[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar stepped up and forward, Marius's sword sweeping against the butcher's throat - and stopped, stilled before the slash. The soldier's eye was wide, his white showing, and his teeth were bared.

"I am so tired of this -ing town," he snarled. "Tell me what is what, poisoner, or I swear by all the unmerciful gods of war and vengeance that I will slit open your black belly and pour your guts upon these stairs."

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I think that deserves an intimidate check at the very least:

(1d100)[1] - vs 49 (39 + Menacing) and woo! lookit that!

I wasn't sure if his serious injury meant that I could take us out of Combat Time and into Narrative Time and I also didn't want to risk slowing down the post rate. I'm happy to heavily modify this post.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Flycher writhed on the stairs, clutching his ruined hand. When Lothar's sword nicked the underside of his chin, he fell still.

"I am so tired of this -ing town," he snarled. "Tell me what is what, poisoner, or I swear by all the unmerciful gods of war and vengeance that I will slit open your black belly and pour your guts upon these stairs."

A strange sound rattled from the butcher's throat. For a moment, Lothar was puzzled as to what the low, croaking rasp meant - then he realised Flycher was laughing, laughing like a rusty drainpipe.

"They... they ain't listenin', soldier boy," he gurgled. "There's only one god who listens."

Grimacing, the tense energy seemed to ebb from his muscles with the blood pumping from his hand.

"Doctor said we weren't to tell. Wertha was goin' back on the deal." There was another pained chuckle, and a black grin spread across the man's poorly-shaven face. "She's downstairs, you want... you want to see her."

OOC:

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It's fine to go into narrative time - Flycher's stopped fighting back. I still need to track his bleeding rolls round by round though.

Speaking of which: (1d100)[31] - that's this round survived.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar lips peeled back from his teeth in a wordless snarl, a sound in the back of his throat. He drew back his weapon - and then did not strike the butcher through his throat. He shoved his weapon back in the sheath and grabbed at the man's wrist.

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Is Flycher wearing a belt, even just a rope one? Intend to die of the man's wrist to try and prevent blood loss. If he doesn't then I'll just tear some cloth from his clothes.

It's probably more than a 'round' worth of actions to do this, to be fair.

(1d100)[74] vs 32 ahahaha that is not a successful Heal check

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

You filth! You sold her to the fly lord? Illiiya snapped with a disgusted sneer. You are wrong, human. There are other gods that listen... and you will find no mercy when I send your soul to them!

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I'm guessing we're out of combat mode, but Illiiya will hold action to dart him again if he gets violent. Otherwise, Lothar seems to have interrogation covered.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Taking the butcher's belt, Lothar did his best to staunch the flow of blood from Flycher's hand - to no avail. His own hands became slick with blood as he tried.

"Ngh." Flycher's face was growing paler, though there was little sign of fear on his coarse features. "You don't know nothing, elf. Just the same as the rest of 'em." The burbling laughter came again, as if there were some sick joke that only the butcher could see. "You don't know the truth."

Clutching a little tighter at his hand, he pulled it away from Lothar. "Wait an' see," he murmured. "Wait an' see what them other gods'll do for you, now that it's too late." Again, the sewer-grate laugh. "Same as they did for Wertha. Same as they did for me."

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Bleeding - (1d100)[44] - still alive

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Your kind are all the same. Arrogant. Illiiya said, her voice bitter, Your life was difficult, so the gods have clearly abandoned you and you must sell yourself to chaos? Pathetic. The lord of filth aided you not against us... and he will not spare you from your death. He will only laugh at your weakness and how easily you gave yourself to him for nothing.

Illiiya gripped her short blade tightly, narrowing her eyes at old man Flycher with malice behind her gaze.

Any other day, I would grant a quiet, gentle death. But you... no. You will suffer as you deserve.

OOC:

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If Lothar's didn't work, it's probably pointless... but Illiiya shall make an intimidate check. She is QUITE sincere though, so I'm not certain if it applies. I'll roll regardless.

Intimidate: (1d100)[54]

After that... barring him talking or Lothar stopping her.... she might just see how many rounds she gets to cut on him before he bleeds out.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar muttered, throwing the butcher's hand back against him. He stared at the blood on his hands, his expression somewhere between annoyance and disgust. "Bleed then. See if your three-eyed god'll save you now."

He kicked at the man's leg. "What's too late? What's your little cult got cooking?"

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

"The meat," rasped Flycher, striving to conquer his morbid laugher. "They all been eating the meat, ain't they?" His humour seemed to ebb, and the black rage seeped back into his words. "Every last stinking, mealy-mouthed coward in the village."

