[WFRP] The Bloody Crown

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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"Tell me what that little trinket is gonna protect me from that this-"

He pats his sword.

"-wont and I will."

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If he tells Sieghard anything about the forest, Sieghard will buy one of the things (provided the price isn't ridiculous). If it's anything supernatural, Sieghard asks if the guy has actually SEEN anything like that but will still buy.

After that, he's gonna see if he can find a barber to get cleaned up a bit since he's spent the last few days on the road. After that, he'll head back to the inn for a meal and a few drinks and sleep on the floor.

[LCP]

Sieghard

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"Suit yourself," grunted the trader. He clearly didn't see determined skeptics as a vital segment of the lucky charms market. Without another word, he turned back to the man testing the bow.

Leaving the wood-whittler's stall behind, Sieghard drifted into the back-streets between the market and the keep in search of a barber-surgeon's. He had to ask directions more than once: most of the people were too poor to pay someone else for a shave, and many of them seemed to have a superstitious distrust of surgeons. Given what they had seen of Ortholf at Hartmut's Fall, perhaps that wasn't so unreasonable. After all, what man of skill would seek to ply his trade this far south?

At last, he found what he was looking for. Stuffed down a dingy back-alley, a leaning house blocked out half the light that filtered between the broken-backed roofs. A wooden pole hung over the doorway, stripes of white and red paint flaking and faded in the border sun. Even more faded letters were scrawled over the shop-front, advertising the owners' business.

MADAME MORTE, BARBER, SERJEON
&
HERR LEIBER
PURVEYOR OF FINE MEATS AND PASTRIES
VERY RAISONABLE PRYCES

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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Sieghard looks at the sign for a moment, but without anyone there to read it to him, he has to trust his gut that he'd found the right place. He enters.

"How much for a shave and a trim?"

[LCP]

Sieghard

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The inside of the establishment was dingy. The narrow, diamond-paned windows were crusted with dirt, admitting only a yellow, stained kind of light. Behind a grimy wooden counter, a man stood working at a lump of gritty dough with a rolling pin. He looked up as he saw Sieghard.

"Ah, come in, come in!" he said, hastily dusting the flour off his hands and succeeding only in distributing a fine white cloud of the stuff more evenly across his grubby apron. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he sniffed loudly. "You'd be here for Rosmerta, then? It's a schilling a shave, so I believe. Can't tempt you to a pie, can I? Fine pies, they are."

He gestured to a tray of pies that were cooling on the counter. No longer hot and rather grey, they looked nowhere near as appetising as the halfling's had.

Scurrying over to one corner, the pie-seller grabbed up a broom that didn't seem to have been used in some time, from the state of the floor. Reaching up, he thumped three times on the ceiling.

"ROS!" he yelled. "CUSTOMER!"

After a long while, footsteps descended the stairs. A gaunt woman with short-cropped hair and dark, hollow eyes looked down at Sieghard without the faintest trace of a smile.

"Oui?" she asked.

"Gennulman wants a shave," said the man. "You go upstairs with Ros, sir. Wonders with a razor, she does."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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Sieghard nods and follows the woman upstairs. Damn good thing I'm not here for pleasant conversation.

"Just a shave and a trim."

He tells her once he gets upstairs.

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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"It does, thank you for your time." Adelbert hands over two gold crowns, deciding not to fiddle about with change. "The rest when I return. Gutentag."

Stepping out of the tailors shop Adelbert decides to investigate the temple to The Lady. If the court was Bretonnian in manner it made sense to have at least a passing knowledge of their faith. Besides it was possible he might see someone interesting at prayer.

[LCP]

Adelbert

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The fitting at the tailor's had taken some time, and the sun was declining into the latter half of the afternoon as Adelbert made his way towards Alvarran's temple district. The locals were happy enough to give him directions. The district stood on a low ridge that protruded from the town's border with the Karst, the second highest point after the castle.

The centre of the temple district was a rough square. The earth was thin here, bare rock protruding in many places. By some cunning artifice, a deep well had been sunk in the centre of the square. Its old stone walls were capped by a little wooden roof, sheltering a bucket and a winch.

The temple of the Lady dominated the square. It was laid out along a T-shaped foundation - a structure Adelbert was familiar with from the temples of Sigmar back home. It looked like it had been subjected to extensive rebuilding. Stony buttresses supported walls that had been built much higher than their original design, and windows had been widened into sweeping displays of stained glass. The front gate, twice Adelbert's height, had sturdy iron hinges which had been worked at their edges into curling fleur-de-lys designs, the metal polished to a bright gleam. The scribe thought he could see marks on the keystone of the arch where some old insignia had been chiselled off, a fleur-de-lys carved deeply over the traces they had left behind.

