[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

"I don't suppose any of you has a light?" Sigurd asks, reigning in the horse at the edge of the wood.

"I should tell you that Monsieur Ribbault also knows about the doctor," he says in a lower voice. "Though I had no idea of his connection to Rosa."

Peering into the darkness, he shushes Indigo. "Well, Miss Illiiya," he says, "I'm going in a ways to have a look. If you'd rather stay with Mister Hagen, this is your stop."

[-Sentinel-]

"I don't suppose any of you has a light?" Sigurd asks, reigning in the horse at the edge of the wood.

"I have matches," said Pieter. "You can find a branch to light. Of course, then they'll see you coming two hundred yards away and run faster." Or ambush you. But if you want to play hero, who am I to stop you?


OOC:

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@ LCP: Is that forest deciduous or evergreen?
@ Poet: Each match has a 50% chance of lightning. Pieter will give you as many as needed to light your torch.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

I can provide... if you wish. Illiiya said, climbing off the horse as well. Just keep what you see to yourself. Yes?

She stepped up to Sigurd and picked up a stick of moderate size... the sort of thing that would tuck nicely into a jacket or coat if need be. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind on the winds and called out in elven, her voice seeming far more resounding than her usual subdued tone.

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A light spell shouldn't be so hard.

Channeling: (1d100)[21]
Casting: (1d10)[7] + (1d10)[2]

As her incantation rose, the winds about her swirled, kicking up loose dirt and leaves in a tiny dust devil at her feet and teasing at her skirts and long hair. The gust seemed to rise from her legs to her chest, and after but a few moments of her hair tossing wildly, the stick in her hand began to glow like an ember, shedding a bright light amidst the darkness. She handed it to Sigurd with a casual expression, as the winds around her sunk back into nothing.

Here. This should do. Yes?

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

I can provide... if you wish. Just keep what you see to yourself. Yes?

Sigurd tilts his head but gives a simple nod. His eyes gleam with curiosity as she grabs a branch.

As her spell stirs the pulse of the place, Sigurd puts a hand on the horse to quiet it. Indigo seems calm enough, keeping her distance but wagging her tail fiercely in anticipation of the chase.

Here. This should do. Yes?

Illiiya looks up to see Sigurd wearing a giant smile from ear to ear. "Yes, I believe it shall. Ha! That Talberg fellow is in for it tomorrow, I suppose." He winks at her.

Accepting the brand, he adds: "Your secret is safe with me, Miss Illiiya. Hop up if you want to come along."

He nudges the horse forward into the woods, and gives a short whistle for Indigo to get back on the job.

OOC:

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LCP, if the horse flat-out refuses to enter the woods, then assume Sigurd continues on foot.

My plan is to ride the horse at a walk, so nothing too treacherous; but if a ride test is needed, feel free to roll it, and I'll fortune point it if it fails. Agility is 47.

[-Sentinel-]

"Yes, I believe it shall. Ha! That Talberg fellow is in for it tomorrow, I suppose."

Pieter was tempted to push him down his borrowed horse. "And she's in for it once she's torn a nobleman to shreds in front of half the village," he said almost inaudibly. He tried to tell himself it was not his damn problem... but it most definitely was. In Delberz, the guards had tried to arrest them merely for being with an unlicensed magic user.

"Good luck," he said, though his tone was skeptical.


OOC:

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As her spell stirs the pulse of the place, Sigurd puts a hand on the horse to quiet it. Indigo seems calm enough, keeping her distance but wagging her tail fiercely in anticipation of the chase.

Remember that Indigo refuses to enter the woods.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

You should not go out alone into the woods at night. Illiiya told the reckless merchant.

She should have turned back. She should have let him go and settled inside nice and snug beside her friends... but something about things was bothering her. No... no that was not even it. Sigurd simply reminded her too much of another reckless fool she had known, and who she missed almost despite herself. She could not bring herself to refuse.

We must use caution. There are worse things in these woods than men. She said, not climbing aboard sigurd's horse but making clear that she would venture with him on foot.

And she cast an aside glance to Pieter, Lothar and Ithelus... her eyes pleading for them to come with her.

[-Sentinel-]

And she cast an aside glance to Pieter, Lothar and Ithelus... her eyes pleading for them to come with her.

Oh gods. She doesn't even need to cast any spell on me to enthrall me. What in Ranald's name would I do if she gave me that look and begged me to slit my wrists open?

The initiate took a deep breath, and glanced at Lothar and Ithelus.


OOC: Pieter will follow if Lothar and Ithelus do.

