[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[LCP]

Back at the Heartless Man, a reasonable-sized group of villagers were helping to put the inn in order, seemingly having decided to take every burden they could off Hanna Hofstadter's shoulders. A rustic sort of wake was beginning in the common hall, a pair of burly village woman keeping tally of the flow of drink to make sure Hanna wouldn't be cheated as well as widowed. The quiet Mr Feldt was manning the taps, still as grim-faced and taciturn as the day they had found his daughter. Serving seemed to give him something to do that wasn't talking.

A few villagers – old Wilbur, for one – seemed to see it as their responsibility to keep peoples' spirits up, and led the drinking with toasts to the dead man. Some of the younger folk joined in with a will, but there were too many worried, silent faces for the feeling to catch.

By the sentiments expressed, the whole village had been fond of Wulli. Even through the dull ache from his eye, though, Lothar observed that the hall of the inn was far emptier than it had been that first night after the feast. Many of the missing faces he could account for, men butchered and left behind in the mad flight from the woods. There was more to it than that, though – there was no sign of the old man Herwin, of Greta Suster or that boy, the one who looked so jealously at Pieter. Among the young and the old particularly there seemed to be as many missing as among the men, and most of the women had a haggard, worn-out look. Leopold sat alone in one corner, apparently having had as much of his father as he could stomach for one day.

The rain drummed idle fingers on the diamond-paned windows as the villagers drank the sun down. The larder was emptied, and a pot of coins passed round for those who had nothing more useful than money to offer in return. No-one seemed to want to cook in the kitchen, where that sinister stain still lingered on the floor, and the fireplace in the common hall was used to cook up a stew instead. The fire cast long shadows over the hall.

By now quite a bit of drink had been consumed, and old man Wilbur was no longer quite sober. A tinge of melancholy began to leach into his determined attempts at merriment, and the songs he tried to lead the tavern in took on a softer, more mournful tone. Though there were no more half-hearted attempts clapping along, more people joined their voices to the song – it seemed to speak to them more. The craggy-faced old man who had suggested burying Wulli the Stirland way fetched a battered old mandolin, and his knobbly fingers plucked the strings with surprising skill.

Tomas got up on a spring mornin'
Called for water to wash his hands.
Says give loose to me my two grey dogs,
That lie in iron bands, bands,
That lie in iron bands...

Gradually, some of the villagers at the edges of the gathering drifted silently away. When the light was beginning to wane – whether because of the hour or the gathering clouds, it was hard to say – Ellie came in out of the drizzle, shaking beads of water from her bedraggled hair. Scuttling over to the fireside, she plunked herself down next to Pieter and said in a breathless, gossiping whisper:

“Abi says she saw ol' man Faulebrand heading up the manor hill just now. Him an' three other men.” She seemed rather excited. “Said they looked awful grim.”

OOC:

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Song link

Give a shout if I'm moving things on too fast.

[-Sentinel-]

That got Pieter out of the weary, despondent state he had been in for most of the day. Attracting the interest of the village gossip had been a smart move on his part.

What's that old fool doing, this time? Not demanding the doctor's liberation, I hope.

He felt he should give Ellie something in return for her loyalty, to secure her future collaboration - circumstances had not allowed him much time with her since the party. What would she want? More gossip, no doubt. Something it could be useful to let the people of Hohlesbruck know about, something to bolster their courage by giving their enemy a known face. The initiate leaned towards Ellie and said quickly, in a conspirational whisper:

"At the barrow, there was a whole company of dead knights. Order of the Panther. They were killed fighting beastmen at least a few months ago. We entered the tomb to get the magic sword Mr Waite was looking for, but it wasn't there. All we found except for the sarcophagus was the corpse of a beastman killed by one of the knights, and the knights' banner, resting against the wall. Talberg tells me it's the banner Reinhardt Anhame carried." He paused, watching her reaction. "Keep it quiet, please," he added, knowing full well she would not.

He pressed a kiss on her rain-wet cheek, stood up and walked over to his friends. "Mr Faulebrand and three other men are going to the manor," he confided in a low, urgent tone. "I want to know what it's about." While speaking, he put on his hooded brown robes, partly for protection from the rain and partly to hide from any other onlookers the fact that he was taking his shortsword with him.

[goblinpaladin]

"Hmm." Lothar cast a sidelong glance at Ithelus. "What about the Flycher woman? Didn't you want to talk to her?"

