Travels amongst the Border Princes (WFRP 2e) IC

[Haval]

'The beer? We should investigate properly. Maybe we're close enough to the mountains that they have Dwarf beer.'

[rs2excelsior]

Torendil spends most of the evening after leaving the temple and the trip back thumbing through the books, trying to decipher what he can about their contents. He is a bit hesitant about giving Conrad the dwarven tome, but he decides that the fellow seems reasonable enough and if he decides that the books are dangerous and refuses to give it back that's the one he'd least mind losing, so Torendil lets him carry it.

He will help unload the saddlebags if asked, with only a minimal amount of grumbling. Otherwise he simply goes along with the others to the inn, the book in the unfamiliar language in his hands. He's skimmed the elven book a bit and taken a glance at the spellbook--long enough to realize it will take quite a bit of time and effort to actually replicate anything he finds there--but for some reason this one is the one that's held his attention the most. He has spent quite a bit of time examining the illustrations for meaning, and trying to pick out individual characters or words--perhaps the duke will have someone who can at least recognize what the language is?

[rax]

In reply to Conrad (and Gabriele)
"Sir Laurens wanted us to go to Bremcote with him, so that's what I'll be doing. See what this Duke's like and if he has any paying work fit for a halfling."

"And don't forget we're expected at the fort for dinner. Go easy on the ale, eh? These noble types tend to take it amiss if commoners turn up blotto at their festivities."

[Ionbound]

As they ride into town, she shrugs at Conrad, replying, "Well, I'm not really an ale-drinker so I honestly don't know. I just stick with a room." She glances over at Sir Laurens, adding, "Well, sir, unless you'd like one." She blushes a little at this addition, even as she smiles.

[dojango]

Sir Laurens nods at the group before leaving. Sir Leclair shoots Alyssa dirty look as they ride off. Was it something she said?

The owner of the inn is serving drinks. "Don't get much traffic from the dwarves out here. They live mostly in the eastern valley, I'm told. There's some halflings up nearby that have some orchards, though. They make a potent cider if'n you want to try that. Otherwise, my cousin makes ale in the basement for me. Got some dark stuff here, some small beer. I can bring her up if'n you got an interest in the makin' of it."

"That was very brave of you, Severin," says Bernice. "Thank you for helping us. We would've never made it..." she pauses, thinking of those that didn't make it, perhaps. "I'm glad you're here. We can head down to Bremcote tomorrow. Unfortunately, Carl and Wertha decided to leave us while you were gone. Carl found his cousins living up in the hills and went to live with them, while Wertha is staying on with the guards here. I don't think we've met," she adds, reaching out to shake Conrad's hand. "Bernice Springer. My father and I came here to set up shop. We can pay you to escort us to Bremcote, if you are willing. One crown per week, plus expenses."

Linus looks closely at Conrad as well. "Priest of Sigmar, eh? These lands could always use the strength of Sigmar, I reckon. Any news from Altdorf?"

Clark asks, "So, you chased the mutants down to their hidey-hole? Must be a fine tale. Good work, and brave. Glad to know those brutes won't be waiting for us when the trade routes open again. Might take over Ol' George's route. Suppose someone should go tell the widow Beaumont he's been avenged."

"Ain't you going to do it?" asks Linus. "You been visiting her a lot."

"Ah. Sure, I been comforting her. Two or three times a night, in fact. But I need a break, eh?" replies Clark.

Spoiler: Torendril

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The Magos's spellbook is... troubling, to say the least. Your master back in Altdorf had given you stern and absolute warnings about meddling with the corrupted flows of magic, and yet this Magos seems to have used them extensively. There are also references to dealing with demons and even summoning and binding them. This is, to put it mildly, extremely horrifying. And yet, it also seems to have propelled the Magos to great power? The book on Teclis is also fascinating. Teclis, the great Elven archmage, came to the Empire to teach the humans magic during their darkest hour. He gave many lectures to the assembled witches and wizards of the Empire that now serve as the basis for the Imperial College system of magic. Extremely basic, foundational stuff in the books, but this does seem to have been scribed by someone who was actually present at the lectures! The book in the strange language, alas, eludes Torendril's understanding for now. He does find that the Magos has copied a number of the diagrams into his spellbook, and labelled them as 'sacrificial circles'".