[LCP]

Seeing Pieter and Illiiya’s eyes on him, Lothar crossed his arms and frowned. After a long pause, he looked up at Sigurd.

“Anythin’ happens to that horse, you can pay for it,” he said, grudgingly. “Come on then.”

With humans by her side, Indigo was willing to cross the edge of the forest, although she did not go bounding off as before. Leopold’s horse was less happy with the idea, tossing its head and whickering nervously as Sigurd urged it into the dark. The merchant was clearly not accustomed to the saddle: his attempts to reason logically with the animal made for slow going.

Indigo still had the scent, however, and led the way with her nose pressed to the loamy forest floor. Very quickly, the trees closed in around them, blotting out all sight of the village. Now and then, the moon broke through the clouds, turning the forest around them into a glimmering spider’s-web of branch and bough. Then the clouds would return, and Illiiya’s glowing torch would become an island of light in a sea of black.

Sigurd had a sense that the trail Indigo was following was not straight, but it was hard to get any sense of direction, beneath the trackless trees and under such a starless sky. His suspicions were confirmed when a break appeared in the woods ahead – riding the horse out beyond it, he realised it was the road they had taken into Hohlesbruck itself, the tops of the windmill’s sails just visible above the treetops to their left.

The trail crossed the road and plunged back into the trees. Following Indigo, they pressed further into the woods, the only sound barring the crunch of their footfalls the keening shriek of a barn owl somewhere out in the dark. To Pieter’s city-bred ears, it sounded like the sharpening of a rusty knife.

On and on, until time itself seemed to run in circles, with Indigo the only one of them who knew where she was going. Squinting to make out the hound ahead of them, Lothar found himself questioning whether their magical torch was providing the same light it had a few minutes ago – turning his head, he was just in time to see it gutter and wane into blackness.

OOC:

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You’ve been on the trail an hour. How many hours (therefore torch renewals) are you willing to stay out, and is it OK for me to make the casting rolls for Illiiya (or would you like to roll them in advance, alternatively?)

[Another_Poet]

OOC:

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As far as I'm concerned we should keep going, at least another hour. It's only 10 pm or so, so...

We can wait for Illiiya's verdict on the casting rolls though personally, I think we all know she is going to say "yep I cast another" and we keep going.

[LCP]

Taking back their extinguished torch, Illiiya passed a hand over the broken stick, muttering once again the words of her invocation. The trees creaked overhead as a whispering breeze stirred their branches, the light welling up once more as if shining from deep within the old dead wood.

Ribault’s trail – if they truly were still on it – cut straight into the woods now, almost directly away from the bearing that Sigurd believed still led to the village. The trees grew thicker, fat, gnarled roots snaking their way through the layers of dead leaves and moss at their feet. Still no light appeared ahead of them, no crunch of footsteps in the dark.

“You sure that dog of yours hasn’t just found a hare, Mr Waite?” asked Lothar, doubtfully, as Illiiya had to relight the torch a second time. “If we’ve lost him, we should be gettin’ back to the village.”

Indigo seemed oblivious to the ex-soldier’s lack of confidence, snuffling on ahead. She certainly seemed to be finding plenty of interesting things to sniff at as they headed deeper into the woods, but she seemed to be headed in a consistent direction. Before Lothar could voice his doubts again, Ithelus held up his hand for quiet.

“Do you hear something?” asked the elf. “Water?”

Sure enough, following the dog a little further, the others could soon here it too – the burbling of running water, close to hand. Casting around for where Indigo had got to, Sigurd found her beyond a screen of bent-backed birches, standing and wagging her tail at the bank of a broad stream.

“You reckon this is the same one as flows through the village?” said Lothar, scratching his chin where his beard was growing back in. “Could be a safe road back, if nothing else.”

Upstream, great mossy boulders lay tumbled beneath the trees and jutting up from the riverbed, grey, water-polished pebbles glimmering beneath the turbulent surface like a cobbled road. If this was the Taalsbruck, it was much shallower and broader here than beneath the bridge at Hohlesbruck, where the river ran deep and green: a man might wade this and never see the water rise above his knees.

At some urging from Sigurd, Indigo was persuaded to splash across; when she reached the other side, however, she showed no further indication of having picked up a scent than she had on the near bank. She simply stood, and stared blankly back at her master.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

"Most curious..."

Sigurd shrugs in the dark. "I could take the dog up and down both shores, find the trail where he comes out again.... but that could take hours. And miles."

Sigurd doesn't openly say it, but his tone suggests he'd rather go back to the inn.