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And with that, I'm vanishing for four days! How awkward. I'll make sure I check on the thread Tuesday evening AEDT after I get back from Melbourne.

(yes there is internet in Melbourne and yes I have a smartphone but a) I will be busy and b) it is not a very good smartphone and I hate typing on it

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Funerals. She was hardly one to be of dark mood over a funeral. The looming threat of more death however, did strike her poorly. Despair was difficult to fight, even if it was what the lord of filth sought out. She did her best to remain resolute, and not give the satisfaction. She even indulged herself in a single drink for the departed.... though perhaps not who the others drank for.

You were right, Mr. Waite. She thought to herself as she raised a glass, I hope the place you are now is peaceful.... and that your hound is with you.

Illiiya gave a soft sigh as she finished her drink, and looked down at the small, furry creature rubbing her leg. Placing her glass aside, she scooped up the feline and gave it a look.

Be glad you are ignorant of so much. She told it, scratching it's head, It would be easier to only worry after food and a place to sleep.

Mr. Cat only mewed in reply. At the moment, it was as good a response as any she could expect. She slipped it a small piece of dried meat as she looked to the others.

What now?

[LCP]

Ellie's eyes widened like a child's at Pieter's story. Nodding mutely at his request for silence, she looked around at the common hall. The villagers were finishing one last, low song. She seemed like she could hardly wait for it to finish.

"Hmm." Lothar cast a sidelong glance at Ithelus. "What about the Flycher woman? Didn't you want to talk to her?"

"There's an hour or so 'til sundown," said Ithelus, in a slow monotone. The elf's long fingers brushed the handle of a hidden knife, but he didn't rise from his seat. He gave a barely perceptible nod to Pieter, speaking in a low voice. "Go see."

Mr Cat mewled quietly, stretching a little closer to the fire when Illiiya set him down. Prowling silently away, he began scavenging more scraps from between the feet of the villagers, intent as always on filling his belly. The ginger cat caught the eye of Ellie among others, and hardly anyone seemed to notice Pieter quietly letting himself out.

---

1

The rain outside was the seeping, persistent kind, falling gently but doing its best to permeate Pieter's coarse robes. Slogging up the hill with moisture beading on his face, Pieter noted the long shadows of the forest creeping over the village's western edge, and quickened his pace.

At the edge of the Manor's veil of trees, he nearly blundered into someone coming the other way. It was Rodrik the boot-boy, his hair plastered flat against his dripping head. Looking up into Pieter's face, he gave a start of surprise.

"I was comin' to tell!" he blurted out, as if Pieter might have suspected him of something worse. "Faulebrand and 'is men - they've come for the doctor! Old man Faulebrand was arguin' with the lady somethin' fierce." He looked up into Pieter's eyes. "They're up there now."

Looking up the hill through the drifting veil of rain, Pieter could see the heavy oak doors of the manor stood open. Inside, all was darkness.

OOC:

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Perception check for Pieter please.

[-Sentinel-]

They came for the doctor...

Pieter had been suspecting it. The question was, what for? Free him, as Reifennen expected? Just the day before, Mr Faulebrand had been furious at him, but he was the sort of man who changed his mind quickly. Or kill him? But why now, and what - if anything - should be done about it?

"Thanks, Rodrik. Can you tell my friends over at the inn?"

He was already walking away from the boot-boy.

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Perception 57: (d100)[56]
Fortune Point: (d100)[15]

[LCP]

Pieter

Rodrik nodded and scampered away. Heading back up the hill, Pieter approached the open doors of the manor.

As he reached the top of the mound, he thought he heard voices coming from inside. Suddenly, he was confronted by a gaggle of five men, stepping out into the rain. The front four stopped as they saw him: three villagers, and Reifennen, leaning heavily on his borrowed stick.

Flanked by the two largest peasants, the doctor gave a watery smile. "Mr Hagen," he said. "How nice to see you again." He was doing his best to keep up the supercilious manner of before, but he sounded like he was forcing it. One of the Hohlesbruckers gave him a not-so-gentle nudge to be quiet.

The fifth man hadn't immediately noticed Pieter. Aloysius Faulebrand was following behind, calling instructions to some hapless member of Esther's household to close the doors as he left. It was a couple of seconds more before he looked round and saw the initiate of Ranald standing in his path.

"Hagen," he barked, an edge of frustration in his voice. "What are you doing up here?"

