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No he's not. He's lying to you. She's in his head!
I...
Stop it! He is not your friend! She controls him!
Her anger faltered slightly... and she stopped in her tracks.
Y-you... you don't believe me. You're just trying to protect her. She said, her voice becoming softer, There isn't... another way. We've gotten nowhere l-looking around. I know she's involved. If you believe me... HONESTLY believe me... then help me prove it. Otherwise... I am solving this, myself. I... I can't trust that she isn't just manipulating you.
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'Illiiya.... You know I believe you, I always have. But listen, even though he is lying Raffy makes a good point. We have to plan this better, storming in front pf the church might do more harm than good.'
He kneels down in front of her,
'please, I don't want you put in danger.. please. Do this for me?'
"I'm... not... lying," says Raffy through gritted teeth. "I'll protect anyone who's innocent. Her, you, even Pieter," he spits. "And I'm getting my doubts she's innocent. But I haven't seen proof yet."
He falters. "Besides, I...."
He can't seem to finish the sentence.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Lothar glanced sideways at Pieter as the con-man started to walk away, then leaned in closer to Illiiya. He whispered something for a good moment, then pulled back and watched her expression. His was deadly serious.
Illiiya, LCP and anyone who is real good at listening ONLY
Spoiler
"Maybe she is and maybe she ain't. I'm with Raffy's sudden change of heart here- we oughta look into her, more subtle-like. But, here's the other thing: Pieter seems t'be goin' on an awful lot about how much the Church of the Hammer is 'oppressive'. And he did turn up out've nowhere- and he did almost get Raff' an I killed...
__________________ Games:
[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart, reprising Lothar Fischer, Nordlander deserter.
No! NO! Stay angry, you weak-willed wretch! They don't care about you!
I don't want to be angry anymore. I don't want to hate anymore... and I don't want to be you anymore.
I hate you. You weak, pathetic COWARD! You can't hide from me forever!
Illiiya stood strangely still for a few moments, blinking and looking at the others quizzically. Her eyes settled on Ithelus, and she faltered... looking as if she might cry.
I.... Ith? She said weakly, stepping forward and taking his hand, I know I'm right. I know it. I just... don't know any other way to prove it. But.... if you trust me... I'll.... I'll listen.
With that, the elven woman dropped onto her knees in the dirt beside him, slipping her arms around him and holding on tightly as she buried her head against his shoulder.
I'm... I'm just t-trying... to help. I don't want t-to be a bad person anymore.
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'You're not a bad person, you just need to.... plan things better.' He picks her up. 'I really have to go now and you can't come with, it's dangerous.'
He moves over to Lothar, 'Can you look after her for a while?'
I can look after myself. Illiiya said determinedly. I am n-not a child. Not... anymore.
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Ithelus looks at her for a long minute, setting her down. 'In that case, I'll see you all this evening at the Crow' He turns and stalks off, taking turns at random and moving through the crowd haphazardly to try and shake off any who would follow him. After a while he makes his way to Kliner's pawn shop.
Lothar? Have you... anyplace t-to be? Illiiya asked, turning back to the freshly-shaved soldier. Would you... accompany me? I have something I would... like to do.
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"I'm going to go see if we can avoid being arrested," Raffy says. Whatever he was trying to say earlier and couldn't, seems to have passed now.
He heads back to Maria's.
Raffy at Maria's
Spoiler
Raffy makes his way slowly through the back door. He doesn't wait for the servant to open it (if it's closed again). He just slowly opens it and walks in.
((Since it's only been a few moments I assume Maria is still present and rather shaken.))
"Maria...." he says. "We stopped her. She won't go to the witch hunter. I'm... I'm so sorry, Maria." He looks almost choked up on the edge of tears, holding them back by pure will. "Maria, I would never have...."
He just trails off and awaits her reaction.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
It was a long way from Manor Row to the Neumarket – trying to ignore the people who stared at his blotched face along the way. He glanced up at the weather on his way, the sun still as faint and cold as ever in the washed-out blue of the sky... so why did he feel so damned hot?
Arriving at his destination, he began to ask around the tradesmen there – they seemed less than helpful today, having no time for someone who wasn’t buying something. After the sixth or seventh frustrating conversation, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder – a rotund little peasant woman was standing behind him, pointing silently across the muddy marketplace with her other hand.
