[WFRP] The Passing of Neustadt

[goblinpaladin]

(OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=149247))


Act One
A Gap in the Tower

Neustadt is an unpleasant little town. Where thick red dust does not rise from the beaten paths, choking and staining travelling gear, there reddish mud clings to boot heels and wagon wheels. Nestled in the corner between two rivers, this market town is the closest thing the Border Princes has to luxury; several taverns, some of them even serving reasonable ale; sturdy stone walls to keep out goblins; and an entire street dedicated to merchants. One can pick up little items here and there. The village of Vintville, to the north of the County, produces a fine wine and the town is prosperous enough to support artisans, men and women who craft small things of no practical value. These make life somewhat easier to bear, here as the world slowly turns to dust and orc.

The streets are quiet, these past few days. The death of Otto von Wissenland has cast a pall over the town. Traffic from the cardinal directions has not slowed, not yet; word has not spread further than the borders of the principality, but caravaneers and bargemen alike have a lean, wary look. All leave the city with more swords than entered.

At the corner of the rivers, trapped between the sluggish Skull and the swifter Stackneck, is Neustadt Keep. Former Bretonnians, deprived of what passes for nobility in that backwater nation, sneer at this stunted excuse for a castle, low and thick-walled, scraped up from the same reddish stone that the older buildings are carved from. Originally Imperial in style, the keep has clearly seen successions of princes, counts, dukes, kings and barons warring over who has the right to hold court here; patchwork repairs blister the sole tower in a patchwork of styles. The westward side appears to have once been sheened in marble, now long cracked.

It is on this side where several -some dozen- folk are gathered, before the main gate. A disreputable lot, they do not have the appearance of a mob or rabble; all are armed although this is the only common feature and hardly unusual in a region where every pigfarmer keeps his spear sharp and oiled. One or two have that look, ragged leathers and lean features, but several others have the hard-eyed look of experience. One, a tall copper-haired man leaning on a halberd, bears the uniform of the Fruminous Bandersnatches, a key regiment in the Count's mercenary army; at the very front is a white-bearded dwarf with the look of a prospector. The guards on duty -also in the black-and-white of Bandersnatches- share grins and nod to their companyman. "Here to kill whoever offed the Count, Albrecht?"

Through the gate, those closest to the front, can see other soldiers going about morning duties; younger lads running about the courtyard with no clear point; veterans oiling halberds; and a tall, shaven-headed sergeant shouting commands. Soldiers scurry to obey as she crosses the courtyard. The men either side of the gate snap closer to attention with the clang of a halberd resounding on iron.

The sergeant steps through the gate, youthful features scanning the crowd. A very young man dressed in fashionable clothing starts to smile and step forward, but the woman's dismissive sneer sends him reeling, his expression all injured pride. She snaps her fingers at the copper-haired man, then a cloaked figure carrying a bow standing a few figures back. "You, Albrecht, and that fellow there." She purses her lips and scans the group a moment longer; as she does, a horse and rider approach along the edge of the wall.

Dismounting, the horseman approached the gate, inclining his head respectfully to the sergeant. "Sergeant-- Frida, isn't it?" Frida blinked, casting her eyes over the newcomer carefully a moment before nodding.

"Oh, you, yes. Uh- join those others, there."

“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am,” said the dwarf, stepping forwards, “But wasn’t this the place where you were looking for people to investigate the Count’s death?”

Frida blinked and stared at the older dwarf. Without the stern expression on her face, it was clearer that the sergeant could actually be considered pretty by some standards; a curvy figure, round lips and smooth brown skin. "Uh. Yes, of course."

“That’s what I thought. See, the Zhufbar Delegation wanted to have a look into things here. Bad for business, you know, if people think Neustadt ain’t safe. Bad for the roads.” He leaned in, tapping the side of his nose. “Thane Makazzok wanted things sorted promptly. ‘Course, don’t want to go making a big noise – so he sent me. To blend in, y’understand.” He gestured to his miner’s pack with a grin, lowering his voice. “No-one suspects a dwarf wi’ a pickaxe. Well, except in the Wissenland Pickaxe Murders, but that was a different story.”

This got a smile from the sergeant.

“Any road, we’d be greatly indebted to you if you’d let us in wi’ the others. If I’m goin’ to be pokin’ around, I’d prefer to do it wi’ your chief’s permission.” He gave a broad, white-toothed smile. “That alright wi’ you?”

Laughing, Frida nodded. "Only if you swear on your bone-coloured beard that you'll tell me about the Wissenland Pickaxe Murders over a pint, Herr Dwarf." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "In you go, with those others. I'll take you four up to the Council."

She turned on the rest of the small crowd. "You lot, go home. No offence to your mothers, but we want to keep the group smallish." She raised a hand to forestall a man dressed in the Estalian style, a frown across his olive features. "No. If you want to help the County, speak to these lads," thumbs to each of the soldiers, "about joining a regiment."

Dismissed, the remaining figures began to thin, and the sergeant herded the mismatched group through the gate. "Here, you four- follow me. I'm Sergeant Frida Schulz, and I'm your escort for the morning. Up this way."

The group was led through the dusty courtyard, the tall soldier getting a nod here and there from his fellows, and up a set of worn stone stairs. The keep was lacking in the usual finery one could expect from a count's stronghold, but trophies -greenskin blades, human banners, and the occasional hydra skull- decorated the walls at apparently random intervals. The standards of the core regiments of the Count hung from rafters- the bandersnatch (http://www.diggercomic.com/?p=493) of the Fruminous Bandersnatches, it's heads wrapped about a pike; the strutting hedgehog of the Brazen Quillbeasts; the lance-and-swords Fleur of the Knights-Saints Chevaliers. After some climbing, the sound of voices can be heard, and Frida ushered the group into a room.

A long wooden table dominates the room, surrounded by half a dozen men, caught in the middle of an argument about something. On the far side from the door, a mustachioed man in his mid-thirties is shouting about dark magic and glaring at a white robed man standing quietly near a window, ignoring the former. His opponent in the argument is an older chap, heavy set and wearing simple linens, stands violently and snaps, "No, Artur. They will have the boy, and that is the--" He stops abruptly as Frida enters and turns.

"Ah, sergeant. The volunteers?" He doesn't wait for a response, but gestures to the table. "Sit them down then. And get one of Henri's people to bring up some wine and bread, thank you." Frida opens her mouth to respond, closes it, nods, and departs with a wink to Albrecht.

The man turns back to his younger opponent and gestures furiously at the table. "Sit, Artur. And you, Albad," he adds, gesturing with one hand to the robed figure. Albad turns, smoothing a short black beard, and gracefully slides into a chair. Scowling, Artur does the same.

Another man at the table reaches across to offer the dwarf a handshake. "Captain Herland Qualetz, Brazen Quillbeasts. Sorry about this lot," he jerks a thumb at Artur, "it's a rough few days." Herland looks like a bandit captain, unshaven, casually wearing leathers and a straggly moustache.

The older man speaks up. "Captain Abelard von Marienburg, Fruminous Bandersnatches. These others are Sir Artur d'Aumale, Knights-Saints Chevaliers, Albad Al'qualm, Sigmund von Hassletein," a nod to a fat man in orange and brown, "and Wolfgang Hurlmitz." This last is a skinny red-faced weasel of a man, dressed in fine linens. "Hurlmitz and von Hassletein are two of our more prominent merchants."

Abelard pauses, clears his throat. "You are here to investigate the cause and instigator of our noble Count's death. You will have questions for us, and we for you. The first, of course is the manner of payment. You shall be given a retainer of three crowns a week, for living expenses and the like; fifty crowns upon the discovery of the murderer and his employer. Upon this, we may retain your services in order to settle the matter."

Sigmund von Hassletein lifts a pudgy hand. "The mysterious death of Count von Wissenland is a tragedy. I, and my trading company, feel the pain of his passing." He presses the other hand against his chest. "However, the power vacuum which will result from this terrible event may result in further death. At all costs we must avoid appearing weak to the outside... or struggle internally. To that end, my competitor and comrade, Wolfgang, and I have together decided that the bounty shall be doubled if the matter is resolved quickly."

Wolfgang nods. "Get it done, fellows, and done fast. You get paid more."

