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Illiiya looked about with a start, as if she'd been miles away and something had just recently tugged her attention back to reality. She looked quizzically at Ithelus for a moment before she finally spoke.
I'll go wherever you do. She said in a low voice, I don't have anyplace else to go.
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Lothar cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "Ah... I'd like to accept yer officer -ah, offer- Captain. Will we have any official...ah papers or the like? If the Hounds or another guard questions our being in a place at a time?" He rubbed his hair, wincing as the bandage was tugged up.
"I'd also not object to your office keeping me in blackpowder and shot. Imagine that's hard to get 'round here, what with the cultists and all."
Von Brucker reached into the drawer of his desk, producing a small handful of coins - dropping them on the table, he pushed them towards Lothar.
"There's three marks. That ought to keep all of you in ammunition, if you feel you'll need it - Sigmar knows the plotters got their hands on gunpowder easily enough. But if I find you starting fights without good cause, we will have no further business. I hope that is clear."
Drawing a sheet of paper towards him, he picked up the quill that lay on the desk, wetting it in the inkwell and scribbling something on the parchment. Stamping it with some kind of seal, he rolled it up, holding it in his hand.
"This bears my signature, and the seal of the City Guard. It ought to keep you out of trouble with my men, at least."
He did not hand it over - his eyes turned to Raffy.
Raffy snaps out of his reverie. It seems he was staring out the window in the direction of the river.
"Aye, Lord. We're agreed. It's a generous offer and we'll work hard for you."
He frowns. "Any chance you'd have a spare 'buss in your armoury? I've been looking to have the barrel on mine refitted, and shouldn't want to be unarmed in the meanwhile."
He indicates the gun hanging from his right hip. Funny, his peasant brogue has vanished and he seems to speak clearly and match the commander's tone.
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In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
He handed over the paper. “I know only three places where you might start. First is Doctor Johann Rasen, who you will be wishing to see in any case – for your wounds. He is the only sober surgeon I know of, and he treats the poor – more people pass in and out of his door than any other man in Delberz. His office is in the Lower Town, on the west side – any man on the street there can show you the way.”
“Second are the gunpowder merchants. There are only two in the city, one in the Altmarket, and one in the Neumarket. Whoever destroyed the temple must have bought the powder from them, but if they know anything, they won’t tell it to anyone in a uniform. They won’t come forward with evidence while the Hounds are waiting to seize anyone accused of trafficking with the enemy.”
“Third – “ he sighed, seemingly to himself – “is an old friend of mine. Klaus Ziemlich. Unfortunately, he’s fallen into bad company – but that means he may have seen or heard something relating to the plotters. You’ll have a hell of a time getting anything out of him, but he may be your best chance. Most evenings you can find him at the Hammer and Tongs, arguing... something with someone.” There was a trace of weary disgust in the young Captain’s voice.
“I will expect regular reports. You’ll receive your pay on the last day of the week. And a word of advice – be careful around the Church. Von Kemperbad’s a powerful, suspicious man. If you offend him, I can’t help you.”
“Unless you have any further questions, I suggest you get started. You’ll want to secure some accommodation soon – the taverns are all crowded, with the war.”
Raffy nods at the denied request, having not really expected much.
When the commander is done talking Raffy speaks up again.
"I do have one question, you Lordship, if I may," he says. "This Ziemlich, when you say he's fallen in with bad company, who do you mean? Typical cutthroat types, or someone with more influence?"
He's not really sure what possessed him to ask the question but it seems important.
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In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
"He has fallen in with a pack of radicals. They have a taste for politics - always pushing some mad-cap system where the peasants rule or some such theory." He paused. "Sometimes they verge on treasonous sentiments, I think, although they are reasonably careful not to incriminate themselves. Klaus and I fell out over his views some time ago."
There was a slight flash of irritation in the Captain's eyes.
"The Guard has its weapons made by order of the city. If you wish to buy them for yourselves, I suggest you find an armourer, not a watchman. There are enough of them in the markets."
"I believe we have no further business to discuss. I will await your first report."
Sensing a change in the tone of the conversation Ithelus nods. 'Yes sir, thank you.' He then pockets the small purse and walks out the door, waiting for the rest to follow and decide where they are going. 'I'm heading to the doctor now, I need to look after my arm before it gets infected.'
