(WFRP2) After the Deluge, Act I - "Our Darker Purpose"

[Vikingkingq]

(WFRP2) After the Deluge, Act I - "Our Darker Purpose"

OOC Thread here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=169780).

http://img706.imageshack.us/img706/7530/ca070704.jpg

Background:
The adventure begins in Altdorf, greatest of cities, on Year Blessing, 1st of Nachexen, 2523. The city is swelled to beyond the breaking point by immense throngs of refugees and returning veterans (who can scarcely be distinguished from each other), and the mood is decidedly mixed. The city is split between a quiet relief that Chaos has been turned back and a deep fear and uncertainty about the future. Ostland, Hochland, and Middenland lie in ruins, and the vast throngs of refugees threaten famine, plague, and disorder.

In the midst of this fear and uncertainty, the Emperor Karl Franz summons the Elector Counts Ludendorf of Hochland, Todbringer of Middenland, von Raukov of Ostland, and the Imperial Representatives of Nordland, Talabecland, and Ostermark to the capitol. Officially, they are there merely to celebrate the Year Blessing at the Grand Cathedral of Sigmar, but unofficially, it is known that the Counts are here to discuss the dire situation of the North.

They have been closeted in the Imperial Palace for two weeks now.

http://img714.imageshack.us/img714/6175/cathedrali.png

Nachexen 1, IC 2523- The Festival of Years Blessing:

The Kaiserplatz is crammed to capacity with a teeming mass of humanity, here to see the Great and Good of the Empire give thanks for the New Year. And if there is precious little else to be thankful for, every soul can give thanks that they lived through to see the end of IC 2522.

Here and there are great blotches of color, as the citizens of Altdorf cluster together in their holiday best, draped in sacred parchments listing their grievances against their neighbors that will be ritually burned at the peak of the ceremonies. Studded throughout the crowd – firmly excluded from the groups of Altdorfers - are knots of drab, rag-bedecked people with blank stares and sad little bundles. Vendors hawk their wares loudly, and the smell of roasting meats and spilled beer mixes with the smell of massed humanity.

And here and there, in serried ranks, the veterans of the Storm of Chaos stand with their banners. Too-thin men in patched-up clothes, some with bandages or empty sleeves or standing on crutches, their armor bearing the fresh scars of battle, they wait with a calm assurance. Now and again, groups of Altdorfers will press them with food and drink and cheer, as if trying to touch their glory. They bear it quietly, but distantly. Mostly, they wait.

Seemingly half the Empire waits in the Kaiserplatz in the shadow of the Great Cathedral of Sigmar. They wait for the Great and the Good, who for two weeks have been secluded behind closed doors in the Imperial palace, to reveal what lies ahead.

OOC:

You have a few minutes before the Emperor's party, which you saw promenade out from the Palace to the Cathedral, emerges to address the crowd. Feel free to look around, chat, buy some festive wine or some meat pies, etc.

[-Sentinel-]

Yawning with boredom, Johann took a swig of strong spirits from his flask in an attempt to dull his pounding headache. Using alcohol to kill a hangover had caught him in a vicious circle: he could not remember the last time he had been at the same time sober and feeling well. Had he had any choice in the matter, he would have stayed in bed all day.

But his father would probably be expecting news from the Emperor's declaration. Sigh. Why hadn't he sent one of his other sons? They, at least, were interested in politics.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Slightly off to the side of the mob stood a pretty young girl with wavy brown hair and the look of someone well-kept to her. She was cleaner than most of the lot, her hair brushed and her clothing mostly unstained. She looked over the precession quietly, pulling her coat tight around her against the chilly winter wind.

Her uncertainty at her task she kept well hidden. He was relying on her. She would find a way to prove herself worthy of his trust... she just had no idea how as of yet. Perhaps in time, the answer would show itself.

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf stands behind the mob trying to stay as far from it as possible whilst still remaining in the Kaiserplatz. He has been fortunate that people are either too drunk or focused on there merry-making to notice a lone Norsecan to take their frustrations out on the nearest scape-goat that day.

No rotten produce or being spit upon. Or worse. I just hope it can stay that way for once. I shed my own blood and spilled the blood of my kin for these people.

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya does not fit in. That much is apparent: in a plaza full of shivering Imperials clinging tightly to their coats and scraps, she is pale and grey-eyed, nothing but a light cloak tied at the nape of her neck and a bright blue dress cut in an exaggerated peasant fashion. Her hair is a short bob of ashen white that dips almost to her eyes and ends in a carefully fashioned swirl. When she speaks, it becomes immediately apparent why she does not fit in; her Kislevite accent is thick, even if her Reikspiel is bright and conversational.

"Oh," she says to the startled man she's just bumped into, a man looking rather alarmed by the pink-cheeked Kislevite's attention, "you must come and see our show tomorrow. It shall be my last, but it will be a warm building. For an hour, at least. You look the book-type, yes?"

She is, if nothing else, certainly not shy.

[-Sentinel-]

Johann overheard the strange girl with the white hair and the rather sweet accent (Kislevite, maybe?).

