[WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (III)

[LCP]

Pieter

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On the front line, Reinholdt ducked out of the path of the Skaven's stabbing halberd once again. To his right, Caspar was not so lucky. Weighing his cutlass in his hand, the militiaman darted forwards - the blade buried itself in the Skaven leader's triangular shield and stuck, Caspar looking up for one moment into the black-furred killer's red eyes...

The spiked hilt of the creature's sabre smashed forwards, catching Caspar full in the face. Clutching at his mangled features, the man staggered back, blood running between his fingers - a curt backhand from the Skaven caught him across the thigh, practically cleaving his leg to the bone. The militiaman screamed, collapsing against the muddy wall of the tunnel as arterial blood pumped from the wound - Pieter watched in horror as the man raised his arms in a vain attempt to shield himself, blow after hacking blow raining down until all movement ceased.

Its sharp-angled armour now speckled with red, the creature turned to the Hounds standing behind where Caspar had fallen, their faces white with shock. A hungry grin slashed its muzzle, blood still dripping from its sword as it stepped over the man's cooling corpse with the others squealing and pushing behind it...

OOC: Map

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So the combat situation is currently: Fangleader vs. two Hounds, Reinholdt vs. two Stormvermin.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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One down already. Pieter did not like these odds.


OOC:

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Guess there's nothing I can do for poor Caspar, so I'll take another defensive stance. I suppose Caspar's weapons are out of reach now that the Skaven are pushing forward.

Sorry for the delay, someone had to borrow the computer.

[LCP]

Pieter

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Stepping over Caspar's body, the Skaven leader waded into the melee, catching a stabbing blade on his shield as he slashed at the nearest of the humans with a powerful blow. The Hound managed to block the blow, staggering a little under the impact - another of his comrades lunged in, drawing a thin line of blood across the monster's arm through a chink in his mail sleeve. The rat-beast snarled, throwing the human off him with a horrid strength.

Behind him, the other Skaven were swarming forwards, encircling Reinholdt in an island of black fur and rusted metal. The Hound darted out of the path of one jabbing polearm, only for another to catch him in the shoulder - he cried out and stumbled back, the Skaven chattering excitedly as it twisted the weapon in the wound. Pulling its halberd free, it closed in for the kill.

OOC:

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Alrighty; disregarding the rolls I greyed out, the combat continues.

Round 3:

The Fangleader steps forwards (as seen on the map) and makes a Standard Attack on one of the adjacent Hounds (who are assumed to have Parrying Stances readied)

To Hit - (1d100)[42] - hit
Parry - (1d100)[12] - parried
Damage - (1d10+6)[15]

Another Stormvermin steps up to take his place, and teams up with his friend to attack Reinholdt (+10 outnumbering bonus)

Stormvermin 1: Feint, Standard Attack
Stormvermin - (1d100)[89] vs. Reinholdt - (1d100)[93] - Stormvermin beats Reinholdt
To Hit - (1d100)[42] - hit
Parry - (1d100)[37] Negated by Feint
Damage - (1d10+5)[11] - 7 wounds to the right arm

Stormvermin 2: Half Move, Standard Attack
To Hit - (1d100)[92] - miss
Parry - (1d100)[100]
Damage - (1d10+5)[7]

Reinholdt attacks back:
To Hit - (1d100)[24] - hit
Dodge - (1d100)[3] - dodged
Damage - (1d10+4)[10]

The two Hounds on the Fangleader (+10 for Outnumbering):
To Hit - (1d100)[11] - hit
Parry - (1d100)[29] - parried
Damage - (1d10+4)[6]

To Hit - (1d100)[14] - hit
Dodge - (1d100)[13] - already used his parry (another copy/paste error here)
Damage - (1d10+4)[9] - 2 wounds to the left arm

Any actions? Bear in mind, it's practically a logical certainty that all injuries will occur in melee combat with Skaven - getting in close enough to help anyone who's been injured will almost certainly require you shouldering your way to the front line.