I'll go with you. Illiiya said softly, looking with concern at Ithelus' injured arm.
Illiiya shifted her weight awkwardly for a moment, shivering in the cold air as she looked around the village. Her gaze drifted skywards for a moment before she shrunk slightly, flinching a bit as if she'd seen something.
Bad place... She muttered disjointedly, Maggots don't bite until things begin to rot... Then they eat. But if everything rots, then all that's left is the maggots... and they have to eat eat other, or they all starve.
She blinked for a moment, as if something had reminded her of a concern of the real world, and she looked to Ithelus... seemingly oblivious to her own unsettling words.
Ithelus, I'm hungry. Can we get something warm to eat when you're done at the doctor's? She asked, lightly taking his good arm.
Spoiler
Illiiya. She's as deep as you imagine she is! Cutting social commentary, or the ramblings of a madwoman? You decide!
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'Sure, I think we can afford a nice hot meal today.'
Ithelus smiles, he liked the city with its people and buildings and lack of scary beastmen. He opens the purse and shares out the Marks, giving three to Lothar, Seth and Raffy and taking five for Illiiya and himself.
"You all head off then, and speak with the Surgeon; my leg's not so bad as it seems. And I have hopes that the citizenry know a tad about the black powder business as well. I'll tie up Fairething at the stables, and tend to his wounds. Then..."
Seth confers with Raffy for a minute...
Spoiler
By which I mean, Amgodtic refers to the Taverns spoiler in LCP's OOC post, so Raffy doesn't actually have to respond to this; this is just how Seth knows where to go...
...then turns and says "...then...I think I shall try to settle in at the Hammer and Tongs; if a large gunpowder order had been placed, chances are good people with money would know more about it than the common folk.
"We should arrange to meet somewhere a little less visible at the end of the day, and compare notes. How does the North Wind sound? Raffy says its not frequented by as many regulars as travelers, and we should keep our cooperative investigation out of general sight and hearing. Come to think of it, Marius said beds are filling up quick; Lothar, Raffy, could one of you head there first and reserve rooms? Unless someone thinks we should stay elsewhere; I'm open to suggestions, naturally."
Spoiler
First things first, need to tie up my horse for the duration of my stay. How much is that gonna cost?
Second: Is the heal skill for humans AND animals, or is Animal Care for animal healing? I'm gonna roll Animal Care, but if my horse needs Heal, could Lothar roll that? If it needed heal, there's no real reason he wouldn't have done so already.
Animal Care: Int 33 (1d100)[89]
Damage healed: (1d10)[2]
Next, I wanna roll gossip at the Hammer and Tongs, looking for leads on who could have purchased a large amount of gunpowder around the date in question. I am willing to spend a few MARKS on drinks to help ply the wary-tongued.
Gossip: Fel 39 +10 for taking the skill twice +10 etiquette talking to nobles (1d100)[59]
'Sounds like a good plan, I'll ask someone to give me directions to the doctors and after get some food. I'm not sure how useful I would be in finding info after the doctor, people are not welcoming of elves. If there are items we require however.... Well, we'll work on it.'
He smiles to Illiiya, 'let's go explore.' He turns to the others, 'North Wind, at sundown,' With that he turns and stops someone in the street, asking for directions.
Spoiler
Do i need to roll for that or will most citizens be able to point out the doctors?
Lothar holds up a hand. "I'll come with you elves to the leech. The two of ya wandering around alone are like to get lynched. 'Sides, I should get this gash sewed up."
Turning to Seth and Raffy, he nods. "North Wind it, is, although I'd prefer somewhere a bit... rougher. More likely to hear what's happenin' in town, and less questions about elves. Plus, hey more dice games, and cheaper booze, eh?"
Last edited by goblinpaladin : 12-19-2009 at 07:15 PM.
"No, no, the Wind is all the way back across town," Raffy complains. "Besides, I'm going to stay at the Hammer & Tongs too. We could just meet there, or if you want somewhere lower profile, there's the Crow by the Market."
He'll give directions if people are amenable.
"Though come t' think of it, we could save a lot of money if we just rented a room as lodgers at someone's house. An attic or something would fit us all. I want to buy a house, but I'll be saving up a bit."
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In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
"Lodging's a good idea, but we'll be poking about in the city's underbelly, stirring up muck. I wouldn't want to bring that down on Herr Burgher and his wife." Lothar starts filling his pipe with tobacco.
