[WFRP] The Waters of Life

[TheSummoner]

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Lothar

Lothar nods, his own smile fading a bit as she talks.

"Very sorry to hear about troubles. Must admit, welcoming has not been very warm. Is priestess always try having travelers hung? Or is that doing of viscount? Still, am happy to have find a friendly face. Name is Lothar."

He says, his smile returned.

[BlueMagnusStorm]

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"While I'm most thankful for the offer, it's not necessary. Patching somebody back together always seems to ruin my appetite.I think i'll just step outside for a few moments. " With that Siegfried heads out of the inn. "That's three people in the last tow days I've had to try and patch back together. At this rate how many more will it be by the end of the week" Siegfried wondered.

[Thragka]

Hector

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Ronsard looked grateful that his suggestion had been accepted - he accepted Hector's thanks almost eagerly, his head bobbing up and down as he nodded frantically. But the man was still not entirely at ease. When the knight errant mentioned the Grail Chapel, the innkeeper visibly grimaced.

"Ah ... that may be easier said than done, I'm afraid, m'sieur," he said as he preceded Hector back downstairs. In the common room, the boy had laid a few slices of meat (brown being the only distinguishing quality Hector could observe in it), a half load of bread (also brown) and a wedge of cheese on the table.

Ronsard pulled up a chair for the knight, and brought over a small jug of wine from the bar.

"You see," he said carefully as he poured the dark red liquid into a wooden cup, "the Chapel is, uh, not actually here in the village. Couple of miles into the forest, southeast of here. And ... well, Lord Forsard's forbidden his people to visit it. For our own safety," he added hurriedly. He was nervous, the jug in his hand shaking. "It's not safe in the woods. As you kno- oh, I shouldn't have said- forgive me monsieur!" His eyes were wide with panic as he carefully placed the rattling jug back down on the table.

~

Lothar

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The girl's fake humour evaporated at the mention of the priestess. An entirely more honest scowl replaced the ersatz smile. Her green eyes were still narrowed - more than once as Lothar spoke, they flickered to gaze over his shoulders, back in the direction of the bridge.

"Marianne," she said, curtly. "Enchantée, Lothar. As for ... that woman." There was so much venom in the word that Lothar couldn't help but draw an ugly comparison: her tone was much the same as the one the crowd had adopted when they'd been calling the young Imperial girl a witch ...

"... I do not understand her," Marianne continued, breaking that train of thought. "She is so kind, and so caring" - the words were dripping with sarcasm "that we have welcomed her to our home, respected her, loved her. And then, she does something like that," she said as she waved an angry hand over Lothar's head, "and I think that I am the only one who is not crazy, when everyone else just accepts it ... "

Marianne closed her eyes, and paused. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It came in a series of juddering spurts; she was nearly shaking with rage. Opening her eyes once more, she glared at Lothar defiantly.

"This village is sick, Lothar," she said, altogether more calm and collected. She tucked a couple of auburn curls that had got loose during her tirade back under her hood. "We should all be so lucky to be just passing through."

~

Siegfried

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"Hopefully not too many," said Edgard's soft voice; the elder was standing only a couple of paces away from the door. "Forgive me, Siegfried, I did not mean to startle you. I was coming to check on the unfortunate travellers. Did they say what had happened?"

Siegfried's attention had not been wholly with Edgard - over by the market stalls, the girl Marianne was having a rather animated conversation with some other tradesman or tradesman's bodyguard - but something about the way the old man pronounced the question made him turn. There was a curious look in Edgard's eye, as if he were judging something about the situation. He seemed almost hungry to learn whatever Siegfried knew about the new arrivals.

[TheSummoner]

Lothar

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"Priestess have done this before."

Even with his broken Breton, it was clear he didn't mean it as a question.

"If things as bad as say, could leave perhaps. Is some reason must stay?"

[ZeltArruin]

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"Dah, er, Yes. The way. There isn't any for sure," He started scratching at the back of his head, unsure of which way to proceed. "It is known to always take the left when you are lost, at least in my home," He concluded with a grin and a shrug. Either way was good enough for him, but being put on the spot to guess which way to go and possibly decide the others' fates was not to thrilling a prospect for the pitfighter. So he went with the old left-hand-rule.

[Perius]

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Hector's stomach growled hungrily at the sight of the meal laid out on the table - monochrome it might be, but it was the first food the tired knight had seen for hours. He was tucking in with gusto, and had just worked out that the meat was donkey, when something in Ronsard's voice made him pause.