"I got a debt to pay, soldier. The doctor, he tole me how I could pay it." The man grimaced, leaning his weight on his bleeding arm. Behind his ear, Lothar could see a long, ugly scar. "Little miss Faulebrand's gift. Difficult for one sick gel to make a whole village sick. 'Less you've got someone to take... take the blood, the pus from the boils. Put it in the food."

He looked up at Lothar, dark eyes shining with defiance.

"I paid my debt. They turned their backs on us, every last one of 'em. They knew what had to be done, and they were too yellow to see it through. Too comfortable." He spat the word like a curse. "You shook 'em up too late, mister. I shown 'em better."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar made a strangled sound, coughed. He spat phlegm against the rickety stairboards; it spattered pale green in the light of Illiiya's witchlight. The soldier's face also had a greenish cast in the blue light, his skin paling in the light of the cultist's confession.

"Sweet Shallya's sorrow." He chewed at his lower lip a moment, his fingers working at the blood soaking his hands, crawling over themselves.

"We'll fix their cowardice, filth. We'll burn you with the doctor. Can't save the dead but damned if we don't avenge their lives." Lothar shook his head and ground his teeth together. "The four hells, man! They were your fellows."

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Flycher made a hacking noise.

"They thought they were better than me," he said, with biting contempt. "All of them. Fourteen years of smiling and nodding and talking behind their hands."

"They knew what I was. Back in oh-nine, when I woke up with another ear, growin' out the side of my head. Can't be a butcher if you ain't sharp with a knife, so I cuts it off, binds it up. Says the words to Sigmar. But the next morning, there it is again, all... pink an' new." He snarled. "So I cuts it off again, prays to Ulric and to Shallya and to all the gods to keep it from comin' back. But the next mornin', there it is, and the next. Seven times! Barely darin' to go outside, my head all wrapped in a bandage. You think they didn't know? A place like Hohlesbruck, you think anyone doesn't know what everyone else is doin'?"

"They knew, and they did nothing. Bernhardt Flycher, he's old Flycher's son, he makes the sausages for the festival. They knew what they had to do, but they wouldn't do it." He hissed the words with venom. "Let's leave 'im be, leave 'im like a dog in a cage. But don't talk to 'im no more, don't treat him human-like. Jus' leave him to rot. Then we won't have to worry ourselves."

"Seven times it came... seven times I cut it off. It were only the last time when it didn't come back." His voice died down, his anger spent. "That's when I gave up on prayin', and begged Him who sent it to take it back. An' He did." His eyes drifted over towards the door. "All them... worms, living their life in the muck, wouldn't give me the time of day. And there's Him. Higher'n a king, and He was happy... happy to talk to Flycher, the butcher's son. Like He'd been waitin' all my life." Mustering the last of his strength, he spat at Illiiya's feet. "You keep your gods. I've got mine. An' I paid my debt."

Still glaring defiance, the butcher sank back against the stairs, the blood ebbing more slowly from his ruined wrist. A certain glassy look came over his eyes, and he ceased to blink: Illiiya could sense he was gone.

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Bleedy check: (1d100)[83]

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya went silent for a long while before finally re-sheathing her blade and giving a weary breath... one held in far too long.

It only told you.... what you wanted to hear.... She said with an odd softness to her voice, before she turned to Lothar.

Perhaps now they will believe us about the doctor? She asked him, reaching to take his hand, Or they will accuse us of murdering a widower... We... we should find his wife.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar started at the dead man for a long moment. It didn't seem as if he had heard Illiiya; a strange expression passed over his face. Some combination of anger and sympathy, understanding and contempt. The soldier set his teeth and turned away.

"Yeah. It's not goin' to be pretty, Ill. You sure you don't wanna look for other evidence?" There was something like the ghost of irony around Lothar's voice - he knew what the elf's answer would be.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya shook her head.

We can do both. I am not afraid. Illiiya told him, squeezing his hand, The only thing of death that troubles me is knowing how easily it could claim someone dear to me.

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Guess it's time to check the place for evidence of chaos-worship... starting with Flycher's likely dead wife. Yay. Illiiya will once-over the place both normally and with witchsight.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Leaving Flycher's body lying on the stairs, Lothar and Illiiya rose to search the house. The cellar seemed the obvious first destination, its black mouth yawning open as if in invitation. Illiiya led the way, the dancing light of her spell leading the way.

Even with the elf's marsh-light, the cellar was dark. Long shadows streaked behind every object – a cleaned, halved pig that hung from two iron hooks, a pair of geese draining over a crusted gutter in the floor. Loops of sausages dangled from the low ceiling, trailing in the cold air like moss trailing from the roof of a cave.

Illiiya Only

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As soon as her feet touched the floor, Illiiya could hear it. A soft, slushy, wriggling sound, writhing at the edge of hearing. As she walked forwards, it grew louder.