"The lower profile, the better, I say." He shrugs, bending out of the wind to light up.
Last edited by goblinpaladin : 12-19-2009 at 07:26 PM.
The streets of Delberz swiftly swallowed them up, the high gables of Judge’s Square vanishing behind a sea of shabbier roofs. Even as the roads narrowed, the eaves of the buildings overhead crowding in, the streets remained thronged with people – burghers and commoners alike wearing the cobbles smooth with a hundred passing feet.
The name of Doctor Rasen seemed to draw recognition – several commoners told the party the way, their outstretched fingers pointing deeper into the shabbier houses of the Lower Town. At last, they came to a narrow, tall building, sandwiched between two shorter houses as if it had been squeezed upwards. Its exterior was weathered, but in reasonable repair – a small bronze plaque next to the door bore the legend “Doctor Johann Rasen – Physician”.
The windows were dark and empty – stepping up to the door, Lothar knocked to no reply.
“Maybe he’s out,” said Ithelus.
“Maybe he’s drunk,” grinned Raffy.
At that moment, there was a muffled call from the road behind them – Illiiya looked round in alarm, shrinking back as an apparition loomed in front of her, crossing the street from behind a laden cart. It stood and walked like a man, dressed in a slightly shabby black gown - but from beneath its broad-brimmed hat, a monstrous proboscis jutted like the bill of some nightmare crow, two flat, glassy eyes staring blankly into her own. It advanced on them, the stick in its right hand clicking against the stones – coming to a halt in front of her, it reached up with one leather-gloved hand, and slowly began to detach its face...
...revealing a rather normal human face beneath. Removing his hat for a moment, the plague doctor lowered his mask, looking around at the group on his doorstep.
“Can I help you?” he asked, in mild, educated tones. “This is my surgery. I’m afraid I’ve been out on my rounds.”
[hr]
Seth at the Hammer & Tongs:
Spoiler
The interior of the Hammer and Tongs was gloomy at best – the daylight that came through the narrow windows was beginning to fail, and the tavern’s only lighting came from the slender candles on the tables that spotted the common hall. The furnishings inside spoke of comfort without any attempt at show – everything was solid, well-made and clean. Right down to the oak beams of the rather low ceiling, on which Seth nearly brained himself immediately after walking through the front door.
In one corner, a group of half a dozen or so young men in the clothes of the merchant class were seated around a table – their heads all craned inwards, engaged with half-heartedly hushed voices in what sounded like a rather heated discussion. A couple of older-looking men leant against the bar, a barman with a moustache that radiated enough respectability for a Duke filling a pewter stein for one of them as the other chatted inconsequentially. There were a few more of their type seated around the common hall – another group of youths occupied the opposite corner from the first, less numerous and rather more finely dressed. Occasional gales of laughter rose from their table, causing one of the first group to shoot them the odd venomous glance.
Approaching the men at the bar, Seth nodded to them. They regarded the still-bloody man with a wary interest – their caution lessening slightly when he offered to buy them both a drink.
“Very good of you, sir,” said the first man – a short, stocky fellow with a meticulously groomed beard. “D’you come here often?”
“No.” Taking a drink for himself, Seth paid the barman and took a sip. “This is my first time in Delberz.”
“A great city. A great city.” Seth got the impression that the short man had been drinking for some time already today. “Lived here all my life I have, man and boy, boy and man.” He held out a pudgy hand. “The name’s Adler. Reinhardt Adler.”
“Seth Adelbert,” said the Squire, shaking it.
The short man’s companion shook Seth’s in turn. He was thin, clean-shaven apart from sideburns of greying whiskers, and rather more sober than his friend.
“Wilhelm Tures. Can we help you, Herr Adelbert?”
“I was wondering if I could find someone to tell me about the gunpowder trade here.”
“Not sure you’ve come to the right place, lad,” said Adler, jovially. “It’s all striplings and youths here now, all boys, no men of business. Wilhelm and I only come to keep old Dieter happy, isn’t that right Dieter?”
The barman nodded amiably, going back to cleaning the stein in his hand.
“You want to buy or sell?” asked Wilhelm.
“Neither, for now.”
Tures nodded, sucking his teeth.
“I do a little business with Greitling, the gunsmith in the Altmarket.” He paused – unintentionally allowing Reinhardt to butt in.