"A show?" he said with interest, leaning closer. "What kind of show?"

Finally, something possibly entertaining in this boring period of the year.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor made his way through the crowd, an imposing figure in the black-and-brass armour of the Blazing Sun Order. He stopped here and there, exchanging quiet words with the battered veterans of the war, empathy and understanding writ on his scarred face. Occasionally, he scanned the sea of faces as if looking for someone, but that may well have been the same paranoid edginess that characterised other veterans of the war.

He came to a rest near a group of battered men gathered under a banner quartered in white and grey, an eagle clutching a hammer prominent on the flag. "The Wissenland 3rd, the 'Stone Eagles,'" he said with a salute. "My unit fought with you at Untergard."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor made his way through the crowd, an imposing figure in the black-and-brass armour of the Blazing Sun Order. He stopped here and there, exchanging quiet words with the battered veterans of the war, empathy and understanding writ on his scarred face. Occasionally, he scanned the sea of faces as if looking for someone, but that may well have been the same paranoid edginess that characterised other veterans of the war.

He came to a rest near a group of battered men gathered under a banner quartered in white and grey, an eagle clutching a hammer prominent on the flag. "The Wissenland 3rd, the 'Stone Eagles,'" he said with a salute. "My unit fought with you at Untergard."


Yikes. That was too big. Image here (http://modelcellar.com/Landsknecht.jpg).

An older man leaning on a halberd nods in greeting. "Is that so?" he replies in a thick Wissenland monotone. "Bastard of a battle, that was. Fighting at night an' all that, and then six desperate days on that bridge." He shakes his head and puffs on his pipe for a second. "Who'd have thought that it could get worse, eh?"

[goblinpaladin]

"We drove them off, though," the young knight said. "A lot of Untergarders got out, that week with the grace of the gods."

[Vikingkingq]

"We drove them off, though," the young knight said. "A lot of Untergarders got out, that week with the grace of the gods."

"Aye. There was that. So did your lot make it to Middenheim?" The old man holds out a tobacco pouch.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor waved away the tobacco with a smile. "I've my own, thanks."

"Middenheim? Yes." The knight rubbed the scar next his eye, shaking his head. "I earned this medal there, after one of the northers smacked me in the face with an axe. Gave back twice as good, mind you, and earned the armour for my woe."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor waved away the tobacco with a smile. "I've my own, thanks."

"Middenheim? Yes." The knight rubbed the scar next his eye, shaking his head. "I earned this medal there, after one of the northers smacked me in the face with an axe. Gave back twice as good, mind you, and earned the armour for my woe."

"Lucky then. Many of our lads weren't." He sighs again. "Good to meet you, lad. Years Blessing to you."

[goblinpaladin]

"You too, soldier. Years Blessing- and to your regiment, and your families."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya turns to the gangly young man, eying his flask for a moment before shaking her head. She smiles, rummages around in the slingbag beneath her cloak, and removes a flask of her own. She takes a quick sip and brightens in expression and color.

"A command performance! It is a play called Sorcerer's Folly. You have heard of it," she said, and it was almost a command. "It is very funny."

[-Sentinel-]

"Oh, a play. I like plays." Johann grinned. "Especially funny ones. But I confess I haven't heard of this one. If it's theater for the masses, I'm certainly interested: the plays I usually see with the nobility are prudish and overdramatic. No courage to try for a little shock value..."

He remembered a bawdy play he had seen six times in Marienburg. He still chuckled at the memory of certain scenes that would have made most of the nobility choke on their wine in outrage. Say what you will about their cleanliness or education, but the lower classes knew how to have fun.

[GryffonDurime]

"Mm. Nobility," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Nobility is over-rated, yes? Yes," she says, but there is a wistfulness in her voice, a certain air of irony and uncertainty as if she was trying just as hard to convince herself. "But the play is funny, and for the little people. It is a morality play about the wizards. I only hope they have not all...how do you say? Abandonned humor. If any of them come, at least."

She looks around, gaze tracing the skyscape of Altdorf.

"So pleasant and cold, but so strange, this city. And there is a distinct odor, yes? It smells like despair. Is this always so, or only seasonal?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Altdorf always stinks," replied Johann. "In Marienburg, at least, we try to keep the city clean." He smirked: "Careful, many wizards take themselves very seriously. Bright Wizards probably won't take your play too well. They're rather temperamental, and they're not the kind of people you want as enemies."

[Destro_Yersul]

Sitting off to one side, scanning the crowd at irregular intervals with dark brown eyes nearly hidden under the brim of a wide hat, Gottschalk mutters something about vigilance. The young apprentice Witch Hunter looks only half the part. The hat was not as tall as the norm for Hunters, and lacked any religious iconography pinned to the hatband. The brown coat he wore was similarly unadorned.

Turning his head to watch the Kislevite and the young noble out of the corner of one eye, he sighed. Wizards. He had seen a few of them around Altdorf, and they made him nervous.