OOC:

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On the way here, Pieter noticed Ricard's horse tethered under the shelter of the eaves by the Faulebrand's house. It was saddled.

---

1

Lothar & the Elves

A short while after Pieter had left, the door creaked open and a smaller figure came dripping in. It was Rodrik the boot-boy, Reifennen's gaoler.

He approached Ithelus, glancing sideways at Lothar and Illiiya before speaking in a hushed voice.

"I came to tell you... they're takin' the doctor. Faulebrand an' some men. They came to take 'im and I came to tell you."

OOC:

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Although Rodrik is nominally addressing Ithelus, please don't wait on him to respond: I still haven't heard back from Frankie.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter's mind raced as he tried to understand the situation. Dr Reifennen, looking nervous but not panicky... Talberg's horse, ready to be ridden, but Talberg himself nowhere in sight... so who was it for?

If they wanted to kill him, they'd have done so already...

But the point of freeing him would be to let him heal the sick... Why free him and then give him a horse to flee?

Hopefully things would be made clear soon enough, but one way or another, Pieter could not allow it. He planted his feet in front of the men and spoke in a slow, quiet tone: "We know this man to be in cahoots with the knight. He's the only one who could have told him to destroy the letter. We need him alive and where he can't do any harm."

He watched Reifennen's face, trying to determine if the doctor saw him, right now, as a threat or a savior.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar scowled. Heaving himself up from his chair, he gave a curt tilt of his head to Ithelus. "C'mon, Ith. Guess our other plans are moot now." The soldier took a long draw on his pipe, grey smoke fluttering about his face, and his expression was tight with pain and fatigue.

"This'd be easier if it stopped rainin'," he muttered around the stem, and fixed the boy with a stare. "Here, lad. If Frau Flycher comes 'round lookin' for us, you keep her here, y'hear? I'll give you triplets to match this, if you do."

'This' was a copper bit, fished awkwardly out of the soldier's pouch. His missing eye threw off Lothar's depth perception and the coin nearly sailed over Rodrick's shoulder.

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(1d100)[45]

[LCP]

Lothar & the Elves

Rodrik caught the coin with a quick snatching motion, clasping it close to his chest. He nodded at Lothar's request, but watched Ithelus go as if hoping for something more.

OOC: Feel free to join up with Pieter whenever you please.

---

1
Pieter

Stepping forwards, Aloysius caught Pieter by the arm, pulling him to one side. The miller did not look pleased at Pieter's interference.

"Maybe that's so," he said, keeping his voice to a mutter so that the doctor would have a hard time hearing. "And I reckon the best place for him is somewhere away from the Verloren girl, don't you?"

Tilting his head forwards, he shot Pieter a warning look from under his bushy eyebrows. On Pieter's left, Reifennen leaned forwards to try and catch a snatch of their conversation, leaning on his stick with both hands.

"I'm told the plague has spread, Mr Hagen," he called, refusing to be left out. "It seems the people of Hohlesbruck are in need of a healer who doesn't feel he has more important things to do than heal them."

"We're takin' him down to see them who's sick," volunteered one of the villagers. He was doing his best to sound gruff and intimidating, but like many of the male villagers who were left after Sigurd's expedition to the barrow, he was a little young for the job. "Get him to tell us what to do for 'em. He ain't doin' no good up here."

"And then we'll see what he's here for," said Aloysius, in the same low voice as before. "You know the old saying, Hagen. Enough rope to hang himself."

The doctor frowned, still trying to discern what the two of them were muttering to each other. His hearing was clearly not as keen as Pieter's. The villagers guarding him, too, didn't seem to have heard what Faulebrand said.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter was dubious, but he did not want a fight - not with these people. They were willing to kill to save their loved ones and he was willing to kill to stop the doctor. Well-meaning people on both sides may die.

After a brief moment of hesitation, during which he evaluated his chances of turning the situation around and found them very slight at best, he turned to the doctor and gave him a hard stare. "Neither of us wants the sick's condition to worsen. Least of all you, since you're hoping to prove your innocence. So I think you can be trusted for now. But I'm not leaving you out of my sight."

The firm tone of his last sentence was mostly directed at the villagers.

[LCP]

Pieter

"Of course," said the doctor, although he seemed one step away from saying it through gritted teeth. He paused, thinking of a barb. "Perhaps you might learn something."

