Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
E-eyes? Big... s-soulless.... red eyes? Illiiya said, standing stiff for a moment.
Her face looked tense as she stared off into space bearing an expression of muted terror. She looked shaky and frayed... as if she saw something terrifying here that no one else could. In fact, she looked like she often did before one of the sobbing, pleading break-downs she had if she was reminded too much of the incident in Gavinsburough.
That's right. You remember the eyes, don't you?
N-no. No! I don't remember anyt-
Yes you do! You remember them, and you remember me! Stop pretending that you don't!
But it hurts! It hurts so much! I... I... I can't. I can't. They'll find me!
You wretch! No one cares about you. Not the broken shell you are now, at any rate. The only part of you that matters was raped, tortured and torn from your mind. You don't have anything left that they want.
But I c-can still see them. I.. I can hear them.
STOP MAKING EXCUSES NOT TO REMEMBER ME!
Illiiya flinched, seemingly for no reason... and reached out shakily for Ithelus' hand. She squeezed it tightly, her slender figure trembling quietly.
Please.... please leave me alone.
I will NEVER leave you. I could not even if I tried. I'm only here, because you want me here. Because you're so weak and pathetic that you disgust yourself...
I-I just want...
You want to stop jumping at shadows and crying over imagined noises like some sniveling child! You pretend you don't remember, but you do. You remember everything. And you remember what you were like before.
N-no... no... I don-
YES YOU DO! They didn't rip your mind apart. YOU DID! Because you are too damned weak to deal with what happened to you. You're pathetic, and worthless... and that is why you act this way. You are too weak to be me, and too disgusted with yourself to be you.
P-please... please stop....
And it was quiet... but the damage was done. Without a single word, she wrapped her arms around Ithelus and shook, crying quietly. Even he couldn't understand. None of her friends could. She felt ashamed to be crying... to be so weak. Here they were, risking their lives and getting themselves hurt so badly... and all she could do was cry, and think of how much she hated herself.
__________________
Anyone looking for awesome art, look no more! Check out my stuff here! I do comissions, for those interested. Catch me at this site: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/rukis/
All his attention was on Illiiya. He wished he could do something for her, anything, but his experience with girls (and people in general) did not extend to genuinely caring for them. Probably because he had never had a family worth the name. He knew only two kinds of relationships: short-term friendship and short-term romance. None was suited for this.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself when others have it worse, he reminded himself angrily.
"Are we done?" he asked no one in particular.
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
'Thank you very much Doctor' says Ithelus, 'I fear this won't be the last time we turn up to your house at an anti-social hour. I'm starting to think if leaving might not be such a bad idea...' he trailed off.
He picks Illiiya up in his arms. 'I think we should report to the Captain and then call it a night?'
"He just pretends to be whatever's most convenient at the moment," comments the youth.
Quote:
Originally Posted by LCP
"If you'll excuse my asking, how were they, um... mutated? Lots of eyes and things? Was it them tainting the water?"
"Doc, they weren't mutated at all. Looked like rats, but have you ever seen 200, 300 rats moving in unison? Ever seen them ignore food and run headlong into explosions to keep up the chase? I saw one pissing in the well. Probably a lot more than one... there was a steady stream of piss for ten minutes or more. Yeah, I'd say they're tainting it."
When Rasen asks if the Captain has handled it, he replies, "No, and he didn't believe me when I told him about it." He gives a meaningful look at his companions. "He does want to see us tomorrow though, so that's one more obligation for tomorrow morning. Ith, I recommend you postpone your 'commitment' till after Captain debriefs us, 'cuz we need all the witnesses we can get if he's going to believe us at all."
When Illiiya suffers her next wave of mental attacks, Raffy just grimaces uncomfortably. As the others suggest leaving, he stays put and looks the physician in the eyes.
"Doctor, tell me the truth. If those rats cause the ague, then I've got the ague. How many survive it, how quick does it kill, and does anything help?"
He doesn't seem scared - it seems more like he is making a list of pre-death priorities in his head.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
“It was urinating in the well, you say?” said the doctor. “That is interesting – very interesting. That could explain it.”
Remembering Raffy’s question, he stopped.
“The effects I have observed have been, um, varied... but generally the disease begins with a fever, chills, headaches and muscle pains. After a few days, this preliminary ague subsides – if the victim is healthy, or lucky, that may be the end of the sickness, but for most it is followed by jaundice, pains in the belly, and noxious flux.” He coughed. “After a few days, the worst affected show a pronounced loss in appetite, and a discoloured mottling of the skin can be observed. The general yellowing of the jaundice becomes extreme, and for those who reach such a stage, death is the most frequent outcome by far. The total course of the disease runs to about seven days, although of course it varies strongly between individuals.”