[GryffonDurime]

"Bright Wizards. These are the fiery ones?" she asks, raising her hands over her head and wiggling her fingers comically, like flames. She sighs. "I know only a little of your wizards, but what I have learned from the show...I am not sure how much of it is farce. The playwright seemed quite adamant that it was not exaggeration. But so much the worse; if they do not like it, they need not stay."

[Vikingkingq]

The great brass-bound doors of the Grand Cathedral, marked with the sign of the double-tailed comet and book-ended by massive statues of Sigmarite warriors, swing open with a boom.

A wave of choir boys, swinging censers, sweep ahead of the procession. The crowd roars as the Emperor’s party emerges into the light. Unusually for Year's Blessing, Karl Franz and the three Elector Counts are wearing ceremonial armor rather than festive garb. The Al-Ulric and Grand Theogonist emerge next, followed by a coterie of priests of their respective orders, standing as far apart as humanly possible without falling off the stairs. Volkmar looks pale and unwell, leaning upon a staff; his counterpart looks angry, although it's hard to tell whether that's just his ground state of existence.

A pair of buglers steps forward and attempts a fanfare; one of them has clearly had a bit too much celebratory wine and produces a rather rude note. The crowd guffaws, but by the look of murderous intent in the other bugler’s eyes, it’s not going to be a good year for one musician. The Emperor smiles, and raises a hand for silence.

His Imperial Majesty, Karl Franz:

http://mythicmktg.fileburst.com/war/us/home/images/newsletter/2008_02/karlfranz.jpg


“Good people of Altdorf, I am glad to see you are having a very merry Year’s Blessing. This is a time for celebrations, a time for new beginnings and the end of quarrels. A time to give thanks for the birth of our Empire and its continued unity.“

“And yet I cannot join you in your mirth and good tidings. For there is one old quarrel that I cannot consign to the forgiving flames, one task left unfinished from the year gone by. I speak of the North.”

The crowd stills, and you can almost hear a sigh, a great sussuration of many souls, go up from the refugees.

[Destro_Yersul]

"And so it begins." Gottschalk pushes himself up out of his chair to get a better view of the Emperor. Adjusting his hat, he begins to walk around the edge of the crowd, angling towards Annalise.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor, nodding to the soldiers surrounding him, moved to get a better view of the Emperor and his announcement. He gently nudged passersby aside as he moved, with vague and half-said apologies.

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya falls silent, eyes wide and rapt and focused on the Emperor and his retinue. When he mentions the North, she shivers, not from cold, but from fear.

[Daisuke1133]

While morose at the thought of seeing more of the destruction wrought by the Storm, Vrolf's misanthropic heart swelled with joy at the thought of dealing a further blow to the Chaos-worshiping warbands that still plagued the north with their filth.

"Another opportunity to strike a blow to those so-called gods." He utters the last word as though it were a blight on any language it was spoken in.

My brothers, I will avenge your deaths, caused by this war and the cruel beings who spurred it. Perhaps in doing so I can atone and you can forgive me.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

The emperor himself... even at such a distance, he was an impressive man. Anna watched quietly as he began his speech. Even if his kind attitude towards his lessers was feigned... there were plenty of lords who made not even that effort.

Her gaze caught Gottschalk as he weaved his way past people to her, and she met him part-way, stepping in alongside him... eyes still on the emperor as she spoke.

How fare you m'lord? She said, ever mindful that unwanted ears may have been listening, It makes you feel small... does it not?

[Destro_Yersul]

"That it does. But sometimes it's good to be small. Makes you harder to notice." Smiling wryly, Gottschalk continues his stroll, gaze flickering between the Emperor and the crowd. He's always watching something, but never for very long.

"Especially good in cases where it's best to avoid notice."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Shall I come with, m'lord? A woman should not be unescorted with this many souls about.

She stepped into stride with him, not expecting a refusal, but just far enough back that one is still more than possible.

[Destro_Yersul]

"I think that would be wise. Though I doubt anyone would try something in such a large gathering as this, there's always an exception. Always." Gottschalk picks a slightly raised area of the platz to stop, peering intently at the Emperor from slightly above the sea of heads. "There. At least now we can see properly."

[Vikingkingq]

The crowd stills, and you can almost hear a sigh go up from the refugees. "While we parade ourselves in our finery, our brothers and sisters in Middenland, Hochland, and Ostland make a dismal procession in rags through the winter snows. Look around you, and you can see but the vanguard of our dispossessed countrymen." The Altdorfers in the crowd stir uncomfortably.

"The Storm may have passed, the so-called Everchosen may have been defeated, yet still the North is overrun by Norscan invaders! In their thousands, they burn and pillage and sate themselves on defenseless peasants – women and children, the old folk, unarmed civilians all!" People begin to murmur - "Shame!" "Death to the Norscans!"