A rap on the door signifies the re-entry of Frida, along with several women and men. Some are clad in servant's gear and carry wine and a variety of bread and cheeses. These slip among the chairs, setting out goblets and platters. Accompanying the group is a tall young man, slender and brown haired. Albad stands and gestures for the chap to come stand near him.

Looking over the table, he speaks in a smooth, even tone. There is a hint of an Arabyan accent to his Reikspeil, matching his dusky skin. "This is my apprentice, Johan Beauterschmit. He will render you assistance." Artur d'Aumale looks away, his long moustache failing to conceal his distaste.

Before anything else can be said, Abelard von Marienburg speaks up again. "There you have it. Now, you must have questions- comments- and names." He pauses and gestures to the nearest of the group. "You there. Speak up."

[Bard the Bard]

Bard the Bard sits down and helps himself with the bread. "No alcohol, thank you... never while I'm on a case."

"Thank you very much, Herr Abelard... if that is your real name... This is a very delicate matter. Did the Count have any enemies?" he asks, giving Abelard a piercing stare.

[LCP]

“Thorgil Thorsson, at your service and your clan’s,” said Thorgil, holding out his hand. That was always a good opener. “Seems to me we should be getting started as soon as we can, aye? What’s known about the killin’, and who can we speak to?”

Things have come to a sorry pass, looking for paid work, he thought to himself. But it was only for a short time – and if he ingratiated himself with these local leaders, it would be the perfect way into their good books. The hills in these parts had barely been touched by civilised hands, the inhabitants too busy fighting or surviving to unearth their riches. Somewhere out there, the big strike was waiting for him – he could feel it in his bones. He was never going to get at it if he couldn’t make friends of the local high-ups, though, and this had seemed the perfect opportunity to make a start.

Apparently, they’d seen fit to put an elf and an apprentice wizard on the job, too. A long lifetime of experience had taught Thorgil to steer well clear of anything to do with magic, and elves pretty much fell into that category themselves. Still, he’d signed on now, for better or worse. At least it looked this job was going to be interesting...

[goblinpaladin]

Abelard accepted the dwarf's hand. "Frida here will take you to the Count's rooms. He was discovered by the Seneschal, Henri, on the morning four days ago. Dead in his chambers, guards on duty at the door and the window ledge outside- and the bed was a mess, the 'clothes all over. It looked like a fight."

The captain took up a goblet of wine. "His body is in the temple, if you know anything about poisons. No bloody dagger in his back last seen at a courtier's belt, alas." His clean-shaven face was set half-way between resignation and bitter amusement.

[OOC: Bard the Bard: I'm sorry to say this but here in the playground there are recruitment threads to join games- and this one is already full. You will certainly be able to find something more to your tastes over this way (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?f=51). If you would kindly delete your post, I'd take that as an added kindness. Thank you.]

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig pursed his lips in distaste, his cold gaze sizing each of the hirelings in turn as if he suspected every one of them of having a hand in the crime.

The Count is dead, his murderer is out there and Neustadt is on the brink of crisis, and they hire the first strangers they come across to find the culprit. This task should have been left to insiders like me.

The killer could well be someone high up, someone with the power (and the coin) to send an underling to thwart the investigation or spy on it.

I'll have to watch each of them at all times. How can I do my job in these conditions?

Now was not the time to complain. Grimly, he stood up to follow Frida to the Count's room.

[Lt. Tibbles]

Johan began to rub his chin lightly deep in thought, How could have such a thing happen? Surely if the Count were as guarded as they say, it would seem impossible for anyone to get by. Perhaps the guards had been shirking their duties...or worse yet perhaps they had betrayed the Count. No no you're getting ahead of yourself Johan never jump to conclusions like that, it can be dangerous...

He lifted his head up, "Is the chamber in the same condition as it was when Lord von Wissenland was discovered, has anything been radically disturbed?" Johan asked as he awaited to be escorted by Frida.

[goblinpaladin]

Captain von Marienburg waved a hand at the two. "No need to rush off. I'm glad you're so keen to get started, but I want to know more about the rest of you first." He frowned, scratching at his chin.

"We have left the room in the same condition, more or less. Some things may have been bumped around when we removed Count von Wissenland's body, but other than that it was sealed."

[-Sentinel-]

"The guards on duty have been properly interrogated," Edmund put in as if it was a fact, not a question.

[LCP]

Thorgil nodded at the man's question. Waiting for it to be answered, he then turned back to the captain.

"You'll forgive an out-of-towner his ignorance, sir, but - do you have any suspects yourself? Man like the Count must've had a lot of enemies. Anyone in particular we should be lookin' into?"

[Arq Kujos]

"The guards on duty have been properly interrogated," Edmund put in as if it was a fact, not a question.

"I'll be interrogating any guardsmen." Albrecht said abruptly. He had stood silently, annoyed at the length of time these questions were taking. He knew the reputation of the Frumious Bandersnatches, nay, every guard unit in Neustadt was at rick. He had heard the terrible rumors of guards gone off to flirt with chambermaids while some assassin roamed the halls freely. They turned his stomach, but two nights ago, when a man suggested that a guardsmen might have actually slain the count, Albrecht lost his cool and almost tried to kill the man. His comrades in arms had stopped him, but it was clear that this issue was personal.

Albrecht, still in armor and armed with his own halberd, had taken up close to Frida. He like Frida because she was fair, always good for at least a round at the pub, and a skilled fighter.

[goblinpaladin]

von Marienburg nodded. "We've questioned the guards on duty, of course. Didn't hear or see a blamed thing." He pauses and shoots a look at Herland, who is conveniently looking in another direction entirely. "Not all the guards on duty were entirely themselves, I must confess."

He glances up at Albrecht. "Glad to have you do it, soldier. These others'd best be there, though," he adds with a pointed nod to Thorgil and Edmund. "Best to avoid it looking like my man was doing the work, if you see my meaning."

Artur grunts an agreement, and tears a piece of bread open. "Things are not as simple as a list of Otto's enemies, dwarf. Nuestadt is besieged by enemies, yes- the so-called 'Barony' to the northeast, led by that upstart peasant, is premier. Greenskins mass on the borders. While the Toothy Fish goblins have been quiescent of late, the Severed Leg Orcs are massing in numbers. There are rumours of witchcraft afoot..." He trails off, glaring significantly at the wizard Al'qualm and bites into his food.

Herland speaks up, with a resigned sigh. "What the noble knight isn' tellin' you lot is the reason we went for outsiders- this coulda been a bid fer power. Someone on the inside, someone real sneaky. Not me- I'm way too dumb for that kinda plot." He downs his goblet of wine. "But don't take my word for it, lads. Look all over."

[-Sentinel-]

"Of course we will," murmured Edmund. "I'll first have a look at his room."

[LCP]

“Rumours o’ witchcraft?” asked Thorgil. “That’s bad business. Any sorcerers round these parts?” He seemed to remember Albad and Johan, and tried a disarming grin. “I mean, bad ones.”

He looked back at Abelard.

“Where do you think we should be makin’ a start, then? Sounds like there’s little time to lose.”

[goblinpaladin]

Abelard starts to say something, but Artur breaks in loudly. "All sorcerers wield the powers of the North, dwarf. Al'qualm and his pet Stirlander are as much suspects as--" Albad stands abruptly, the wizard's expression even and unhurried, but it is enough to cut the Bretonnian short.

Albad inclines his head to Thorgil. "I appreciate your sentiment, son of Thor, but there is no need for kindness. I am indeed as much a suspect as any other. As for local sorcery, there are two of whom you must be aware. The first is Jacques the Blue, a wizard in the employ of Baron Olessal. My understanding is that he lacks the subtlety for such a murder, but I am not infallible. The second is the leader of the Severed Leg tribe." He pauses.

Herland pipes up. "Yeah. Scouts've reported that they're led by some great shaman witch doctor, all bone skulls and death curses. Struck the old 'boss down with a bolt of green lightnin' from the skies."

Albad nods to the Brazen Quillbeasts captain. "Yes, Captain Qualetz, that is the report. I would believe it. The skies warn of terrible gatherings to the east." He shakes his head. "At any rate, I believe this meeting is finished. I shall be in my rooms if required. They are at the top of the tower; my apprentice may show you the way." He bows smoothly, and says something in Arabyan; locals to the 'Princes may know it as a farewell blessing. Something about the gods being kind.