Rasen hestitated.
“A healthy young man such as yourself, though – well, I would hold out high hopes that the disease would not reach its lethal stage. If you have it at all, that is. I have treated rat-bites – they are not so uncommon in these neighbourhoods – but the only common factor I have found among the sick here in the Ward is the water from this well. Perhaps the creatures’ saliva is not as efficacious as their urine. Pestilences can be mysteriously choosy.” He shrugged. “As for treatment – proper rest and care during the first stage, and the control of the fever with fire and water, are the only things I have found to be effective.” He shook his head. “The more developed patients can be purged and bled to draw off the excess of bile, but I am sorry to confess that at that stage, the disease is stronger than the doctor.”
The boy notes the information. "Seven days..." he says distantly. Then: "Doc, I have to get some clean clothes. Do you have any you can part with? I can pay."
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
"I'm not sure they'd fit you too well... but yes, I suppose I could give you some of my old things. I'll go fetch them." He paused. "You might wish one of your friends to carry them until you've had a chance to wash properly, though. Wouldn't want fleas getting into them too."
Hurrying upstairs, he reappeared with a bundle of plain but well-made clothes - 'folded' in the crumpled and haphazard fashion of a man who was used to living alone.
"Here we are," he said, trying to prevent any of the bundle from slipping through his arms. "There should be enough here for you and your friends." He held up a hand as Raffy went for his purse, inadvertently letting a shirt fall to the floor. "Please - if you got into this state trying to clean the Ward well, it's me who owes you."
He picked up the shirt, narrowly avoiding dropping anything else as he did so. "I don't even wear these any more. Not the height of fashion, I'm afraid, but clean."
Raffy thanks the doctor at least two separate times, and lets whoever is the cleanest party member carry them - but not Illiiya, as she already hugged Raffy earlier.
Once he takes leave of the Doc he'll go to the nearest place where he can hope to get a bath - maybe the Tongs?
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Pieter opened his mouth to politely decline the new clothes, but decided against it. He would need them: now was hardly the time to get sick.
"Let's go," he yawned. "Where are you people sleeping?"
He knew the Graf's Arms was probably not the best place to get a hot bath, so he considered going somewhere a bit more upscale. And to hell with his usual frugality. After this long day, he deserved better.
OOC:
Spoiler
Pieter will go to the Tongs and ask for a hot bath and soap (how much is it?). If they won't let him enter, he'll ask nicely.
Fel 51: (d100)[82]
Edit: Failed... Then he will offer to pay a full gold crown for his room and bath.
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
Muttering a confusing multitude of replies to Pieter, the party went their separate ways – Pieter and Raffy to the Tongs in somewhat uncomfortable silence, Lothar to gather his things from the Crow, and the elves to their cellar. The Middenland night was deepening, its chill enough to make teeth chatter: it was time to get indoors, or freeze.
[hr]
Lothar
Spoiler
The landlord of the Crow looked askance at Lothar as the dishevelled soldier returned, but said nothing – packing up his things, the soldier made a hurried exit from the inn, heading instead for the Carter’s Rest. In his dog-tired state, his fears rose eagerly to the surface of his thoughts, a wide-brimmed hat in a dark corner of the common hall making him jump at the imagined shadow of Jagrun. On his way through the darkened streets, he could have sworn more than once that he heard the scuttling of rats behind him.
That wasn’t remarkable, in this part of town, he told himself. They weren’t following him. They were just there. That was what rats did – they came out foraging after dark.
They weren’t following him. They were just there.
A brisk pace brought him to the doorstep of the Carter’s Rest in good time – recognising him from his enquiries about the mutant Hoffer, the innkeeper looked twice at Lothar’s soiled clothes, but took his money without protest. A couple of stable-boys were huddled around a small fire in the yard, to which Lothar’s clothes and boots made a welcome addition, and an empty barrel with the top struck off was pressed into service as a bathtub at the soldier’s request. Heating the water took some time, and by the time the tun was full the first jugfuls had already begun to cool – but at least it was clean, and by that time, Lothar had already availed himself of enough of the sharp, fierce spirits they sold at the Rest to be fairly insensible to the cold, and the stinging of his wounds from the alcohol he had been able to spare from the noble task of going down his gullet.
