[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart

[LCP]

Mr Faulebrand looked less than pleased – there was a flash of irritation in his eyes, but he stifled it, perhaps remembering the events of minutes ago and their consequences.

“I suppose... well, it makes no bones to me,” he said. “But I must insist that I determine the time of departure, and our pace. It’s a day and a half to Hohlesbruck from here, and I must be back on time.”

OOC:

Spoiler

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If Pieter wishes to haggle to drive up the price, he can roll an opposed test against Mr Faulebrand’s effective skill of 42 to resolve it in one swoop. Each degree of success = 5s added to the fee. It obviously can’t go below his initial offer.

[Exeson]

Ithelus scooped up the cat, and tried to calm it slightly.

'I'shara eh? You never told me you had named it.'

He regards the dog with suspicion. 'I don't want to force you, but I think it would be healthy for us to have something to do.'

[-Sentinel-]

"A day and a half, hm?" Pieter pretended to think about it. If the man really needed guards, he was not spoiled for choice in these parts; he was probably willing to negotiate. "Are we going to spend a night in the wilderness? If we do, it makes matters quite a bit more dangerous, you know. Even if we don't... roads are far from safe in the winter, when some peasants go hungry and get the idea of waylaying rich-looking travellers."


Untrained Haggle 30: (d100)[19]

[LCP]

”Even if we don't... roads are far from safe in the winter, when some peasants go hungry and get the idea of waylaying rich-looking travellers."

“...That would be the point of my taking you on as guards, yes,” said Mr Faulebrand, with a hint of ill-temper. “I have my wagon here. Taking shifts, it should be possible to travel through the night.”

The two of them fell to haggling, Pieter finding his slick city ways rolling off their tubby client like water off a duck’s back: he was clearly an experienced dealmaker. After an inordinate amount of wheedling and bartering, the merchant’s price remained stubbornly fixed.

“Well, if that’s quite done with,” said Mr Faulebrand, puffing out his chest a little as he straightened up, “I wish to be going as quickly as possible. Rosche was only supposed to be a brief rest stop. How soon can you be ready to depart?”

[Exeson]

With a large grin and exaggerated movement Ithelus reaches under the table and picks up his crossbow. He places it on the table with a thud, followed by his sickle, his boot dagger, and then a throwing knife, and another and finally a third.

'I'd say I'm about ready now, don't know about the rest of you.'

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

I think he earned a name. Illiiya told Ithelus softly, as she pet the hound. It seemed friendly enough, and she had a soft spot for friendly animals.

If we're going, it may as well be now. Illiiya said, standing from her chair, and scooping up the small shoulder-pack that carried her few possessions. We are as ready to go as we can be.

[Another_Poet]

Indigo sniffs and licks Illiiya's hand and then shoves her face up against the elf's hip, looking for further petting and maybe an ear scratching.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter kept a watchful eye on the dog, ready to intervene if it bit Illiiya's hand. Those stupid beasts were unpredictable.

"Didn't have much to do here either," the initiate said, turning to Faulebrand with a good-natured smile. "This time of the year, Rosche would turn a cow to stone with boredom." He did not even bother lowering his voice.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

I don't mind the boredom. Illiiya said, the slightest hint of a smile crossing her face as she scratched the hound behind his ears. She seemed to have taken well to the animal. It never really seems quiet to me.

The far-off tone in her voice made her words feel meaningful in ways that only her allies might understand... including the brash one nestled deep in her mind. Boredom didn't sit well with him at all. With a soft, resigned sigh she stepped up to the two humans, collecting her cat from Ithelus along the way.

Now, then? She inquired of her companions, the other folk here barely seeming to register with her.

[goblinpaladin]

"Aye," Lothar said, by now puffing comfortably on his pipe. "Now's good. Hope it's a quiet trip, though- 've had quiet enough excitement lately." The companions would have noticed that the soldier had been favouring his left arm since Delberz.