Abelard rises and returns the bow with a nod. "Al'qualm is right. You should head to the Count's old room. Frida will show you the way. You should inform her when you have made progress, and we will gather to hear it."

[LCP]

"Right y'are, sir," said Thorgil, standing up - the chair having being built for humans, this resulted in his head ending up slightly lower than it had started. "Lead on, sarge."

[goblinpaladin]

Frida nodded and gestured ahead of her. The group had barely closed the door behind them when Artur's distinct voice could be heard, starting another argument with Abelard and Herland. Shaking her head, Sergeant Schulz led the group further up the stairs, narrow windows lighting the way.

After some climbing, but not enough to reach the top -the stairs go further up into the tower- she stops before a plain, solid wooden door, a pair of guards either side. They nod to her as she takes out a set of keys and unlocks it, pushing it open. "I'll be here for any questions. Let me know when you're done," she says, standing to one side.

The room is modestly-sized. As Johan could tell any who ask, the largest room in the tower is given over to Al'qualm for his to use. Wizarding takes a lot of space, you know. Most Border Princes take pride in their newfound luxury, wallowing in the wealth they have acquired through the sword, yet Otto von Wissenland was relatively modest in his tastes. There are artworks on the walls, most depicting great battles in Imperial history- the Fall of Solland; the Theogonist on the Walls of Altdorf Destroying the Undead; Sigmar's Rise.

This last, a tapestry along the wall near the massive wooden bed, is half fallen from the wall, as though pulled. Sprawling across the floor are fine sheets, and pillows are scattered across half the room. A large desk near the door is covered in papers, three empty whiskey glasses and a half-full bottle in a prominent place close to the chair, which has fallen onto it's side.

The window is far too small for any human to have entered through it. Unless they were small, or willing to lose quite a lot of flesh. Or oiled, and at this point the narration shall move aside... The floor is hardwood, with rugs scattered across it. rumpled beneath the fallen sheets on this side of the bed, the side closest to the door.

Frida pipes up from outside. "Henri found the body on the floor there, between the bed an' the desk. Pitr and Piotr were on door duty when he was found. I'll take you to 'em in the barracks when you're done here."

More information/details can be provided if you need; look and ask. Albrecht: You know that there is a small guard ledge that runs along the outside of the tower on this side.

[LCP]

"Right," said Thorgil, cracking his knuckles. "Let's go to work."

Beetling forwards, he began to examine the room with a close eye for detail, looking under the tapestries, under the bed, lifting up the rugs... anywhere that might hide a trapdoor or a sliding compartment or a secret passageway.

Making his way not-too obviously over to the table, he picked up the whiskey bottle, holding it up to the light before pouring out a glass. He took a deep sniff.

"Would've been a handy way to poison the old Count," he said, taking a cautious sip. "Wonder where he got his drink from? Would be worth askin' around."

OOC: T50 makes me our taste-tester :smallbiggrin:.

Thorgil is looking to try and make sure he finds every way in and out of the room, in case there are any secret entrances or exits. And if the whiskey isn't poisoned, he'll drink the whole glass.

[-Sentinel-]

"Give that to me, will you?" hissed Edmund with irritation, roughly taking the bottle from the Dwarf's hand. "Is that how you look for poison? There are experts for such things, and I'll give this bottle to them. Is there even a word for subtlety in Khazalid?"

He resolved to keep an eye on the Dwarf, lest he destroy any clues by carelessness or on purpose.

"A fight, uh?" he said, taking a long look at the room in shambles. Either it was truly a fight, or it was the Count thrashing in his death throes after being poisoned. If it was the latter, the poison could no doubt be narrowed down: some poisons killed too quickly for this to happen, others too slowly, others too painlessly.



I'll let you make a Search test for me. Edmund tries to find clues that will tell if the Count was the sole responsible for the mess or if there was clearly more than one person in the room at the time of the murder.

[goblinpaladin]

Thorgil managed to inhale a deep whiff of the whiskey before the irate Edmund snatched it away hurriedly. It smelled of smoke and oak, the rich tang of a decent distillation. Almost certainly made by dwarves (humans have never gotten the hang of it), and delicious.

The dwarf managed to somehow make a room already chaotic with mess all the more; sheets were pulled further from the bed, rugs kicked all over, tapestries pulled aside and left that way. All his efforts led to naught; there were no trapdoors in the floor, a great iron ring ready to be lifted up, no secret passage inside the cupboard.

The pattern of disturbance was clear- it led from the bed towards the door, via the tapestry of Sigmar's Rise and the writing desk. There was some sign of mess on the other side of the bed, near the window -a cushion astray, some rugs messed about- but nothing like the chaos on this side.

Edmund only:
Edmund Kortig's sharp eyes, honed by years of practice, did notice something odd. The stonework behind the artwork depicting the Fall of Solland was not quite the same colour as the rest of it. It wasn't large enough to be a secret passage, but it could be something.

Thorgil only:
With a dwarf's keen eye for stonecraft, Thorgil is easily able to notice that the stone around the window is quite soft, pitted about the edges.

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund let out a deep sigh when Thorgil began trashing the room like a child having a tantrum. He was about to snap at him, but something caught his eye: the stonework behind the Fall of Solland was not quite the same color as the rest.

"Hmmm." Frowning, Edmund carefully lifted the painting from its resting place and tapped the wall with the point of his dagger.

[goblinpaladin]

The stonework sounded odd. Kortig did not have a lot of experience with stone, but it generally didn't sound hollow...

[LCP]

"Well, you can waste your experts' time if you want," said Thorgil affably. "But it's not poisoned."

The human's scorn water off a duck's back, Thorgil walked over to the window, taking a closer look at the pitting of the stonework. Stretching up, he ran his calloused fingers along the edges of the opening, probing to see if touch would reveal anything the eyes could not see.

[goblinpaladin]

His rough miner's fingers did not pick up anything along the edges of the window, although stone flakes crumbled into his hands. But outside the window, a reddish-purple blotch stained a guard's ledgeway. It was not the colour of dried blood -human or orc- but it looked fresh.

[LCP]

"There's an odd-looking stain on the ledge outside this window," said Thorgil. "Any of you know the way out there?"

[-Sentinel-]

Deep in thought, Edmund ignored Thorgil's question. "Dwarf. Have you got any tools we could use? The wall over here sounds a bit weird."

[Lt. Tibbles]

Johan watched as the Edmund and Thorgil searched the room and managed to bicker at the same time, he smiled slightly at the sight, but then he remembered what his original purpose was for being here.

Johan strode over the tapestry of Sigmar and began to search behind it and look it over trying to hang it back into it's original position.

OOC:Johan is going to see if there is anything on or behind the tapestry, and then try to see if it was hung up back to it's original position would make any over looked clues more apparent

[LCP]

Pulling his head out of the window, Thorgil grinned, hefting his pack. There was a metallic clanking from inside, his pickaxe clearly visible protruding from one corner.

"Aye, I have tools," he said, ambling over to where the human was standing. "What kind o' tools d'you need?"

He extended a large hand.

"My name's Thorgil. I don't think we've been properly introduced."

[goblinpaladin]

Johan found nothing interesting behind that tapestry. It looked as though it had been pulled upon, and one of the hooks holding the cloth in place had snapped. Clearly some weight had been applied.

OOC: Albrecht, you know the way onto the ledge; there is an entrance from further up. It is used for guard duty, watching the river. Generally soldiers from the crossbow company, the Brazen Quillbeasts, are used.

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund stiffly shook Thorgil's hand after a moment's hesitation.

"Edmund Kortig, of the Count's special police. I'd like to know what's behind that wall, it sounds hollow. Can you carefully poke a hole in it?"

[LCP]

"I can but try," said Thorgil, dropping his pack and rummaging inside it. Stopping for a moment, he examined the patch of wall in question: running his fingers around the edges of the anomalous stonework, he then gave it a sharp rap with his knuckles, putting his ear up against the wall shortly afterward.

OOC: Trying to gauge how thick the wall is, and what kind of force would be necessary to put a hole in it - or to see if there's some way it's designed to open.

[Arq Kujos]

Johan found nothing interesting behind that tapestry. It looked as though it had been pulled upon, and one of the hooks holding the cloth in place had snapped. Clearly some weight had been applied.