[Ionbound]

Alyssa just winks at Leclair as they ride in to town, knowing exactly why he was shooting her a dirty look. She simply takes a seat as everyone walks into the tavern, simply listening to the conversations around her as she relaxes from what had been a rather trying and stressful day.

[rax]

"Gettin' paid for it is the nicest way to travel, Miss Bernice, it surely is. I'll be happy to see you and Master Linus safely to Bremcote," Severin answers.

He sniggers quietly at Clark's mention of "comforting the widow".

[rs2excelsior]

Torendil joins the others at the tavern, taking a small beer and sipping it slowly as he continues flipping through his newfound books and occasionally listening to the conversations around him. The Magos seemed to have dabbled in some rather dark magics--he knew that Sariel would tell him to burn it and forget he'd ever seen it, but she had always been far too cautious about such things. He wouldn't use the things about demon summoning, of course, but he felt sure that with time there would be some techniques he could make use of. Surely it wasn't all so dangerous?

For now, though, he examines the book of Teclis's lectures, making some notes in his own spellbook to try out later, when they aren't in the middle of a crowded tavern. It might be far less interesting, but even he will admit it's more immediately useful.

If asked, Torendil does plan to come along to Castle Bremcote. He has perhaps reconsidered showing the unintelligible book to whatever scholars might be residing there, but a search through the library might still turn up something useful.

[Haval]

Gabriele will take an ale. To Severin, 'Don't worry about that. Too much beer and I tend to fall asleep. Besides, with enough game I can probably get work anywhere, but there's never any point in antagonising people.'

To Bernice, 'I'll certainly come along. How far is it to Bremcote anyway?'

[dojango]

Bernice spreads a map out on the table. "From here (C2) to Castle Bremcote (D13), it's about 50 miles as the crow flies. Of course, on the ground it will take longer. A large group such as ourselves can hope to travel 16 miles a day on favorable terrain, so hopefully it will be about 4 days to reach Bremcote."

[rax]

"Oh, what the heck," Severin answers Gabriele. "Innkeep! I'll try some of your local brew!"

Severin eyes the map with interest. "Sir Laurens said he'd be going to Castle Bremcote himself, so I guess he'll be setting the pace. On the upside, he likely won't travel without an escort and we'll be heading to the Duke's seat of power, so surely the trip should be about as safe as one can hope for out here in the wilds."

OOC: Severin orders a dark beer.

[Haval]

Gabriele grins while sipping her beer, 'I've never had an armed escort before. We should take advantage of it while we can.' Despite the mutants, she was fairly confident that nothing worse was likely to happen.

Spoiler: ooc

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Going to ask the barman if he's heard any recent news from people coming here from the south.

If needed Gossip vs. Fel 32
(1d100)[87]

[Ionbound]

Alyssa nods as she listens to everyone else, "If we're headed back to the castle, I'll come too. Probably my best bet anyways."

[dojango]

The bartender gives Gabriele a long and boring rundown of some of the travels of locals. Mostly herders bringing their flocks in for summer shearing, and then a few merchant trains hauling the wool away down south. None of it seems too interesting, although some of the locals begin arguing over the prices of wool and what they're going to buy with their earnings. There is some muttering over the taxes, of course, but it seems subdued, perhaps because of the princeling's hired thugs.

It is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, having drinks in the summer sun, watching the locals doing their daily chores. The innskeep makes sure that baths are filled for those that want to have them, and cleanish towels are prepared. As the shadows begin to lengthen, the party heads up the motte towards the bailey. The guards wave the party through, into the keep. The keep is enclosed by a fairly impressive stone wall. Inside though, the buildings are fairly simple. There is a large hall with a few tables thrown down. Sir Laurens and Sir Leclair are holding forth there, regaling a few bored-looking soldiers and townsfolk with tales of their heroics from the past few days. "Ah, our guests. Come, sit, bring something to drink for them!" shouts out Sir Laurens.

