[WFRP] Ill Met By Morrslieb

[LCP]

OOC thread

Chapter I
At the Sign of the Wolf and Hammer

The Great North Road was as wide as a river. It meandered lazily through the forest on its way from Middenheim to Marienburg, swallowing smaller paths like tributaries into the flow. It was at one such junction that the coaching inn stood.

Four thick walls, twelve feet tall and made from rough-cut stone, enclosed the broad yard in which the inn stood. Topped with chipped battlements like broken teeth, they were broken only in one spot, where the great wooden gates stood wide enough to admit a team of horses. Cut from solid Drakwald oak and studded with iron nails, they looked as if they could resist a battering ram – at least for a time.

The painted sign that swung over the gates seemed strangely incongruous next to these grim fortifications. It showed the head of a white wolf, red tongue lolling over its teeth. Next to the wolf's head was a golden warhammer – perhaps someone's idea of what Ghal Maraz might look like. It didn't seem clear from the sign whether the wolf was supposed to be holding the hammer aloft, or about to be struck down by it. Either way, the lettering underneath was unimaginative enough: it simply read

THE WOLFE AND HAMMER

Dusk was falling when the four travellers reached the tall gates and their hanging sign. They had come from the hill road that people seldom took; though the Wolf stood where it joined the main road, it was travellers from the east and west who made up the bulk of the inn's guests, not from the south. A man on the parapet with the air of a sentry looked suspiciously down at the newcomers, before reluctantly unbarring the gates. A serving-boy scurried ahead of them, bringing news of their arrival.

Inside, the yard was crowded with unharnessed wagons. Three men stood guard over the wagons' cargo, warming their hands over a small fire. A wing of stables was crowded with mules and horses, the animals' heads turning to follow the newcomers in the flickering firelight. Under improvised shelter next to the horses, two tall black coaches with the livery of a rearing wildcat were just visible around the corner of the inn.

The inn itself stood higher than its protective walls. Warm yellow light streamed from its lattice-paned windows, and the babble of scores of competing voices was audible even from outside. When the front door opened for a moment, the warmth and noise and smell came rolling out in a palpable wave.

The man who came scuttling out to meet them was small. Short and lean, an ingratiating grin was spread across his narrow, poorly-shaven face. From his yellow old apron and rolled-up sleeves, he appeared to be the innkeeper.

"Welcome!", he said, rubbing his bony hands together. "Welcome, friends. Let me take your..." - he looked from left to right, surprised. "No baggage? Travelling light, eh?"

As the newcomers came closer, he was in for another surprise. It wasn't often that an elf graced the Wolf with his presence - let alone two. Still, he recovered well.

"Come in, come in," he said, stepping out of the way. "We've food and a fire, the finest food on the North Road. You must be bone-tired, eh? It's a long walk from..." - he glanced to his gatekeeper, who mouthed a word - "...from Ollsbrook, that it is. Upon my word, though, you won't find better beds at more reasonable prices from 'ere to Marienburg."

Behind him, the door creaked open again, bringing with it the same momentary surge of heat and laughter. As it swung shut, a huge rotund bear of a woman heaved herself into the light. From the scars on her massively-muscled forearms, she looked like she might have wrestled a few in her day. Then again, from her unlovely face she looked as if she might have one or two in her family tree as well.

"My lady wife Gudryn'll take your things, if you've got any things need takin'", said Lamprecht. He drew breath to continue, but before he could, one of the newcomers doubled over in a fit of coughing. The innkeeper's oily smile froze on his face, slowly fading to a concerned frown. His monstrous wife only glowered.

The lanky elf straightened up, wiping a fleck of something that might have been blood from the corner of his mouth. He was trying to play it down, but his face was waxy pale, with blotchy bags beneath his eyes. In the light from the windows, it would be hard for the innkeeper not to see the hand that had wiped his lips was trembling.

Lamprecht opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could start, Gudryn cut him off.

"He's sick," she said, her voice at least an octave deeper than her husband's.