OOC: Albrecht, you know the way onto the ledge; there is an entrance from further up. It is used for guard duty, watching the river. Generally soldiers from the crossbow company, the Brazen Quillbeasts, are used.

"There is a strong possibility that they assassin came from above. Outside and above, there is an entrance for guards. It is the guard tower. It is used mostly for surveying the river."

Albrecht could hardly believe his own words. He had just suggested the possibility that a fellow guardsman had murdered his lord. His words hung in his mouth like a bitter bite of fruit before he quickly chimed up.

"If a guardsman was in on the attack, the first place to check would have to be the Brazen Quillbeast Barracks."

[goblinpaladin]

Running his fingers along the edge of the stonework, Thorgil could feel that this was a (clearly human-made) false door. The stone was a thin sheath concealing a door probably made of wood. The hinges were hidden, but not to anyone who knew anything about stone. Or how stone and wood worked together. Boy, did Thorgil know about stonework.

This meant the lock would probably be-- there, a slip of stone easy came away in the dwarf miner's callused fingers, revealing a keyhole.

[LCP]

"Looks like you found a secret door, Mr Kortig," said Thorgil. Stepping back, he tossed the key-cover up in the air and caught it. "Still want it broken down, or shall we have a look about for the key?"


"There is a strong possibility that they assassin came from above. Outside and above, there is an entrance for guards. It is the guard tower. It is used mostly for surveying the river."

Hearing Albrecht's words, Thorgil looked round.

"Well, someone had better have a look. There's a funny-lookin' stain out there. Could be a clue." He glanced back at the door. "No stone unturned, and a' that."

[-Sentinel-]

"Looks like you found a secret door, Mr Kortig," said Thorgil. Stepping back, he tossed the key-cover up in the air and caught it. "Still want it broken down, or shall we have a look about for the key?"


Edmund shrugged.

"Whatever is needed to open it," he said reluctantly.

[LCP]

Thorgil spat on his hands.

"The pickaxe it is, then," he said, hefting said implement with a grin. Sizing up the secret door, he lined the point of the pick up with the lock, drew it back, and took a hefty swing.

[goblinpaladin]

With a sharp -crack- the pickaxe smashed clean through the false door, Thorgil's return pull smashing the lock and wrenching the door clean open. The inside was clearly a wall safe, mostly papers and a small ironbox. Several of said papers fluttered in the breeze caused by the destruction.

Sergeant Frida came immediately into the room, her hand on her sword. "What in the name of the sons of Taal are you idiots doing?"

[LCP]

"We found a secret door," said Thorgil, gesturing proudly to the open safe. "Thought we'd best have a look."

[-Sentinel-]

With detached interest, Edmund grabbed some papers and leafed through them.

"Touch nothing," he advised the others in a soft, icy tone, his eyes narrowing threateningly. "Some of these documents might contain sensitive information. You don't want to get in trouble."


OOC: Incredibly, reading is not part of the secret police's training.:smallconfused: I just want to see if those papers are text, tables, plans, etc. I'll also look for any sign or symbol flagging the documents as top secret.

I'll take an Intimidate test (with +10% for Menacing) in order to dissuade the others from taking too much interest in the papers. Is that an Opposed test?

Target 49: [roll0]

[goblinpaladin]

Frida kept her hand on her sword and glared at the group. "The Count's private safe is hardly a source for an intruder, Thorsson. Kortig- what do the papers say?"

Yes, that is an Opposed test. WP test for everyone else, please.

-Sentinel-, make an unmodified dice roll against both Int and Search.

[-Sentinel-]

-Sentinel-, make an unmodified dice roll against both Int and Search.

Two tests?

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Lt. Tibbles]

Johan tensed a bit at the sight of Frida holding her sword even if it was still sheathed.

"Whoa now Frau Frida, I can understand that we may have stumbled across some privileged information, but you must understand that we were instructed to search this room throughly and this discovery was incidental.

We had no idea what was behind this false door, but even though this maybe the counts private safe there may very well be clues contained within. I apologize for the disturbance you may take what's in the safe if you wish, it is your right after all."

WP Roll [roll0]

[LCP]

"The Count's private safe is hardly a source for an intruder, Thorsson.”

“Ah, that’s where you could be wrong,” said Thorgil, speaking with an air of knowledge. “You’ve got a locked room murder here, except...” – he strode over to the window – “if someone was small enough to wriggle through here. Like a grobi.” He stepped over to the bed. “The Count’s got the safe open, his back to the window. In comes the intruder. The Count turns around, there’s a struggle – the goblin kills him, but he hears voices outside! He can’t go back out of the window, it’s a long way to climb and they’d peg him wi’ a crossbow – but there’s one place he can hide until all the shouting dies down. The safe!”

He strode triumphantly over to the safe. “He’s a wee bastard – can just about fit himself inside. Closes the door behind him, and thanks to all this secrecy o’ yours, no-one even knows his hidey-hole exists. Then he just has to bide his time to make his escape.”

Looking back at the safe, he seemed to remember it was empty.

“’Course, that... didn’t happen,” he added, seeming rather disappointed. “But it could’ve. That’s the kind of thing we’re investigatin’ for. You’ve got to think outside the box,” he said, “...and inside the safe.”

Leaning on his pickaxe, he shrugged.

“Anyway, I assumed your special policeman here knew what he was about when he said to break it open.” He nodded to the papers. “I reckon he’s right. Things the ol’ Count wanted kept secret... that’s a fine place to go lookin’ for clues. Motives, you ken.” His voice became a little more serious. “Those gentl’men downstairs who so kindly admitted to bein’ suspects... well, you can bet your last penny that if one o’ them did do it, he didn’t tell us the real reason.”

He shouldered his pickaxe, running a hand through his white beard.

"You asked us to investigate, and investigate we shall. Speakin' o' which," he turned to Albrecht, "time we had a look at that guard ledge, no?"

[goblinpaladin]

Frida stands stock still, glaring at Thorgil for his tirade. By the end her expression has gradually softened, and the hint of a barely-suppressed smile quirks at the edges of her lips. "You certainly talk a lot for a dwarf, Thorsson."

She glanced at the safe and shook her head sadly. "I'll wager that the ki- uh, the new count, Ubel, will be less than impressed. Still, I have no idea where the key would be." She nodded. "We'll deal with the fall out later."

She turned to Kortig and raised an eyebrow. "Anything of interest in there?" She seemed unfazed by his icy glare, although it certainly kept the others -particularly the wizard's apprentice, Johan- at bay.

I'm going to give Albrecht the (Australian) evening to reply, and autopilot him come morning if he doesn't.

Sentinel: sorry for not being clear. If I say one roll for two tests, I mean take one roll and compare it against both stats/skills/whatever. In this case you passed; watch your inbox.

[Arq Kujos]

“Ah, that’s where you could be wrong,” said Thorgil, speaking with an air of knowledge. “You’ve got a locked room murder here, except...” – he strode over to the window – “if someone was small enough to wriggle through here. Like a grobi.” He stepped over to the bed. “The Count’s got the safe open, his back to the window. In comes the intruder. The Count turns around, there’s a struggle – the goblin kills him, but he hears voices outside! He can’t go back out of the window, it’s a long way to climb and they’d peg him wi’ a crossbow – but there’s one place he can hide until all the shouting dies down. The safe!”

He strode triumphantly over to the safe. “He’s a wee bastard – can just about fit himself inside. Closes the door behind him, and thanks to all this secrecy o’ yours, no-one even knows his hidey-hole exists. Then he just has to bide his time to make his escape.”

Looking back at the safe, he seemed to remember it was empty.

“’Course, that... didn’t happen,” he added, seeming rather disappointed. “But it could’ve. That’s the kind of thing we’re investigatin’ for. You’ve got to think outside the box,” he said, “...and inside the safe.”

Leaning on his pickaxe, he shrugged.

“Anyway, I assumed your special policeman here knew what he was about when he said to break it open.” He nodded to the papers. “I reckon he’s right. Things the ol’ Count wanted kept secret... that’s a fine place to go lookin’ for clues. Motives, you ken.” His voice became a little more serious. “Those gentl’men downstairs who so kindly admitted to bein’ suspects... well, you can bet your last penny that if one o’ them did do it, he didn’t tell us the real reason.”

He shouldered his pickaxe, running a hand through his white beard.