On the other side of the square, looming over the back of the well, was a roughly triangular pillar of old stones. A little lopsided, each of its faces bore the symbol of a god: Taal's antlers, Rhya's wheat-sheaf, and on the side that faced the well and the temple across the way, the bleeding heart of Shallya. Prayers and petitions had been pinned to its sides with iron nails, trailing like a coat of rain-washed paper feathers beneath the icons up on high: at its base, tin and copper bowls held the townsfolk's offerings. The two guards that loitered outside the door of the Lady's temple had a look that suggested that any thief that tried to make off with the offering bowls might have more immediate concerns than the gods' displeasure.

Over where the buildings of the square petered out towards the edge of the ridge, Adelbert thought he could see a second idol. It was barely half the height of the central pillar, and seemed far more ancient. There was something vaguely canine about its crouching form, the broken stubs of ears protruding from above a long snout. It was made from a black stone much smoother and darker than the limestone jags that protruded from the earth around it, and had been washed so smooth by the elements that barely any detail could be discerned.

Houses had grown up close to it, making it so the little idol would be almost permanently in shadow. The ground it stood on was too rocky to be built on, but patches of gorse had grown up around, swathing its lower reaches in prickly vegetation as if trying to cover it from prying eyes. Nevertheless, it was there. It looked as if it had been there long before the square was a square, and would still be there long after it was gone.

---

1

Sieghard

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"Shave and a trim," echoed Rosmerta, in surprisingly sonorous voice. The upstairs of the establishment was little more than a bare, unpainted attic, one wooden wall following the slope of the roof at a forty-five degree angle. A battered skylight admitted the sun, the light glinting off a cracked mirror in the corner. Next to it was a spartan table of trade tools. Sieghard found himself wondering what the loop of chain was for.

Pushing Sieghard down into a rickety chair, Rosmerta turned away and began stropping a straight razor on a short leather strip at her belt. Holding the edge up to the light, she seemed satisfied. Walking over to the table, she picked up a bowl of shaving soap and a horsehair brush.

"Hold still," she said, and set to applying the oily lather to Sieghard's face.

OOC:

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Got some stuff to resolve with Adelbert which means I have to pace Sieghard's updates: will soon have another update for you without you needing to reply. If you want to try to strike up a conversation or anything, go ahead.

EDIT: Had a very rapid exchange of posts with RossN, as you can see - second half of this update can already be found below.

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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No main square temple for Sigmar, Adelbert notes to himself without surprise. Nor wise Verena. Of the two absences the goddess was the sadder. As a man of the Empire Sigmar was his revered protector. As a scribe Verena was his beloved patron.

Casting a curious gaze at the ancient statue which he resolved to examine more closely (an ancient sub-cult of Ulric perhaps?) Adelbert moved to the gates, addressing the nearest nearest guardsmen in Bretonnian: "Greetings monsieur. Is the hour too late to call upon the shrine of the Lady?"

[LCP]

Adelbert

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The guard shrugged his shoulders.

"Go on in," he said, in a coarse Sudenland accent. "I ain't stoppin' ya."

Inside the stone walls of the temple it was shady and cool. The bright border sun blazed through the stained-glass windows in patches of brilliant colour. Where outside they had been dull jumbles of glass, here they were glowing pictures of knights in armour, doing battle against all manner of monsters. Their names were picked out in glass scrollwork beneath each scene. Thierulf, Landuin, Marcus, Fredemund, Balduin, Lambard, Rademund, Agilgar, Martrud, Folgar, Corduin. At the head of the nave stood the largest window of all, and that knight was called Gilles. A woman in flowing blue robes held up his right hand, in which he held a golden chalice. Adelbert noticed that the heraldic decorations that filled the borders of the windows were replete with variations on the theme of a boar's head.

A stone font of clear water stood where in a temple of Sigmar there would have been an altar and pulpit. Approaching quietly, his footsteps still echoing between the stone walls, Adelbert nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard rapid footsteps shuffle up beside him.

The man had emerged from the shadows with alarming speed. Swathed in sackcloth rags, many necklaces and trinkets were strung around his neck, tin fleurs-de-lys, pewter grails and little wooden shields with various heraldic signs depicted in flaking paint clattering against each other as he moved. He had a full, wild beard and a head that had been shaved in a monk's tonsure, and stuffed into his belt was a fearsome-looking morningstar with a black iron head. He had the sun-beaten skin and coarse hands of a peasant, and he seized Adelbert by the shoulders with considerable strength, embracing him like an old friend.