He squinted a little at Pieter. "I'll be needing my medicine bag. You don't know where the wizard put it, do you?"

[-Sentinel-]

Ugh. We should have destroyed these things a while ago, thought Pieter. He could guess that even a good lie about it would not float, right now. Too convenient.

"I'm not sure where it is, but we can find it for you, I suppose." His eyes narrowed. "Anything you administer to the sick, you taste first. Given what you're suspected of, I'm sure you understand."

At least some of the others should be here any moment now, provided the boot-boy had told them the news. The initiate refused to budge as long as he was alone against the villagers. He just did not trust Faulebrand, well-meaning as he may be; desperate men could do anything.

[LCP]

Pieter

"I'm not sure where it is, but we can find it for you, I suppose." His eyes narrowed. "Anything you administer to the sick, you taste first. Given what you're suspected of, I'm sure you understand."

The doctor didn't seem happy, but it would hardly have looked good for him to refuse. He forced a smile.

"Of course."

OOC:

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Just waiting here to give Lothar & the others a chance to join the conversation.

[goblinpaladin]

Giving the lad another curt nod and gesturing for his elven companions to gather around him, Lothar stepped out the inn and into the damp night. The grey pipesmoke was dampened by the weather but the soldier seemed determined to keep smoking despite the spattering remnants of rain.

The trudging walk up towards the hill was dull as iron. Lothar seemed in no mood to talk and neither did either of the elves. Ithelus had been quieter and quieter of late, withdrawing into a brooding anger that seemed edging closer to homicdal each day they remained in Hohlesbruck. Lothar chewed at the edge of that thought as he sucked hopelessly at the wet pipe, boots squeaking in the mud.

He seemed singularly disinclined to break the weird silence of the odd trio and after the interminable walk they ran into an initiate of the Thief, an evil doctor and a fat merchant.

"If only this were a pub," muttered Lothar around his pipe. Louder, he hailed at the group. "What's this, lads?"

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter exhaled in relief when Lothar arrived. Perhaps they could still turn this around. "These men want the doctor to do his work. I'm not going to fight them if I can avoid it, so I'll just come along and make sure he doesn't try anything rash. You got a better idea?"

The question was neither sarcastic nor rhetorical.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar looked between Pieter and the other men. His remaining eye avoided the doctor entirely. "You're all so desperate you'll resort t'a man accused of witchcraft?"

[LCP]

"There's them here who's more'n accused," said one of the villagers, defensively. He looked at Illiiya.

Faulebrand raised a mollifying hand. One of the other men was not appeased, however. "Desperate's a pretty good word," he said. "Hofstadter's dead. Do you know how many others are sick?" He looked Lothar in the eye. "I don't expect an outsider'd be keeping count."

"Mr Fischer," said Faulebrand softly, cutting in before any more harsh words could be said. "I'm of the opinion that keeping this man in captivity... isn't a responsibility the new lady of the manor ought to have to bear." There was something peculiar in the way he hedged his words. He seemed to glance knowingly at Illiiya. "Now, I'm a man of substance, as you know. The people here look up to me." He puffed up a little, perhaps a subconscious reflex. "It only seems fair that I should take that responsibility, eh?"

He straightened his back a little, tugging at the buttons of his jerkin. All the careful posing in the world, however, couldn't make up the difference in height between him and Lothar. "We'll quarter him somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the manor, yes?" He nodded to himself. "You'll have your trial, Mr Fischer. You'll have your trial."

Reifennen shot an uncertain glance in Faulebrand's direction, although he seemed to be having a hard time taking his eyes off Lothar. Of course, he hadn't been witness to the soldier's miraculous return. The villagers escorting him chivvied him forwards with gentle nudges, trying to manoeuvre him past the roadblock formed by Lothar and the elves...

[goblinpaladin]

"There's them here who's more'n accused," said one of the villagers, defensively. He looked at Illiiya.

Faulebrand raised a mollifying hand. One of the other men was not appeased, however. "Desperate's a pretty good word," he said. "Hofstadter's dead. Do you know how many others are sick?" He looked Lothar in the eye. "I don't expect an outsider'd be keeping count."

Lothar opened his mouth, taking a half-step toward the villager looking to Illiiya - only stopping when Faulebrand cut in.