"Forbidden?" he asks, mouth still part-full with bread and cheese. "That is Lord Forsard's right, but - Remy is a Viscountship, he is under oath to defend access to the Chapel..."

Swallowing, he glances across at Ronsard, and is surprised to see that the innkeeper is shaking. Something's wrong here. Frowning, he reaches out to grasp the man by the shoulder.

"Be still, man. You've said nothing wrong: the forest is dangerous, as I found out to my cost. By the Lady! I'm a knight - exactly the sort of person you should be telling news like this to. It's a sorry day for Bretonnia when serfs start keeping secrets from their betters!"

Appetite temporarily forgotten, he turns on the bench to face the tavern owner. Whilst his face is stern, inside his heart he is singing - an adventure, at last!

"Now, if you tell me about this sorry business - everything about this sorry business - you have my word as a Breton and a nobleman that I'll do my best to see your access to the Chapel is restored. So - how long has the ban been in place? What is it that makes the forest way so dangerous? What measures has Forsard taken to open the roads again?"

And, as a sudden afterthought - "And what has become of the Grail Damsel, if the woods are no longer safe for travel?"

[BlueMagnusStorm]

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Siegfried takes a moment to regain his composure after being startled by Edgard before answering him "Yes they did. According to the knight SirHector they were travelling and were ambushed by bandits at which point the wounded man he helped into town was shot. Also from what Sir Hector said there was a third man travelling with them but he did not make it".

[Thragka]

Hector

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”Yes, m’sieur,” Ronsard said as he exhaled. He seemed a little calmer. “Begging your pardon, but there weren’t never a Grail Damsel in Remy. Lord Forsard - uh, Lord Leofric Forsard, that is, the father of the current Lord Forsard - he went off on the Quest nearly thirty years ago. Took him five years or thereabouts, but he found the Lady somewhere to the south. But Remy were always his home, see, so he came back. Built a small chapel in a bright little clearing in the woods - you couldn’t pick a better spot, m’sieur, it was beautiful - and for years he kept it safe. Once a week he’d escort us out, walking with us as if we were high and mighty as him, and he’d say a few words and lead us in prayer.” The innkeeper’s eyes weren’t focused on Hector - he had a sad, longing look about him.

“Lord Leofric’s been dead nigh on fifteen years. And Lord Ælfric … well, it ain’t my place to speak of such things, but since you ask, m’sieur … he dint always see eye to eye with his father. And on account of him not taking the Quest hisself, he don’t do the sermons. And Lord Leofric worked hard to keep the road safe, but the forest ain’t as friendly as it used to be these days. Lord Ælfric’s almost got his work cut out for him keeping the village safe. More’n once we’ve had goblins raid our pigs. And the banditry, m’sieur, those blackguards that skulk around in the trees have gotten so arrogant they’ll attack anyone!” The short man was nearly quivering with righteous anger. “Even a noble such as yourself and your companion.”

“So Lord Forsard did what he could, but a few years ago there was a man killed when he went out to the temple by hisself. After that, his Lordship said flat-out that he wouldn’t have any of us risking our lives just to go pray. And that it’s not a commoner’s rôle to die for the Lady.” He sighed. “But be that as it may, m’sieur, there’s a few of us folk that like to make our oh-beez-anz-us to the Lady, ‘long with the Maiden and the Hunter and the rest of the gods. And it’d mean a lot to us if the chapel road were to become safe again.”

As Ronsard finished speaking, the door burst open. An elderly, balding man with a large nose burst through the door. He carried an ornately carved quarterstaff. Rage was writ large across his face, in the wrinkles around his frown and the eyes gleaming like fire.

“I am Edgard, village elder of Remy-sur-Orne,” he announced brusquely. “I have heard your party was attacked on the Couronne road, monsieur. Is it true that one of your companions was killed?”

~

Lothar

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Marianne gave a droll laugh. “They say you Imperials are like stray dogs, always wandering, never settling down.” She had lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard. “Your people may go as they please, but this is Bretonnia. The reason we must stay is that our nobles do not give us permission to leave.”

She shook her head, before speaking at a normal volume once more. “Though, even if the Viscount said we could all walk away … I would rather stay here. This place is my home. It’s important to fix our problems. Not just run away from them. And that is why I must stay here and try to understand our priestess. And break her hold on my people.”

~

Siegfried

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Edgard’s mouth hung open in surprise. “Shot? Didn’t make it? He wouldn’t - “

The elder stopped himself. Narrowed eyes bored into Siegfried. Edgard was furious about something - but what, Siegfried couldn’t say.