Following her pointing finger, Pieter saw a man sitting behind a plank atop a couple of barrels: a large, black tomcat played in the dirt at his feet, while a dozen dead rodents dangled from a pole that rested over his shoulder. Hanging over the front of his ‘stall’ was a wooden sign, on which had been painted
RATTES
KILLED DED OR CAPTORED ALYVE
REESONABLE RAYTES.
[hr]
Ithelus
Spoiler
By now, Ithelus was coming to know the streets leading up to Kleiner’s unassuming headquarters rather well: the pawnbroker recognised him as he stepped over the threshold, turning before the elf could speak and thumping the ceiling with the broom-handle.
Once he had been divested of his sharp objects, Ithelus was ushered upstairs by one of Kleiner’s brutish bodyguards: the little man was waiting for him there, crabbed hands poring over a crumpled bundle of parchment. Seeing Ithelus come in, he stowed it away, a yellow-toothed grin splitting his stubbly face.
“Mister Ithelus. You’ve come to us.” He snickered. “I thought we was going to have to come to you. Sit down, sit down,” he urged, seeming not to notice that the only seats in the cluttered room other than his own sedan were a couple of broken-legged stools in a sorry state of repair. “We’ve got things to talk about.”
Rubbing his hands, he met Ithelus’ eyes with a mischievous expression.
“Now, Mister Ithelus – you’ve been as good as your word, you have, and you’ve shown us you’ve got the skills. So it’s like this: there’s a job as needs doin’, and I think you’re the man to do it.” He paused. “Elf,” he corrected himself. “The, um, elf. To do it. I’ve been hearin’ a few stories, round and about, this way and that, coming from a Nuln-like direction, and what they’re saying is that this might be your kind of job. So, you do this, and we’re square – you don’t owe me nothing more.” He gave Ithelus a sly look. “That is, unless you think you might maybe want to do a bit more. You’ll get your cut of the job, same as the others. Maybe you might find you’d like to get given a bit more of this kind of work, eh?”
He grinned.
“So – you in?”
[hr]
Raffy
Spoiler
Raffy found the stable gate had not yet been locked behind them. Slipping back in through the doors they had passed through on their way in, he heard Maria’s muffled voice up ahead, speaking - presumably to Alfons – in hurried tones.
The voices stopped – before he could reach the door, it opened, Maria stepping out. She stopped dead as she saw him. Looking tense as a bow-string, her expression melted into one of relief as she heard what he had to say.
There was a long pause before she replied.
“You’re sure?” she said, a hint of doubt still lingering in her voice. “You’re really sure?”
"Ah, you seen my sign?" grinned the man, through a chinful of dirty, greying stubble. "Got a man to write that spesh'ly, I did." He touched his face, looking at Pieter's. "Aye, looks like you need to be consultin' us and all. You with the Hounds? What's the trouble, infestation down Halbermann's place?"
"Depends what you rightly mean by 'familiar'," said the man, sucking his teeth. "The sewers are abandoned - ain't nobody payin' us to go down there. Used to be the town had proper sewerjacks, but the last of them packed his bags 'bout thirteen years ago."
"Packed his bags, uh? Well, thank you all the same, but in this case... Um, wait... you folks usually work in basements, right? Do you remember ever finding a trap door that would lead deeper underground than a basement has any right to go?"
He reached for his purse again, the implication clear.
"Basements, cellars, attics, lodgin'-houses, taverns, eat'ries... rats get in pretty much everywhere, mister. We go where there's work."
He considered Pieter's question.
"Can't rightly say I have, but then we don't exactly go pryin' about people's homes. Lay traps, lay poison, that kind of thing. Someone's got a locked door or a hatch, it ain't our concern."
"Ah... Thank you for your time. One more thing..." He scratched at the aching rashes in his face. "Have you ever seen this disease? Got it from a rat bite yesterday. Do you know how long it lasts and what can be done about it? Is it very contagious?"
(After the rat catcher answers)
"Do you sell any of the products you use? Things like rat poison or rat repellent?"
"Disease?" He shuffled back in his seat, kicking the cat that was playing at Pieter's feet away from the young man - the raggedy-eared animal yowled angrily, bristling its tail and arching its back at its master. The rat-catcher's demeanour seemed to have changed markedly, Pieter's confession apparently lowering the young man to something like the status of a leper.
"I heard there was people sickenin' round the Ward," he muttered. "You just keep your distance sir. I don't have no advice for you. Best cure for rat-bite, don't get bit. If them's sewer rats you're askin' about, there's sixty kinds of sickness y'can catch just by touchin' em."