His purple cloak wrapped around one arm, the Emperor warms to his speech, a master craftsman at his work. His voice rises in volume, echoing off the walls of the Palace itself. "In their thousands, they lay waste to farmland desperately needed to stave off famine, for they hope to do with empty granaries what they could not do with armies! They drive the people before them like sheep before the wolf –"his other arm sweeps through the air and you can almost see the peasants in flight and the warriors in pursuit.“-and the roads become impassible, the fields lay fallow, the cities overburdened with the desperate and the destitute!" And now the murmuring builds to a great shout, Altdorfers' fear of famine and refugees uniting with refugees' hatred of their tormentors.

"AND WE DO NOTHING!" Karl Franz roars. Silence reigns once more. "The forces of the Dark Powers are not two hundred miles away, and we think to ourselves we are safe. I say to you – as long as one Noscan foot taints Imperial soil, we are not safe!" The crowd responds with a vengeance, venting their anger at the Norscans.


Roll a WP check at Challenging (+10) difficulty.

[Daisuke1133]

And that would be my cue to leave, before these fools start grabbing torches and pitchforks.

Upon hearing the Emperor's proclamations and hate-mongering Vrolf turns and leaves, the sound of his movements being drowned out by the shouts of the angry mob, and heads back to the inn he was staying at.

[-Sentinel-]

Johann had to suppress another yawn. If the peasants chose to live up north in the countryside, far from the Emperor's armies, then it was their own damn problem if they got attacked by Norsemen. What was expected of him? That he takes up a sword and goes to war to defend people he had never met and did not even pay their taxes to him?


WP 29:[roll0]

[Vikingkingq]

Johann had to suppress another yawn. If the peasants chose to live up north in the countryside, far from the Emperor's armies, then it was their own damn problem if they got attacked by Norsemen. What was expected of him? That he takes up a sword and goes to war to defend people he had never met and did not even pay their taxes to him?

WP 29:[roll0]

Despite his natural lethargy and cynicism, something in the Emperor's words stirs in the young man - perhaps remembering that Middenland isn't too far away from his own home.

[Destro_Yersul]

"He's a good speaker," Gottschalk says, watching the Emperor. "Knows how to get what he wants out of people. Got everyone here howling for the blood of the northmen."

"And a good job, too," he notes after a moment. "Things like this are important. People don't often recognize such menaces until it's too late."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor -almost despite himself- raises a fist and cries "yea!'" with the rest of the crowd.

[Vikingkingq]

"And so, on this day, a new beginning, a new enterprise. Hear this proclamation-" he says, spreading his arms as if to encompass the crowd within his grasp. "Let it be known that, I, Karl Franz the First, Emperor of the Twelve Tribes, Grand Prince of Altdorf, Elector Count of Reikland, and Protector of the Faith, do hereby declare war upon all invaders, heretics, and brigands illegally occupying the sovereign provinces of Middenland, Hochland, and Ostland!" A great cry goes up from the massed soldiery.

"Further – let it be known that any man who takes up the sword to scour the North of Chaos shall be rewarded thusly at the end of a year’s service: to every common soldier, a good farm of forty acres. To every non-commissioned officer, an estate of eighty acres and the title of burgher. To every Lieutenant and Captain, the title and lands of a Landgraf or Pfalzgraf respectively! And to every General, a Barony!" And at this, the entire square erupts in the strangest ululation you have ever heard in your lives. Behind the Emperor, the three Elector Counts look unhappy but resigned. Volkmar and the Sigmarites smile, and the Al-Ulric and his crowd glower.


And there's the first shoe...
Oh, and if you're curious, roll Common Knowledge (Empire)...

[-Sentinel-]

Johann thought about writing to one of his ambitious brothers, Erich, who had just formed a mercenary company and was dreaming of establishing his country in the Border Princes. Perhaps he'd be interested to test his forces against the invaders and get his hands on some Imperial land.

The young nobleman wished good luck to all brave soldiers who would risk their lives for the Empire. He, though, had no time for such foolishness.


Common Knowledge (the Empire) 37: [roll0]

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk raises his eyebrows, appearing, for a moment, clearly impressed. "Well done, your majesty," he mutters mostly to himself. To Annalise, he adds "Looks like he's not quite done, though."

The Witch Hunter was going to have his work cut out for him.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor's eyes lit up and he gave a shout with the rest of the crowd- but at the back of his mind, the young nobleman's mind whirred sharply. The Eagle of the North wanted to increase the Lady's influence in the Empire- what better way than Knights of the Order of the Blazing Sun to return to their roots, and join this crusade?

Any land gained by -say, him, Sir Marquering- could be donated to the Order, or Myrmidia's Temple and help gain power and influence in the otherwise Ulrican north. This was a boon from the gods.

Probably not Ulric, though, from the expression on the Ar-Ulric's face.

[GryffonDurime]

If the nobleman at her side had expected anything other than a sudden burst of Kislevite patriotism, he would be sorely surprised--Liliya raises a fist and shouts. "For Kislev and in defiance of the rot of Chaos! Wipe the ice of the North clean of their illness!"

If anyone cared to look, they might see the glimmer in the depths of Liliya's reflection, some deep longing in her heart. Even as she stands here, in Altdorf, thinking herself free from the clutch of the North, the power of the Emperor's rhetoric stirs in her an unvarnished optimism.