“Monsieur l’apothecaire - if you’ll excuse me - “ Edgard said hurriedly, pushing past Siegfried and stepping through the inn door. Siegfried heard him rattle off some quick questions to whoever was inside.

~

Heinrich

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Abel frowned as he watched the dog scurry to and fro.

“There are five of us,” said the knight errant. “More than enough to split up. I will go west, with Simon and Valerie, while you go east.” He nodded to the anxious-looking younger pair, and began following the trail to the right. Wordlessly, Simon and Valerie fell in behind him.

Shrugging, Claude clicked his teeth to get the dog’s attention, waving it to the left. The hound accepted the decision enthusiastically, bounding off through the undergrowth. It sniffed its way along the faint impression of the track, quickly leading Claude and Heinrich out of the clearing.

They set a fast pace, and within a couple of minutes the open area was not even visible behind them, entirely obscured by the intervening trees. The dog bounced from tree to tree, tail poised purposefully as it followed the invisible scent.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. It turned to look back in the direction from which they’d come. Its ears pricked and quivered.

On the edge of his hearing, Heinrich thought he heard from behind the scrape of steel against steel …

The dog gave a savage growl and broke into a sprint, retracing its steps. It passed between Claude’s legs as it almost galloped back along their tracks, yapping madly - and then, Heinrich heard a high-pitched scream echo through the forest ...

[TheSummoner]

Lothar

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Lothar nods and lowers his voice.

"If did want to leave, Viscount would not take time for tracking one girl am thinking, but is your choice if want to stay."

He thinks for a moment. On one hand what he was tempted to do could prove to be a very very stupid idea. On the other, it was so very tempting.

"Priestess is no friend of me. Would be willing to help if wanted."

[ZeltArruin]

Heinrich

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When Heinrich thought he heard the first sound, he paused and looked around in confusion, but when he heard the scream, he whipped his sword out of it's scabbard as he turned back the way they came. "Flee back to your homes!" He called over his shoulder, glancing back at them with a grin before he picked up his pace.

[Perius]

Hector

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Hector nods, somewhat reassured. As long as Forsard was attempting to defend his people - after all, a Grail Knight's boots were big ones to fill. He's about to speak, when the door slams against the wall, causing him to wince in surprise.

It's only the old man, the elder, and Hector quietly curses his over-wrought nerves. He feels edgy and suspicious, scarcely himself: the bandits have a lot to answer for. At Edgard's mention of the events of the previous night, his anger at the outlaws flares high once again.

"Aye, Edgard. The blackguards killed one of my party and have sorely wounded the other. I still do not know if he will live."

A sudden, unwelcome thought springs to Hector's mind. Might the villagers be in league with his attackers? Is he in a nest of enemies even now? He dismisses it rapidly, the product of exhaustion and a sleepless night. Ronsard's talk of banditry made it clear that these footpads were no Herrimaults.

"[COLOR="rgb(72, 61, 139)"]They were highwaymen, elder. Not goblins, not wolves, but men, citizens of our noble King and children of our countrymen. Doubtless we were not their first victims, and will not be the last. Until they are dealt with, the roads will not be safe for any of you.

"So tell me, Edgard - they were led by a stout man, armed with a pistol. You seem wise and experienced - have you heard of such a fellow before? Before I leave here, I will want his head.[/COLOR]"

[BlueMagnusStorm]

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Siegfried watches the elder storm off thinking to himself "Well that clearly got a response. There is certainly something going on here, though I wonder what.".

[Thragka]

Hector

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Hector noticed the elder's nostrils flare as he mentioned the fact that his assailant had a pistol. When he finished speaking, Edgard's face was contorted in anger.

"... no," the older man pronounced. "That is - of course, we've heard that there is a leader to the outlaws ... but these men live beyond our homes. If they were ever the people of Remy, they have broken all bonds of brotherhood with us. I assure you, the men you seek do not spend their days robbing honest travellers and then come home to spend their ill-gotten gains here."

His pale, thin fingers were gripping his quarter-staff so tightly that Hector almost worried the elder was about to fall over. "A pistol ..." the elder muttered. His eyes flicked back up to meet Hector’s. “That is news to me. Travellers on the road may bring their own weapons, of course … but the villagers have nothing. If these bandits were to raid Remy-sur-Orne, we would be next to powerless. There are many good men here that would defend their homes in a brawl - but none that would stare down a blackpowder weapon.”

There was a plaintive edge to Edgard’s voice, and a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“Sir Hector, you are of course a man of honour. I am sure you would not leave my people threatened by such brutal anarchy.”