[LCP]

“Excellent!” said Mr Faulebrand, clapping his flabby hands together. “Well, then... shall we?”

Aloysius Faulebrand’s wagon was drawn by a pair of broad-shouldered carthorses, blinkered and harnessed: the huge animals seemed unperturbed by Indigo’s approach, looking down with a sleepy indifference as the shaggy wolfhound sniffed around the muddy fringes of their hooves. The wagon itself was half-covered with an arched canvas roof, a reinforced iron chest locked to an iron ring on its floor.

“You won’t regret this,” said the little man, heaving himself up into the driver’s seat with considerable effort. “I consider myself to be an excellent judge of character, and you, my friend,” – he gestured beneficently towards Lothar, “have an honest face. Do right by Aloysius Faulebrand, and he will do right by you! That’s what people in these parts have learned, and much they have to thank for it!”

As Indigo leapt up onto the back after Sigurd, Mr Cat hesitated, looking up at the panting dog with an almost cynical expression. The mangy Delberz street cat waited until Illiiya had mounted the cart before following her, curling up behind her feet to watch the newcomer and his pet with beady eyes. With a crack of the reins, the cart started forwards, its horses lumbering into a sedate trot as they turned south-west out of the Rosche coachyard...

[hr]

The Hohlesbruck road was narrow and empty, cutting through the thick trees of the Drakwald in silence. At least, it would have, if it were not for Mr Faulebrand’s prattling.

The man certainly liked the sound of his own voice. He talked about the price of grain, and the cost of labour. He talked about his many important friends in Altdorf and Marienburg, and the invaluable contribution to society made by the merchant classes. It was the glory of the Empire, Pieter was informed, that a miller’s daughter might marry a lord, and the only right and just way, for a nation needed mills just as much as it needed grand castles – indeed, if not more! Even when Mr Faulebrand took the back seat, dozing beneath the wagon’s covering with his feet on the iron-bound chest, he murmured to himself, twitching in his sleep. The word ‘respect’ seemed forever on his lips.

There were birds singing in the deep forest, and Illiiya’s attention, at least, was elsewhere. The wagon slowed where a mossy-bottomed stream crossed their path, and the sun broke brightly through the leafless trees. With their worthy employer dozing fitfully in the back, Lothar swung himself down from the cart to lead the horses through the shallow water.

So the day stretched on, up the winding forest road and down the other side, until the western hills hove into view with the sun sinking behind them. Mr Faulebrand woke up in the back, his hands instinctively grabbing at the chest to make sure it was still there.

“Good time, making good time,” he mumbled to himself, looking out at their surroundings. “We must be careful! These bandits are persistent ruffians, and they’ll wait for nightfall if they come for us at all, you can be sure of it.”

He made his clumsy way back to the front of the wagon. “There used to be Beastmen in these parts, you know, ‘til the War cleared them out. I suppose if you chase out the wolves, the dogs’ll move in, eh?”

He shook his head.

“Three of my shipments they’ve taken, through the winter and all. Not local lads, or we’d know about it, but it’s uncanny how they’ve been lying in wait. I wouldn’t mind giving them a piece of my own mind, I can tell you!”

From the man’s short arms and pudgy frame, Lothar somehow doubted it. Beyond the hilltops, the sinking sun was painting the sky with red: night was falling fast.

[hr]

Pieter woke from dozing with a start as the wagon went over a fallen branch – either that, or the fact that Lothar was singing. Rubbing his stiff neck, he squinted blearily round at the soldier sitting up front.

“General Koop led from behind,
To keep his men in order,
But when the ‘burgers ran, he was in the van,
And first across the border!”

The Nordlander’s singing voice left something to be desired... like the ability to sing. Trying to come up with a suitably sarcastic witticism, Pieter looked around. The gloaming of dawn was stealing over the treetops, melting the dark away: no bandits in the night, then.