[Another_Poet]

At the Doktor's

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Lothar has found the weak spot in Raffy's armour, combining a callousness for the youth's loss with completely depriving him of the attention he thrives on. Raffy hadn't really believed the doctor would have any better news for him, but he'd held out hope, and hearing the pronouncement and then the complete uncaring let him.... cracked.

He slumped down and covered his face with his good hand. He didn't audibly weep, but if his eyes weren't watering it was because he strained all of his willpower to stop them. He shut out the world for a moment and concentrated on pulling himself together.

Breathing deeply a few times, he uncovered his eyes and surveyed the pauper house. "Take care of Illiiya first," he said.

He went over to the front door and closed it. He watched Lothar play with the cat and the doctor set to Illiiya's dressings. Once there is a quiet moment, he says in a low voice:

"Maria and Klaus want me to be a symbol of the revolution."

His eyes turn to Ithelus and Lothar. "I know you think that's silly. I don't deserve it anyway, after last night. But they think the people are inspired to see me stand up to the Lector and the Witch Hunter."

He sighs. "If you cut off my hand, Doctor, you need to give me something to put on it, and wrap it in bandages like it's going to heal up. No one can know it was cut off till after the fighting's over."

He glances around the room. "Otherwise I have to keep it."

He waits to see if the others will keep a secret for a few days.

[goblinpaladin]

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Lothar shrugged. "No skin off my nose, lad. But unless you want to lose t'other hand, you might want to stop thumbing your nose at Sigmar's Own." He petted the cat again, then stood, stretching out exhausted muscles.

"O' course, the boy maimed by the Lector's men is a symbol all it's own, if you're still plannin' on helping this rebellion." The soldier's voice hardened. "Me, I plan on finding this sodding sorcerer. I think the sewers may be our next best bet for that- you can lead unarmed commoners to their deaths if you want. I have work to do."

[LCP]

Not Pieter

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Rasen glanced dubiously at Raffy.

"I can't make a stump look like it's going to 'heal up', I'm afraid," he said. "If you want to put it off, that's your funeral - but it's not as if people are going to think that's a working hand just because it's still attached."

He turned back to Illiiya, stooping down to examine the elf's feet more closely.

"In any case, I'm afraid I didn't think to bring my supply of fake hands," he said, with a slight edge of sarcasm. "If you think that's what the Society want, though - well, many of the people here have lost more than a hand. I'm not sure they'll care as much as you think they willl."

Rummaging in his bag, he produced a bag of pale green, chalky paste, beginning to apply it to Illiiya's feet - the elf winced whenever the doctor's fingers touched her skin, holding on tightly to Ithelus.

"I mean, it's not as if the lady's even here," he said, half to himself. "Gods know where she's gallivanted off to this time..."

[Another_Poet]

Raffy &c

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"She's around," replies Raffy, and immediately regrets saying it.

"The--stump--" he chokes on the word "--doesn't have to look good. We'll just put something in there about the size of a hand, and wrap bandages over it. It'll look like it was just injured and healing up."

His nervousness betrays his lack of confidence in the ploy.

[LCP]

Raffy & co.

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The doctor looked Raffy up and down.

"If you insist," he said, quietly. He glanced back at Lothar and Ithelus. "I'll need a volunteer to help hold him still."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jalrae

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M-maria? Illiiya said weakly, making an effort to look over, but wincing in pain from the smallest movement and just clenching Ithelus' hand tight. Does the... damn... revolution really matter now? Does it?!

She slumped back to the table, pained tears running down her face.

I don't care anymore... She all but sobbed, You humans are animals. J-just... kill each other. Nnnh... It hurts...

[goblinpaladin]

Not Pieter

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Lothar grunted. "Listen to the elf. She's wise." He stretched again, nodding to the Doctor. "I'll hold him. 'Snot pleasant, but needs doing."

