the Empire!"

He spat as best he could at the black-robed Lector. "You are no servant of Sigmar! When the Hammer Lord came to Middenland, you would've told him you had no coin to spare to fight the orc and the boar! You woulda said you had t' spend your coin on stone and gilded cloth!"

"Sigmarites of Delberz! Wolf-brothers of Ulric! Take up the hammer!" he cried.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Seeing his chance Ithelus's body moved into action. Throwing up his hood he pushes through the crowd, moving alongside the knot of Hounds. His weapons clutched in his hands he pulls up close to the Sargent and flings a throwing knife at the man for the second time today.

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(1d100)[18]

[LCP]

Tempelplatz

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The crowd hovered on a knife-edge as Halbermann seized a crossbow from a subordinate, raising the stock to his shoulder and sighting on Klaus – there was a sudden blur of spinning metal, and the sergeant staggered to one side with a howl of pain, a knife protruding from the meat of his thigh. Eyes stinging from the stoke, Illiiya recognised Ithelus’ face in the crowd – Halbermann evidently had too, the crossbow swinging up to aim straight at the elf’s head.

“GET BACK!” the sergeant roared, those in the weapon’s path have nowhere to retreat – with a solid thunk, the bow let loose, its bolt whistling through the air towards its target.

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Halbermann takes a shot at Ithelus in return, and we go into combat time. He’s at -20 to hit due to the crowd shielding Ith, and if he misses, he’s hit someone else.

(1d100)[84]
(1d10+4)[6]

Initiative:

Halbermann - (1d10+43)[46]
Hounds - (1d10+31)[38]
Ithelus - (1d10+59)[61]

Anyone (i.e. Illiiya) wanting to join the fun should roll initiative as and when. The crowd will be treated as a narrative/environmental condition rather than an object with stats.

Ithelus and Halbermann's attacks have taken place in round one: it's now on to round two, and back to Ithelus/anyone and everyone else who can act: the Hounds around him effectively can't move due to people hedging them in, and they don't have missile weapons readied.

And of course, now that we are in combat time, Illiiya will start taking fire damage some time soon as per the regular rules.

The bolt flew straight and true - flying through the air towards Ithelus, it buried itself in the man in front of him. The man looked down with a small, gurgling noise, and fell to his knees.

"In the name of Sigmar," bellowed the Lector, "you are commanded-"

With a united, rising roar, the crowd surged forwards, closing around Halbermann and his men like a breaking wave. The line of Hounds before the platform buckled and flexed, the militia holding back the press with the hafts of their polearms as the weight began to pile on from behind...

[Exeson]

Tempelplatz

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Ithelus ducked as the crossbow fired, attempting to slip back into the crowd. Once he was a safe distance away he called out as loud as he could.

'The man is right! Hear me! The elf is innocent! We are sick of being oppressed by the Hounds! Down with the Hounds! Down with the Lector! SAVE THE ELF'

Ithelus then began to push his way to Illiiya, his blood suddenly running ice cold as he realised that the pyre had already been lit.

[BloodyAngel]

Wait... is anyone NOT at the temple then?

... oh right. Poor Pieter.

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Ith!

Illiiya looked out desperately at the crowd... at the only person yet who's fate had not been sealed. The last tiny bit of hope she had was about to be shot down in front of her. Everything had been for naught.

Ith, no! NO! She screamed, tugging at her bonds desperately.

She would feel the rope burn later, as she rubbed her wrists bloody trying to pull them free. Or she would not... if the fire had it's say. She was unconcerned with both at the moment. Fortune and loose bindings favored her, and she pulled one wrist free.

You will not harm him!

And with that... she began to channel.

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Actions this turn.

1: Channel
2: Oddly... I will cast Sleep on the evil man shooting at my Ith is within reach (doubtful) Drop on him if it seems likely he will drop his weapon into a place that is hard to reach (like if he's on an elevated spot over the crowd or the like, and the weapon will fall into said crowd) or good ol' Magic Dart on him if the first two don't apply.
3: Roast to a golden brown.