“Wilhelm here’s a lawyer, don’tcherknow. They’re a litigious lot, these shopkeeps. Always getting into disputes over something or other, and it’s always old Wilhelm has to sort ‘em out.”
He laughed, mostly to himself. Seeing that his friend had finished, Wilhelm continued.
“I can give you his address, if you’d like. Apart from him, I think there’s only one other merchant who stocks the stuff in town – Karlsen, in the Neumarket.”
The lawyer took a sip from his beer.
“I don’t think they get on too well. By all accounts, Karlsen’s undercutting Greitling, selling poor stuff on the cheap, and never mind to whom. At least, that’s what Greitling says.” He took another sip. “Frankly, I imagine if you asked Karlsen, he would give you the same story about Greitling. Tradesmen are often like that.”
Spoiler
OOC: Ale here is 4p a pint – you’ve spent 12 on one each for yourself and your two new friends.
Ithelus slowly returns his throwing knife to it's holder on his arm, hidden by his sleeve, but he keeps a hand on the hilt, just in case.
'Yes, we are here for a number of reasons, first we require medical attention.' he said in a rather jumpy and nervous voice as he motioned to the various wounds. 'The rest would be better discussed inside...'
Illiiya recoiled in horror from the thing as it approached, clinging to Ithelus and shaking like a leaf, even after the creature was revealed to be false. She kept her distance from the doctor, seeming torn on what to do when the man approached Ithelus. She finally released him, but lurked close, white as a sheet.
No raven. Go away! Please go away... She muttered over and over to herself, frozen in place outside the office until someone shook her from her momentary freak out, It hurts.... it hurts... it hurts....
By the time they got her, the elven woman was nearly curled up in the street, sobbing.
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Doctor Rasen blinked, looking from Ithelus’ wound to the muttering Illiiya – craning his head to one side to see her as she shrank back behind Ithelus, he raised his eyebrows.
“Is your friend ill?” he asked. “Please, come inside. I wouldn’t like to answer for leaving those wounds unattended for too long.”
He produced a key from under his gown, hurriedly unlocking the door. Stepping over the threshold, he hung up his hat and mask, before turning and looking back outside at Illiiya.
“You’d best bring her in. I’ll fetch her something to drink.”
Ithelus growls protectively, and scoops the small elf up in his arms. 'it's ok lovely, it's ok. Don't be scared.' He is probably the only person she would respond to in her state.
He enters the house on the doctor's invitation. 'She's fine, just a little jumpy... and broken.'
Illiiya clung to Ithelus tightly, her head buried against his shoulder as he carried her inside. She continued to mumble as they entered the building, in a hushed, shaky voice.
Make it go away... it hurts... Don't let it hurt me anymore.
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The ground floor of Rasen’s house seemed spartan in the extreme, the bare plaster of the walls devoid of any decorative touches and the naked floorboards swept clean of every last speck of dust. Looking like a priest of Morr in his black gown, the doctor closed the door behind his guests, ushering them down the narrow entrance hall into a wider room.
A scarred table dominated the centre of this new chamber – the sturdy timbers had the abraded look of having been scrubbed clean a thousand times, but there were a few dark stains of a rather sinister colour that had evidently refused to wash away. A single window shed a bar of light into the gloom, the doctor setting about augmenting the failing sunlight with a couple of oil lamps that stood in brackets on the wall.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said, glancing back at Illiiya. “I know the kit is a bit outlandish, but you can’t be too careful, in my line of work.” Finishing lighting the second lamp, he headed over to a cabinet in the far corner of the room, opening it and beginning rummaging inside. “I’ve been visiting a community in the west town – well, it probably doesn’t matter to you. Not yet, anyway.”
He chuckled grimly to himself, the source of his amusement lost on the party. Turning around, he proffered a glass of some amber liquid in Illiiya’s directions.
“To settle the lady’s nerves.” Seeing she was not going to take it out of his hand, he set it down, turning back to the cabinet.
“If the wounded gentlemen would just sit up there, please,” he said, gesturing absent-mindedly behind himself at the table. “I won’t be a minute.” Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a long steel needle – Ithelus found his eyes drawn inexorably to the glinting point. Pulling off his gloves, Rasen began hunting for some thread.