"Nasty cough you've got there, friend," started Lamprecht. Gudryn interrupted again.

"You want the other guests catchin' what he's got?" she snarled at her husband. "He ain't stayin' here." She turned her back to lumber back inside. "Turn 'em out."

As his wife headed back into the warmth of the inn, Lamprecht gave an insipid smile and a helpless little shrug. "Sorry, gents. You know what women are like." He gave the sickly elf an apologetic look. "We can't have our guests thinking there's sickness in the 'ouse..."

[Exeson]

Ithelus took a moment to catch his breath before hacking phlegm onto the ground, in the dimming light it was hard to tell the colour but that hardly seemed to matter at this point. The elf's health had been deteriarating fairly rapidly since they hard started traveling, yet no one seemed to be able to answer if Elves could catch the plague... or if the Doctor had been telling the truth about the plague's nature.

'Wait, You can't throw us out - Throw them out because of me.' Ithelus lifted his trembling hands in appeal,'What if I slept in the stables. Horses aren't going to catch a coldfrom an Elf right?' Ithelus tried to force a chuckle to diffuse the situation but it came out as more of a wheeze.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter had been uncharacteristically silent and brooding since leaving Hohlesbruck. He had not shaved in days and barely ate. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleep deprivation. With his injured arm still in a sling, he did not look much better off than the sick Elf and the now one-eyed Lothar.

He cleared his throat. "Good sir, I beg you to be kind. We fell upon some hard times, as you can see; we met brigands, I'm sure you've heard of them, they've been robbing people along the Hohlesbruck road. But we got away with our gold and I can assure you we can pay. Our friend the Elf, here, doesn't have to sleep inside, as he says."

It was the most he had said at any one time since their departure.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar scritched his beard, shifted his weight. The one-eyed, scar-riddled man did not look like the sort to be taken easily by brigands and his bearded scowl lent Pieter's words some weight.

"Like the man says, we have coin. We'll keep 'im away from your common room - and none o' the rest of us have even a sniffle."

[LCP]

A sly gleam came into Lugner's eye. Sucking his teeth, he shook his head.

“Well... I won't lie to you. My Gudryn, once she's set her mind on somethin', she's tough as iron to shift. She finds out I let you stay here, she'll have my guts for garters. But it pains my 'eart to think of turnin' you poor fellows out onto the road, with the beasts so wild.”

“I tell you what,” he said, “you give me a little somethin' to sweeten her up, and I'll square things with Gudryn for you. Your friend can have a spot in the stables, and I'll make sure he gets clean straw an' all.” His eyes flicked to Pieter. “She's a kind soul, deep down. Shouldn't need more'n a Karl.”

OOC:

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Questions in the OOC thread will be answered after Illiiya's character sheet is up.

The one-armed scar-riddled man

One-armed?

And the usual reminder... don't wait for me to ask for a roll when using your characters' social skills. When to to make a roll is down to your initiative, and if you're trying to change an NPC's disposition you will generally need one.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

OOC:

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Oh lordie! Bits of Lothar are just falling off left and right.

Illiiya had been dead quiet along the road, for the most part... save an attempt to to to tend to Ithelus and comfort him as his sickness worsened. That she might lost him to illness was beginning to wear on her mind, and she'd taken to fussing over him for the last day or so along the road. It was clear the ragged elven woman had not been sleeping well either.

She gave the human a disinterested look when he went on is rant about his beds, only paying much attention when he refused Ithelus boarding. Then, her eyes narrowed, though she said nothing.

[Exeson]

'A karl? Do you take us for Noblemen? or rich merchants?' Ithelus lookedto the rest of the group. 'However the roads are not safe at night, what's the point of having money if you don't live to spend it.'

Ithelus fished into his pouch to retrieve a single gold. 'Took me too long to get this, I hope you- hhargh - you enjoy it.'

[LCP]

If Lugner was really concerned about Ithelus being contagious, he didn't show it with his eagerness to snatch the coin from the elf's fingers. Stowing it dextrously in the pocket of his apron, he stepped back and opened the door of the inn wide.