1: Channeling Roll: (1d100)[46]
2: Casting Roll: (1d10)[5] or (1d10)[1]

Touch roll (If sleep): (1d100)[58]
Damage roll: (If Magic Dart) (1d10+3)[4]

If it's drop... he needs to make an Ag test, I think.

3: Roasting Roll (1d100)[68] Not quite done yet.

Phew. Infodump. I hope that complicated string of possible actions isn't TOO confusing.

Edit: Oy. Well the channel made it, so that 5 will become a 6 and make the spell casting a success regardless... but DAMN that is miserable damage. Here's hoping for Drop. *finger's crossed*

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk and the Showdown at Templeplatz Corral

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As Klaus begins to give his speech, Raffy boos the Lector and makes a charge at the gate of the jail-wagon, trying to burst it open with sheer strength.

OOC:

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I'm not sure if your "PC stuff pre-empts narrative" policy covers stuff like this, but I wanted to start shouldering the door as soon as I heard the speech, which was before Ith made his appearance.

If you'll allow a "before the right" attempt, then here's two rolls (one for before the fight and one for my first turn in initiative). If you won't allow it, then just ignore the second roll, as I didn't have time for two.

initiative - (1d10+34)[37] *
strength - (1d100)[29] vs. 25 *
strength - (1d100)[9] vs. 25 *

*Assuming a -10 penalty to Agi and Str from plague.

[LCP]

Tempelplatz

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Whispering voices danced out across the square from Illiiya’s bloody, outstretched hand – the Lector recoiled from their passage, the hellish whispers dancing between drifting snowflakes as they swooped towards the knot of Hounds around Halbermann. The sergeant gave a shout of alarm as unseen hands yanked the crossbow from his grasp, the weapon rising a little way into the air before dropping back onto the cobbles.

Shouting for his men to stand their ground, the sergeant drew a short, single-edged sword from his belt, holding it out to the ring of citizenry surrounding them as the others tried to find room to lower their halberds – the crowd contracted and rippled around them, those who wanted no part in any fighting struggling to get free of the crush. Someone screamed as a halberd-blade found its way into a shouting man’s stomach – as the bleeding peasant was dragged away, a hail of cobblestones and half-bricks descended on the isolated Hounds, two of them crumpling to the ground as the missiles found their mark. The island of militiamen closed in, Halbermann shouting for their attackers to stay back...

Behind the platform, Hounds were rushing up onto the Cathedral steps, forming a ragged, disorganised line of crossbows as their comrades tried to hold back the angry mob. Stepping back from the precipice, the Lector glared at Illiiya and her free hand, his iron faith in his own authority seeming to hold firm even in the face of outright rebellion.

“Sire!” shouted one of the Hounds on the platform, stepping nervously back with a crossbow raised at the elf. “What do we do?”

Illiiya struggled to face them – her other hand still held her to the stake, the pyre flaring up beneath her as she began to choke on the black, belching smoke. Von Kemperbad shook his head.

“She-daemon,” he snarled. He turned to the guards. “Don’t waste your bolts. Let the witch burn.”

Turning on his heel, he hurried towards the steps at the back of the platform, the handful of militiamen around him following after – behind them, the cordon buckled and broke, a flood of commoners rushing through on the left towards. They enveloped the prison-wagon like a tide, the Hounds on guard scurrying back like frightened rabbits – across the width of the square, the militia were falling back, retreating to the steps where their brothers waited with crossbows at the ready. Lothar and Raffy gripped the bars of their prison, shouting at the clamouring crowd that surrounded to them – there was a spark and a shriek of metal as someone with a hammer struck the lock from the door, the Sparrowhawk’s cage hinging open into the mob.