“Whoa!” cried Lothar, suddenly. Pieter felt the cart lurch under him as the horses were reined in – standing up, he looked to see what had stopped them. Through the grey twilight, two dark shapes were visible by the side of the road ahead. They were human figures, crumpled against the bole of a tree – and they were lying very, very still.

[goblinpaladin]

Having pulled the horses to a halt, Lothar swung down from the cart. "Hnf."

With that, the soldier placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and approached the fallen bodies. "Anyone's awake, keep an eye out," he said over his shoulder. "Prob'ly a trap."

[LCP]

The slumped figures weren’t about to leap up – as Lothar approached them, he noticed a dark, round object lying in the leaf-litter a couple of yards from the nearer man’s shoulders. It was his head, the grisly object gaping glassily up at Lothar with yellow teeth showing in its slack, open mouth.

The second had been dispatched with similar efficiency, a powerful downward sword-stroke having cleaved down through his shoulder and deep into his chest. Both were men, dressed in dirty furs and outdoorsman’s clothes: both seemed to have been armed, a pair of rusty hatchets still clutched in the headless body’s hands while a light crossbow had fallen from the other’s grasp. They seemed untouched by scavengers as yet, although a couple of crows in the branches of the overhanging trees were eyeing them hungrily...

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya had been quiet for much of the trip, ignoring their portly "associate" and his rambling. She mostly stuck close to Lothar, or Ithelus when Lothar was indisposed, leaning onto them slightly as she stared off into space and tended to her cat. Periodically she would give the barest hint of a smirk or smile at no one in particular, until time wore on her and she nodded off alongside Ithelus.

The sudden stop of the carriage brought her to, and after a few moments of looking about in alarm, she realized that Lothar was unaccounted for.

Lothar? She called out almost nervously... looking about for the wayward soldier, Where are.... oh. There you are. Is everything all right?

[Exeson]

Ithelus stands to load his crossbow and studies the trees, hoping his superior vision would help to foil any traps.

'What are they Lothar?'

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter talked with the merchant with genuine interest at first, the theme of social class dear to him. His long evenings with the Society of Free Men had made him a somewhat skilled debater on political matters. As the day wore on, the initiate grew more and more bored with the man, who talked much more than he listened and did nothing but hammer various rewording of his earlier statements over and over again. He tried to stay alert, but had almost fallen asleep by the time the coach stopped in front of the two bodies.

"Ranald's teeth," he breathed.

It could have been the work of brigands... but brigands often favored ranged weapons, many did not have the stomach for murder, and most would have at least taken the second man's crossbow. Besides, outdoorsmen were usually too poor and too canny to be good targets.

One way to tell was to see if they still had any money and valuables on them.


OOC:

Spoiler

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I'll also see if there's any blood on the headless man's hatchet, if the second man had time to load his crossbow, and just how clean was the cut that separated the head from the body (if it took more than one stroke, it tells us a lot about the attacker).

[LCP]

If the man with the crossbow had had time to load it, he had already fired: the bowstring was slack. There was no sign of blood on the decapitated man’s weapons either, though he had clearly held them ready at the moment of his death.

Neither of them carried any money, although one of them had a copper necklace stuffed rather haphazardly into a pocket... it didn’t seem like the kind of thing such a man would wear, with his wild beard and dirty face. Both of them looked like they had been killed by single blows, delivered with considerable force. Looking down at the road, Pieter saw there were hoofprints in the damp earth, reasonably fresh – at least one horse had been this way, not too long ago.

“Heavens above,” said Mr Faulebrand, peering over the edge of the cart. Letting himself gingerly down, he tiptoed as near as he dared. “Well... they’re not men from the village, at least.”

His eyes fell on their weapons.

“If these are our brigands... well, but no, there must be more than two of them. Still,” he murmured, reflectively. “It’d be a start.”

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter felt a surge of contempt for the merchant. Brigands or not, men were men.