"Mr Fischer," said Faulebrand softly, cutting in before any more harsh words could be said. "I'm of the opinion that keeping this man in captivity... isn't a responsibility the new lady of the manor ought to have to bear." There was something peculiar in the way he hedged his words. He seemed to glance knowingly at Illiiya. "Now, I'm a man of substance, as you know. The people here look up to me." He puffed up a little, perhaps a subconscious reflex. "It only seems fair that I should take that responsibility, eh?"

He straightened his back a little, tugging at the buttons of his jerkin. All the careful posing in the world, however, couldn't make up the difference in height between him and Lothar. "We'll quarter him somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the manor, yes?" He nodded to himself. "You'll have your trial, Mr Fischer. You'll have your trial."

Lothar narrowed his eye, looking between Faulebrand and the others. He hesitated and looked to Pieter. He cleared his throat.

The villagers escorting him chivvied him forwards with gentle nudges, trying to manoeuvre him past the roadblock formed by Lothar and the elves.

Lothar licked his lips and looked to Pieter and back to Faulebrand, before stepping back. "Alright. But one of us is goin' with you."

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I had Lothar say 'Hagan' but now that I think of it I think Pieter was the 'let's question Frau Flycher' idea guy, so maybe Ith wants to go?

[Exeson]

At the Inn

Ithelus looks at the soaked boy, 'My offer still stands, but right now is not the time. We'll talk when I get back' He presses a silver into the boy's hand. 'You look after yourself'.

As the trio left the inn and trudged along in silence Ithelus began to brood. Things never seem to go as planned. The elf found himself readying his crossbow, as if his subconscious was expecting trouble.

Now

The elf smiled at the Doctor's expression. 'If you can help then I guess someone's got to make sure that you stay safe. And if not... well someone's got to make sure that everyone else stays safe.'

The elf's fingers stroked his crossbow. The temptation to shoot the Doctor there and then was growing.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter rolled his eyes and leaned close to the Elf. "You shoot him again without good reason, I'm leaving you to your own devices," he warned through clenched teeth. "Like when Rafale killed Jagrun. I mean it, Ithelus."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned to the soldier. "Alright, Ith and I can take care of this. As for you, Lothar, you won't heal if you don't get some rest," he said, just for show; none of the other witnesses, least of all the doctor, needed to know about the meeting with Mrs Flycher.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar nodded, slowly, looking over the other group. He pulled the now-wet pipe from his mouth. "Yeah. Right. Need t' get outta this damp."

[LCP]

"Alright, Ith and I can take care of this.

“I'm sure you'll be, mm, delightful company,” said the doctor, through gritted teeth. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be needing my things.”

Giving Ithelus a wide berth, he started forwards, limping with the assistance of his stick in the direction of the Heartless Man.

---

1

The gathering at the inn was finally dissolving away, and the common hall was returning to the disconcerting emptiness of before as the fire guttered out in the hearth. Rummaging behind the bar, the doctor found his black leather bag stashed in a nook behind the bar, and frowned distastefully as he noticed some new stains on its surface.

Taking a seat to clearly show that this was where he would stay, Lothar tried not to look bothered as Reifennen took his time in leaving, the light failing outside. First, the Altdorfer seemed to feel it necessary to take an inventory of his medicines; then, he decided he needed to make use of the Hofstadters' kitchen, helping himself to any pungent-smelling herbs he could find and stuffing them into a small brass pomander he produced from around his neck. Mrs Hofstadter was not there to protest: seeing Pieter's eyes on him, Reifennen placed a silver schilling pointedly on the kitchen table.

He still wasn't done. Reaching into an inner pocket of his crumpled coat, he pulled out a pair of long leather gloves and a handkerchief that might once have been scented, its scent now musty and faint. Looking around at his escort as if surprised they did not have similar preparations of their own to make, he squared his shoulders and faced the door.

“Lead on, gentlemen.”

Finally, they left.

---

1

Pieter & Ithelus

The first of the cottages that Reifennen was led to was a low affair with a sagging roof, just at the foot of the Rosche road beneath the common pasture. A sallow-faced adolescent, maybe a little younger than Arne, opened the door: taller than any of the villagers, Reifennen had to stoop to fit under the lintel.

The inside of the cottage was dark, and smelt strongly to Pieter's city nose of musty straw and other rural things. The doctor's nose was keener: immediately, he pressed the handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Pieter smelt it then – slithering under the other smells like a worm in a pie, a rancid, sickly smell.