[Vikingkingq]

The Emperor steps back as the crowd howls, and motions to the Grand Theogonist. Surprisingly, the Grand Theogonist does not move, but motions to one of his subordinates instead. A broad shouldered bull of a man, clad in conspicuously simple robes and battered plate armor, steps forward and throws his hands up.


http://wjrf.bimondiens.com/images/personnages/inquisiteur.gif

In a rolling bass that crushes the noise of the ground beneath it, the warrior priest calls out - "Brothers and Sisters in Sigmar, let us pray." Slowly, like a forest bowing in the face of a gale, the crowd dips to its knees. The refugee masses go further, prostrating themselves full-length upon the cobbles. He lifts a massive two-handed warhammer in one hand and extends it in benediction over the crowd.

"My devotion is my shield. My faith is my hammer. The light of Sigmar shines through me and before me no darkness can prevail, for He is the rock upon which the unclean are broken, He is the tempest that washeth the land clean. Amen." The sound of a crowd a hundred thousand strong rumbles across the square.

The priest unrolls a gilded scroll and his voice grows even louder. "Brothers and Sisters in Sigmar, hear the words of the Grand Theogonist! Your brethren who live in the North are in urgent need of your help, and you must hasten to give it. All ye people of whatever rank, foot-soldiers and knights, poor and rich, carry aid promptly to those citizens of the Empire and destroy that vile race from the lands of our friends."

"I say this to all those who are present - take up the Hammer and carry it forward! All who die by the way, or in battle against the heretic, shall have immediate remission of sins. This I grant them through the power vested in me by Sigmar. SIGMAR LO VOLTE!” The crowd erupts again in pious fervor, the refugees especially looking religiously inspired beyond the bounds of sanity.

The Al-Ulric looks for a moment like he is going to strangle the preacher, but only snarls at Volkmar and stalks off through the crowd. Todbringer frowns but says nothing. The other Elector Counts look nonplussed, and Karl Franz looks subtly pleased.

[goblinpaladin]

Clasping his hands before him, Astor bowed his head- but did not kneel. His devotion was to Myrmidia, sworn to Her service. Sigmar was the Unifier and the Protector, and the worthy God of the Empire, but he knelt only before the Lady of Civilisation.

This probably did not make him many friends in the surrounding crowd.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Anna bowed her head, murmuring to herself one of the many, many prayers to Sigmar that the house mother had drilled into her head during her brief time at the orphanage. She knew the prayer by route, and kept quiet the fact that her heart was not into it in the least.

This would not end well... but she found it hard to believe that any of the lords would really rise against the emperor. He was the emperor! Still... men did foolish things some time. How she would prevent it, she had nary a clue. Instead, once the prayer was done, she looked to Gottschalk.

"Have you a way to get within that circle... or is that my task?

[Vikingkingq]

It is only now that you realize that the rows of tents lining the platz include more than a few recruiting tents, positioned prominently right in front of the exits to the square – banners proclaiming “The Graf’s First of Foot” and “The Duke of Carroberg’s Heavy Infantry” and the like are winched into place with a suspiciously smooth coordination. Like a flock of pigeons wheeling in unison, the crowd surges in all directions to sign up. Priests spread out through the crowd carrying handfuls of swatches of cloth worked into crude hammers, which soon blossom throughout the crowd.


http://img153.imageshack.us/img153/6739/062006ca05.jpg

Nearest you is a white tent with the Imperial Eagle and a pennant of a white arrow. A wooden table, pinched from a nearby alehouse, is set out front, stacked with ledger books and people joining the holy cause. You find yourself drawn towards the table by the tidal force of the crowd.

Next to the beleaguered looking clark manning the desk, a red-bearded soldier in the unmistakable uniform and armor of the Empire’s Greatswords banters with the crowd, towering over them at seven feet. Leaning on a massive zweihander, he lets out a deep, dirty laugh and slaps a new recruit on the back, sending him cannoning into the tavern behind the tent. “Come one, come all! Join up with the White Arrows – a proper professional regiment, with nae inbred baron’s bastard to lead ye to yer death and take your rightful share of land! A regiment where men rise and fall on merit! We take all volunteers! And double shares of land for the next ten recruits, or I’m nae Jahn Hawkswood!”


http://img245.imageshack.us/img245/3923/thegreatswordbysunamori.jpg

“Hello there,” he greets you with a bone-crunching handshake and a mad twinkle in his eyes. “Any prior military experience? Any skills at all? Nae to worry, we’ll make a proper soldier out of anybody!”

[Vikingkingq]

Volf:

Later that evening, you find yourself ensconced in the back corner of a tavern, trying desperately to not look Norscan. Luckily, the crowd here seem too busy getting drunk to start a fight with a well-armed gentlemen like yourself. You notice with some amusement a number of patrons trying to pay for their drinks with IOUs drawn on hypothetical plots of Northern land.

As you stare down at the dregs of your drink, you feel the bench you're sitting on creak alarmingly. You turn to your left to see one of the first southlanders bigger than you than you've ever seen, a red-bearded gent with a flat cap exploding with plumes, riotously colored slashed sleeves, and full plate armor.