~

Lothar

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Marianne gave an honest smile - Lothar could see it in her eyes that this was not the armour of sardonic humour she had been using moments before.

“And as long as I have that choice, I will stay here. Willing to help, hm? Did you have something specific in mind?”

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TheSummoner, sorry this is a bit paltry - not sure whether you actually have a plan in mind judging from your last post? There are a couple of others having a slightly more … active time in the other spoilers which is why it’s taken me so long to get back to posting. :(

~

Heinrich

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The dog bounded through the long grass and weeds, almost disappearing in the longer undergrowth - blood surging through his limbs, Heinrich raced after the rippling track the small creature left behind. Its bark echoed from tree to tree, a savage, angry sound, devoid of both emotion and reason; the only thing fuelling the throaty yaps was the thrill of the chase. The pit fighter thought he understood that sensation extremely well.

His boots stamped down on soft earth, cracking fallen boughs. Heinrich held the sword low, angling it across his waist to avoid tangling it in the weeds or hanging vines. Another shout from ahead - not a scream this time, but a sickly gurgle. The dog was a moving blur. Murky figures between the trees ahead. One pale face was Valerie’s, and Simon was beside her. They were white as snow, and did not turn to Heinrich even as he thundered towards them; their gaze was upon the other pair of figures curled on the forest floor.

Sir Abel was flat on his back, spasming in the dirt. His legs kicked weakly, while fingers desperately tried to curl around the hilt of his sword that was just out of reach. And leaning over him, a man in tight grey cloth -

No. The pallid, colourless, material Heinrich had taken for clothing was its flesh, seeming to hang in wrinkles from the thing’s very bones. Long fingers ended in claws. Wisps of matted hair blew like weeds in the wind from where they sprouted all down its knobbled spine - and around the shoulders and hips, pustules and boils fused into scales.

The humanoid figure curled its head up, gazing at the newcomer with two humungous eyes, featureless as pools of stagnant water. Its jaw was uncomfortably long, its chin a bony protrusion. The creature’s mouth hung open, awkwardly, and a pair of jagged fangs longer than Heinrich’s middle finger glistened with blood and slime.

The thing howled, a hissing, cackling noise, and straightened up to its full height. It was as massive as some of the larger Norsemen Heinrich had fought in the pits - almost eight feet tall, and broad across the shoulders to match. A barbed tongue licked around its yellow teeth as its muscles tensed.

[Perius]

Hector

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He's lying. The knight is sure of it. He doesn't doubt that Edgard hates the bandits as much as Ronsard evidently does, but there's something about the pistol that doesn't quite ring true. What's he so scared of?

"Nor is it my intention to, Edgard. But before I can defend you, I must know all you know about these brigands."

And all means ALL, old man.

"How long have you known of them? And this leader - what do you know of him? If," he adds, a dark look in his eye, "I find you withholding information on them, your life will of course be forfeit with theirs.

"I say this," he continues, "because it is vitally important that I know as much as I can. They are many, and I am only one: if I am to ride out and defend you and yours, I cannot do so without knowing as much as I can about my foemen."

Always mix your threats with explanations, as his old sergeant in Averland has said. People don't like being browbeaten into obedience: give them a reason to succumb to their fear, and they'll do so much the faster.

"So, again - tell me everything you know about the leader, and any rumours you may have heard potentially leading to the existence of this firearm. And I mean, everything.

"Then, I can promise to bring these villains to justice."

[Thragka]

Hector

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Edgard bristled. He straightened up, gradually, until he was no longer hanging out of his staff.

"My life will be forfeit?" he repeated in a disbelieving tone. "M'sieur, as village elder I enjoy the confidence of the viscount. You may not threaten me so boldly, unless you are some justiciar come to carry out the King's will - and from your youthful appearance, I gather that, by your leave, you have not even completed your errantry."

The icy silence that followed was broken by Ronsard nervously clearing his throat.

"'Tis as Edgard says, m'sieur ... we're a small village," said the short man. "Them outlaws ain't skulking amongst us. They camp out in the woods, we've heard tell." The innkeeper squirmed. He caught Edgard's eye; something seemed to pass between them. "And ... 'tis said they ... they ..."

Edgard sighed. "A lot is said and heard tell 'round these parts that only a fool would repeat," he said caustically. Ronsard recoiled visibly, as if slapped, and made himself busy behind the bar. The elder let his gaze drift back to Sir Hector. "Ronsard was unsure of how to put this delicately, but rumour has it that they consider themselves Herrimaults. It is utter nonsense; they are cowards that prey on the lost and the weak. Their leader pretends to be Faceless, but if he uses a pistol then he is clearly no gentleman."