"Come in, friends!" he said, far more loudly than before. "Come in!"

Ushering the other three through, he gave Ithelus an apologetic look. "You want to find a dry spot, master elf, I'll have Steffi come out to clean it up some."

Ducking back inside after the others, he let the door clunk shut behind him. The men guarding the wagons looked at Ithelus standing alone with a lazy curiosity, then turned back to their fire.

---

1

Indoors

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The inside of the Wolf and Hammer was packed to the rafters. The majority of the inn's guests were men and women in travel-worn clothes who gathered together in great packs, seeming to know each other well. More than a few of the men had the look of mercenaries, with padded armour and swords at their belts. Their heavier gear had been piled up in an out-of-the-way corner of the common hall, battered shields, powerful crossbows and the odd polearm glinting in the firelight. It looked like they had seen recent use - a fair few of the men, and some of the women too, sported injuries, although most seemed light.

These greatest concentration of these travellers was around a stocky man with bushy whiskers, at the largest table in the smoky hall. They had taken up most of the rest of the space too, pushing the Wolf's other customers into the corners. Nevertheless, they were there. As Pieter's eyes adjusted to the sudden blaze of light, he picked them out of the crowd.

Over on the left, six men who seemed not to speak to the others were seated around a narrow table, with their backs to the wall. They had the look of peasants, although a few of them wore leather jerkins that gave them the vaguest suggestion of a militia. Two of them, young men both, were engaged in an animated argument, while the others paid close attention. Whatever they were arguing about, it seemed to be important to them.

A short way away from this group, a woman was sitting alone beneath one of the narrow windows. She had a mop of tangled brown hair that was sharply cropped just above the level of her shoulders, and wore a tunic that was quartered in faded red and green - the colours of some regiment, or the heraldry of some lord, no doubt. She seemed to pay no attention to any of the groups around her, just gnawing on a chicken-bone instead.

On the other side of the inn, two tables had been set aside from the rowdy crowd in the centre. The first table seated four men and a girl, probably no older than seventeen.

The first man was slightly portly and pasty-faced, with city clothes that seemed to have suffered a little from the road. The next two looked a little more seasoned, with weather-worn woollen cloaks and sturdy boots. A blunderbuss rested against the table-leg next to one of them.

The girl looked like a servant, and seemed more comfortable with the two outdoorsmen than the first man or his other companion. In fact it was the fourth man who drew the eye the most. A big man with cold grey eyes and a shadow of stubble across his sharp jaw, he wore gleaming mail even though he was seated closest to the fire. His right arm was armoured with steel plates, and a long sword dangled at his hip. Over his mail he wore a dark blue tabard, with the device of a rearing wildcat picked out in white thread.

The second table, meanwhile, seated only one. It could easily have taken six, and with the inn so packed it was surprising that it didn't. It had certainly been laid out with a luxurious spread, but its one occupant didn't seem to appreciate the bounty before her. She picked over the food as if she had just seen a spider hide inside it. A tall woman with striking auburn hair, she wore a fine blue dress slashed with lavender, and a heavy riding cloak lined with some soft fur had been draped over the chair behind her. She had the smooth, pale skin of a noblewoman.

By comparison to her, the last of the inn's patrons seemed almost drab. A man with the tanned skin of a sunnier country and a thick black moustache, he too wore mail, although it was not as clean and gleaming as that of the man by the fire. He sat by the bar, and a round metal shield sat by his feet. From the way the others moved around him, it was clear he was not one of them.

---

1

The Stables

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Walking around the side of the inn, Ithelus found the stables as crowded as the common hall looked. Each of the unhitched wagons in the yard had brought two horses or more, besides which there were mules, and four fine black beasts that presumably belonged to the carriages with the wildcat livery on the doors. The horses whickered and turned their heads as he passed.

The heat the animals gave off made the stables warmer than the night air outside, and Ithelus managed to find one dank corner where the animals could not kick or trample him by accident. Were it not for the noisome farmyard stink and the mocking sounds of talk and laughter coming from inside the inn, it might almost have been a decent place to spend the night.