"You asked us to investigate, and investigate we shall. Speakin' o' which," he turned to Albrecht, "time we had a look at that guard ledge, no?"

"That is a good theory, but it fails to explain how the killer got here in the first place. Wee man or not, the killer would have had to have help getting from the outside all the way up here. If it was from someone who had something to gain by the Count being out of the way, then we need to find a way to connect the two. As of right now, all we have is a lot of speculation, a nearly empty safe, and still no suspects." As much as he hated to think it, the clues were slowly adding up to point towards at least one guard helping in the murder.

"Ma'am, who was on duty the night the Count was killed? We need to question them about everything that happened."

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund quickly gathered the papers and shoved them into his slingbag, careful not to leave any on the ground. He would have them examined later by someone trustworthy. His voice low, he spoke to Frida:

"You should make sure the iron box gets to your captain. He's one of the few people I think we can trust. Of course, he must be instructed not to open it. I'll take care of it later."



"Ma'am, who was on duty the night the Count was killed? We need to question them about everything that happened."
At Albrecht's words, Edmund turned sharply. Yes, the guards. Even if they were not traitors, they were incompetent at best.

After the interrogation, I will personally make sure they are made an example of.

[Lt. Tibbles]

"Right well before we proceed to the guard ledge I'm going to give the room a once over just to be sure."

Johan walked the room examining everything, using his witch sight and hoping it would detect nothing, assassins are one thing but if magic was involved things were certainly even more dire than he feared.

Johan will be using his Magical Sense skill (With a 10% bonus for Aethyric Attunement) for the room before moving on with the others to the guard ledge. If I'm not mistaken though it should be a roll done by a our gm though right?

[goblinpaladin]

Frida nodded to Albrecht. "Quite right, soldier. The door guards were Pitr and Piotr from midnight until dawn. They relieved Wagner and Rudolf. I'll wager most will be in the barracks, although Rudolf might be out wooing some unfortunate girl." She paused for a moment, brow furrowed. "These lads are all Bandersnatches, but there were Quillbeasts on duty on the ledge outside. Khardan from just before midnight until the wee hours of the morning, relieved by Hilsa. You know full well that the ledge guards run on a different schedule from us, so there's overlap."

She paused and nodded slowly to Kortig. "If you are sure, I will have it run down immediately." She steps back outside and has a few words with one of the soldiers on guard duty.

Johan ONLYMagical Sense: [roll0]

Johan concentrated a moment, then opened his Eye as he was taught. He braced himself for the worst; daemons crawling over the walls, or a great Eye peering in from the window outside. Instead the room looked much the same. A few wriggling motes of Chamon blended with Shyish crawled over the chest; weapons were probably within. Around the bed were fading swirls of green, blending with purple toward the door. A mixture of Ghyran and Shyish, it looked like the effects on the Winds of a powerful person's death.

If magic had killed the man, it showed no trace he knew how to detect...

[LCP]

Thorgil nodded at Frida's words, and turned to Albrecht. "Before we go questionin' the guards, can we get out there ourselves? There's that stain outside the window - I'd like to have a closer look." He winked. "Best to have all the facts before we go askin' questions, eh?"

[goblinpaladin]

Albrecht nodded and rounded the group up and out the door. Sergeant Frida followed them, having sent one of the two door-guards on. His bootsteps echoed in the narrow stone corridor, still audible when the Bandersnatch opened an unassuming door onto the outside ledge.

The view was incredible. From here, one could see clear over murky Skull River and into the badlands beyond. Details were faint from this far off, but the shadow of a ruined fort -clearly beyond Nuestadt's influence- was visible a few miles from the river itself. Further out, in the far distance, was a tall smudge on the horizon: the Orc Face Cliffs. From there, the Severed Leg orcs roamed outward, raiding where they could.

Closer to home, anyone nervous around great heights would do well not to look down- certainly Frida, at the back of the group, stayed close to the wall. The sergeant's black skin was ashen, her lips pressed firmly together. This part of the keep loomed almost directly over the river; there were no buildings below, no thatched roofs huddled against stone walls. Just the tooled red stone, packed dirt, mud, and then the river itself.

The stone itself was the same as the keep, although patched and worn down by the years and the footsteps of guards patrolling this perfect view of the eastern frontier.

The ledge carried around the side of the building, just below the former Count's window. Peering inside, the taller Albrecht could certainly stick his head and shoulders inside, while Thorgil's eyes were level with the ledge.

Not that anyone was particularly looking inside- instead the focus was on the blotchy purple stain, with spatters of droplets around it.

[LCP]

"So, this is the place," said Thorgil, rubbing his hands together. Looking out to the east, he nodded. "Nice view. Pretty sheer climb to be guardin', though. If I was Count, I'd have thought twice about puttin' a crossbow-ledge right outside my bedroom window, too." He glanced back at Frida. "They supposed to be watchin' the horizon, or something closer to home?"

Once he had his answer, he dropped low to examine the stain, smearing it with his thumb to check how hard it had dried, and taking a sniff to see if he could detect any particular odour.

[goblinpaladin]

Frida swallowed. "Both. The Toothy Fish Goblins are great climbers, y'know."

Thorgil's thumb was callused through years of mining, digging, and escaping from irate lawmen similar activities. He also knew the reek of alcohol when he could smell it, and it was here. Faint, though, like beer vomited three days earlier onto stone. The stain was pretty damn dry, soaked straight into the rough stone.

[LCP]

Thorgil sucked his teeth.

"Looks like you have a disc'plinary matter here, Sergeant," he said, straightening up and dusting off his hands. "Someone's been ve-ery drunk on duty." He looked up at her. "Any guards been out here since the murder?"

[goblinpaladin]

Frida coughed, then swallowed. "Ah, ahem. Uh, not since, no. Been tryin' to keep people from lookin' in. Like I said, last ones out here was Hilsa, before her, Khardan."

[LCP]

"Well, whoever it was, someone who's been drinkin' has been sick out on this ledge," said Thorgil. "I'd hazard a guess that the two things were related," he added with a grin.

"Round about as old as you'd expect for the night o' the murder, as well. They a taut lot, these Quillbeasts, or is this kind o' thing normal?"

[goblinpaladin]

Frida frowned, shaking her head. "I don't like to speak bad of another company... but it isn't that rare. The Quillbeasts are pretty much what you'd expect of mercenaries out here. Good lads, but not as -- not as drilled as my boys, not as regimental."

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund peered down.
"So, if the attacker came from the window, he, she or it somehow not only climbed the wall but also got past a guard without being noticed? Seems increasingly likely to me that there is treachery involved, not just incompetence."

Why hadn't the guards been detained and interrogated within hours of the murder? Up to now, the investigation had been rather sloppy. Many key clues might already be lost.

[LCP]

"Or the poor sod was blind drunk and didn't notice," said Thorgil. "Seems to me like either way, we should be questionin' this Hilda and Khardan."

[goblinpaladin]

With nothing more to examine on the narrow ledge, the group gathered together and made their way down the staircase. Frida was visibly relieved to be away from the open space, the wind and the terrible, long view. The group was relatively quiet on the way down, and clearly the arguments in the Council room had followed suit; the stairwell no longer echoed with angry voices.

Frida pushed open the doors to the courtyard and gestured to one side smoothly. "The Bandersnatches are quartered over there. Albrecht here can show you the way. I'll wager he knows Pitr on sight- everyone does. The other 'snatches on duty that night are in there 'swell. We've been keepin' them under wraps since--"

She is cut off by the approach of three men. Two of them are immediately recognisable as Sir Artur d'Aumale and Captain von Marienburg. In the daylight, the captain's face is visibly greyer, with deep lines under his eyes. The Bretonnian knight could not be a greater contrast, his expression clearly smug under his long moustaches, brushing imaginary dirt from his breastplate as he approached.

The third man was a slender youth, certainly no more than twenty years, clad in the antique style of a Knight Errant- also Bretonnian, then. He followed behind the mercenary captains at a respectful distance.

"Frida," von Marienburg began, "Sir d'Aumale has another--"

He is cut off by d'Aumale stepping forward. "There is another addition to your group of... investigators." He gestured at the young man, ushering him forward. "Sir Panteleon will accompany you all, to assist and make sure that matters are handled... evenly."

He narrowed his eyes at Albrecht and Johan with distaste. "There must be balance, in the group. Truth must be discovered." He nodded and turned away with a flourish of his cloak.