[DrK]

Conrad

Conrad listens to the others before when asked by Linus replies at length with news of the Empire, of battles with Chaos and the ongoing feud between the Arch Lectors and Ar-Ulric of Middenheim. He rather more enjoys the dark beers and the clean feelimg after the hot bath before he dons his homespun red robes of a priest of Sigmar.

Approaching the keep he looks around with interest at the heavy looking walls and fortified holdings. "They must expect trouble here frequently my friends. "

[rax]

To Conrad
"From what we were told previously, this whole valley was infested with orcs not thirty years ago. No surprise that the locals decided to fortify their homes with neighbours like that," Severin opines.

To Sir Laurens
"Thank you, Sir Laurens, it's right gracious of you to have us as your guests," Severin answers.

[Haval]

In the pub Gabriele wished that she hadn't bothered asking, but will pretend to pay attention until she could leave.

To Conrad and Severin, 'Better safe then sorry.' She's tried to clean up a little and is curious to see what the inside of this place looked like but will let others do the talking.

[Ionbound]

Alyssa smiles as Sir Laurens greets the group, taking a seat as close as respectfulness would allow to the young lord. She happily listens to his story of heroics, partaking in the refreshments when they arrive.

[dojango]

Dinner and drinks are served. The food is fine, and there is plenty of it. As the night wears on, you all get to here Sir Laurens tell the story of how they faced down the angry hordes of mutants, and then chased them into their lair. They tell the tale of the vicious ambush inside, and how Sir Laurens and Sir Leclair fought back to back against the terrible foes. Sir Leclair shows off the wounds in his arm. "It should become a fine scar," he says, proudly. Sir Laurens caps off the tale with their fight against the horrid undead beast, and he shows off some of the treasure plundered from the temple. The audience mostly applauds politely. Most of what passes for notables in the town are there; the mayor (who also owns the town's general store), the officer in charge of the garrison, and the local priest who presides over a run-down shrine to Taal and Rhya on the outskirts of town. After the story is over, most of the gossip is over local matters, not terribly interesting, although a few of them are very interested in exploring the Red Temple for themselves.

Once the feast wraps up, the party heads down the motte in the darkness back to the inn for a night's sleep. In the morning, everyone is awoken at dawn to get an early start. The innskeep provides breakfast, Linus and Bernice get their mule-trains saddled and packed up, and everyone heads to the gate of the city, where they end up waiting for another hour or so for Sir Laurens and his party to appear. Once again, there is Sir Laurens and Sir Leclair riding their destriers in their armor at the head, followed by 10 soldiers and 3 servants. Albrecht follows as well, on his horse. They also have a few carts pulled by mules, loaded with the plunder from the Red Temple and a few strongboxes containing the taxes collected from the village. The caravan heads out of the village, and then crosses the Igerang river at a small ford. The path winds south over the grassy hills, keeping the river on your left. There are a few scattered homesteads in the hills, with patches of farmland in the valleys and herds of sheep and goats bounding over the hills. There are also a few burned-out homesteads, and more than a few abandoned graveyards that you pass through during the day. As the afternoon wanes on, the party crests one final hill and sees the fertile Igerang valley stretched out ahead of them. At the base of the hill is the small village of Courville. The village is oddly laid out. There is the typical ditch and wooden palisade surrounding a simple village, as you would expect, but outside the village about 50 paces away is a small cluster of buildings. These buildings are surrounded by a few shacks and hovels, and they have their own smaller ditch built around it. Sir Laurens points towards the town. "Ain't much there, to be honest. The inn barely has room for a few people to sleep. Sir Leclair and I will stay at the Mayor's house, and we'll make sure they provide quarters for the soldiers. Suppose I can order the villages to put you lot up as well, guess it's the least I can do for ya."

[rax]

"Excuse me, Sir Laurens, but what are those buildings over there?" Severin asks, pointing to the smaller cluster of buildings.