[-Sentinel-]

Indoors

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Pieter was not expecting the inn to be so full. At least, given the variety of social classes and apparent professions and how well-armed most of the patrons were, it would be very easy for him to blend in - he looked like neither the richest, nor the poorest, nor the most vulnerable, nor the most hardened man around here. The only thing that set him apart was the sling that wrapped his left arm, but hopefully the shortsword at his belt marked him as someone not to be taken lightly.

His gaze swept the room, suddenly more intent and alert than it had been at any point since leaving Hohlesbruck. Several of the men under this roof, he guessed, must have been guards or servants to that noblewoman over there; no lady of such obvious wealth travelled alone in the countryside, let alone managed to secure a whole table for herself in such a packed inn without some muscle behind her. The initiate had the suspicion that he would feel the weight of an unfriendly hand on his shoulder if he so much as tried to strike up a conversation with her.

He looked for a seat somewhere between the two arguing young men and the woman in green and red, if only because eavesdropping was a bad habit of his that had never yet put him in trouble. Once he found a chair, he sat with his back to the wall so he could keep an eye on the rest of the room and pulled out his deck of cards in a tacit invitation to any gamblers in the inn. Absent-mindedly, he started shuffling the deck with only his good hand, most of his attention still directed at the other patrons.

[goblinpaladin]

Within

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The bearded soldier stiffed as soon as he entered the door. He stepped slightly closer to his elven companion, shifting his shield around his back, and scanned the inn. His eyes rested on each soldier wearing colours - red and green; Hochland. A wildcat - a free company, perhaps? His eyes lingered for long moment on the woman in the quartered tunic.

[Illiya, who knew Lothar better than the others, could perhaps have told that he was not eyeing her up as a woman - Pieter might have made a joke, were not the young man himself more tense in the room, moving. Nowhere was there the blue-and-yellow of Nordland; and no man had a face the deserter recognised.]

He shook his head, very subtly, and nudged the elf. They followed the skinnier fellow to a table where he lingered behind a chair, having slung his gear next to the robed young man.

"Cards an' dice, eh? I'll get us a round an' a bite." His accent was of Nordland, matching what was left of the blue-and-yellow worn beneath his cheap, battle-damaged mail.

OOC:

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Oho! I see some plot points here. I think Sentinel has the right idea about some quiet gambling. Something the whole family can enjoy while we come to grips with the room - and a thing that can involve some of this fascinating characters.

Knowledge: Empire check to see if Lothar recognises any of these regiments from his time in the War: (1d100)[27] - Int 32, so a base success unless being a former soldier gets me a bonus of some time (pfft, no.)

[LCP]

Indoors

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"Food an' drink, is it?" said Lugner, his head popping up like a weasel from a hole. He nodded, rubbing his bony hands together. "Right you are, sir, right you are. Lamprecht'll see to it."

Pulling up a wooden chair and presenting it to Lothar as if it were a gift fit for an Elector, he scurried off behind the bar. Before long, the massive form of Gudryn had accosted him. Her eyes lingered threateningly on the newcomers, but the flash of gold in Lamprecht's hands seemed to mollify her enough not to make a scene. Lothar took the time to size up the uniforms he could see on display.

The woman with the chickenbone - that red and green was the colours of one of the Drakwald patrols, if Lothar remembered rightly. The wildcat tabard of the man by the fire was unfamiliar to him, but it had been on the coaches outside too. Either that was one very well set up free company, or it was the arms of some noble family.

Over in another corner of the hall were three more men that he hadn't noticed before. Though their clothes were tattered and dirty, they wore white and blue, the colours of the Middenland. They seemed to be avoiding conversation with the others around them, keeping their heads down as they talked among themselves in low voices.