The customers of the Carter’s rest, although a quiet, rural lot in the main, certainly seemed curious about Lothar’s unusual behaviour. The old soldier found himself the recipient of more than a couple of free drinks, paid for by those who wanted to see what the ruddy-bearded newcomer would do next. The hot fire in the broad common hall warming his bones, Lothar’s evening faded away into an amicable blur...
OOC: Lothar gets three free pints of ale off the customers of the Rest – whiskey is a schilling for a bottle. Accommodation at the Carter’s Rest is 4s a night, non-negotiable.
[hr]
Raffy & Pieter
Spoiler
The bushy-moustached landlord of the Tongs seemed more than a little surprised by his new customers’ appearance – not an aristo himself, he seemed to decide against declining their custom when he recognised Raffy, and saw the look on the young man’s face. He did, however, insist that they leave their boots by the door – and when they tried to book rooms, he could not be persuaded until he had seen their change of clothes.
“Don’t know what you’ve been doing to get into a state like that mister,” he muttered, “but you go befouling the fixtures and it’s you as’ll have to pay.”
Nevertheless, they secured their accommodation for the night. The Tongs had a single, copper bathtub, rather different from the bathing in a barrel that had been the norm for Raffy growing up in the country – or the not bathing at all that had been the norm for Pieter in Nuln. It incurred an additional fee, which the landlord did his best to justify with copious grunting and wheezing as he and a servant manhandled it up and down the stairs, but it was worth it.
Each in their own room, with clean clothes, an actual bed and in Pieter’s case even a small fireplace, the two soon fell fast asleep.
OOC: Accommodation at the Tongs is 10s a night, non-negotiable (as before), plus a tenpenny surcharge for the bath.
[hr]
Ithelus & Illiiya
Spoiler
Returning to their underground lodgings, the elves settled down for another night’s sleep in the cellar, Illiiya’s adverse reaction at the doctor’s smoothed over for now. The story the others had told turning over and over in his head, Ithelus couldn’t help but remember their landlord’s words as they descended the ladder into their ‘lodgings’.
...clean and proper, basic’lly rat-proof... one schilling a week...
What did basically rat-proof mean?
Telling himself that the place looked pretty rat-proof to him, the elf settled down into another uncomfortable night’s sleep.
Illiiya Only
Spoiler
That night, Illiiya dreamed troubled dreams.
The cathedral of Sigmar towered above her, a colossal, black spike stabbing up into the star-specked darkness of the night sky. The scaffolding had dissolved away from the great belltower, its sheer stone face frowning down on the city below. As she stared back up at it, it began to toll, the harsh peals of a great bell booming out from within the belfry.
For some reason, the sound cut her to the quick, an icy fear mounting higher in the pit of her stomach with each successive toll of the bell. Looking frantically around, she found herself utterly alone in the darkened square, a freezing wind gusting over the empty cobbles. As the bell tolled louder and louder, the lights of the city around her began to wink out. Overhead, the stars dwindled away to nothing, total darkness enveloping her.
Disembodied voices floated in the void beside her – angry voices, wheedling voices, laughing voices. Somewhere, there was the baying of hounds, the wounded cry of a fox, and the dry roar of a fire. The voices rose and fell in incomprehensible snatches, some maddeningly familiar, most completely strange to her: as they faded away, she found herself looking down on herself and the others, obliviously slumbering in the cellar. She tried to shake herself awake, but she had no hands to do so.
There was a familiar, greasy crackle in the air – her heartbeat quickened as she recognised the sensation of the magic that had plagued her for as long as she could remember, powerful currents of Dhar winding past somewhere out of sight. As she watched, the shadows in the corner of the subterranean space rippled like a pool of black water, a great, sinuous shape spooling out of them – she stared in terror as an ivory-scaled serpent slithered into her sight, twice the length of a horse at least.
Bluish-black tongue flicking out to taste the stale air, the creature turned its eyes on the slumbering bodies before it – slithering forwards, it wound its great coils almost lovingly around its sleeping prey, encircling the sleeping elves. Ithelus stirred in his sleep as it coiled around him, its flickering tongue almost brushing his face.