Edgard sniffed haughtily. "That is about all I know on the matter, m'sieur."

~

Heinrich

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For all its size, the thing was fast - with another howling hiss, it leapt forward off Abel's prostrate form towards Heinrich. The pit fighter did not even have time to raise his sword - one long arm swung out, clapping against his jaw. The thing attacked bestially, claws scrabbling at the soft exposed tissues of his face, opening a parallel set of gashes on his left cheek.

As he stumbled away, vision momentarily dark, Heinrich felt something give way in his nose - and then blood was pouring down his face. But mixed with the metallic sent of his own vital humour was the rank stench the thing, of festering meat and stagnant bog and long-forgotten lakes choked with pondscum.

[TheSummoner]

Lothar

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"Not yet, am afraid. Do not know enough for good plan. Please tell... What do know about priestess and what do think priestess might be doing?"

Lothar had a few theories of his own, but he wanted to hear Marianne's thoughts before risking putting any wild ideas in her head. Outwardly he appeared to be deep in thought, but in truth he was at work extending his senses. If there was anything strange magically going on here, he wanted to know.

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(1d100)[68] vs 48 for Magical Sense.*

I doubt Lothar would be able to pinpoint anything from just standing in the middle of the village (unless he got a really amazing roll maybe), but he's trying to see if he can sense anything that seems out of the ordinary and gather as much information as his senses alone can give him.

*Edit: I used a fortune point and rerolled this OOC. The new result is 22, which is a pretty good pass.

[Thragka]

Lothar

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One side of Marianne's mouth was pursed as she took another look around the empty market stalls.

"I'd be happy to tell you what I know - but not here. Come home with me? We can take lunch." She indicated the collection of wattle-and-daub houses behind Lothar.

As he looked around, he let his otherworldly senses bleed across his vision. The first thing that stood out in his witchsight was the shrine. A faint pillar of divine magic surmounted it, cold and white and austere to his sensibilities. There was a fragility about it, and the stone structure from which it sprouted; indeed, the shrine seemed almost brittle, with finger-like cracks zigzagging up the walls, invisible to the mundane eye.

The river and the forest were suffused in the green hue of Ghyran. But the wind of Life seemed darker than usual as it wended its way between the banks of the Orne. There was an oppressive umbra hanging over the trees to the south, and it was spilling out of the forest along the Orne. Turgid tendrils budded from those waters, caressing the village.

In his peripheral vision, the gorged dark tentacles seemed to quiver and pulsate - but as soon as Lothar focused on one, it lay still once more.

[TheSummoner]

Lothar

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A loud rumbling in his stomach answered the question before Lothar even had a chance.

"Would gladly have lunch. Please lead."

Lothar replied with a smile.

He waited for Marianne to turn away before scanning the area again. His eyes linger over the shrine again. Something supernatural is attacking it. he decided. Either the priestess is part of it or she's powerless to stop it... Or perhaps she's just negligent. He then looked to the forest and river again. Definitely some corruption at work... But are the wilds the source of the corruption or the thing being corrupted?

He briefly recalled the girl from before, the one the mob had almost attacked. On the priestess's word, don't forget. She had claimed to be from the Jade College... she would have a better understanding of the Jade Wind than Lothar ever would. If the villagers didn't lynch her first, it might be worth seeking her out. From what he had heard, the colleges of magic were supposed to be fiercely independant... Surely she wouldn't question it if he claimed to be from the Grey Order.

[Perius]

Hector

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And I wonder, friend Edgard, how long that confidence would last if the Viscount discovered you were implicated in covering up the tracks of highwaymen and vagabonds, Hector thinks to himself.

He swallows his pride, however, instead simply smiling.

"And I do not doubt your collective innocence. Tell me, how long have these bandits been bothering your people?"

[ZeltArruin]

Heinrich

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Reeling from the blow to his head, Heinrich stumbled back to a more defensive stance as he pulled out his buckler. He shook his head briefly to clear it, then glared at the strange monster, his head already a little light from blood loss, he knew he didn't have long, and couldn't take another blow like that. But he was a warrior still, to fight was his only choice. Attacking defensively perhaps wasn't the best choice, but his wounds...

Attacking defensively (or whatever it's called, -20 to hit, bonuses to parry/dodge)
(1d100)[18]vs25?
(1d10+5)[14]

Edit: Of course he hits!