Returning with four steins of watery ale, Lamprecht set them down in front of Lothar and looked about for Pieter. Seeing him over by the other side of the room, he raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Now," he said. "What'll it be friends? We've got meat stew, very good, very fine. Got some birds roasting, got a lovely great pie that's only half gone. Fresh vegetables too, onions and turnips in off the east road. You'll be wantin' bread of course... will that be one loaf or two?" He gave a knowing leer. "Long day on the road, maybe you'll be wantin' three, eh?"

Pocketing Lothar's schilling for the ales, he took their order. Turning to go, he was brought up short by Lothar's question.

Lotta scars in this room, man. They headin' to the reconstruction, or are they all with th' lady in the fancy dress?

"What, this sorry lot?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the large group gathered around the man with the mutton-chop whiskers. "Merchant caravan, they are. Come from Middenheim, headed east to Marienburg. Had some trouble with the beasts on the road, but old Muller's guards sent 'em packing." He shook his head. "Some southern boys passing through here, they told me the war's done. Tell that to the beastmen, I says. They say the Broken-Horn's riling 'em up somethin' savage in the northern woods, gatherin' up all the clans that ran when the siege was broken. Even on this road, it ain't safe to travel at night." His face split in a yellow-toothed grin. "Good business for innkeepers, eh?"

Looking in the direction Lothar had indicated, he lowered his voice a little. "That lady in the fancy dress," he said, "is her ladyship Wilhelmina von Grauenbach. You mind your manners around her, she's bringin' in more coin than this poor old place sees in a month." Lothar wasn't quite sure that was true, but by the lavish way the noblewoman was being treated it seemed at least plausible.

Pieter, meanwhile, was doing his best to 'accidentally' overhear the conversation of the six men behind them. It was fairly easy.

"Look," said one of them. "What's the money going to be good for once we leave the road anyway? We don't know what's waiting for us, and Frieda's served us well so far. Look at this place - there's got to be some sellsword who can help."

"Help take the last of our coin, you mean," said another. "We can do this ourselves, Hal. That's what we set out to do, isn't it? We even don't know if there's anything left of Grimpenhof. How will you pay the woman then?" There was a pause. "I still think we should let her go. We're almost home now, we don't need a guide."

[Destro_Yersul]

Inside

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The man seated at the bar, his thick mustache covered in foam from his ale, was staring down at something intently interesting on the wooden surface his mug was resting on. He didn't have a plate of food in front of him, at least not yet, and every so often he would shift over and eye the spread in front of her ladyship Wilhelmina von Grauenbach with something approaching envy. He finally looked up when he heard Lothar ask about the scars in the room, watching the former soldier from under his Cabasset helmet.

"The war is over, but the battles, they are never done, no?" Shaking his head, he looked back to his mug. He spoke the thickly-accented Riekspiel common to foreigners, in a lilting tone that suggested his origins as Tilean. Most probably, he was one of the Tileans who had come here during the war. "Good business for innkeepers, and for Condotierri."

[Exeson]

The Stables

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Ithelus huddled himself in the corner, normally his mind would have been racing to think of all the valuble items in those coaches but since Holesbruck that was far fromhis mind. With a sigh Ithelus laid his crossbow, loaded, by his side. Nowhere was safe.

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Ithelus doesn't have too much to do but get some rest, which he needs

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya glanced around the place only slightly, noting with some wariness that so many of the patrons were armed. Elves were certainly a popular sight in most imperial towns, and the momentary thought of another witch burning left her ill at ease.

Perhaps... I should stay with Ithelus. She said softly, I am not much in the mood for games...

[LCP]

Ithelus

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Settling down for a long night, Ithelus had just about got 'comfortable' when he heard footsteps approaching. A young woman in the worn clothes of a servant came into view, weighed down under a the burden of a wooden bucket full of water, a filthy mop, and a huge sack of straw. Stopping when she saw Ithelus crouching in the shadows, her eyes widened and she almost dropped the bucket.

Recovering her senses, she put the bucket down and tilted her head to get a better look at him. She might have been pretty, to Lothar or Pieter - Ithelus honestly couldn't tell. To him she had the same gawky, lumbering look as the rest of them.

At last, she spoke, asking the most intelligent question she could muster.