Looking round, Lothar could see the red glow of the pyre growing brighter, the fuel beneath Illiiya’s feet rising to a furious blaze as the elf writhed and choked in a growing pillar of smoke – and behind her, on the Cathedral steps, the Hounds, their numbers swelling as the retreating troop rushed together. They had a lot of crossbows - their discipline might have put a free company to shame, but the ex-soldier could recognise a firing-line as it formed...

OOC: Illiiya takes (1d10+1)[8] damage from the fire. The damage rating will increment by one every turn. Starting next turn, she starts having to make Ag tests not to catch on fire herself.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

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Illiiya hacked and coughed... the next spell she had hoped to chant lost as her throat burned. She could not focus... she could not breathe. Through the haze of pain and heat, she looked for Ithelus... but it was already hard to see. It was almost over...

She reached out for Ithelus, or where she imagined he was, before slumping down again. She was too weak to continue. It was too much.

Darkness overcame her.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy the Sparrowhawk

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OOC: So I guess the strength checks failed?

Raffy bursts out of the prison cart, certain for a half-moment that it was his own shove that broke him free; but then he nodded his thanks to the person with the hammer. He holds up his bound hands to that charitable soul, hoping their tools will get him unbound as well.

"A gun!" he yells, hoping that one of Klaus' men has one, but assuming he's more likely appealing to unarmed peasants. "Get me a gun! Or some kind of weapon!"

If nothing is forthcoming he'll grab a tool or half-brick of his own and make his way to the nearest Hound to borrow one of their weapons.

((If there is a Hound already within reach then forego the brick and I'll just try to grab his dirk/sword from his belt; please roll for me as needed.))

Half action: let them unbind my hand
Free action: speak
Half action: move toward Hound or, if in range, try to take weapon

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus shouldered his way through the crowd, the blood drained from his face as the fire grew. Cursing he tried to keep the platform between himself and the line of Hounds as he coaxed the crowd forward to rescue Illiiya.

[LCP]

Tempelplatz

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The man with the hammer struck off Raffy and Lothar’s bonds – no-one was volunteering to hand the injured boy a weapon, however, keeping them for themselves if they had them at all. Fighting to keep his footing against the current of bodies, Raffy caught sight of the halberds of the sergeant’s men over the sea of heads – turning back, he saw Lothar striking out for the pyre platform, quickly hurrying after the ex-soldier as he forged a path through the mob...

The Hounds on the steps had assumed some semblance of a disciplined line, the surging crowd backing up before them as the ones in front presented a thicket of halberd-points to the oncoming citizenry. Those behind were still shouting to the people to get back, holding the aim of their crossbows – cutting sideways behind the cover of those in front, Lothar caught a glimpse of von Kemperbad retreating inside the Cathedral before reaching the side of the platform, pulling himself up with apeish energy onto the Lector’s stage.

On his left, Ithelus had done the same, climbing up over the front face of the platform – two Hounds were left up with them, standing back to either side of Illiiya’s pyre. One of them shouted for Lothar to step back, raising his crossbow – his resolve faltered as the stage swayed under the pressure of the wave of people breaking around it, the two militiamen’s narrowing avenue of escape clearly looming large in their minds. Glancing at each other, they lowered their weapons, abandoning the witch to her ‘rescuers’ as they ran for the safety of the Cathedral line.

Illiiya was slumped motionlessly forwards, an indistinct figure amidst the billows of choking, black smoke as the hungry flames crackled and danced around her – the wash of heat from the pyre was almost painful to approach. You could say what you liked about the Hounds, but they knew how to start a fire...

OOC:

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Map!

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The pyre is pretty big, and by now burning fiercely: it is no easy matter to cut Illiiya free. To directly rush to the stake and get her free will inflict a Damage 3 hit (i.e. 1d10+3 wounds), ignoring armour on whoever does it: as a house rule to represent you moving as quickly as possible and being in control of your movements rather than falling onto the fire, the damage can be halved by a successful Ag test.