He touched Illiiya on the shoulder as he came nearer Rasen, rolling up his sleeves. "Don't give up on us yet, Illiiya. I'm with you on this, and I'll bet the doctor here doesn't want any more bloodshed."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

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Almost despite herself and the situation she was in, Illiiya's expression softened at the soldier's touch. With a painful sigh she laid back down and closed her eyes.

I don't know what t-to do anymore... She muttered, exhausted. And I hate fire.

[LCP]

Raffy, Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

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“Well, if you’ll take this animal’s advice,” said Doctor Rasen, mildly despite his words, “you’ll keep your weight off those feet as much as you can.” He looked across at Ithelus. “There’s some gauze in my bag, over there. It’ll hurt, but it would be best to bind her feet – wouldn’t want dirt getting into the burns.”

When Illiiya was seen to, Ithelus lifted her off the table – rummaging in the bag himself, Rasen began to lay out some fearsome-looking tools, Raffy growing progressively paler. His head practically submerged in the hinged bag, the doctor finally surfaced with a saw that looked more fit for a carpenter than a surgeon in his hand – looking round at the elves, he nodded to Ithelus.

“Your friend might not wish to see this,” he said, indicating Illiiya. “I think she’s had enough distress for one day.” Testing the saw’s edge, he seemed to remember something, glancing back at Ithelus. “If you could tell someone I will be requiring some pitch – hot pitch – I’d be much obliged. As quickly as you can.”

Guided towards the table, Raffy was given a draught of laudanum that was probably only on the borderline of what constituted a safe dosage – almost immediately, he felt himself drifting away, the world becoming a dissociated haze around him as the doctor’s muttering about the lack of proper restraints drifted back through the fog. He could barely string two thoughts together – but he was still conscious.

“I’m afraid he may thrash some,” said Rasen, turning to Lothar. “No chances, now. Make sure he’s held firmly, above all.”

The ex-soldier noticed the doctor’s hands were trembling ever so slightly – Rasen took a swig of his own medicine to steady them, holding the saw up to the light. As a boy from outside came back with a bucket of bubbling pitch, he gave Lothar a nod – holding the lolling Raffy in place, he tried not to look as Doctor Rasen went to work.

In the next room, Illiiya closed her eyes, trying to blot out the screams...

OOC: Challenging (-10%) WP test for Raffy or gain an Insanity Point, Poet.

OOC: Sorry for the half-an-update, just putting this up after getting back from London so that it won't have to wait another 24 hours to catch those in different timezones. More stuff for this group & for Sentinel coming when I get the time... physics is leaving me with little at the moment.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy & co.

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"I'll need a volunteer to help hold him still."

This seemed almost to punch Raffy in the gut; he'd been keeping his mind off of it, as if he could pretend it wasn't what it was.

But when the doctor went to work, he screamed like anyone else would....

(1d100)[60] vs 28 (-10 penalty included)

[Exeson]

Not Pieter

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Ithelus keeps quiet for the whole debate, a strange glazed look on his face. 'The sorcerer is not the issue here. Lothar, you remember reading that book yesterday? We have to stop the bell from being put in the tower. That's the key.'

He carries Illiiya from the room as the Doctor begins his work, 'don't listen lovely, don't listen to it' he says as he holds her tight, wishing he could follow his own advice. Animals make such distressing noises.

[goblinpaladin]

All Bar Pieter

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His teeth set, Lothar held the boy down none too gently. His expression was of one who had seen this before, and was not at all pleased to be repeating the experience. He looked away, eyes tightened, as the saw started slicing through infected flesh; his hands did not twitch.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya and Ithelus<Note: This entire thing would be spoken in elven>

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Illiiya didn't put up much of a fuss as Ithelus carried her off. She flinched in pain at the slightest of movements... but she did her best not to cry out.

Ith... I don't know how much more we can do. She said, her voice strained and shaky. It feels like we're lost. Raffy is crippled. I... I hurt... so much... Pieter is gone. Probably suffering for our crimes.