"...Are you an elf?"

[-Sentinel-]

Inside

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As soon as the innkeeper came within earshot, Pieter stopped him and said quickly: "I'll have a large bowl of meat stew, some bread and an ale, good sir. Thank you."

Putting his deck of cards back on the table, the initiate leaned a bit towards the two arguing young men. "If I may be so rude as to intrude," he drawled, "this isn't the sort of place where you can afford to dismiss a guide. Trust me on this. The only thing you can do with money when you're lost in the woods is drop coins behind you to mark your way, and you may find it expensive after a mile or two."

[LCP]

Indoors

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The six men looked round at Pieter's interruption. The one who had been advocating going on alone looked annoyed.

"Aye? And what do you know about it?" Angrily, he turned back to the man he had been speaking to before. "We're out of the woods now. A few days on the road, then we're into the marshes. We don't need a guide for our own home ground!"

The man he was talking to seemed less dismissive.

"What's your name, friend?" he asked of Pieter.

[-Sentinel-]

Inside

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"Pieter. Just some fancy Nuln slicker who doesn't know anything about the woods," the initiate answered wryly. He turned to the other. "What I know about it, mister, is that some friends and I just had a rather trying time in the woods lately. See the bearded man over there, who looks like someone you wouldn't want to pick a fight with? Ask him how he lost his eye."

He glanced at the woman in green and red. "Is that your guide?" he asked Hal.

[LCP]

Indoors

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"Yes," said the second man, still irritable. "What's it to you?"

"My name's Hal," said the first, more equitably, "and this is Steffan." He looked across at Lothar, curiosity written large on his face. Lothar, however, was being accosted by the curious Tilean, and Hal didn't seem to want to interrupt. "How'd he lose his eye?" he asked Pieter, instead.

[-Sentinel-]

Inside

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"We had a run-in with some... nameless things near Hohlesbruck," explained Pieter, showing them his bandaged arm. "Mutants of some sort. Oh, and speaking of Hohlesbruck, avoid the area like, uh, the plague. What's that place you mentioned earlier, Steffan? Grimpenhof? Is that where you're from?"

[LCP]

Indoors

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"Grimpenhof is our village," said Hal, nodding. "Out in the Schadensumpf. We left when the war came too close. A rider from Kammendun told us the Northmen had burned Norderingen, that we'd be next. Most of us packed up and headed south."

"Vogt, the priest, he stayed behind," piped up one of the others - an older man with yellow teeth and a wiry black beard. "Him and a few of the others. Said the Northers'd go around the swamp, not through it, that the village'd be safe." He took a swig from his mug. "War's done now. We're headed back to see if he's still there."

Hal nodded. "And start rebuilding, if anything's left," he said, with an air of sincerity. "There's women and children back at Carroburg, waiting for word they can come home."

Steffan, meanwhile, kept his silence. He clearly didn't think it was such a good idea to admit this stranger to their councils.

OOC:

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What's that place you mentioned earlier, Hal? Grimpenhof?

It was Steffan who mentioned Grimpenhof. I think you might be getting the two mixed up. Steffan is the one advocating that they leave their guide here, Hal is the one who seems more welcoming.

[Exeson]

Stables

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Ithelus looked around the stables with an expression of disdain. Not only did he have to sleepin the barn but now he had to put up with people disturbng him?

'Well I'm not a horse am I?'

[LCP]

Stables

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The girl looked down at her shoes, embarrassed.

"Herr Lugner said I was to clear out a patch for you," she mumbled. She made a gesture with the mop, as if it needed explaining. "I... I never seen an elf before."

[goblinpaladin]

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"The war is over, but the battles, they are never done, no?" Shaking his head, the Tilean mercenary looked back to his mug. "Good business for innkeepers, and for condotierri."

Lothar gave a shadow of his usual grin, crooked and more a smile. "You're not wrong, southerner. Makes the road rough, though." He tilted his head to the side with some parts missing.

"I didn't lose this in the War."

He spoke in a low tone to Illiiya. "No. Stay. Some people'd do us all good. some hot food, too."