"Evening, lad. I can see from yer gear that yuir a proper bloody soldier. Not like this shower of piss. Would ye like a pint?"


http://img245.imageshack.us/img245/3923/thegreatswordbysunamori.jpg

On your other side, a slighter man covered with daggers sits down, offering a full stein. "I've got a business proposition for a professional soldier," the red-bearded man continues.


http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/839/newpicturen.png

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf glances toward the dagger-festooned man and back to the bearded fellow and says, desperately trying to hide his accent,"A drink and a business proposition eh? I'd never say no to either."

After giving the stein a cursory sniff, he decides it seems safe enough and takes a swig to calm his nerves. "You're right in thinking I'm a professional. Fought for the Empire in the last war... Not that that fact convinces these fools that I'm not going to pillage their homes, rape their daughters, or burn their village. What did you have in mind? because anything is better than waiting on one of them to work up the courage to stick a knife in me." He gestures to the rest of the patrons around him.

[Vikingkingq]

Volf glances toward the dagger-festooned man and back to the bearded fellow and says, desperately trying to hide his accent,"A drink and a business proposition eh? I'd never say no to either."

After giving the stein a cursory sniff, he decides it seems safe enough and takes a swig to calm his nerves. "You're right in thinking I'm a professional. Fought for the Empire in the last war... Not that that fact convinces these fools that I'm not going to burn their homes, rape their daughters, or burn their village. What did you have in mind? because anything is better than waiting on one of them to work up the courage to stick a knife in me." He jesters to the rest of the patrons around him.

Vrolf:

"That's good. Ye might not have heard that the Emperor has declared war on the remnants of Archaon-Lord-of-the-Tea-Time's bunch up North and offered a bounty of free land, but I just told ye. As ye can imagine, recruitment's up."

"So me and my merry bunch of professional military men, like Friedrich here - lovely knives aren't they? - need veterans to put some backbone into the flood of green-grass new recruits so that they dinnae fall apart when some Chaos marauder tries to shove an axe in their face."

"So there's a sergeant's stripes in it for ye - and thanks to His Imperial Majesty, there's eighty acres of land and a nice wee title to sweeten the deal. And me being the professional gentlemen at arms that I am, I don't give Ulric's hairy ballocks where ye were born if ye can take orders and fight like a mad devil."

"Well? Drink up, lad! Today's yer bloody lucky day!"

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf relaxes at the bearded man's tolerance, "That is good to hear. I was present for the beginning of the Emperor's speech, but left for obvious reasons when he started whipping up the crowd. And as for following orders and fighting, these are things I can do and do well. You have yourself a recruit."

[Destro_Yersul]

"I may have a way, but first we'll have to get in amongst the army. That shouldn't be too hard. I don't think I'll be doing it as a soldier, though. Frontline combat isn't my particular cup of tea."

Gottschalk stays watching the crowd for a while, and then turns and heads towards the temple of Sigmar. There ought to be a priest he can talk to somewhere...

[GryffonDurime]

Still flush with excitement, Liliya turns to Johann. "Isn't this magnificent? Isn't it inspiring? Do you care at all?" she asks, and each time her questions take on more and more of the quality of a knife, piercing faster and sharper. She's gesticulating wildly, her eyes wide and impassioned.

[-Sentinel-]

"Um. Honestly, war is not my area of expertise." The truth was, Johann had no area of expertise, or at any rate nothing he could make a career out of. "I could make a donation to support the war effort, but I don't see myself riding to battle."


OOC: My motive to join the army will come later today. I already got a PM from Viking about it.

[GryffonDurime]

She shakes her head. "So much the worse, I suppose. I have seen too many people ensnared," she says, and her voice cracks and breaks like a frozen bough. "Too many people ensnared by Chaos. I look around here, and I see people living on the graciousness of my own kin. Do you know," she asks, her voice thin and frosty, "how long we have stood there, on the edge of darkness? How long we have lived by sword and ice? But perhaps nobles of the Empire cannot know this. Good day, sir."

She turns and walks away, eyes scanning the horizon of tents. Liliya is not a fighter, not truly, but she has much to offer.

[Vikingkingq]

Vrolf relaxes at the bearded man's tolerance, "That is good to hear. I was present for the beginning of the Emperor's speech, but left for obvious reasons when he started whipping up the crowd. And as for following orders and fighting, these are things I can do and do well. You have yourself a recruit."

Vrolf:

"Good then. Sign here, here, and here - no time tae read, can ye read? - drink up lad!"

[Vikingkingq]

"I may have a way, but first we'll have to get in amongst the army. That shouldn't be too hard. I don't think I'll be doing it as a soldier, though. Frontline combat isn't my particular cup of tea."

Gottschalk stays watching the crowd for a while, and then turns and heads towards the temple of Sigmar. There ought to be a priest he can talk to somewhere...

There are many priests wandering throughout the crowd, and a number of priests standing around the Cathedral steps.

OOC:

Do you have a specific priest in mind, or will any do?