[dojango]

"Oh, they're refugees. From the Empire. Came through last year, my father had them settle in this village. They wanted to stay together, I guess. For some reason they didn't get along with the villagers, so they took over those abandoned buildings and fixed them up. Time will bring them together, I suppose, but as long as they work the land and pay their share they don't have to get along."

[Haval]

Gabriele manages to avoid drinking enough to get a sore head and is up refreshed the following day. Whether or not any of the soldiers do it she'll take it upon herself to scout for the group. If any of them are close she will investigate the burned out homesteads.

'Refugees. I wonder what they saw to have come down here.' She didn't really like the idea of intruding on someone's house. 'I'll be fine. It wouldn't be the first time I've slept outside.'

[rax]

"A decent hayloft will do for me, as long as Bertrand gets a roof over his head and something to eat and drink. And now that we have money, surely that won't be a problem," Severin says.

"Refugees from the Empire? Anything particular about them? They all humans, all dwarves, all halflings? All from the same neck o' the woods or perhaps having the same religion?"

[Ionbound]

Alyssa nods and asks thoughtfully about the refugees, "What are they fleeing from, I wonder? And what province did they come from?"

[dojango]

Sir Laurens shrugs a bit at the questions. "Don't know much about the Empire. Other than the wars. Surprised we haven't got more refugees, but two hundred miles of desert will deter all but the most desperate, I suppose. And don't worry overmuch about the peasants. One of their feudal duties is to quarter troops in times of need. But if you insist, sleep where you will." He spurs his horse and leads the caravan down towards the split village. They have already seen you coming, and a few dozen from each part of the community file out to meet you. You do notice that there seems to be a lot of tension between the two groups, they are also facing off each other, as well as your group. They are all holding stout clubs or pitchforks. Sir Laurens halts his horse a few paces away. "What in the name of Bremcote is going on?" he shouts.

"Sir Bremcote? Is that you?" one of them says. "Murder most foul!" someone else shouts, pointing at the other group. "Liar!" someone shouts, and there is a lot of muttering as they scowl at each other.

[Haval]

Gabriele will try to see if any if the villagers seemed armed. If they started fighting among themselves they didn't need this getting any worse.

After waiting for a suitable moment she'll call out, 'Well which is it? Who died?'

Spoiler: ooc

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Perception vs. Int 38
(1d100)[12]

[DrK]

Conrad

Conrad enjoys the meal and the wine before walking with the soldiers the next day happy to see good honest men of the Borders. As they reach the small village and hear words of the refugees he looks up at the at the others. "I shall speak with them, as a Priest of the Heldenhammer they may be willing to speak with me." But, before he can move towards the village the mobs spill forth. AT the shouts of "murder" and the like he advances forward as well, making sure his holy symbol of the twin tailed comet is visible. "What has happened here?"

[rax]

In a quarrel between big folk, the wise Halfling stays low.

Severin stays mounted on Bertrand, quietly observing Sir Laurens and the two mobs.

[Ionbound]

Alyssa peers at the competing groups curiously, waiting for a good moment before asking, "Well...I suppose you could tell us all what happened, first?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Charm check to get everyone to calm down and talk like adults; (1d100)[42] vs 41

[rs2excelsior]

Torendil spends the feast mostly keeping to himself, having found there are enough superstitious folk around that bragging too freely about one's magical talents can lead to problems when you're with people whose only knowledge about magic comes from what the priests tell them and their own fears. He spends the trip down still buried in his books, and even tries out one of the simpler cantrips he found in the book of Teclis. It's something he could do already, but carried out in a different way--he has mixed success to begin with, but the results please him.

He likes the idea of the knights simply having them put up in a bed for the evening, but those hopes are perhaps dashed when they are met by an armed mob instead of subservient peasant-folk. Torendil stays back--let the others draw the attention of the angry people with pitchforks--and keeps a careful eye out for the beginnings of a fight. Hopefully if it comes to that a quick display of magic will end it before it properly begins.