Straightening up, the doctor lifted the handkerchief just enough to talk.
“I would suggest that those of you who don't feel they need to watch my every movement remain outside,” he said in a quiet, solemn voice. “Too many visitors will only serve to spread the contagion.”

Not waiting on a response, he pushed the handkerchief more firmly over his face and headed deeper into the dwelling.

For those who follow:

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Two figures were lying on straw pallets that looked as if they ought to be changed some time soon. A woman and a child, their faces pale and waxy, their hair matted with feverish sweat. Around the woman's fingers, there was a telltale mottling of the skin, patterns like fine, dark bruises spreading outwards from the fingernails. The same discolouration had afflicted Wulli's skin before the end.

Pulling up a three-legged wooden stool, Reifennen sat down at the woman's bedside. The boy who had answered the door took the doctor's stick when Reifennen held it out, and watched anxiously as the physician pulled back his mother's blankets. The woman barely stirred, looking blearily at the newcomers in her house as if she could not understand why they were there.

Taking back his stick, Reifennen used it to lift up the peasant's arm without touching her skin. There in her armpit, the beginnings of three ugly swellings were visible, darkening the skin around them. With the handkerchief still clasped firmly over his face, the doctor's expression was impossible to read.

Letting the arm fall, Reifennen shook his head. He examined her feet and prodded her stomach with a gloved finger, noting her response. Rising from his stool, he tottered over to the child in the adjacent cot. A fair bit younger than her brother, the infant already looked half-dead.

Patting the anxiously waiting boy on the shoulder with absent-minded air, the doctor turned and left without another word.

Faulebrand and most of the villagers he had brought with him had been waiting outside, unwilling to take needless risks to their health. Nodding to the miller, Reifennen pocketed his handkerchief and spoke.

“Your fears are justified. The plague has found this house.” He looked around the village, pretending not to notice the fearful mutters of the villagers. “Are the others like this?”

“Aye,” said one of the Hohlesbruck. He looked to the others for support. “I think so.”

“Nonetheless, I will need to examine a few more.” He looked at Pieter. “One must be thorough.”

More examinations yielded the same results. Each time Reifennen would enter the silent cottages, and emerge with a grave decree that the plague had visited the inhabitants. Sometimes the door was opened by hollow-eyed villagers like the boy, doing their best to cope with their sick family; sometimes it was the sick themselves who opened the door, and the men with Faulebrand cringed back despite themselves. At one cottage, the door had to be forced. The old man who was the place's sole inhabitant had no strength left to rise to his feet.

The rain was growing heavier, running together in puddles that danced and rippled with the impacts of falling raindrops. Mud squelched under boots as the group gathered in the shelter of the eaves of the Faulebrands' grand house.

Reifennen seemed to have many questions regarding the sick – who they were, their occupations, their extended family. After a while, Pieter thought he could see what the doctor was getting at. He was tracing who they might have seen and spoken to most frequently, to track the way the disease had spread.

Folding the handkerchief with delicate motions of his fingers, Reifennen tucked it back into his inside pocket. The sun had gone down, and the doctor's face was lit from one side by the orange lantern-light that spilled from the merchant's windows.

“It is difficult to know how best to treat such a virulent pox,” he said, clearing his throat. “The victims may have very little time left to them, and so a process of trial and error... such as I had hoped to effect with your daughter, sir, before the, ah, unpleasantness... may not have time. Mm, may not have time to tell us anything useful, I mean.”

The villagers nodded. Faulebrand just watched.

“There is an old theory,” Reifennen continued, “that plagues such as this are spread by the bites of spiders.” He seemed to be enjoying the chance to display his scientific knowledge. “There are many in Altdorf who disagree, but the idea was first proposed with respect to the great plague of one thousand one-hundred-and-eleven. Some particulars of this condition seem to me strikingly similar to that disease.” He coughed. “For that reason, I would suggest that the windows of the afflicted be sealed with pitch, and a fire be kept burning inside each house. The smoke will dispel the lingering miasma you smelt, and also serve to fumigate the, ah, thatch.”

Shifting his weight a little on the stick, he continued. “Those of the sick who still have relatives to care for them should be kept well-supplied with water, to prevent the disease from withering them further. Most importantly, however, I would recommend that every house where the sickness has struck be marked, and that no-one go or out until the disease has run its course. It is the only way to prevent the spread.” He paused. “Even those who do not yet show, mm, symptoms - like the boy in the first house - may be carrying the plague. If they have been at close quarters with the sick, they must be confined with the sick.”