It was not alone. Out of the corners of the cellar, out of every shadow, every crack in the walls and every pit in the earth floor, furry shapes were silently boiling up from the darkness, a black-furred carpet of rats surrounding the serpent and its senseless victims. Raising its head, the snake hissed, baring curved fangs at the ring of rodents surrounding it – in a squeaking, chittering horde, the rats surged forwards, converging on the python from every direction in a wave of fur and teeth. The white coils thrashed as the snake vanished beneath the black tide, the serpent’s fangs sinking into flesh again and again as it ripped individual rats from the swarm – not enough, not nearly enough to halt the unnatural onslaught as the creature’s teeth gnawed through scale and hide, the white coils running red with the beast’s own blood. They were inside it, pushing their ravenous snouts through the holes they gnawed in its underbelly to consume the soft flesh within – and still she and Ithelus slept, oblivious to the carnage being wrought around them. Seeing the rats scurry over her legs, her stomach, her sleeping face, Illiiya willed herself not to wake up...
She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright with sweat soaking her skin – apart from Ithelus, still sleeping, the cellar was empty. No snake, no rats – nothing.
Except the faint tang of dark magic on the air, like smoke carried from a distant fire.
[hr]
Morning – and a bright new Bezahltag dawned, yesterday’s clouds having cleared, and in doing so allowed all the heat that Delberz retained to vanish into the yawning void of the night sky. It was absolutely freezing: there was a skin of ice on the puddles in the streets, and frost rimed what grass and moss grew within the bounds of the crowded city. In their various inns, the three human members of the party woke with the dawn, while the suffocating stuffiness of the cellar after a night’s sleep woke Ithelus from his slumber.
Chained to a stone wall, deep underground in a dark cell, with hundreds of rats gnawing at his toes, his arms, his chest, his face... He wanted to scream, but an oversized rodent tore into his throat and burrowed inside it... Around him the other slaves were crying out for help as the rats ate them alive, but he could not rescue them any more than he could rescue himself... They were horribly mutilated, like the corpses found in the streets, but they did not even get the sweet release of death...
Pieter woke with a choked gasp, sweaty despite the cold. He stumbled out of bed, trembling, and put on the clothes the doctor had given him. After an attempt at making himself look presentable in front of the mirror, he dragged his feet down the stairs to meet Raffy in the common room.
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
Note: Raffy burned his old clothes the night before, if possible.
Spoiler
Rafale searched himself scrupulously for fleas or bedbugs both before bed and after arising. he ran his fingers through his hair to check his scalp no less thasn seventy times. He also rechecked his new clothes - twice, and wished he'd done it a third time. Imagined bites infuriated him as he contemplated scrubbing and donning his calf-high softshoes but decided they were too much of a risk. They had been in that sewage. He didn't like them anymore.
Barefoot, he ignored Pieter at breakfast. He felt a lot of guilt from his peasant heritage about leaving a functioning pair of shoes. He couldn't even give them to a pauper in good conscience. Using his the point of his broadsword to lift the shoes from their place by the door, he carried them at arm's length to the rubbish heap and flung them in. As if to alleviate his guilt with penitence, he then strode barefoot through the winter streets. The cold didn't bother his feet much - not on this short of a walk, with the morning sun melting the frost - but he picked his steps carefully to avoid bits of glass or the sharp edge of a misplaced paver.
It was with this appearance - too-tight clothes, mussed hair losing its henna dye, armed yet shoeless - that he rapped at the door of a clothier's. Still a bit early for business, he counted on the owner living above the shop and banged all the more loudly when there was no initial response.
Deciding it was time to start to look the part of a Captain's investigator, he withdrew several crowns and informed the shopkeeper he intended to look stylish....
((Hoping to buy the sort of outfit a well-off landowner might wear to go hunting: attractive leather breeches, tall boots, a nice but durable shirt and jacket, a stylish hat of whatever the latest fashion is. Probably a cravat or tie. Not going noble here, but I want to look like I could be in the company of the better bourgeois when they are out on the road looking for grouse. I'll keep one layer of Doc's clothes on as underclothes, so I can strip the outer layer before entering future sewers. Cost?))
Raffy then arrives at the Captain's offices and sets to cleaning, honing and oiling his sword till the others arrive.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Ithelus rose, his joints creaking, vertebrae cracking as he stretches. Donning his clothes he stumbles into the light of the morning. Shaking off the cold he makes his way to the guardhouse.
When he looked in the mirror, Pieter noted with alarm that the bite on his face had become inflamed - an ugly, purplish rash had spread across his cheek, centred around the wound. A quick check confirmed that the other lacerations the rodents had gifted him with had displayed the same behaviour - the urge to scratch was almost overpowering.
Downstairs, his changed appearance drew more than a few sideways glances - but none of the strangers in the common room saw fit to comment.