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya finally makes her way to the tent of the White Arrows, biting down softly on her lip. She jostles past the line of eager men and greets the barker with a small gesture, a lowering of the head.

"I am...I am afraid I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, yes? Yes," she says nodding, "I am no soldier, but I do wish to help."

[Vikingkingq]

Liliya finally makes her way to the tent of the White Arrows, biting down softly on her lip. She jostles past the line of eager men and greets the barker with a small gesture, a lowering of the head.

"I am...I am afraid I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, yes? Yes," she says nodding, "I am no soldier, but I do wish to help."

Liliya:

"We could always use help, devoushka," the man responds in fluid, if accented, Kislev. "Do you have any skills that might be of service?"

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya bites down just a bit harder, then nods. She leans nearer to the man and speaks quietly and intently.

"I am of the North. I have survived the harshness of its winters. I have seen a daemon. The nearer we march to Kislev, the more relevant my experiences may become. And...and I am a maiden," she says, her voice warbling at the admission. "One of the Ice Maidens of Kislev."

[Vikingkingq]

Liliya bites down just a bit harder, then nods. She leans nearer to the man and speaks quietly and intently.

"I am of the North. I have survived the harshness of its winters. I have seen a daemon. The nearer we march to Kislev, the more relevant my experiences may become. And...and I am a maiden," she says, her voice warbling at the admission. "One of the Ice Maidens of Kislev."

Lililya:

The man smiles, but surprisingly refrains from any loud outbursts. "Sigmar be praised. Maiden, we go to fight a winter campaign in the North, against an enemy who is steeped in magicks. I'd rather have you then a company of hussars.

Sign your name in as a priestess. They'll not know the difference."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya smiles and waits her turn at the register, taking the ledgerman's hand politely when it comes at last. She shakes it heartily and then lets go.

"Liliya Pitrovna Belanov. Priestess of Kislev," she says, lowering her head respectfully.

[Vikingkingq]

Liliya:

"Very good, priestess. Sign here and here. Wages are-" the bearded man gives the clark a look, "eighty shillings a month for a lady such as yourself. Err..."

Hawkswood leans over. "We'll be setting out in a few days. For tonight, I believe the bartender back there-" he motions to the tavern in front of which the White Arrow's tent is pitched. "has some vodka behind the bar. Enjoy yourself tonight, for the nights to come will be not be easy."

[GryffonDurime]

"Then those uneasy nights shall remind me of home," Liliya says, smiling as she signs. "We have no easy nights in Kislev."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

As the milling crowds mobbed to do the Emperor's will, Anna was at a loss. Before it had ever only been one target... one place. Going off with the army headed to fight the norse? She was beginning to get a dark worry that Vaughn was trying to get rid of her. She pushed it out of her mind.

Excuse me ser... I am looking for Jahn Hawkwood? She asked the first man she could drawn near who seemed to be involved in organizing this all, He is a mercenary with the forces here... though I know not where. Can you help me?

Her voice was sweet and feigned innocence and naivety. Like a simple, overwhelmed local girl who was lost and confused. At least part of it was true, even.

[Daisuke1133]

"Of course I can read. You don't make a good living as a mercenary if you let merchants and nobles weasel their way out of a verbal agreement. You should always get a contract in writing," Vrolf says as he finishes signing the paper. "Done. Vrolf Hrilfson, ready for duty."

[-Sentinel-]

A harried-looking valet weaved through the crowd, put a sealed letter in Johann's hands, bowed stiffly and disappeared. Puzzled, the young nobleman broke the seal (it was the Marienburger ambassador's own seal) and read the letter. His face darkened.

"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed aloud. "He wants me to go north? But I know nothing of warfare!"

Oh gods, he thought. I should run away. To Nuln, maybe. Or even Bretonnia or Tilea. But I have no status and no title over there... I'd become a commoner, and would have to work for a living.

All his efforts to avoid responsibility had come to nothing: now he was expected to go to war, and possibly even do physical labor and risk his life. What had he done to deserve this?

All right, he thought with a resigned sigh, I'll go. I'll try to be one of those armchair officers. Mustn't be too bad.



OOC: I hope I'm not getting ahead of the GM here.

[Vikingkingq]

"Of course I can read. You don't make a good living as a mercenary if you let merchants and nobles weasel their way out of a verbal agreement. You should always get a contract in writing," Vrolf says as he finishes signing the paper. "Done. Vrolf Hrilfson, ready for duty."

"Good lad! See ye in the morning!"

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya settled into the tavern, taking a seat beside the fire. It had been hard enough to see the troupe for what would be the last time. Now, instead of her peasant costume, she wore the smoother otter-skin cloak of a proud noble, small sapphires in the silver band that jangled around her neck. She ordered kvas and drank it in one smooth motion, just as her mother had taught her. The flux of alcohol rushed through her and, gazing out at the bright tongues of flame, she wondered if she has strength enough to do what she has now committed to do. She ran from Kislev, but for what reason? She'd never thought too much on it. The weight of an Ice Maiden's burden was not inconsiderable, and after seeing...but no, it had never been that, not really. She wasn't afraid of work, or the legacy of the Khan-Queen that she carried in her spirit.