[-Sentinel-]

"That Bretonnian's resourceful, I'll give him that," sighed Pieter, visibly irritated. "We could follow the river back to the village and see if the dog picks up a scent again. If not, who cares? If those two have a hand in Alexa's condition, let 'em go wherever they please, as long as they stay away from Hohlesbruck."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd nods. "A wise suggestion, Mister Hagen."

He dismounts, deciding to walk alongside the horse as they head back toward the village.

"When I followed the doctor, I spied Monsieur Ribbault doing the same. I don't believe he saw me, so we have the upper hand there, such as it is."

If Illiiya doesn't object, Sigurd will do as Sentinel suggested, following the river toward the village and keeping Indigo looking for the scent.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

OCC:

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Illiiya doesn't object, and you can make her casting rolls if we need more light. she'll channel and abstain from using the Dhar.

She's ok with following the river to town too.

We should help the girl. If she recovers once away from the doctor... that will prove enough, won't it? Illiiya asked, genuinely uncertain of what it would take to convince the people of what they suspected was true.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd ponders that a long time. "Proof," he says a minute later. "Proof depends on a lot of things."

He looks at Pieter for his opinion.

[-Sentinel-]

"When I followed the doctor, I spied Monsieur Ribbault doing the same. I don't believe he saw me, so we have the upper hand there, such as it is."

"That changes things," said Pieter, thoughtful. "Do you think he was trying to get answers out of Rosa? I wonder what's his interest in this."

All in one evening, he thought in weary resignation. There really is someone up there whose sole purpose is to make my life more complicated than it has to be.

He felt Sigurd's gaze on him. Apparently the merchant wanted his opinion. "Well," Pieter said, "we're not the Emperor's justice. I'll keep investigating, but it's not my place to pursue and hang criminals." He remembered the argument he had had with Lothar and the others over the Slaaneshi captives. "I just need answers. I must know for sure if Alexa's in danger and what to do about it. Shall we go?"

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd sighs. "Someday I'll learn not to get myself caught up in these things..."

He keeps walking. "Do let's."

[LCP]

The river wound back into the night, weaving between sleeping trees that twined their roots through the mud of its banks. Indigo seemed confused by their sudden change in direction, running circles round them and whining in her eagerness to be back on the scent – but the hound clearly had nothing more for them to go on. Out in the dark of the trees, the owl screeched again.

After what must have been two or more hours following the course of the water, the grey stone of Hohlesbruck’s bridge loomed out of the gloom ahead. Leopold’s horse practically bolted from under Sigurd in its eagerness to be out of the trees, the merchant reining it in hard and leading it back to the Heartless Man.

When they entered the inn, Mrs Lauf was gone, but Mrs Hofstadter was still awake. The innkeeper’s wife was sitting in a wooden chair by the door, her chin resting on her chest – when she heard the door open, she looked up.

“You’re back,” she said. “You find ‘im?”

OOC:

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Rolling casting checks in case of miscasts:
(2d10)[9][7](16)
(2d10)[1][9](10)

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter's legs ached by the time he arrived at the inn. Between the trip to the murder site and the fruitless chase in the woods, he had done far too much walking for one day, and all of it was for nothing. The exhausted Ranaldite hoped he still had the strength to climb the stairs to his room.

“You’re back. You find ‘im?”

"Nope," said Pieter curtly. "I doubt he'll be back. People don't usually flee out the window without good reason." He collapsed on a stool. "I'm thirsty. A tankard of ale, please, and I'm off to bed."

[LCP]

"Bar's closed. It's past midnight," said Wulli's wife, cantankerously. "You think I stayed up to serve you drinks? I'm only here for old Hilda Lauf's sake, to see that the girl was alright." She stood up, dusting off her apron and shaking her head. "Don't see that she is, either. Still, s'pose it was good of you to go lookin'."

Producing an iron key from somewhere in her clothes, she locked the door behind them.

"Night, gents. Lady. I'll see you in the mornin', I'm sure."

OOC:

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Any further business before I move you on to tomorrow?

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd's stomach groans hungrily, but he decides there's nothing for it. He pets Indigo affectionately. "Good job girl. You did a good job. We'll get you meat in the morning."

He asks Mrs. Hofstadter if she will give him a wake up call before dawn in the morning, and sourly carries his old bones up the stairs to bed.

((That's all for me.))

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

By the time they'd returned, Illiiya was nothing short of exhausted. She found her cat mewling in irritation outside the inn, and scooped him up as she entered. She paid the woman little attention, and yawned as the group filed inside.

No more tonight. I'm exhausted. If the world hasn't ended by tomorrow... we can do more then.