"Ah, brother!" he babbled in rapid Bretonnian. "You have come to worship, yes? Come, come! All are welcome! The blessing of the Lady is upon this place."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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"Thank you... ah brother." Adelbert replied in his own careful Bretonnian. The Imperial scribe was rather bemused by the welcome, which was not in keeping with those of home. "I confess that I am new here and I am unsure of the rituals you employ. Could you show a traveller the right prayers?"

Though he had never prayed to the Bretonnian demigoddess in his life Adelbert was certainly not against to saying a few words in Her honour (it didn't seem to do the Bretonnians much harm.) Besides the insatiably curious scholarly part of him was fascinated by the differences from the priests he knew.

[LCP]

Adelbert

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Some of the sudden joy went out of the man's eyes as he heard Adelbert's accent - perhaps he had been expecting another Breton. Still, he addressed the newcomer with a pious fervour. There was something wild in the ragged man's eyes, the look of a man who had spent too long in the sun on a hot day.

"Ah, to pray to the goddess is not for us! She is for the knights, my brother, and the knights are our protectors. But come! Come and see!"

Practically dragging Adelbert around the side of the font, he gestured to what looked to Adelbert like a stone tomb in the wall behind. Carved on its lid was the image of a knight, lying in state in full battle armour. The eyes beneath his helmet were closed in serene repose, and his stone hands were clasped over his chest. They held the strangest sword Adelbert had ever seen. It had a curved, bronze blade, ancient and mottled with a green patina of corrosion. Its hilt had evidently rotted away, replaced with a new one of fresh wood and leather, but the original pommel had been retained - a gilded sunburst, inlaid with pieces of lapis lazuli. That pommel was probably worth quite a bit more than everything Adelbert currently owned.

"The remains of Sir Leodoric the Just," breathed Adelbert's new friend, full of reverence. "The Lady led me here, to where he was buried. We found his bones beneath the castle, and the masons made this tomb for him here." He pushed Adelbert forwards. "Come! Touch the tomb, and be blessed by the Grail Knight himself."

OOC:

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Reference image for the sword:

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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Adelbert gave the tomb a doubtful look but decided he better at least make a show of piety. "Ah yes, Sir Leodoric a great knight," he murmmured aloud as he touched the carved hands of Sir Leodoric and feigned a look of adoration.

Frankly he thought the sword looked like no Bretonnian weapon he had ever seen. A weapon of ancient Araby perhaps, or even the fabled Elves who history said had once ruled these lands. Still no sense in throwing scepticism on this fellows harmless delusions. Time to make his excuses and leave. "Alas my friend I cannot tarry long but I would like to thank you for the great honour you have shown me."

[LCP]

Adelbert

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The bearded man shook Adelbert firmly by the shoulder. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, and he practically rattled the teeth in the scribe's jaws.

"You are welcome, friend, welcome. Return whenever you please! The doors of the temple are always open." Adelbert tried to extricate himself with a parting handshake, but the Bretonnian went for another bear-hug of an embrace instead. His sackcloth robes had quite a pungent smell close up. "My name is Odo, Brother Odo. If ever you wish to learn more of the Grail Knight, seek me out!"

With that last crushing encounter, Brother Odo let Adelbert go. Adelbert found himself quite grateful to be released.

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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"Of course, uh, thank you Brother Odo!" Adelbert called back as he remade a hasty retreat. Well, that had been a, um, experience but clearly the Duke did not call upon Brother Odo for matters spiritual so so much for that hope.

Reaching the gates of the temple Adelbert again found his gaze drawn to a bizarre statue off the main square. As he looked on he questioned one of the guards (in Reikspiel this time): "That statue of there, what do you know of it my friend?"

[LCP]

Adelbert

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"That old thing?" said the guard with the Sudenland accent. He seemed in an amicable enough mood. "Some small god the locals keep. Nakki or somethin'."

"Nahorek," said the other guard, rather more sombre.

"That's right," said the first guard. "Nahorek. Some kind of black dog, he is. Morr's pet or somethin'." He gestured downhill with his spear. "You go down the low quarter, you see 'em hangin' up a jackal's paw when someone's died. Keeps Nahorek from stealin' their soul."

"Superstitious nonsense," said the other guard. The first guard chuckled.