Abelard von Marienburg shook his head and sighed. "He would not relent, I am afraid. Young Panteleon here has a good reputation, my good men. I assure he will be of service to you all. Frida- come with me."

The sergeant nodded to her commander and gave the group a tense smile in farewell. "Don't forget that beer, Herr Dwarf. Ah- and the barracks for the Quillbeasts is just outside the courtyard. Captain Qualetz should have Hilsa and Khardan kept inside."

With that, the two departed back into the keep, speaking in low voices. The newcomer, Sir Panteleon, stood somewhat awkwardly in the heat, red dust settling on his armour.

[LCP]

Thorgil raised an eyebrow in the wake of the departing Councillors, before turning to the young knight standing before them.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," he said, holding out a stubby-fingered hand to shake. "Thorgil Thorsson, at your service and your clan's."

Looking back at the others, he began stuffing his pipe with tobacco, fumbling for a light.

"Who shall we be startin' with, then? Maybe we ought t' split up - the lad here can go speak to his friends in his barracks," he said, gesturing at Albrecht, "and Mr Kortig could put the frighteners up our drunken friends in the crossbow company." He looked at the others. "What do you think?"

He looked back at Sir Panteleon, and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb at the guard ledge high above.

"We found some evidence up on the look-out. Looks like one o' the guards up there was the worse for wear on the night of the murder."

[Bowerbird]

The Bretonnian looks warily at the offered hand of the dwarf, one eyebrow raised, but accepts it nonetheless, "Thank you, sir Dwarf," he brushes the dust from his short blonde hair, "Well at least two people should be going to the barracks, especially if we are sending people from the barracks to do the questioning, just in case.." the young knight leaves the sentence open as he looks warily at the others, particularly those from the other mercenary companies. At the mention of the drunken guards his expression becomes one of intense distaste.

[-Sentinel-]

"Yes, I intend to interrogate those guards," said Edmund, his voice a low hiss. "The sooner the better."

Although he did not voice it, he disliked the idea of others coming along. He did not trust them all; and even if he did, his methods of interrogation tended to make weaker people squeamish. The last thing he needed was someone arguing with him about the so-called "rights" of a potential traitor.

[Arq Kujos]

"As I said, I will also be interrogating the guards." Albrecht didn't want these outsiders unfairly pointing the blame at the guards if they did not deserve it. Besides, even if the guards were somehow responsible, Albrecht didn't want the news getting out. Such a scandal could bring the forces of the other Border Princes crashing against their gates. War would break out. Then, in the aftermath, the Orcs and Goblins would come. That was something Albrecht would not allow.

[goblinpaladin]

The decision made, the group split evenly; Albrecht and Thorgil headed toward the barracks which housed the Fruminous Bandersnatches, while Edmund and the newcomer headed toward the gate for the Brazen Quillbeasts. After a moment's hesitation, Johan joined Edmund and Sir Panteleon, following just behind the knight errant.

Barracks of the Fruminous Bandersnatches

Albrecht led the dwarf to a long, low-ceilinged building. Out the front a banner flapped listlessly in the few puffs of lazy wind which managed to breach the courtyard. A black bandersnatch on a white field, their heads twined around a pike: the banner of the Fruminous Bandersnatches.

Out the front a soldier was leaned against the wall, lazily sharpening a sword. He nodded to Albrecht, not bothering to straighten. "Albrecht. Heard you was lookin' into the Count's murder." He scratched at a moustache that threatened to devour his face.

"Bad business that. You better go in, I guess," he said jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Pitr and them've been snuggled in for a bit now."

The human soldier and the dwarf accepted the invitation, entering the barracks. It was a human soldier's den, the same as any around the world. Serried ranks of double bunks lined the walls, each with a pair of small chests at the foot of the bed. It was clean, but not as clean as a formal Imperial regiment; the occasional pike stood leaning against a wall, and there were several personal items visible on the bunks.

At the far end of the building was a round table. Around it were a group of four men, each holding small pieces of card. On it was a small pile of coins, mostly coppers, the occasional silver, and a few rather more random items- a small clay statuette, a handkerchief and a 'silver' flask. Most of the coins were in front of a weaselly-looking fellow, with a nose too long for his face and a weak attempt at a brown moustache below it.

He looked up at Albrecht, then down at Thorgil as the pair approached. "Well, buon giorno, signores. Here about our poor, deceased Count, eh?" He glanced down at his cards, but Albrecht could see his eyes remained on him.

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts

Edmund walked at a harsh pace, his body language expressing the anger he carefully kept from his voice. It was clear that he knew his way around, and he led the others directly to a double-story building just outside the courtyard of the keep. The lower levels were the same red stone as the older buildings of the town, but the uppers were relatively recent additions, in wood and plaster. Out the front a hedgehog cast in bronze stood on a wooden pole.

A young (his beard was short) dwarf in battered leather armour stood before the entrance to the building, a loaded crossbow held in both hands. He opened his mouth in challenge, but appeared to recognise them.

"You lot are lookin' into the Count's death, aye?" When Kortig confirmed this in his creepy low voice, the dwarf nodded and gestured inside. "Second level, then. Hilsa an' Khardan're upstairs. Good luck."

Entering the barracks, the soldiers among the trio could tell with a glance that the Quillbeasts lacked a certain discipline. The single occupancy bunks were mostly unmade, and several had been personalised in various ways. One had a small shrine to Sigmar set atop the chest at the foot of his bed; another had a lewd painting resting atop the coverlet.

Taking the stairs, they could hear voices- a man and a woman, arguing. The female voice was telling the other to shut up and stay still, while the man was complaining about boredom.

[Bowerbird]

Sir Panteleon says nothing, content to follow along behind Edmund for now, but he cannot disguise his disdain at the untidy quarters and especially the lewd painting.

[goblinpaladin]

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts

Despite an irritated glance from Kortig, both Johan and Panteleon followed the policeman upstairs, emerging into a large open room. Empty wooden frames stood here and there, indicating that this had once been a residential building, which the Quillbeasts had 'renovated' to turn into the barracks. One room remained intact, the door closed.

Two mercenaries stopped and stared at the trio as they emerged into the room. The woman on the right had her hand upraised as if about to strike the other- on seeing Kortig's expression, she lowered it and frowned.

"Who're you lot?" She grunted. She was of medium height, with grey-spotted brown hair cropped short for ease of wearing a helmet. She was not young anymore, but neither did she look hardened by war. Her face was unscarred.

"They're the -what is the word?- investigators, looking into Otto's death, yes?" her opposite number said. He was a tall man with the brown skin and curly hair of an Arabyan from one of the coastal cities. He sported a short beard, which he ran his fingers through, obviously nervous.

Edmund Kortig quietly confirmed this, and gestured downstairs. "Khardan- downstairs with you, while I speak to Hilsa. Panteleon, watch him."

The Knight Errant shook his head and nodded to Hilsa who was now looking between Kortig and Khardan, her expression neutral. "I wish to stay for the interrogation."

Johan didn't say anything, but quietly took Khardan downstairs. The mercenary peered over his shoulder, frowning, and Hilsa shook her head at him. "But--" he started to say, and then he was gone.

Hilsa looked across at Panteleon and Kortig and shrugged. "I know why ya split's up, but we've already told our story t' the cap'ns. I relieved Khardan couple hours before dawn, the usual time, didn't notice anythin' amiss. He din't say nothin' either. Bit more'n an hour, maybe two, after I came onta the ledge, heard a ruckus inside the Count's room, an' folk came and got me, said he'd been found dead."

She paused and scratched the back of her neck. "So whaddya wanna know?"

Kortig leaned forward and narrowed his cold eyes at the mercenary. "Tell me, Hilsa. Do you drink?"

"Uh- well, yeah. I'm a mercenary, not a priest!" She starts to laugh, but quickly swallowed it when Kortig took a step closer to her, his glare intensifying.

"Um. On duty, I guess, huh? Nope. Never have, never will. Uh." She stared at Kortig, her gaze unwavering.

"Well, then how did you not notice the purple stain on the ledge, Hilsa?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Dunno what you're talkin' about. It was pretty dark, though. Dawn was a bit off, an' we don't have much light out there- too good for gobbo archers."