(That'll put Illiiya out for the night too)

[LCP]

“Aye,” yawned Lothar. “Think we could all do with some rest.”

Once upstairs, the soldier pulled his boots off and rubbed some life back into his feet, taking a careful inventory of his meagre possessions before allowing himself to sleep. Looking over at Illiiya, he seemed to hesitate.

“You watch yourself tomorrow, you hear?” he said. “These people might seem pleasant enough, but we’re already outsiders here. They see...” – he seemed to hesitate, looking back towards the door in case they were being overheard – “...they see what you can do, they could turn on a penny. Country folk don’t need Templars to do their witch-hunting for ‘em.” He touched Illiiya fondly on the shoulder. “Young Lord Muck ain’t worth burnin’ for.”

Having said his piece, he fell fast asleep with remarkable speed, snoring like an old saw cutting through splintery timber. Feeling a slight twinge from the scars on the soles of her feet, Illiiya followed slowly after, her weariness swallowing her up like a bank of cloud.

~

In her dreams, the sun was rising, but its light was broken and shattered into a thousand places – it shone through a lattice of twisted, black branches, finger-like twigs scratching at the glass of her window. When she went to look outside, she saw that the forest had come into the village – trees grew over the walls of the cottages, as ancient and gnarled as they had been in the heart of the woods. A twisted oak with blasted boughs pushed through the tiled roof of Aloysius Faulebrand’s grand residence, a giant among ogres as it towered over the other trees. The house itself looked as if it had been abandoned for years, the colour washed from its crumbling walls in long stains of rain.

Blinking, Illiiya frowned. On the branches of the smaller trees around the Faulebrand house, the buds of soft-skinned fruit were just visible. Beneath the wild orchard, an old, lean human clad in drab black was walking, looking up at the buds with an appreciative eye. He had a spade-shaped beard of silky white, and a deeply-lined, kindly face. Though he looked ancient enough to be Lothar’s grandfather, he moved with an ease that suggested he was still fighting fit.

As if sensing Illiiya’s eyes on him, he looked up, straight at her window. Smiling, he pointed one bony finger up at the fruiting boughs above him. He had long hands, Illiiya noticed – hungry, grasping hands.

“Spring’s breaking,” he called up, a twinkle in his eye. “Going to be quite the harvest.”

In the dark of the trees, a beast howled – a long, tortured sound, half-human in its rage. Looking up in alarm, Illiiya saw nothing – but when she looked back, the old man was gone.

~

Sigurd woke to the knocking of Mrs Hofstadter on the door of his room.

“You awake, Mr Waite?” came the voice of the innkeeper’s wife, muffled by the closed door. “You asked I ought to wake you before the sun came up.” There was a pause. “Reckon that’s not long now.”

[-Sentinel-]

It was still dark when Pieter woke from yet another dream of Delberz. Gods, was he tired of going through this over and over again: the tunnels, the rats at Helstrum's Ward, the terrible bell. He could not seem to leave this town behind. Every time he opened his eyes in the morning, he half expected to find himself in Morsleek's slave pens.

I need a girl in that bed. It would remind me I'm safe.

No. It would help some, but the Delberz dreams would only come back sooner or later. What he really needed was to see Nuln again. He had no idea how and why it would make things right... just a gut feeling. Next summer it would be five years since he left the city where he was born.

Like it or not, here he was, in some insignificant village where things beyond his understanding were happening, and he had responsibilities to attend to. Long ago he had been given the choice of being his own man, of doing whatever he pleased. He had turned it down. There was no going back: Ranaldites may be liars and schemers, but none of them would even think of breaking an oath to the Trickster. Only He would decide when the time was ripe for Pieter to hear the toll of Nuln's clock tower again.

Back to work. I live to serve. Yessir.

Pieter sat on his bed and put on his boots in the dim pre-dawn light that filtered through the window. Using his blade as a mirror, he made sure his dark hair was properly tousled. Then he slid his shortsword inside its scabbard, grabbed the bag containing his poultices and bandages, and opened the door to leave. The innkeeper's wife was already knocking on the merchant's door.

"Morning, ma'am. Do you know where the duel's going to be?" he asked.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya slept less than she likely should have, though oddly not because of Lothar snoring away next to her. His company was comfort to her, shying away the darker thoughts in her head that solitude brought. Knowing that she was accepted by him, and her small handful of friends was all she really had. Her dreams however, dispelled what comfort her companion brought her. After awaking from them, she spent most of the rest of the night lying awake, listening to every sound that the night brought to her ears. When finally the morning's light struck her face she gave a weary sigh, rubbing her eyes and slipping from the bed onto legs still tired from last night's long trudge.