"Whoever did this," noted the initiate, "their weapons were powerful. The attack came fast... it wasn't much of a fight. Lothar, you've fought Beastmen, haven't you? Can you be sure these are horse hoofprints?" He pointed at the prints in question.

He examined the copper necklace more closely and stuffed it in his pocket. Someone at the village or elsewhere might recognize it and know the identity of its fallen owner.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar nodded, rubbing the fading scar across his forehead. "Aye, horse tracks for sure. I'm no tracker, so I can't see if he's been recently shod or how long ago it was, or anythin'. But I'll say this- whoever did this was strong, and had a good blade. Takes a bit o' strength to shear through bone like that."

He looked to their employer. "Not local boys, you say? So either someone's doin' some vigilante work, or they'd a fallin' out with the leader o' their gang. Seems a mite vicious, just leavin' 'em here like this. It's like it's a sign."

"Any other tracks about? Ith, you see anythin'? That dog smell anythin' funny? Might be able to figure out where they came from."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Earlier, During the Day

Sigurd watched in amusement as Indigo piled into the wagon. "You ate too much," he said, but didn't push her back out. His smile only grew broader at the cat's unhappy reaction. When Illiiya stepped in, he tipped the corner of his wide-brimmed hat by way of greeting, then slid it over his eyes so he could nap.

Along the way however, he rose not infrequently. A half-dozen times he stood tall on the back of the wagon, typically as it passed through a clearing or crested a hill, and scanned the surrounding territory.

From his satchel he withdrew a softback leather journal and made occasional short notes.

He maintained a respectful non-intrusive demeanor with the others, but didn't seem afraid to talk to them.

Illiiya and whoever else:

Spoiler

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He watches Ithelus and Illiiya from time to time, frowning when they switch to Elven. He can tell they are not romantically involved... unless elves' affections are quite different from those of men.

He decides to talk to the girl-elf first.

"That's a well-behaved cat," he says simply. "Don't see many cats on the road. Plenty of other dogs, but never cats."

He looks at the road behind them. "But then, I don't see many elves on the road, either. Sigurd's the name."

He turns back to her and offers his hand. "Sigurd Waite."

Lothar and whoever else:

Spoiler

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At one point the stranger finds himself beside Lothar, and motions to Indigo.

"The line about the dog isn't just to get a free ride," he tells the soldier. "If there's trouble, she'll do her part. She's fantastic for the night watch."

Pieter and whoever else:

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Sigurd listens intently to Pieter's back-and-forth with Faulebrand. For most of the fiery conversation he doesn't interrupt. But after the merchant's fourth or fifth mention of "industry feeds the people," Sigurd clears his throat.

"Is that always true, Master Faulebrand?" He tips his hat back so he can meet the man's eyes. "What of merchants like myself? I sell art. Antiques. Things that look pretty. A man would starve trying to eat what I sell."

He looks at Pieter. "I think this young man has the right of it. There's nothing altruistic in what we do. You and I, we run our business for our own wealth, and nothing more. If it helps anyone else it's because they want a share of the wealth too."

When he mentions "art" he shakes his cane for emphasis. The object is rather fancy: the wood is burnished, and the handle is carved into an Owl of Verena.

Indigo, for her part, came and went as she pleased. She frequently leapt down and bounded away from the wagon--sometimes after a bird, sometimes to mark a tree, sometimes just because the world hadn't been sniffed enough yet. Sigurd let her run as she would.

At the Scene of the Most Ghastly Slayings

During the night however, Sigurd enforces his promise. Whenever the dog tries to curl up in the wagon he not-too-subtly shoves her back out with one foot. She spends her time either trotting alongside in the road, or lying on the back board of the wagon with eyes half-open.

Before the wagon even stopped, she sat bolt upright. Sigurd gently cleared his throat to wake the others, and reached for a lantern in case light was needed.

Once the bodies are seen, he sends Indigo out to do a round of the area. He then takes the lantern over to inspect the bodies.