Meanwhile, downstairs, Khardan was visibly nervous, alternating between looking up the staircase and across at Johan. "What's happening?"

[Arq Kujos]

"Quite right, soldier. The door guards were Pitr and Piotr from midnight until dawn. They relieved Wagner and Rudolf. I'll wager most will be in the barracks, although Rudolf might be out wooing some unfortunate girl."

Albrecht smiled and grabbed a chair. "Grab yourself a chair, dwarf. We are all friends here."

"Alright gentlemen, let's talk. I'm one of the lead investigators of our Count's murder. I want to speak with each of you about that night, one at a time. My friend here will be happy to sit in on the game." Albrecht tossed a casual glance over to Thorgil. "Won't you, my friend?"

Albrecht stood up and placed his hand on Pitr's shoulder. "Come with me." Albrecht will lead Pitr over to a small corner of the room or an isolated area, whatever is available.

"Alright. Tell me exactly what you saw that night. Every detail. And relax. You are not on trial."

[-Sentinel-]

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts


"Ah. So you don't drink on duty. A good soldier." Edmund Kortig's voice was cold. "And do you know herr Khardan as the kind of man who would drink on duty?"

The question was probably irrelevant by now, but Edmund wanted someone to make an example of later.


After that:

"How was the Count when you took up your duties? Was he awake? In what kind of mood was he? Did he talk to you?"


After that:

"There were signs of a struggle in the Count's room. How thick is the wall between the ledge and the room? Can you explain how such a struggle could take place so close without you hearing it?"


Finally:

"If you were to venture a guess as to how this murder could happen... no matter how far-fetched or unlikely... what would you say?"

[LCP]

Thorgil & Albrecht

"Aye, with pleasure," chuckled Thorgil, clambering up onto a chair. Holding out a hand to the nearest man who would take it, he grinned.

"Thorgil Thorsson. I don't think I've had the pleasure o' being introduced to you gentlemen."

He glanced down at the game.

"What's the stakes?"

[goblinpaladin]

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts

"Ah. So you don't drink on duty. A good soldier." Edmund Kortig's voice was cold. "And do you know herr Khardan as the kind of man who would drink on duty?"

The question was probably irrelevant by now, but Edmund wanted someone to make an example of later.

Hilsa glanced at the stairs, then back at her questioner. "You'd have t'ask Khardan that."

"How was the Count when you took up your duties? Was he awake? In what kind of mood was he? Did he talk to you?"

The inquisitee shook her head. "Nah, see, I figured he was asleep. I guess he must've been dead already, but."

"There were signs of a struggle in the Count's room. How thick is the wall between the ledge and the room? Can you explain how such a struggle could take place so close without you hearing it?"

"Wall's pretty thick, but anyone on the ledge shoulda heard it, aye. I mean, there's a window there- so if the Count struggled with summ'n, I woulda heard it." She shrugged. "Must've happened afore I got out there, like I said."

"If you were to venture a guess as to how this murder could happen... no matter how far-fetched or unlikely... what would you say?"

Hilsa straightened at that and glanced down the stairs. She leaned in closer to Kortig and whispered, fingers touching her throat. "Magic. Black orc magic, I says, although I hear there's a witch in a village up north. No-one in, or out, and the Count dead from thrashin' about. Musta been magic."

Barracks of the Fruminous Bandersnatches

Pitr shrugged and laughed easily, tossing his cards on the table. "I was going to fold anyhow." His chair scraped back as he followed Albrecht across the room.

The others looked over to Thorgil as the dwarf sat down, smiling and nodding. A huge blonde man reached across with a hairy paw to clasp the smaller man's hand. "Piotr. These other two are Wagner and Rudolf," he said slowly, with a thick Middenlander accent. He scratched at his blonde beard, frowning.

Rudolf, a tallish man with light brown hair and two days of unshaven facial hair looked across at Thorgil and spoke in a lowered voice. "You know who done it yet? The Count, I mean? It's bad business, my man, bad business. The Count was good for this city- he was better than good, he was great." He thumped his fist on the table for emphasis.

On the other side of the room, Albrecht had taken Pitr aside, several bunks away and was speaking to him in a low voice.

"Alright. Tell me exactly what you saw that night. Every detail. And relax. You are not on trial."

Pitr seemed to perk up at that, and smiled. "Well, signor, that is good news, yes? Well, Piotr -that's the blonde giant back there- and I, we are on duty from midnight until dawn, or so. Same as always."

He paused, clearing his throat. "It is good, the two of us. I am quick, and smart, but a bit easily distracted, yes? Piotr is a good man, sturdy sort, keeps me grounded."

"Anyway. When we come on duty, the girl left at the same time, and the Count was fine, alive. Very alive, if you get my meaning, yes? Yes, I think you do. For the rest of the night, nothing, no sounds. At the time when we are due to be relieved of duty, Signor Henri comes, as always, knocks on door and goes in."

He shrugged and sighs. "Count is dead, and the room is a mess, Albrecht. All over the place. We are asked lots of questions by everyone, Captain von Marienburg, that wr-- I mean, Signor d'Aumale, the wizard, everyone." He makes a sign with his fingers as he says the word 'wizard'. Not the sign of the Hammer common to Imperials and Sigmarites, but something else.

"Anyway, that is the story. Piotr will confirm it."

With the others, Rudolf cleared his throat and looked somewhat abashed. "Apologies. I get a bit carried away. Stakes are pretty small, Herr Thorgil. We are but poor soldiers. Half a silver bit, or the same in pfennigs. Would you like to deal?"

OOC: Feel free to make a gamble roll at any time during the conversation. I'd prefer not to roleplay out the card game, especially as I'm already bending period-realism to breaking point by having cards at all. :P

[-Sentinel-]

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts

Hilsa straightened at that and glanced down the stairs. She leaned in closer to Kortig and whispered, fingers touching her throat. "Magic. Black orc magic, I says, although I hear there's a witch in a village up north. No-one in, or out, and the Count dead from thrashin' about. Musta been magic."

Edmund's face remained expressionless, but inwardly he was interested by this idea. While he preferred to consider mundane possibilities, the facts were there: as far as he could see, the only ways a murder of this kind could take place were treachery, magic, or both. If magic was involved, the list of suspects narrowed down considerably.

"Thank you, Hilsa," said the agent coolly. "Go about your business. You are of course forbidden to leave town until this murder is solved."

He was not sure he had the authority to forbid such a thing (the limits of his power were rather hazy, especially now that his employer was dead), but Hilsa most likely did not know either.

[LCP]

Thorgil

“Wi’ pleasure,” said Thorgil, putting in his money and taking the cards. As he dealt them out, he looked around the table.

“Tell a poor outsider more about the Count, then,” he said, conversationally. “Those chiefs up in the castle were all very keen to tell us how he died – not much about how he lived.”

Gamble roll: [roll0]

[goblinpaladin]

Barracks of the Brazen Quillbeasts

"Thank you, Hilsa," said Kortig coolly. "Go about your business. You are of course forbidden to leave town until this murder is solved."

She nodded and turned to the stairs, smiling faintly at Sir Panteleon as she passed. A few moments later, Khardan came up the stairs, looking nervous.

"You would wish to see me next, sir?" he said quietly.

Barracks of the Fruminous Bandersnatches

Rudolf picked up his cards and grumbled ostentatiously under his breath, placing them back on the table. "The Count was a good man, Thorgil. Honest, a decent general- kept the gobbos and orcs off our backs for years. I liked him, me.

Piotr nodded. "Aye, he was a good leader."

Piotr: [roll0]
Rudolf: [roll1]
Wagner: [roll2]

[LCP]

Thorgil

"Sounds like one," said Thorgil, respectfully. "What's the scuttlebutt among you men, then? D'you think anyone knows who did it?"

[goblinpaladin]

Barracks of the Fruminous Bandersnatches

Rudolf paused a moment, frowning at the pot and then his cards. "Hrm..."

He paused a moment, then shrugged. "Well, I'm gonna call- and I think you'll find that I win." He grinned broadly, displaying a fairly decent hand. "So I can tell you that I think that d'Aumale done it. He's a right creepy bastard, he is, and fanatical to boot. I reckon he's been lookin' for a way to off the Count for years now, and just finally 'ad the chance to do it right."