Quote:
"Do you sell any of the products you use? Things like rat poison or rat repellent?"
"That'd be puttin' meself out of work now, wouldn't it?" snapped the man. "Be off with you! Before you go infectin' anyone else. I ain't no priestess of Shallya!"
Approaching the Ward, Pieter heard the sound of many voices from up ahead – curiosity piqued, he moved closer, doing his best not to look conspicuous. A scattered crowd of locals were standing around, looking rather disorientated: as he came around the corner of the nearest of the ramshackle buildings that ringed the well, he saw why.
The muddy yard was thronged with Hounds – a pack of them clustered around the well itself, while others were passing in and out of the open front doors of the surrounding houses, manhandling the inhabitants outdoors as they conducted a noisy search of each squalid dwelling-place. The residents stood about in mute distress, infants squalling and squabbling as their parents kept one eye on the militiamen ransacking their homes.
The Hounds by the well seemed to have set up some kind of pulley system, one or more of them presumably down there by the way the others craned their necks to look down into the shaft. Halbermann was among them, overseeing the whole operation: there had to be at least a score of the militiamen in the cramped square, maybe more.
Most eye-catching of all, however, was the mounted figure in the centre of it all: sat atop a tall, black horse, the aquiline features of the Lector were instantly recognisable, surveying the busy scene beneath him with the dignified stillness of a hawk on a high pinnacle. Striding towards him through the crowd was a man in subdued noble’s attire, broad-shouldered and with a tremendous, bushy black beard.
“What in Sigmar’s name is the meaning of all this?” blustered the man, making a bee-line for the Lector. “This is my property, sir, my property, and my tenants –“
“Your property,” replied the Lector, coolly. Belatedly looking down at the red-faced man glaring up at him, he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Mr... Helstrum, is it not?”
“It is,” growled Helstrum. He pointed a quivering finger at Halbermann and his men. “Explain yourself, sir!”
“I was rather hoping you would be the one offering the explanations, Mr Helstrum,” said von Kemperbad, not one chink appearing in his tone of patrician calm. “As you said, this is your property. Are you aware that your well has been spreading contagion?”
Helstrum opened his mouth to reply – the Lector cut him off.
“Or that your property appears to be honeycombed with tunnels?” The priest watched the man’s face change, his own an unmoving mask. “The changeling Puderbrand was notably keen on tunnels. One of your tenants has told us he lodged here. Is there anything else you would like to tell us, Mr Helstrum? To save time?”
His face still red with suppressed indignation, the bearded man seemed to keep his mouth shut with difficulty, slowly shaking his head.
“So I thought,” said von Kemperbad, softly. “The sergeant’s men are searching this place for further evidence. You are to offer them every assistance. Starting, I think, by clearing your tenants out of their way.”
Still smouldering with suppressed wrath, Helstrum nodded and turned away – recognising a volcano about to go off in the face of the first fool to give it an opening, the peasants scattered before him like sheep before a wolf, practically running for cover.
Seemingly satisified for now, the Lector turned back to watching the search.
Moving in a confident, businesslike stride, Pieter approached the well and blended into the crowd of Hounds. He listened carefully to anything they said, especially Halbermann, but tried to make sure there was always someone blocking the sergeant's view of him.
It was difficult to get close to the Hounds without looking conspicuous, the square being as open as it was: nevertheless, Helstrum's shooing away of the spectators made it easy enough to hear what was passing between them. For once they seemed to be putting in a decent day's work, the Lector's eye motivating them to look dutiful and diligent as they followed their orders quickly and quietly.
By the sound of things, they were searching every house from top to bottom: the ones clustered around the well were too far away for Pieter to eavesdrop on, their conversation too quiet and sparse to make any sense of.
Unwilling to get too close to Sergeant Halbermann, who would likely recognize him as not-a-Hound, the initiate made his way to the house where a trap door to the tunnels had been found. Once inside he took the direction of the cellar, still listening intently to any conversation that reached his ears.
"I'm sure. Ithelus can control her, and he agrees it's the wrong thing to do. She might try it again later, but I'll watch her like... well, like a Sparrowhawk. I'll keep you safe."
If you're innocent.... Maria, please be innocent.
"They still have suspicions though, Maria. I'm going to have to talk them out of this line of investigation... so...."