It was coming from the meat. Under the pink skin of the dangling sausages, things were moving – pulsating, larval shapes. Maggots in the meat.

Crouched in the shadows of one corner, a keg of salt lurked under a battered table with uneven legs. A tenderising mallet rested on the table's surface. A couple of other barrels stood beside it, sealed and caulked. Next to them was an unlit stove, its metal chimney running up into the floors above; next to that, a big sausage-grinder with the stamp of a Middenheim smith, its handle hanging at an angle, skulked on three squat legs like a black iron gargoyle. A bucket of mince sat under its open mouth, some unnameable cut of meat protruding from the hopper.

On the opposite wall, a selection of butcher's tools hung from a discoloured wooden panel. One of the cleavers – a great serrated bonesaw of a thing – had been taken down, and lay on the table beside the wooden mallet. The blade was filthy with half-congealed blood, the stains splattered across the whole of the surface beneath.

Eyes straying squeamishly from the barbaric instrument, Lothar's gaze alighted on something else. Stuffed in behind the sausage-grinder was a big, coarse sack. Full to bulging with some lumpish matter, its bottom was soaked through with some dark liquid.

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Perception check for both searchers, please.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya's eyes grew wide, and if possible her visage grew paler as she reached up to cover her mouth.

This... Please tell me you can see this... Illiiya muttered, clenching Lothar's hand, If the townsfolk have been eating this.... Everyone will be sick soon.

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Perception: (1d100)[18]

A success. I will abstain from posting more until I know what it is I learned.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar squeezed her hand and shook his head. He didn't reply to her question, just cast his eyes over the room. They lingered on the misshapen sack and the fresh ooze coating the floor beneath it.

He dragged the cloth of the shirt he wore under his mail up and over his mouth. His own stench was awful - surely enough to keep any the stench of worse things away.

His voice muffled by the cloth, he gestured at the sack. "Ill - I'll look at that. You... You should should not."

[LCP]

The neck of the sack was only folded over, not tied shut. Approaching hesitantly, Lothar slowly pulled it open.

Even over the stale smell of his shirt, the strong stink of freshly-butchered meat was unmistakeable. The sack was full of pieces, cut and jointed into their smallest component parts. One of the pieces had fingers.

Stepping back, Lothar found his gaze drawn inexorably to the cut of meat protruding from the hopper of the meat-grinder. The similarity was sickening.

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WP check against an Insanity Point.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar turned his head away, squeezing his one eye shut and setting his teeth. Stars swirled behind his eyes but when he opened them he was still standing. He breathed out, hard.

"Aye. As I thought." He released the sack, letting the folds close over themselves again. He bit his lower lip and looked over at Illiiya, shaking his head. "Wish he hadn't died, so we could've burned him alive."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya nodded her head, face pale as she struggled to deal with the smell. Her art was death and death was often foul... but this was something far, far worse. Reaching for Lothar's hand, she backed for the door.

We should get the others. She said, voice soft and troubled, It... is probably too late but... they need to know.

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Sorry for the delay. Illiiya is in favor of doing just what she said. This place is a steaming pile of evidence. Also, she really, really doesn't want to look at it anymore.

[LCP]

Lothar and Illiiya

Beating a retreat from the cellar, the two left the grisly scene behind.

Illiiya Only

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The sounds of things wriggling in the gristle hounded Illiiya up the ladder. A small, terrified part of her mind thought they sounded agitated as she passed, as if they could sense her presence - as if they could catch the smell of her. Somehow, the noises sounded hungry.

Outside, the rain was falling thicker, muffling the night in grey water. Through the downpour, they could just make out a slotted square of yellow lamplight - one of the high windows of Faulebrand's house. The silhouette of a man's head showed for a moment against the shutters, then moved away.

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Where are you headed first?

---

1

Ithelus

Keeping watch out of the windows of the Heartless Man, Ithelus saw two dark shapes emerge from the Flychers' house. The rainy night rendered all detail indistinguishable, but he had been travelling with Illiiya long enough to recognise the way she moved.

---

1

Pieter

The handle of Alexa's door turned, and the door opened just enough for Reifennen to slip sideways out of the gap. Carrying his medicine bag with him, he was looking a little grey. Seeing Pieter still waiting just outside, he looked at the young man with his best expression of annoyance.

"Just going to use to the jakes," he said. "Unless you feel the need to follow me there too?"

Not waiting for an answer, the doctor closed the door behind him and headed towards the stairs.

[-Sentinel-]

"Just going to use to the jakes," he said. "Unless you feel the need to follow me there too?"

Pieter gave him a joyless smile. "No worries, I'll wait outside the room while you do your business."