She took a shaky breath, tears welling in her eyes. I don't want to care anymore Ith. It hurts so much when I care. I didn't want any of you to get hurt... that's why I did what I did. Why did you have to come back for me?

The distant screams reached her ears and she looked away, her eyes clenched tightly.

I was ready to die.

[LCP]

Pieter

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Chittering like animals – like the swarm in the sewers, like the hundreds of hungry rats that had sent Pieter fleeing for his life – the Skaven pressed in, blades glinting in the dark. The lantern’s light flashed wildly across the walls as one of the black-furred brutes slammed into Reinholdt from the side, the Hound going down as he took a halberd-haft to the stomach – in an instant, they were on him, the man’s screams echoing down the muddy passage as he vanished beneath a ball of fur and teeth. With a crunch, a twisted, furry foot stamped down on the fallen lamp, crushing out its light – darkness descended.

The Hounds were on the back foot, naked terror robbing them of what little skill they had – their own weapons failed to find their mark as the monsters swarmed forwards, spilling through the gap that Reinholdt’s death had torn in their line. Weight of bodies pushed them back, stabbing halberds flashing out of the blackness – the valiant soul who had injured their leader howled in pain as the Skaven smashed his sword out of his hand, one of the beast’s subordinates lunging forwards to impale the helpless militiaman on the end of its jagged glaive with a blood-curdling shriek.

There were only three Hounds left – the only one of them shielding Pieter from the murderous tide was hit hard as the initiate watched, pushed back with force enough to nearly knock Pieter over as a halberd stabbed into his side. Before he knew it, Pieter was on the front line, blind and unarmed – he could hear the sobbing prayers of the Hounds alongside him, the dreadful chattering looming closer through the dark...

OOC:

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Map

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Red numbers show wound total. The kill-count is now Reinholdt, Caspar and one other Hound for no Skaven losses.

Your turn.

[hr]

Not Pieter

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The amputation took about four minutes. For Raffy, it seemed like four years. When searing tar and tight dressings had sealed the haemorrhaging stump, Rasen stepped back, his clothes red with blood. Breathing out, he looked away, lowering his head.

“I must confess, I hadn’t anticipated having to make a start... just yet,” he said. Looking round for a pail of water to clean his hands – and realising he didn’t have one – he wiped them absent-mindedly on his apron.

“Poor chap’ll be helpless for a while,” he said, as Raffy lolled on the table, his face a drained mask of pain. “I’m afraid he may well come to rather shortly... don’t let him forget that he’s an invalid. The boy’s lost a lot of blood.”
He glanced down at his apron, as if noticing it for the first time. Looking at Lothar, he pointed at the red-stained garment.
“See?”

There was a low mew from under the table – looking down, Lothar saw the severed hand slowly sliding out of sight, a ginger paw just visible before it vanished out of view. Doctor Rasen gave a slightly disturbed frown.
“Very... single-minded animal, you have there,” he said, cautiously.

Further comment was cut off by a commotion from outside – moving to the window, Lothar and the Doctor peered out. A familiar figure was being borne into the centre of the square, borne shoulder-high like a hunter’s trophy – Dietlief Halbermann looked like he had been dragged backwards through a thicket, his hair and beard bedraggled while his face was streaked with dried blood. He was still struggling and shouting, but his arms and legs had been trussed tightly with coarse ropes – the Sergeant was entirely at the mercy of his captors.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the front door – looking round, Rasen and Lothar exchanged puzzled glances, the doctor shrugging his shoulders...

OOC:

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Assume that, one way or another, the elves are aware of all the important information in this post. Poet, you may come to whenever you feel is appropriate (although that's not a license to shrug off the pain of the amputation ) - best to keep things rolling along at this stage of the game, I feel.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Pieter staggered back until he hit the wall.

"Drop your damn weapons!" he shouted at the remaining Hounds, his hands raised in surrender. "Don't get us all killed!"


OOC:

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Pieter's way to deal with such situations is to wonder "What would Raffy do?" and then do the exact opposite.