He knows that just telling her he wants to ask her some questions is more likely to incur her tears or anger than her openness.
So, he drops to one knee, and bows his head deeply before her. "Lady Samtzunge, I do not have the birth to demand anything of you, and no authority to question you. By rights I shouldn't even be in your home. But since it has fallen to me to speak on your behalf, please, will you answer my questions so that I will be able to perform ably."
He keeps his head bowed and remains kneeling until she respods (and possibly longer, depending on the response).
If she is willing to answer questions they are:
Spoiler
-Do you have any idea why the elf can feel this, eh, "Aether" in your presence?
-Has anyone ever threatened to curse you? Or demonstrated magic for you?
-Did you meet any mages, by accident, when you were at school?
-The murders really are moving in this direction. Can you think of any reason why?
-A mandrake addict was implicated in Puderbrand's dealings. Would Mr. Lenkster have done anything desparate to get a dose? Or for money?
If at any point the questioning seems to be upsetting her, he will apologise and leave off.
__________________
In real life I quit my job and left my home to become a professional adventurer. The Great Adventure
Standing up, before he could really understand what was going on, he found himself being embraced.
“Thank you,” said Maria, quietly. “I knew I could trust you.” She stepped back, looking into Raffy’s eyes: perhaps for the first time she seemed genuinely vulnerable, her voice small and shaken. The revelation that she was safe seemed to have allowed her to discard her mask.
“I don’t know what she thought, what she… but Rafale, I can’t let that man in this house. I can’t. I won’t.” She seemed to be holding back tears herself. “The Lector hates me. You understand, don’t you? It doesn’t matter how many scapegoats they burn on the way to finding their murderer – who’s going to call them out, after it’s done? I’ve heard too many stories of, of ducking stools, and trials by ordeal to trust his man with my life.” The words tumbled out in a torrent, tripping over each other in their haste to be free. “I won’t submit to it.”
She sniffed.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with Illiiya, but you have to keep her away from them. Please. Whatever she thinks – she’s in as much danger from Jagrun as anyone else. If anyone else were to see her do such a thing…”
She shook her head, mastering her unwinding nerves.
“Of course - of course I’ll answer your questions. Please,” she said, straightening the folds of her dress, “ask away.”
Quote:
Do you have any idea why the elf can feel this, eh, "Aether" in your presence?
Maria shook her head. “No, not at all. I don’t understand it.”
Quote:
Has anyone ever threatened to curse you? Or demonstrated magic for you?
“Never in my life.”
Quote:
Did you meet any mages, by accident, when you were at school?
“In Nuln? I saw one or two, from a distance – College mages. I never spoke to them, though.”
Quote:
The murders really are moving in this direction. Can you think of any reason why?
“And what direction will they be moving in tomorrow? As far as I’ve heard they passed this house last night.”
“If the Sigmarites are right – if this an act of sorcery, then there’s no rhyme or reason to it that ordinary mortals can understand. They’ll keep going until they have what it is they need – a hundred souls, or the right pattern, or a night when Morrslieb is full. I’d like to believe as much as you that last night’s were the last… but do you really think that’s true?”
She shook her head. “You should ask your friend. Even if she is… touched, she’s the only honest mage in Delberz right now. If anyone might understand the reason for the killings, it’s her.”
Quote:
A mandrake addict was implicated in Puderbrand's dealings. Would Mr. Lenkster have done anything desperate to get a dose? Or for money?
The change of angle brought a look of surprise to Maria’s face.
“Felix? Felix wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know he may seem rather dissolute, but that’s the extent of his sins.” She seemed to examine Raffy’s expression. “You’ve met him, then?”
Ithelus looked decidedly uncomfortable, 'Well, I'd have to know more about the job before I agreed to anything in stone but the principle seems a sound.' he pauses for a second, 'Which Nuln-like direction would that be by the way... not the Nuln Nuln-like direction?'
"For the nitty-gritty, you'd have to ask Feinmesser - 'e's the one who's found us the way in. But 'ssentially, it's a cat-burglin' job. Posh house down Manor Row, ought to be filled with trinkets and such. Young lady lives there, practically on her own, 'cept for a handful of servants - and the chief of 'em's half-blind and ancient, too."
Ithelus blinked. And again. 'My, you have been doing your homework sir.' He looks around. 'You''l have to point me towards your contact, and then I'll say for sure.. but you definitely have me interested.'
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Re: [WFRP] The Hour After Midnight (II)