He was surprised with how fast the doctor was paling after drinking his own 'medicine' - was it acting already? He remembered that Alexa had collapsed at the feast, less than an hour after being poisoned. Whatever was in this bottle, Reifennen likely did not have much time to cure himself.

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If Pieter hears the sound of vomitting, he'll peek inside.

[LCP]

Pieter

Reifennen rolled his eyes. Without another word, the doctor stumped away, leaning on his cane as he went.

Though in most ways it did its best to ape the merchant houses of the Empire's larger towns, Faulebrand's house did not quite go so far as to have an indoor privy. The outhouse lurked in the shelter of the main building, sheltered somewhat from the rain by the bulk of the house.

Opening the back door, Reifennen stepped outside and stopped. The doctor looked up at the heavens, rainwater beading on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he spoke sideways to Pieter.

"Close the door, would you?"

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter nodded, followed Reifennen in the rain and closed the door behind them. He was willing to bet the doctor would take his medicine bag with him when he entered the outhouse.

[goblinpaladin]

Rain beading on steel-and-leather headgear, Lothar's expression tightened in time with his hand wrapping its way around the leather of his sword-hilt. He spoke through gritted teeth and his anger vibrated his entire body.

"Go get Ith, Ill. I'm goin' to get th' doctor an' Pieter an' our friend Faulebrand. They're all goin' to see this. An' them I'm killin' Reifennen. Verena an' Holy Sigmar as my witnesses, I'm done with bein' patient in this town."

He stared up the hill towards the Faulebrand residence. "Go get Ithelus, Ill. We all need to be together for this."

[LCP]

Pieter

As Pieter turned his back to close the door, he didn't hear the doctor raise his stick behind him. Reifennen aimed a clinical blow at the back of Pieter's head.

The weighted head of the cane struck home, and Pieter was sent sprawling into the mud. His head spinning and a loud, tinny ringing in his ears, he was vaguely aware of hurried footsteps rushing away into the rain.

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Reifennen gets a Surprise Round.

To hit: (1d100)[45] - hit (with the bonus for surprise)
Strike to Stun: Reifennen_Strength - (1d100)[6] - passed
Pieter_Toughness - (1d100)[69] - failed
Rounds_Stunned - (1d10)[7]

Wow, Reifennen is a lot better at this than Jagrun. Pieter is stunned for 1 minute 10 seconds - I will tell you when he is back in action. If you want to FP the toughness test then just write it as Pieter getting straight back up. Don't forget initiative if you want to do any combat actions.

---

1

Lothar

Passing the well in the centre of town, Lothar approached the Faulebrand house in a state of single-minded readiness.

The door was shut, of course, but a couple of the windows were lit, squares of light in the deep darkness. The falling rain raised a mist of water from the tiled roof, unseen rivulets splashing down from the high gutters.

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Perception check for Lothar, please.

[goblinpaladin]

Soaked and mud-spattered, wounded and weary, driven by fury, Lothar slammed his fist against the door: one, twice. A shout, "Open up!"

Lothar's anger and half-mad determination to see this done blinded and deafened to him to what else was happening about the house.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter scrambled back to his feet, almost slipping in the mud. His ego hurt more than his head - years of education from Berthold and weeks of combat training from Lothar, only to get snuck on and knocked down by a bespectacled physician with a wounded leg? Clearly he was even more exhausted than he thought.

"HELP! REIFENNEN IS FLEEING TOWARDS TALBERG'S HORSE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, going after the doctor.

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Initiative: (d10+52)[56]

In which direction is Reifennen fleeing? Pieter would add this detail to his above shout. Fixed.

[goblinpaladin]

Pieter's shout echoed in the rain-streaked night, penetrating even Lothar's bone-housed rage. Stepping back from the door, the soldier raced around the house. He drew his weapons as he ran, winter rain drumming on his battered heater shield.

[LCP]

Pieter & Lothar

Running as fast as his skinny legs would carry him, the doctor fled. As he grabbed hold of the saddle, Talberg's horse whinnied and shied. His injured leg impeding him, Reifennen awkwardly tried to pull himself up.

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Reifennen has taken a Run action away from where he stood next to Pieter; next turn he will be trying to mount the horse (as a half action). Pieter can reach him with a Run or Charge from where he stands. Lothar is about the same distance away, but the horse is between him and the doctor, nixing the opportunity for an immediate Charge.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter lunged at Reifennen, his bare hands trying to grasp the doctor's clothes. "No you don't," he snarled.

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Technically it was Lothar's turn right after the doctor, but I presume he keeps running.

Charge + grapple, WS 46 with bonus: (d100)[63]
Doctor's Agility: (d100)[91]

Wait, do I get the +20 WS bonus since the doctor was running?