Defensive stance, just in case the Skaven leader is no longer feeling merciful.

[Another_Poet]

Raffy &c

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Raffy, so heavily drugged he is almost incoherent, begins calling out to the doctor.

"My hand... give me my hand..."

(Assuming Rasen ignores him)

He stops talking a bit and seems unconscious again. When he comes to a second time he more falls than climbs off the table, and half-crawls toward the physician's hand bag. His mind is completely gone from the laudanum, let alone the pain, and he seems to think the doctor has put the severed hand in there for safekeeping.

If anyone tries to assist or stop him he'll ask for his hand; if they just let him be, he'll give up on the bag and start looking elsewhere around the room ((LCP, I'll let you determine whether or not he would look under the table where the cat is)).

[LCP]

Raffy, Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

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Mr Cat gave up his morsel with a plaintive mew, curling up to sulk in one corner of the room.

[Exeson]

Ithelus and Illiiya

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(again all in elven)
'But I wasn't ready for you to die. You wanted it to end, but it would only end for yourself. What about the rest of us?' He shakes his head and then turns to see the commotion going on outside.

Now's your chance. The skull was back. You wouldn't miss this for the world, would you?

An internal battle showed itself on Ithelus's face, finally ending with a wicked grin. 'Illiiya, you just wait here. I won't be long. You wait here for a bit.' He then got up and left, striding through the crowd, gripping the handle of his sickle with one hand as he moved people out of the way with the other. He pushed until he was next the the Sargent, at which point he tried to halt the men carrying him.

[goblinpaladin]

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Lothar raised an eyebrow at Herr Cat's antics. "I, uh. Wasn't serious." he glanced at the door, then back to Rasen. "I suppose that- I'll get that?"

[Another_Poet]

Raffy &c

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Raffy takes the nibbled-upon hand and fumbles to wrap it in gauze or bandage borrowed from the doctor. In his inebriated and pain-stricken state, he doesn't get it totally wrapped, but tucks it into his jacket with a sigh of relief as if he accomplished some critical mission.

He stumbles across the room with intention, but seems to forget his course. Swaying, he reaches for a table to steady himself with his stump - forgetting there is no hand on it, he misses the mark and falls. Crumpled on the floor, he passes out cold.

[LCP]

Raffy, Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

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“Steady there,” said Rasen, turning and catching Raffy as he fell. Lifting the youth up onto the table, he nodded to Lothar. “If you would.”

Stepping over to the door, the soldier opened it – standing on the other side was a young woman that Lothar had never seen before, short, curly blonde hair smeared with wide smudges of black – grease, or ink. Her hands and sleeves were in a similar state: she was dressed more like a craftsman than your average peasant-woman, as far as wearing men’s trousers.

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“Um – hello,” she said, a little daunted by Lothar’s unfamiliar face. “Is – um, is Mr Rafale here? I heard...”

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the bloody Sparrowhawk on the table.

“Verena’s blood,” she breathed, staring in horror at Raffy’s stump.

Meanwhile, over her shoulder, Lothar was witness to another scene unfolding – as the trussed-up Sergeant approached the centre of the square, Ithelus appeared out of a side-door of the building they were in, heading swiftly towards Halbermann...

[hr]

The gaggle of people around Halbermann stopped as Ithelus stepped in front of him – a couple of somewhat burly-looking ringleaders looked at him suspiciously, Klaus hurrying over from across the muddy square to join them. Still being carried at shoulder-height, Halbermann struggled harder, trying to shout something as he caught sight of the elf – one of his captors shoved a ball of dirty rags in the sergeant’s mouth, reducing his protestations to muffled nonsense.

“What is it, elf?” asked the first human.

[hr]

Pieter

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The Hounds looked at Pieter as if he was mad – as the Skaven closed in, they seemed to see the wisdom in his words, taking a last, desperate chance and throwing their weapons to the ground. Raising their hands above their heads, they stared fearfully into the dark, the despairing wails of the slaves behind them only adding to the general air of terror.