“Did you say there was something else you wanted to talk about?” he asked, politely – finding the thread, he deftly looped its end through the needle’s eye, tying it off with a swift motion and setting it down onto a battered iron tray. Producing a clean-looking cloth from under his gown, he clapped it over the neck of the bottle from which he had poured Illiiya’s drink, quickly upending it to wet the cotton before turning it upright again. He nodded his head towards Ithelus. “If you could roll up your sleeve, sir. This will sting a little.”
He glanced back at the rest of the group, waiting for the elf to comply. “I hate to sound mercenary, but I suppose you can pay?”
Ithelus casts a few glances at the needle, and at Illiiya. 'What is that drink?' he moves over to the table.
'My name is Ithelus, pleased to meet you. We're here from von Brucker, he said maybe you could help us? We understand you treat all sorts of patients and were wondering if you treated any with gunpowder related injuries? Or indeed, if you heard any talk of the demolition of the church?'
He fishes into his purse and pulls out a mark, 'I trust such an ample donation to the well being of the people will not look bad?' He rolls the mark between his fingers in front of the surgeon with a sly smile for a second before clamping the coin between his teeth. He holds out his arm and screws his eyes shut. Urg, needles.
Illiiya seemed to calm down somewhat, letting Ithelus go and looking about awkwardly. She glared at the drink he brought her, recoiling slightly as if it were somehow dangerous... She did not drink it... instead just watching the doctor as if he were about to leap at her at any moment.
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“It’s brandy,” said Rasen, clamping the wet cloth onto Ithelus’ wound. The alcohol stung dreadfully. “Someone’s done a reasonable job of dressing this, but it needs to be cleaned properly. Hold that there, will you?”
Picking up the needle, he tested its point, before motioning Ithelus to take the cloth away.
“Hold still, please.”
Ithelus looked away, blanching, as the man began to stitch the wound closed.
“So young Marius sent you?” he said, talking as he worked. “Wanting to know about the old temple. I suppose that means that von Kemperbad’s got to him too.” The man’s voice took on a gloomy cast.
“I was called out to an accident involving gunpowder a couple of days ago. In a cellar, in the west town.” He reached for a pair of short-nosed scissors, tying off the stitching and cutting the thread. “I have no love for the mob of witch-hunters that have taken over this town, but those men were none too keen to have an outsider see what they had been doing. One man was badly burnt - the rest refused treatment. They wouldn’t tell me their names, but I can give you the address. I doubt they’d still be there – they were renting the space. Most landlords don’t take kindly to their tenants blowing things up.”
He straightened up, taking Ithelus’ gold piece.
“That will do. You had better take his place, sir – let’s have a look at what’s under that bandage,” Rasen said, gesturing to Lothar. He walked over to the cabinet, fetching a clean needle and cloth.
“Understand I'm telling you this because I believe that if Captain von Brucker thinks there may be danger, then I see it as my duty to prevent people from coming to harm.” He began threading the new needle. “I treat my patients with confidentiality. I don't want the Captain to think that he can press me for anything he wishes about those who come here for help.” He hesitated. “But I saw the old temple come down. And I trust Marius, to a certain extent.”
He set to work on Lothar.
“Of course, if you want to follow von Kemperbad’s line of it being Chaos-worshippers who did it,” he said, losing some of the grave air he had put on, “I would suggest paying a visit to Herr Pilserier, in the Neumarket.” He gave a wry smile. “I have no qualms about ratting on a rival, you know. Frankly, I’m surprised the Hounds haven’t come down on that heinous quack already.”
Ithelus's eyes water slightly as the work is done but he wipes them away and nods thanks to the doctor.
'Thank you very much for that, as a man of profession myself I understand that such information does not come likely. Just one more question from myself if you will; Knowing you are kind enough to treat all sorts, and mentioning a trip to Neumarket, are there any individuals you have heard of who we could talk to... to er... inquire as to any perhaps illegal dealing? If you understand me'
Doctor Rasen stopped in his work for a moment, turning to regard Ithelus rather more coldly than before.
"No," he said, sharply. "I thought I made myself clear, sir, that my patients' business is their own."
He checked himself, his expression becoming a little less fierce - he did not apologise, however.
"I make an exception for the gunpowder men because others may be in danger, but I will not be made a street-ear for the Guard. For one thing, my custom would die on its arse. Pardon the expression, ma'am," he added, nodding to Illiiya as an afterthought.
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