She yawned as she got herself ready and did her best to brush the tangles from her long hair with her fingers. Thwarted by it's thickness, she gave up the endeavor, making a mental note to get a brush sometime soon, and headed downstairs.

Hello Pieter. You're up early. She said as she spotted him, giving a slight wave... her other hand rising to cover a yawn.

[LCP]

Mrs Hofstadter looked back over her shoulder as she heard Pieter's door open.

"Morning, ma'am. Do you know where the duel's going to be?" he asked.

"I'd guess they'd be up on the common," she said, levelly. "Wouldn't know for certain, though."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

In a moment, the door opens in response to Mrs. Hofstadter. Sigurd was apparently already awake; his face is washed, his eyes are bright and he is fully dressed. Whereas at two in the morning he seemed ready to droop over dead, now he seems full of energy, refreshed and ready to go. He apparently gets his wind in the morning, as older folks tend to do.

Indigo doesn't look so perky. The dog slinks out of Sigurd's room with her head low to the ground, eyes staring up at Mrs. Hofstadter on a sly angle, looking every bit like a starving orphan begging for a penny. Last night the dog walked four or five hours over mixed terrain, only to never find her quarry - and not a bite of meat when they got back.

"Good morning ma'am," Sigurd greets the mistress of the inn. "Thank you for the call. I'll be taking an extra portion of meat for Indigo this morning, glad to pay the cost of it."

He buttons his satchel and straightens the collar of his shirt. Catching sight of Pieter and then Illiiya in the hallway, he gives a nod of greeting as he goes by - and a wink that only Illiiya sees.

Bounding down the stairs, his owl-tipped cane adds an odd rhythm to his steps, like a waltz: tha-thump click, tha-thump click, tha-thump click.

Indigo is not so exuberant, and follows her human with the look of a fed-up wife going after her husband...

Sigurd will eat his breakfast quickly and efficiently, but not gulp it. He'll make sure Indigo gets more to eat than usual, but saves some of it for later in the day (no point bringing a stuffed, lethargic dog on the road)) plus rations for himself. He carries his mug of tea outside to survey the township by the dawning light - to see where the duel is gathering and make sure he doesn't miss it.

[-Sentinel-]

When the revolution comes, thought Pieter darkly, morning people will be hanged first.

He dragged his feet downstairs, tousled Illiiya's hair even more than it already was and sat by her side. With no time to wait for a breakfast, he asked Mrs Hofstadter for leftovers from last night and wolfed them down still cold. Then he got up to leave.

"Illiiya... no trouble today, please," he whispered, pleading. "If you get in trouble, we get in trouble too. Like in Delberz. This is between Leopold Faulebrand and Ricard Talberg only, and neither will be happy if we intervene. Understood?"

He planted a kiss on her forehead and headed out to the common.

[LCP]

Ithelus rose with Illiiya, descending to the common hall with scarce a word: he gave Pieter his usual dirty look when the young man kissed Illiiya on the forehead. Lothar took a little longer to wake, descending the stairs while still buckling on his belt. Pieter noticed the soldier was wearing his mail, with his gun and shield slung over his shoulder. He was clearly prepared for Mr Waite’s excursion.

As the sky outside began to lighten, Leopold Faulebrand stumbled down the stairs, red-eyed and pale-faced. He mumbled something to Mrs Hofstadter, who fetched him a slim breakfast. The young man sat alone to eat it, his eyes on the timber of the table.

Outside, Sigurd could see the village awakening. They did not want to be seen to gawp, but men and women were evidently converging on the little scrap of common ground up by the Delberz road. In amongst them, he caught a glimpse of Ricard Talberg’s head of rich brown hair – the young man was sitting in a folding chair with his feet up on an old tree stump, awaiting the dawn.

Somewhere over the thatched rooftops, a cockerel crowed. It looked like the waiting was over.

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Drew’s away, so just looking to see if Pieter or Illiiya will say anything to Leopold before moving things along. Chris, if there was anything Illiiya wanted to do that I’ve trampled over, please feel free to forcibly rewind the narrative.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

The more the day's events reminded her of the duel, the more Illiiya's mood soured. She ate lightly, her stomach unsettled by last night's long walk and her lack of sleep. Instead she moved to join Leopold at his table as if she belonged there, giving him a weary but concerned expression from across the table.

You don't need to duel that man. Don't worry. She told him, I will see to that.

@LCP

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No worries hun, it's ok! Heck, you can even move on to the beginnings of the duel if you want. Illiiya certainly doesn't plan to EXPLAIN what she means.