[Destro_Yersul]

Indoors

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"No? An interesting story, that must be." Looking over to Pieter, the Tilean finished his ale and pushed the mug away. "Perhaps I will hear it later. Especially if you or your friends over there happen to be hiring?"

[goblinpaladin]

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Lothar paused, looking over their new Tilean friend. "Mmm. I have many stories, southerner! And so must you, coming from so long away. If you tell me one of the sun-kissed shores, I shall tell you one of the north. Mine has trolls in."

[Exeson]

Stables

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Ithelus cocked his head to one side. 'Well I better move so you can do it... There's another one inside, a female. Are, are you scared?'

[LCP]

Stables

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The girl paused, seeming to consider the question at some length. "No, not really," she said at last, and set to work.

Picking up a shovel from the back wall, she pushed out the old straw and sluiced the dirty stone underneath with water from the mop-bucket. Taking up the mop, she talked as she worked.

"You don't look well," she said. "Do elves get sick?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Inside

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"I cannot say I have heard many tales of trolls. Most of mine are of fire and war, and are happening after I come to your Empire. I think I come up with something, though." The Tilean glanced, somewhat sadly, back at his empty mug. Deciding against ordering another one, he looked back to Lothar.

"I tell you of my home city, yes? Of Luccini, greatest city in Tilea, and the time when the pirates come!" His face set in a broad smile, a marked change from his formerly morose expression, he slapped his hand down on the table to punctuate the sentence. "How much time you have? I assume all night. Nowhere to go after dark in forest."

Without waiting for the assent, the Tilean launched into his tale.

"My father, he is innkeeper. We have huge inn, called Nido di Corvi among the waterfront. Many ships come through Luccini, and we have the world's largest navy. Many marines, they come through the inn, and many condotierri as well, and they always come back, for my father he is the greatest cook in all of Tilea. Nobody cook better than him, and the inn is always busy.

Before he own the inn, my father serve in the navy, and fight the Sartossans. Sartossan pirates are the worst sort of pirates you can imagine, and raid up and down the coast, but our ships keep them away from the city. Except one time. One time, when the navy is out fighting, a ship with black sails come up on Luccini in the night, and the crew of that ship they set fire to the harbour and they try to pillage the city, but Luccini has never fallen yet, and we are strong people. We fight back!

The men at the inn, including my father, they ready their weapons and they wait. The pirates come, they break down the gate and then they see the real battle is still waiting for them. Many men from the upper windows are shooting with crossbows, and there are thirty mercenary soldiers with their pikes in the yard, and when the pirates come charging in they are caught on the pikes and shot by the crossbows.

There is one pirate, he is especially large and ugly, and he have a great metal cutlass bolted to his wrist where he lose his hand. He start to cut through the pikes, and the bolts of the crossbows do not stop him. He keep coming, across the yard and up to the door of the inn, though all his fellows are dead or dying behind him, and he kick down the door, and we meet him in the common room, and we fight him with every weapon we can find. We smash the empty bottles and we throw the glass in his eyes, and my father bring out his navy sabre and duel the pirate atop the bar. Long time they fight, back and forth, and the pirate begin to see he is outmatched. My father cut off his hand again and he try to flee, but he is unarmed and so he is set upon by the rest of the soldiers and killed. My father take his cutlass hand and hang it over the bar, and when the navy comes back they search for the ship with the black sails, but they do not find it."

His story finished, the Tilean leaned back against the bar in the Wolf and Hammer. "So. What you think? Worth a story about trolls, perhaps an ale?"

[BloodyAngel]

Stables

Spoiler

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Illiiya peered into the stables, pale green eyes scanning for Ithelus. She stepped inside quietly, giving no regard to the stable girl as she approached Ith. Her sudden appearance was hardly something to be shocked at, she'd been fussing over him for days, worried about his illness.

Ith... How are you feeling? I can bring you out some food if you need. She asked, stepping up to him and looking him over. You should be someplace warm and safe... not out here with the animals.