He paused, and Pieter thought he saw a glimmer of... something... in the doctor's eyes. Reifennen's gaze slid over to rest on Ithelus.

“Master elf, you are shivering,” he said, the very model of politeness. “Are you feeling well?”

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Academic Knowledge (History) at +20 to know about the plague of 1111 I.C.. If he makes it, it will also remind Pieter of the story of Mandred and the Great Cheese (which I think he read during THAM), which comes from the same time.

---

1

Lothar & Illiiya

Lothar gave it a few minutes after the doctor and his attendants had left before slipping back out of the Heartless Man. The rain was growing thicker, reducing visibility as the sun sank. With no desire to get any wetter than he already was, he hurried uphill towards the dark, ogre-like outline of the windmill, wet strands of uncut rye whipping against his breeches.

Under the cover of the mill-tower, the rain couldn't reach them. It was dry here, old sacks of flour stacked in one corner; there was no smell of rot, no dying peasants, nothing but dry grain and a faint whiff of donkey. With the rain veiling the rest of the village in its soft grey cloak, you could almost forget the corruption that was eating Hohlesbruck.

They waited as the sun went down, limning the trees of the western forest with fire. Darkness descended, and the rain refused to let up. It was difficult to keep track of time, but at length Lothar began to feel sure that at least an hour had passed – maybe more. Still there was no sign of Flycher's wife.

Peering out through the rain, Illiiya swept her gaze over the darkened shapes of the village. Lights were few and far between. There were some lanterns in the windows of the Faulebrands' house, as there always were – but there, on the other side of the crossroads, another light could be seen.

It was shining from Flycher's ground-floor window.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Earnestly lost what more she could do from here, Illiiya stuck close to Lothar, shivering in the rain. Her heavy cloak did little to keep the chill from settling into the bones of her delicate frame.

How did it come to this? She pondered to herself, eyes gazing off into nothing, Ithelus is truly starting to scare me, and my poor Lothar is maimed. The only man who seemed to take this seriously from the start is dead, as is the town's lord and half it's able men. The man who may be to blame we can prove NOTHING against... It's like we're all just lingering on before the sickness takes us all. How did it...

It was me.

Illiiya paused in her own tracks.

No.

You were content to shiver and hide away from imagined things, once. You cared only for flinching in fear and feeling protected by the few people you cared about.... who cared for you.

That does not mean...

Illiiya, stop. You know this is true. The church. The duel. I KNOW you remember. You mustered some will and stood up to protect someone YOU cared about... and now you can't go back.

But... I failed.

Did you? I lived to see my dream. I died to save others... some my friends. I've regrets, but they are MINE, not yours. And here you are, wondering why you should not be giving up. We all die... but you can do so much to decide how. You can curl up in fear and just wait to die if you wish. But do you really want to die like a mouse, Illiiya?

I would rather die... like a sparrowhawk.

Be bold, Illiiya. Nothing can break you. You can only allow yourself to be broken.

The rain did a fair job of hiding her tears... though it did little to conceal the small smile that had crept onto her face. Still shivering slightly, she took Lothar's hand tight and strode for the door with purpose.

Come then, my love. Let's do this quickly.

OOC:

Spoiler

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Illiiya will take the lead, and knock on the Flychers door... should no one answer she'll just enter. Because, screw it!

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter followed Reifennen inside every single house and made a note of how the doctor never administered any medicine. Afraid of having to taste it first? This was surely a sign, but not a proof - certainly not to Mr Faulebrand and his men, who never saw the doctor at work. The initiate found nothing wrong about the advice given by the doctor, but what did he know? His expertise was mostly in open wounds, not diseases. He also watched the precautions the doctor took to avoid contagion, such as covering his mouth and nose and not touching the diseased, and was careful to do the same. Many theories existed as to how sickness spread, but it was safer to assume all of them were true.

He remained silent during ever visit, except at the very end, when Reifennen was done. Then he would ask, to whoever could answer, some variation or other of: "Did the patient eat some of the meat pies made by Mr Flycher two days ago?"

Spoiler

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He paused, and Pieter thought he saw a glimmer of... something... in the doctor's eyes.

Sometimes I wish this game had the Scrutiny skill, like Dark Heresy.