As Pieter shoves the copper necklace into his pocket, the peddler's cane swings over, gently stopping the initiate's arm.

"Mind if I take a look at that?

OOC:

Spoiler

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Ordering Indigo to go into the surrounding woods, so she will bark if there is anyone/anything out there. Basically the equivalent of the "Seek" command for a trained dog in D&D.

Knowledge History to see if I know anything about the necklace: (1d100)[53] v. 51

[LCP]

On the Road

"I think this young man has the right of it. There's nothing altruistic in what we do. You and I, we run our business for our own wealth, and nothing more. If it helps anyone else it's because they want a share of the wealth too."

Mr Faulebrand blinked, a one-track mind stopped at a crossing.

“Well, I never said I was a charity, Mr Waite. A man’s only worth what he makes of himself, and I’ve got no time for them paupers and beggars who don’t know it. But if a man can take a barge of grain to Altdorf and make three hundreds out of two, if he can spend his money wisely and treat his children better than they were born to, and if he pays other men their living wage to make something out of their work... well, I’m saying a man like that wears his worth on his sleeve.”

He straightened in the driver’s seat with a self-regarding air.

“There’s some that see that, and some that don’t. Mr Ricard Talberg, he’s a young man with his head screwed on right. A fine match for both families, that’s what I say, for all that his blood may be blue.”


The Scene of the Crime

The copper necklace was undistinguished – it looked more like something a peasant-woman might keep than any city-made jewellery.

Sniffing around the bodies, Indigo ran a little way into the trees after the heavier hoofprints, nose close to the ground. She stopped before the darkness beneath the canopy could envelop her completely, peering warily into the shadows. The tracks vanished into the deep forest, swallowed up by twisted tree-trunks and thickets of black, leafless branches.

Backing up, Indigo slunk back onto the path. There was clearly something about the mysterious rider’s tracks that she didn’t like – but at least there seemed to be no-one lurking in ambush.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

On the Road

Sigurd accepts Faulebrand's liberal capitalism with good humor.

“There’s some that see that, and some that don’t. Mr Ricard Talberg, he’s a young man with his head screwed on right. A fine match for both families, that’s what I say, for all that his blood may be blue.”

A sincere smile crosses his face. He seems to have a lot of those. "Well, you have my congratulations on that, Master Faulebrand. Quite so."

The Scene of the Crime

No sooner does Sigurd block Pieter's hand and ask for the necklace, than he catches full sight of it in the lantern-light and loses all interest in it.

Indigo's reaction to the tracks rouses him, however.

"Indi," he chides. "You'll put us to shame."

He holds the lantern up to better illuminate the surrounding trees, but doesn't move. Let's see how curious this lot is.

[-Sentinel-]

"Sure, have a look." Pieter handed the pendant to Sigurd. "You know, I'm far from sure it belongs to the man. He'd be wearing it around his neck, wouldn't he?"

He listened thoughtfully to Lothar's description of the tracks and quickly spotted the same clues the soldier had.

"I don't think it was brigands. No bandit successful enough to have a horse would bother attacking a pair of scruffy trappers or woodsmen. Think the horsemen were working together?"

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd glanced appreciatively at Pieter as he made his pronouncements. The lad's quick, he thinks.

But he still waits to see whether they are considering following the tracks. He turns the necklace over in his hand absently as he watches the others.

[Exeson]

Setting his face into a frown Ithelus jumps down the side of the wagon. He reaches under his shirt and pulls out a necklace, made of teeth, not all of them readily identifiable. Those who had been present in the belltower might recognize it from somewhere. Ensuring that the bolt was in place in his crossbow Ithelus advances into the trees, following the tracks, weapon at the ready.

'You know that time we were attacked by beastmen? This is making me feel more jumpy than that...' He trails off as he walks past Lothar.

'Do we keep going or check this thing out?'