"Aye, that it is."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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"Quite," Adelbert said and nodded as if in agreement. Superstitious nonsense or no it seems the poor believe it and more fool you for dismissing them out of hand.

Feeling suddenly weary the scribe decided the time had come to move on. Taking his leave of the temple district he returned to the inn to eat, marshal his thoughts and see what the others had discovered.

[LCP]

Sieghard

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When the lather was applied, Rosmerta went to work with the razor. The man downstairs hadn't lied: it was the closest shave Sieghard had ever had. There was something about the woman's silent intensity that unnerved him, though, and he found his eyes drifting towards his boots. Was that the seam of a trapdoor under his chair? It was difficult to be sure.

When at last the task was done, Rosmerta took the scissors to his hair, and at this she proved slightly less adept. Still, when she showed him the results in the cracked mirror, they looked respectable. He was certainly cleaner and neater than when he had arrived, and his chin and neck were smoother than a baby's face. Particularly his neck.

Paying the fee, he headed back. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and the warmth of the sun wouldn't linger long in winter. Heading back through the market, he made his winding way back to the Boar and Crown.

---

1

Adelbert, Sieghard & Wolfgang

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It was approaching four when Sieghard returned to the inn; by the time Adelbert returned, it was nearing five. Seeing Wolfgang waiting there, the party of three re-assembled. Brand had departed; he had guided Adelbert safe to Alvarran, and the charcoal-burner's task was done.

Now the inn was busy, many people thronging the common hall for both drink and food. A detachment of soldiers were singing noisily in one corner, while a large gaggle of hangers-on were eating with a fat-looking merchant around one of the central tables. Sir Tancred and his page were gone, and Jurgen the priest had taken their place by the wall, still drinking and showing no sign of having stopped.

OOC:

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All together again! Over to you guys.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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Sieghard pays and leaves, grateful that the woman hadn't accidently slit his throat. He could've sworn she had come close more than once, but no matter how many times he touched his hand to his neck, no blood came came back with it.

By the time Adelbert makes it back to the inn, Sieghard had already half finished an ale. He was telling Wolfgang about the man he had seen from Elmridge, though he wasn't particularly concerned if the man was paying attention.

"-Bastard wouldn't say anything about that damn forest of theirs though. Just kept trying to peddle his worthless baubles. He's in for a surprise when he gets back home."

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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Adelbert orders a meal and an ale before joining his compaions.

"I've been to the Temple District. The temple to the Lady is pretty impressive but I gather only the Brettonian commoners do much worshipping there. They have a relic tomb of some saint - a Sir Leodoric I think - who I personally think is some skeleton they just dug up from a burial mound nearby. He has a very old but impressive sword that doesn't look the least Bretonnian even if I couldn't place it. Possibly Elvish or even from Cathay."

He pauses to see if his ale and food have arrived yet before continuing. "There is also a statue to a local god named Nahorek. Very ancient animal god I think, linked with the afterlife. A soldier I spoke to called him 'Morr's pet'. Certainly the statue looked to have canine aspects that are suitably chthonic for an underworld deity."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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Sieghard shrugs.

"Might be. Or maybe he just had a strange sword. Mighta thought it was magic or something. Knights get funny 'bout their weapons sometimes."

Sieghard laughs when Adelbert brings up Nahorek.

"You mean their glorified rat catcher? You didn't actually believe any of that crap, did ya? Local color and nothing more. Probably somethin' they worshipped before they heard about the real gods and the bit about being Morr's pet is just something they came up with to keep him around."

Sieghard orders a meal and a second ale. (third one today counting the one he had earlier)

[Sodalite]

Wolfgang

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Wolfgang stifled a retortive sound. He wasn't the religious sort, but even he felt a little put-off by the seeming slight against locals, which Wolfgang didn't count himself too far away from. "Religion's not the sort of thing I want to be thinking of right now. Either one of you notice the guards being all around, though? Makes me feel like I could get stabbed in the back with their spears about."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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Sieghard gives Wolfgang a confused look.

"Why would you think that? Guards are there to keep you from getting stabbed in the back. Would you rather try your luck with a pouch full of gold in a dark alley without them being in shouting distance?"

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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Adelbert shot a look of distaste at Sieghard over the religion comment but he was forced to agree with the mercenary over the troops. "Wolfgang, I don't know who you've been talking to but the temple guards at least seemed fairly untroubled. Granted they weren't locals, or at least one of them had a strong Sudenlander accent." The scribe paused and glanced over at the soldiers. "Anyway let's try and stay out of trouble for the moment. I'm going to go up to the castle tomorrow and see if I can get an in. Hopefully Jager's name carries actual weight here."