Anyhow, here's my History roll, target 77: (d100)[53]

If he makes it, it will also remind Pieter of the story of Mandred and the Great Cheese (which I think he read during THAM), which comes from the same time.

'Mafraid I don't remember it.

[LCP]

Illiiya & Lothar

Hurrying down through the rain, Illiiya knocked hard on Flycher's door, three times.

There was no reply.

Trying the handle, Illiiya found the door was locked. Still the light burned in the narrow, grimy window, but she could see no signs of movement from inside.

OOC:

Spoiler

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As Ithelus found in his previous explorations, there is another door at the back of the house, as well as a cellar door which is kept locked shut with a rusty chain (which could be broken by a sharp blow from an axe or similar tool). Don't know if you want to try those or try to force this door.

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1

Pieter & Ithelus

Some of the victims had eaten a pie; some weren't sure. Two denied it, or had it denied by those caring for them, the sick too insensible to answer Pieter's questions.

OOC:

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The Great Plague of 1111 I.C., also known as the Black Plague, was possibly the worst catastrophe in the history of the Empire. Rising up simultaneously in Altdorf, Talabheim and Nuln in the winter of 1111, it swiftly spread across the whole of the southern Empire through columns of refugees fleeing those towns. It is said to have killed as many as nine in ten of its victims.

Histories of those times are fragmented due to the conflicts that followed, but it is generally believed by scholars that anywhere from a half to three quarters of the population were slain either by the disease or by the famine it caused. The plague raged for approximately four years; one of its last victims was the Emperor himself, Boris Goldgather. After a period of turmoil, Goldgather was succeeded by Emperor Mandred of Middenheim, whose mysterious assassination shortly afterwards led to the Time of the Three Emperors. As such, the plague heralded the end of the Empire as a unified nation, which would not return until Magnus the Pious.

Oral histories of the plague among the common folk differ substantially from scholarly accounts, and often focus disproportionately on the great plague of rats that was said to have followed the disease. It is from such legends that Emperor Mandred gained the nickname Ratcatcher or Ratslayer. There are folk tales of Mandred ordering a giant cheese to be melted in a great cauldron so that the smell would draw all the rats out of the catacombs beneath Middenheim.

skaven what's a skaven?

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar shrugged into his cloak and coughed, once. "Right. 'Round the back, then. I'm sick o' this, an' I want to bring it to an end."

He cracked his knuckles, and took Illiiya by the hand.

Spoiler

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Let us have some S checks to crack open the back door. Lothar will try once, twice, before going to the axe and the rusted chain. Rolls:

(1d100)[26] - vs 44 so one degree of success
(1d100)[13] - vs 44 so... three degrees of success?

(1d100)[40] - vs chain vs S44 so no degrees of success but I think one of the above rolls worked anyhow.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

The back door was locked, but the timber was old and rotten. One hefty kick from Lothar smashed it inwards with a loud slam. It was a good thing too: the chain was still wound around the handles of the old cellar hatch, but the axe that had been lodged in the tree stump that served the butcher as a chopping block was gone. Lothar wouldn't have wanted to blunt a good sword-blade hacking at iron links.

Inside, the butcher's house was dingy and silent. A single candle was burning near the window, the source of the light Illiiya had seen. In a low wall of stone and crumbling mortar on their left, a crooked door hung open, showing a gloomy store-room piled with sacks and boxes. A trapdoor to the cellar yawned open in its floor like the black gullet of a snake.

There were fresh stains on the butcher's work table, one or two of the heavy butcher's knives lying still bloody from where they had been used. From somewhere in the house, Illiiya thought she heard quiet movement. She was not certain if it had come from above or below. Both the trapdoor and the rickety stairs were empty for now.

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Map:

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar looked around, glaring. "Right." He stepped in front of Illiiya, instinct making him push the elven girl behind him as his hand found the sword that once belonged to Marius.

"Can you do that trick with the light, Ill?" He scanned the darkened room, chewing at his bottom lip. "I don't want nothin' leapin' out at us and I don't hear good things about the Flychers."

[Exeson]

Ithelus nodded grimly, 'Aye, but I guess that's what happens when you are defending this village from demons of the cursed father.' The elf pauses briefly, 'So if this plague is spread by the bite of spiders why does it matter about the contact with infected? And as well I'd be concerned in that case, a lot of the village was in the inn tonight, where Wuli was...' he let the point hang dangerously in the air unsaid.