He starts to lean across the table as if to say more, but Piotr speaks up. "But weren't he an' the cap'n in earlier that night? And the Count was fine when Ilsa went home."

Wager, the tallish blonde-haired man who had been silent until now simply nodded. He discarded his cards with a rueful shake of his head, pushing the pot toward Rudolf.

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig



A few moments later, Khardan came up the stairs, looking nervous.

"You would wish to see me next, sir?" he said quietly.

"Yes. You were on duty the night the Count was murdered. Did you by any chance hear anything unusual coming from his room?" Edmund's eyes narrowed. "The room was a shambles, suggesting a violent struggle, so there must have been noise."

[LCP]

Thorgil

"Fanatical?" said Thorgil, raising an eyebrow. "That's a bad mix, milit'ry men and religion. I remember up at Boarback Ridge in Ostland, old General Krugmeister thought Sigmar wouldn't let the Kurgan break his line." The dwarf shook his white-bearded head, his eyes seeming to focus somewhere in the middle distance as he recalled something. "The Massacre of Boarback Ridge. Glad I got shot of that one."

Taking his losses with good humour, he bought in for the next round.

"Who's Ilsa, then? You're saying you saw D'Aumale leave and she saw the Count alive afterwards? I didn't take to him either, but that does look to put him in the clear."

[goblinpaladin]

Kortig

Khardan licked his lips and nodded. "I was on duty, sir, yes. I -uh- I did not hear... anything. At least, not after midnight." He does not elaborate, but his body language all but screams he has more to say.

Thorgil

Rudolf grinned broadly, and nodded across the table to Piotr. "Piotr knows Ilsa better than I, don't ya?" The Reiklander chuckled as he dealt out the next hand.

Piotr frowned. "She's a beautiful woman is what. Like an... an angel like them Myrmidians talk of. I don't know what she wanted with the Count," he looked down, "but I'm sure they was just talking."

Rudolf laughed, but not unkindly.

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig

Edmund threw Khardan a glare that could drill a hole in the wall.

"Ah. Nothing particular to report, then. Is that right? Or is there something I should know?"

Intimidate test, +10% for Menacing.

Target 49: [roll0]

"And I suppose you would never drink on duty, would you?"

[LCP]

Thorgil

The dwarf raised his eyebrows with a mischievous smile.

"She a noble lady, then?"

[goblinpaladin]

Quillbeasts

"Ah. Nothing particular to report, then. Is that right? Or is there something I should know?"

"Uh--"

"And I suppose you would never drink on duty, would you?"

Khardan swallowed hard, and looked just over Kortig's shoulder. "I-It is against my religion, sir." The soldier was sweating, and it did not fail Edmund's notice that the did not actually answer the question.

WP: [roll0]

Bandersnatches

Rudolf and Piotr answered at the same time. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the one said 'aye'; the other 'nope'. The blonde giant glared across the table at the older man and pushed some coins forward, but didn't say anything.

Wagner spoke up, a faint smile on the man's lips. "She's the daughter of an inkeep."

Rudolf took up the thread, nodding to his fellow Reiklander. "Yeah, and brings him some extra income if you follow me." He winks. Piotr pretends not to see it.

[LCP]

Thorgil

"Ah? Oh," said Thorgil, his usual acuity and sense of humour failing him. Humans' fast-paced love lives were possibly the one part of their psychology the dwarf had the most trouble relating to - but in any case, it was probably not a good idea to alienate a man as big as Piotr.

"So whenabouts did she leave that night, then?" The dwarf took a puff on his pipe, cultivating a relaxed, conversational tone. "Sounds like the lass might've been the last person to see the Count alive." He looked discreetly up at Piotr. "If that's the way it is, I'd rather speak wi' her before some of the other hard cases D'Aumale and the others hired." He shook his head. "Trompin' all over the place frightenin' people. No way to set about this kind o' thing."

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig


He's hiding something, that's obvious.

"Against your religion, eh?" murmured Edmund almost inaudibly. "You know, there was something that looked like a wine stain on that ledge, but Hilsa denies drinking on duty. But if you're innocent, you have nothing to fear, eh? Show me your belongings. Now."

[goblinpaladin]

Bandersnatches

"If that's the way it is, I'd rather speak wi' her before some of the other hard cases D'Aumale and the others hired." He shook his head. "Trompin' all over the place frightenin' people. No way to set about this kind o' thing."

Piotr scraped back his chair and stood. "Ja, her father owns the Pickled Herring Inn. I will take you there."

Rudolf waved a hand at the table. "Sit down, big guy. He meant after Albrecht's done interviewing us."

Quillbeasts

Khardan opened his mouth at Kortig, then closed it again. "Y-yes, sir. Downstairs." He led the policeman and the knight downstairs, to one of the neater bunks.

In the chest at the foot of the bed were a prayer mat, rolled up; several crossbow pieces; a few broken quarrels in various states of repair; a wineskin; an incense burner; a money pouch; and several pieces of ceramic artwork.

The crossbowman stood by, fidgeting, as his possessions were inspected. On the other side of the room, Hilsa watched and shook her head sadly.

[LCP]

Thorgil

"Aye, no hurry," said Thorgil, casually. "The Pickled Herring, you say? Whereabouts would that be?"

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig

Edmund took hold of the wine skin and unceremoniously spilled part of its contents on the ground. Then he made a perfunctory search of the crossbowman's possessions, although he doubted he would find anything incriminating. Khardan, he thought, was simply incompetent, not a traitor.

Is it red wine in the wine skin?

Also, I'd like to perform a Search test (Int 40), but I'll leave it to the GM.

[goblinpaladin]

Bandersnatches

"It's down on the docks," Rudolf said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "One o' the bigger pubs 'round here."

Wagner speaks up, quietly. "What else did you need?"

Quillbeasts

Cheap, purplish red wine poured from the wineskin, which was only partially full at best. Khardan turned almost the same colour under his beard, looking away.

Kortig found nothing of much interest amongst the mercenary's possessions- a few more items of an obviously personal nature, mementos of women and old campaigns.

[Bowerbird]

Panteleon

The young knight moves behind Khardan, putting a firm hand on his shoulder, "Am I to understand that this is the same wine found on the ledge?" he says to Kortig.

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig

"If you don't drink red wine on duty, herr Khardan," said Edmund softly, "do you know who might? Because, see, there was a wine stain on that ledge outside the count's room. And we can't tolerate soldiers who don't take their duty seriously."

He looked at the red skin thoughtfully. How could a soldier on duty get so drunk as to be completely oblivious to the fact that the man he was supposed to protect was being murdered close by? And why would he choose that exact night to drink himself into a stupor? Strange coincidence, unless Khardan had a habit of being drunk on duty. So, either his ineptitude was truly spectacular, or...

"Khardan," he said coolly, "I will ask you to drink the rest of the contents of this wine skin."

It was only a hunch, but if it proved true...

[LCP]

Thorgil

"A signed confession from the murderer would be nice," joked Thorgil. "Truth be told, we've only just begun. Any lead's a blessin' round about now."

He looked around the table.

"I hear there's been a bit o' grobi trouble round these parts lately. You lads seen any fighting?"

[goblinpaladin]

Quillbeasts

Khardan looked uncomfortable, shrugging under Panteleon's grip. "Uh. I- I don't drink... remember." He trailed off, looking small and hunched.

Bandersnatches

Piotr nodded, the big man retaking his seat.

Rudolf spoke up, "All o' us have fought. This ain't the Empire, where soldiers can sit around drinking beer and leering at pretty girls all day." He sighed somewhat melodramatically, while Wagner rolled his eyes.

Piotr spoke up, in the nearest his rumbling baritone got to a whisper. "I've heard that the raids from the Toothy Fish've picked up in the past few days."

[-Sentinel-]

Edmund Kortig

"Strange. I take it that this wineskin isn't yours?" hissed Edmund with dripping sarcasm. "Did some rascal come and sneak it into your belongings? Then, why didn't you just say so earlier?"

The agent was growing weary of the man's lack of cooperation. He held up the wineskin impatiently.

"Don't have me pour it down your throat."

Another Intimidate test, if it's okay. +10% for Menacing.

Target 49: [roll0] (...crap)

[-Sentinel-]

Spending a Fortune point to re-roll my previous test:

[roll0]

Meh.

[LCP]

Thorgil

"Raids? Whereabouts would they be?"