[goblinpaladin]

On the Road

Lothar scratched the dog behind the ears affably. "She's huge, a'right. I'll bet she'll do better'n some men, comes to a fight."

At the Murderin'

The soldier jerked a thumb at Pieter. "Pieter's right. No-one who can afford a horse is liable to go chasin' down a pair of scraggly-lookin' lads like these two. More like it was a random happening..." He paused, peering into the barely-lit dawn woods. "Or a crazy guy, hopped up on bloodlust."

He heaved out a sigh. "Looks to me like we have one chap, and another chasin' him. Probably the first horseman came by, whack-whack," he gestured -somewhat brutally- to the dead. "Then the second came by, hot on the heels of the first, but saw the dead men and- went in the woods instead of following?"

He stopped, rubbing his beard. "Drat. That line of thought mighta gone somewhere."

He nodded to Ithelus. "I don't like it either, Ith. Ill, you see anythin' we don't?" His tone to the elven woman was softer, and his expression tightened around the eyes as he asked. Those from Delberz would know that the soldier was concerned about the... things Illiiya could see.

[-Sentinel-]

'Do we keep going or check this thing out?' asked Ithelus.

"I guess that's for our employer to decide," said Pieter, glancing sideways at Mr Faulebrand.

Mostly, he hoped for an excuse to justify not going into the woods after the killer. None of them had the kind of expertise it took to track down a mounted murderer in the wilderness.

"The first arrived at a walking pace," mused Pieter. "If he killed them so fast that this man here couldn't load his crossbow, he must have looked friendly." He frowned. "But I'm betting the second one's the killer. Just a hunch, really."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

As the group stands around considering, Sigurd lowers his lantern. The gloaming is breaking into usable light and he decides not to waste oil, shutting the lantern off.

At the mention of Beast Men he maintains his unsurprised expression, but a slight tilt of his head indicates he's more curious about the party than before.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Earlier: to Mr. Waite

Illiiya didn't shy from the antiques-dealer, nor seem as disinterested in his presence as she was with their portly "employer". She gave him an awkward, tentative handshake... seeming oddly uncomfortable with the contact despite spending most of the trip leaning close, even on, one of the men in her party.

Illiiya. She answered him quietly as she withdrew her hand, I'm sorry... I am not so good with people.

She glanced aside to her cat, luring it to her with a small shred of jerked meat from amidst her things and then scooping it up to deposit it in her lap. The cat hardly seemed to mind so long as it was fed.

I'shara came to me at a... difficult time. I have never trained him, he just chooses to follow me... and I am glad for his company. She scratched the cat behind it's ears as she spoke, and offered it a second small piece of meat. I trust animals more than people most of the time... and your hound speaks well for you, Mr. Waite.


At the killing

An uneasy feeling in her stomach was building. A steady gnawing panic that the dark things she had thought dead and buried would not let her go so easily. She saw Raffy on the floor, burned and bleeding... his soft sigh as his life slipped away in front of her. His smiling face in her mind turned to one torn and lifeless... staring at her with lifeless eyes.

No! Please! She uttered, flinching from nothing that could be seen, before she seemed to collect herself and turn to look off to Lothar and Pieter, No more beasts and chaos! Can we not just stick to the road? Please?

[LCP]

Lothar nodded. "We have an obligation to Herrs Faulebrand and Waite to get them to town safely, and the death o' two forest bandits is interestin', but not really our job. Aye? Or do some of us really want t' look into this?"

Mr Faulebrand cleared his throat very loudly behind them.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen," he said, suppressing a hint of nerves in his voice, "I am paying you to escort me to Hohlesbruck, as your, ah, friend, says. And I am on a deadline." He made a fluttering gesture towards the bodies. "Now, I'm not saying it's not of interest that someone is clearing these ruffians out... but perhaps it's just the roadwardens, finally getting their act together, hm? In any case, it's not your business." He straightened his jerkin. "Not yet at least."