[Sodalite]

Wolfgang

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That was slip, and a bad one. Even if it was more than he was used to, he'd need to not let go of that.

"I guess I've just not shaken my feeling from a while ago. I'll probably get around it soon enough." He said, somewhat truthfully.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

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"Well... Thing about that is Jager isn't here. Even if the duke listens to everything he says, his reccomendation don't mean much until he talks to the duke."

He pauses for a second and takes a deep drink from his ale.

"I'd pick your words carefully when dealing with his men up at the castle. Any bastard can come down here and call himself a lord - long as he has enough agreeing with him, no one's gonna argue - but the duke's the real thing. And if half the stories are true, he's not forgiving to those he sees as disrespecting him. Remember Hartmut's Fall?"

He pauses and takes another drink.

"Well it was a lot nicer before Hartmut made the duke angry."

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa

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OOC:

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Can I assume the NPCs have no response to my previous post, or were you only holding out until it was time to move on to the morning?

Elsa stayed as quiet and motionless as possible for a while to let the archer think she was asleep. Breathing slowly, she began to twist her only working wrist, trying to loosen the ropes again. This may well be her last chance to escape before she was thrown in a dungeon and/or executed, depending on the Duke's mood.

She was by nature an impatient person, like most Bright Wizards, but the past few days had taught her a measure of caution. Even if she managed to free herself quickly, it was a bad idea to attempt anything while the archer was awake: the man was sharp-eyed and perhaps a bit more clever, relatively speaking, than his colleague. Her best chance to get away without taking an arrow in the back would be an hour or two into the second guard's watch, once his attention began to slip and the archer slept soundly.

She made little effort to keep herself awake until then. Her sleep had always been fitful ever since fleeing the College and she was confident she would wake up at least a few times during the night.

[LCP]

Adelbert, Sieghard & Wolfgang

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As the evening wore on, the tavern became first more rowdy and then quieter. The fires in the hearth were stoked and then left to cool as the locals trickled out, leaving a sizeable rump of travellers. A few of those who had been drinking more heavily fell asleep where they sat, piercing snores sawing through the beery air.

After the noise had died down, Adelbert noticed a face he hadn't seen before. A man in close-fitting black clothes, like a slightly more fashionable undertaker, was sitting with his back to one of the inn's thick walls. His skin was paler than most of the leathery locals, much like Adelbert's own, and he had a neatly-trimmed, pointed moustache and beard that protruded about a thumb's length from his chin. He had a slim book in his hands, and appeared to be engrossed in reading it.

---

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Elsa

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More than a couple of times as she worked at the ropes, Elsa felt her muscles freeze as she thought she saw Fauchard looking straight at her. He couldn't have noticed, however, as he said nothing.

OOC:

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Perception for Fauchard, at +20 (you're the thing he's watching!)

[RossN]

Adelbert Schreiber

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From the moment he caught sight of the stranger Adelbert fought a losing battle with his curiousity. Eventually he surrendered to the inevitable and got up and approached the reader, coughing politely to gain his attention. "Herr Klammenberg I presume? Forgive my intrusion but I heard word of a fellow man of letters in town. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Adelbert Schreiber of Grenzstadt."

It was quite possible Klammenberg - if indeed an Imperial scholar - would have heard of the scholastic Schreibers of Grenzstadt, if not Adelbert personally. Of course he might have heard of their recent problems too but even a tarnished family name was often better than no name at all...

[LCP]

Adelbert & co.

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Klammenberg looked up at the introduction, an expression of mild surprise on his face. His eyes seemed to have the disconcerting glint of a smile in them, as if there was some inner joke that only he was privy to.

"Schreiber?" he repeated. He politely shook Adelbert's hand. "I'm afraid you have the advantage of me. You have heard of me, but I hadn't heard of you." Closing the book, he set it down on the table. "Who gave me away?" he asked, with a joking smile.

OOC: Wolfgang and Sieghard should feel free to either join this conversation or go about their own business as the inn winds down for the night.

[Sodalite]

Wolfgang

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Talk between two scholars seemed abysmally unlikely to produce of interest to Wolfgang unless he was willing to try and suggest something, which he was entirely not. He got up, made change for a Room, specifically one with a window even if the request costed him extra, and waited there until everyone, nearby at least, was asleep.

Now, to begin the most preliminary of steps. He gingerly opened the window, leaned out, loosed what looked about the right length of rope, tossed the hook-end of the rope up over the roof, and began trying to climb out.