[hr]
Raffy at the Clothier's
Spoiler
On his way out, Raffy realised a growing discomfort - checking the doctor's dressings, he realised that the skin around the rat-bites had turned an angry red in the night, a mottled rash spread across his limbs and lower back where the little beasts had bitten him. It was powerfully itchy.
The clothier was in, thankfully - surprised by the early custom, he nevertheless liked the colour of Raffy's gold. A little owl of a man, with white hair smoothed down against the sides of his shiny round head, he had what the Sparrowhawk was looking for - not cheap, but not extortionate either.
As Raffy inspects the owlish man's offerings he starts to make small talk. He remembers he has just over three quid in his threadbare purse and he is going to have to ride on his reputation to leave here looking like a real enforcer.
"I've been doing some work for Captain von Brucker," he comments as he tries on different hats. "You probably heard of the mutants we caught. Well, caught isn't quite right - they fought to the end."
He holds up two different ties next to a shirt, and considers a bow tie. "That's what happened to my old outfit. They weren't gentle."
Setting a simpler, straight tie on the counter he says, "They call me the Sparrowhawk. Please to meet you, Mister...?"
He gets the man's name and nods acceptingly at the 4 crown price that is named. As the man moves to take his measurements he sets three crowns on the table.
"That's what I have this morning, ___" he says, using the man's name. "You can believe I'll be back before sunset to pay the difference. If a sorcerer-killer's word isn't enough, you can at least be assured I'll be back to have these sleeves taken in a nudge."
He buttons the formal jacket part way and turns to the door. "When they ask who I'm wearing I'll be sure to recommend you, ___."
((If Fel is needed it's v. 29 but I'm mostly trying to rely on reputation here.))
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Setting a simpler, straight tie on the counter he says, "They call me the Sparrowhawk. Please to meet you, Mister...?"
"Speld," said the clothier. "Mr Speld."
He ran a pale tongue over his lips, looking between the articles in question and Raffy's face as the young man finished his pitch.
"I did hear about this mutant trouble. A terrible thing, them cropping up here. But here sir, this hat, this hat is a whole crown. If you have the three, then how about I keep hold of the hat, you take the clothes, and when you have the money you can come back in the evening, and have the hat too, eh? It isn't raining, after all. I'll set it aside for you." He gave a grimacing grin. "I've got my business to think of, young sir, and I can't be taking everyone on trust. You understand."
OOC: If you want to try and move him back to your original proposition, an Haggle test (untrained, I think?) would be in order.
OOC: Raffy's aim is to be a friend of the common people. If Mr. Speld doesn't already have a level of trust for the splendiferous Sparrowhawk, then he won't go pushing him into a deal he doesn't like.
Raffy
Spoiler
"Mr. Speld, I understand completely," he says, setting the hat gently in the man's hands with a final look of longing at it. "I'll be back this evening for the alterations and the hat, gold in hand, I promise you that."
Somewhat less dapper than he'd hoped, he nonetheless moves with a sense of pride through the morning streets. A heavy prybar hung from his scabbard (to preserve his new belt) reminds him of another debt he's yet to repay as well. With interest, I reckon.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Lothar awoke, the pleasant warmth of the night before chased away by the pounding pounding pounding of an army of angry dwarfs, twisted and furious, smashing against the inside of his skull. He rolled out of his sheets and scrambled for clothing. He sat up, his eyes a little sharper when he couldn't find his usual gear, and shook his head.
"Where th' 'ell-- oh..." he muttered, as memories returned all gradual-like, and he reluctantly pulled his new, good clothes over to himself. He rubbed his beard, combing his- "Wait. What'd'I?"
The soldier was clean-shaven. The night before, shivering and half-drunk on free ale and cheap whiskey, the feeling of tiny little rat feet running, scratching through his bearded jowls had made him bring razor to face. Little curls of reddish hair littered the courtyard of the inn. He remembered the amused grins of tradesmen, his face all pink and smooth. The pitted 'powder scars on his right cheek stood out all the more, bereft of their hirsute cover.
Grunting bitterly -my beard!- the soldier stomped down the stairs, looking for breakfast and some new boots to replace the old. He jingled the coins in his pouch hopefully...
__________________ Games:
[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart, reprising Lothar Fischer, Nordlander deserter.
Illiiya awoke with a start, and looked about warily for several minutes, trying her hardest to ignore the voices in her head. She scootched in tight against Ithelus and lied down again, but found herself unable to sleep again... instead just holding him and staring off nervously into the darkness.