Out of the darkness, Pieter felt something sharp and metallic nick the underside of his chin – looking down, he saw the hooked tip of a halberd brushing his throat, a rat-man’s red eyes gleaming from the shadows before him. In moments, the others were similarly fenced in, a forest of blades pinning them against the bars of the cages – shouldering his way through the press, the Skaven leader came close, the beast’s acrid musk filling Pieter’s nostrils as he inspected his captives.

Narrowing his beady eyes, the creature chittered something in his own foul language. Pieter felt his stomach lurch with fear as agonising screams pierced the thick air around him: the Hounds to either side sank to the ground, spitted like hogs by the blades of the monsters encircling them. Still thrashing, they were dragged back out of sight, the Skaven closing over them like a furry wave – Pieter tried to shut out the bestial noises that rose from the scrum, the men’s blood still glistening through the dark where they had been hauled across the mud of the cavern floor.

Opening his eyes, he realised he was still alive – his brain did not have long to dwell on the thought before the gauntleted hand of the Skaven leader seized him by the throat, hefting him bodily into the air. Gasping for breath, he struggled helplessly in its grip as more squeaking gibberish chattered from its jaws – a subordinate scuttled forwards, producing a ring of keys and unlocking the cage in which the solitary woman stood. Held at bay by a poised halberd, she watched helplessly as Pieter was thrown into the cell with her, the door slamming behind them.

The lock rattled shut. Dragging their prizes with them, the Skaven retreated into the dark...

[goblinpaladin]

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"Ha," Lothar grated. "Mis-ter Rafale is within. A bit the worse for wear, what with his heroism and his derring-do." The soldier stepped aside, making it clear that the young woman could enter. "I'm Lothar Fischer, the chap what killed Herr Puderbrand- not that it matters, what with the city in open bloody revolt, getting everyone killed so that sorcerer can do his bloody work."

His usual cheerful demeanour worn away by lack of sleep, burns, and worry for the city, Lothar spoke with sarcasm which fit oddly in his mouth. "And you, Fraulein?"

[LCP]

Lothar, Raffy, Ithelus & Illiiya

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"Magda," said the girl distractedly, stepping hesitantly inside. "Magda Gebenluft."

She looked from Lothar to Raffy and back.

"You're... friends?" she asked. Lothar's words had evidently left her in some doubt.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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The ashen-faced initiate sat at the bottom of his cell, contemplating his fingernails. He was not afraid... simply stunned, as if his feelings had gone numb.

Oh gods. They killed them all. He shook his head. It's their own damn fault, not mine. I only did what I was told. I even warned them we'd be outnumbered. They didn't believe me.

Another thought occurred to him: Why was I spared? Probably not because I'm more handsome than the others... The cell he had been put in had the look of a cell for special prisoners. He was not sure being considered special was good news in these particular circumstances.

"Um. Hello, cellmate," he greeted the woman, his tone lighter than he felt. "My name's Pieter. Do I get a lawyer or something?"

[LCP]

Pieter

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The woman looked back at Pieter, her expression the most deadpan he had ever seen.

“What do you think,” she said, flatly.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

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Pieter sighed. If even humor was dead here, he was not sure he would be able to keep hope for very long.

"Oh, sorry." His voice grew serious and confident. "It's not the end of it. I have friends out there, and they know I'm here. They're quite resourceful, believe me."

He lowered his voice: "Are there people here who can't be trusted?"

His eyes darted towards the other prisoners. He remembered there had been a collaborator the last time he came here.

[Exeson]

Ithelus

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Ithelus smiles, 'Well, I know we all want to see this man punished for the terrible things he has done. I know that we all want him to suffer but not die, to live through what he made others live through.'

Ithelus spits on the floor, his smile widening inot a grin. 'Some may think that is wrong but I don't agree. Thing is this man took something very, very personal from me and I'm just here to ask if I could be the one to start the punishment? If you don't mind?'