Come morning, she seemed quiet and demure, and readied herself quickly to go with Ithelus. She was so used to seeing and hearing horrible things by now, that she did not speak a word of what she had seen in her dream... though she certainly looked quite a bit shaken... just as she had last night.
__________________
Anyone looking for awesome art, look no more! Check out my stuff here! I do comissions, for those interested. Catch me at this site: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/rukis/
One by one, the group made their way to the Guard House – the elves met Pieter heading their way on New Street, their new ally apparently coming to find them first. Illiiya tried not to stare at the angry red rash that had spread across Pieter’s face from the rat-bite there.
Unlike the previous night, the guard house this morning was a hive of activity: Marius was in the centre of it all, gathered around the now-familiar map with a trio of uniformed guards. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Raffy realised the map had changed: there were more pins in it now.
Map
Spoiler
Looking over his shoulder, the captain caught sight of them.
“There you are,” he said. He had the weary look of a man who had been roused exceptionally early in the morning. “It’s not good news I’m afraid. Six more dead, by our latest count – five like the others, one of them inside the Castle, and a second with their throat cut, and that damned symbol painted onto their skin.”
The guards behind him made the sign of the hammer.
“Still no witnesses, either, although I’m hoping someone might come forward. And on top of all that, I have the roadwardens clamouring and whingeing about their damned highwayman. Apparently the Wolf has hit another coach on the Drakwald road.”
He had the tone of a man at the end of his rope. Shaking his head, he seemed to remember something else.
“Oh yes – and if it wasn’t your find of last night, something’s stirred up the Hounds. They’re crawling all over that well in the Ward, and they say the Witch Hunter’s among them.” He frowned. “They’re up to something.”
"Pieter." Not the time for false names. "Rafale and the others have accepted my help for this investigation. I came to report about what I found down the well yesterday."
He politely waited for permission to tell the details.
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
Marius raised an eyebrow, glancing at Raffy for confirmation.
"Well, as long as you're not expecting to be paid," he said, bluntly. He nodded to the elves. "I was shown the tunnels. Still no word as to that unfortunate the Hounds hauled away, I'm afraid."
"I'm pretty sure he has nothing to do with this," said Pieter. "The tunnel just happened to end up under his house. That place is vast, I have no idea how it could have been dug in secret... We already know of three entrances, so there must be more."
Maybe one under the castle...
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
"I have, sir. But I'm told someone collapsed the tunnel I explored."
Pieter took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
"It led to a junction of many tunnels. I could hear voices coming from one of them. I followed it and found dozens of prisoners. In cages. Men and women, in horrible health. Emaciated, filthy, wearing nothing but rags. They were afraid and desperate. They begged me to let them out, but I didn't have the means to free them. So I went back to my friends to get their help."
His voice became bleak.
"Some of us ran here to get help. Rafale, Lothar and myself went back in, but we had to turn back. We were, um, attacked by rats."
He realized, too late, that the story sounded ludicrous when told out loud. He glanced at Lothar and Raffy for support.
((OOC: Sorry to leave during a period of simultaneous activity, but I'm going to see Inception.))
__________________
Ponytar of myself by MeanMrsMustard.
His impotent blunderbuss hanging from his hip, Raffy looks like a professional in his new clothes. He stands with a relaxed, but not sloppy posture.
When Marius looks to him to confirm Pieter's identity, he answers: "We have not accepted any ongoing association with him, Sir. However we have no reason to believe his information is false." Or to believe it.
After Pieter tells his story Raffy gives another neutral evaluation. "Sir, no one else saw the alleged slaves. However, Lothar and I can both vouch for the rat attack. It was unnatural, Sir. They acted like an army - they ran into explosions to keep up the chase. I swear to Sigmar." He glances at Lothar for a third opinion.
Then: "Sir, there are important connexions here. The house where the tunnel leads used to rent a room to Puderbrand, the clawed mutant we slew. He had also tunneled into the sewers as you may recall, Sir."
He takes a breath as if preparing to deliver news the Captain wouldn't like.
"Sir, we have many options. We have a witness to go see today in connection with Pilserier. He may or may not know something about the murders. We can keep investigating the murders, sir, but you already have men on that. We could instead storm the tunnels and look for the slaves, but with they may have been moved already. We can follow the Hounds and see what they're up to. We could even go after the highwayman, probably the most assured victory. We can do any of these four jobs Sir - but we cannot do them all."
He paused. "What are your orders, Sir?"
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
RSS Feeds: 
Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)