She was worried for her heart.

Here, though, in the comparable warmth of an Imperial winter, she ordered a second glass of kvas, drank it down, and smiled.

[Vikingkingq]

OOC:[/B] I hope I'm not getting ahead of the GM here.

OOC:

Nah, that works out fine. Needed to push events back a day anyway because I realized I was going too fast, so this just brings you up to speed.

[-Sentinel-]

Morosely, Johann went in search of one of the highest-ranking recruiting officers here.

"Excuse me, sir," he said. "I'm an envoy from the House of Reinhard, Marienburg..." He showed him the wine-stained document that proved it. "I've been ordered by the ambassador himself to serve in the Imperial army. So, do all nobles get a regiment under their command, or what?"

[Destro_Yersul]

"Excuse me," Gottschalk said, approaching one of the priests. "I have need of Sigmar's blessing."

OOC:
Any priest will do, but if there's one Gottschalk knows to be more talkative, that would be great.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Shallya help me, my contact is the ogre. Anna thought to herself as she picked her way through the crowd. I hope he's not as scary as he looks.

Anna slipped up to the massive man, hiding her nervousness as best she could.

Good day, Ser Hawkwood. She said, giving a respectful bow of her head, May we speak? I was told to contact you by a friend. Do you know of what I speak?

Better to test his tact than to give up everything at once, with so many ears about.

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise

Shallya help me, my contact is the ogre. Anna thought to herself as she picked her way through the crowd. I hope he's not as scary as he looks.

Anna slipped up to the massive man, hiding her nervousness as best she could.

Good day, Ser Hawkwood. She said, giving a respectful bow of her head, May we speak? I was told to contact you by a friend. Do you know of what I speak?

Better to test his tact than to give up everything at once, with so many ears about.

Anna:

"Well, if it isn't me own niece! I haven't seen ye since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. How's yuir mother doing?" He says in his normal booming voice, while giving Anna a quick nod. Putting an arm about her shoulder, he leads her into the tent, which is empty apart from a camp table strewn with maps and other paperwork, a huge number of chests and crates, some chairs, and a plain cot tucked into one corner.

Taking a seat, he pours two goblets of wine, and offers one to you. "So, yer the lass I was told to bring with me; easier to explain bringing a relative along than some complete stranger. You sure you're up to this?" he says in a quiet, controlled tone.

[Vikingkingq]

"Excuse me," Gottschalk said, approaching one of the priests. "I have need of Sigmar's blessing."

OOC:
Any priest will do, but if there's one Gottschalk knows to be more talkative, that would be great.

Gottschalk:

http://www.freakygaming.com/gallery/game_art/warhammer:_mark_of_chaos/warrior_priest.jpg
An intense, ascetic-looking priest pauses in his haranguing of the crowd and turns to reply. He reaches out with a hand and traces the sign of the hammer on your forehead with fingers moistened in a jug of holy water at his belt. "Remember that He is the hammer, and we are the metal. We are always shaped to His will. Amen."

"And how can I help a fellow servant of the Church," he asks, glancing at your garments.

[Vikingkingq]

Morosely, Johann went in search of one of the highest-ranking recruiting officers here.

"Excuse me, sir," he said. "I'm an envoy from the House of Reinhard, Marienburg..." He showed him the wine-stained document that proved it. "I've been ordered by the ambassador himself to serve in the Imperial army. So, do all nobles get a regiment under their command, or what?"

Johann:

The tall, red-beared soldier gives you a look, then smiles broadly. "Of course, m'lord! The finest regiment you've ever clapped eyes on. Just sign yer name here and here and we'll have you kitted up for the gold braid and froggings faster than a gnat's blink."

"In the meantime, m'lord, why not go inside and tell the landlord that you'll have a drink of the inn's finest, and to put it on Jahn Hawkswood's tab?" He continues, steering the young man towards the tavern's front door.

[-Sentinel-]

Johann tried to smile as he signed the document.

"Thank you, sir. Um... have you heard of a Mr Gausser? I think I'm supposed to serve under him."

Sadly, the ambassador's letter had been rather vague.

[Vikingkingq]

Johann tried to smile as he signed the document.

"Thank you, sir. Um... have you heard of a Mr Gausser? I think I'm supposed to serve under him."

Sadly, the ambassador's letter had been rather vague.


"Oh yes of course, we'll be seeing a lot of Gausser. Now go and have yerself a drink on Herr Hawkswood's tab!"

[-Sentinel-]

"Thanks," said Johann with a rather brittle smile.

He walked over to the tavern and ordered a large tankard of fine brown ale. He was going to need it...

[goblinpaladin]

Astor accepted the man's handshake with a half-smile. "Merit, eh? Sounds like a decent sort of thing to do. How are you for officers, Hawkwood?" He glanced at the man's gear and nodded. "Greatswords, are you?"

[Vikingkingq]

Astor accepted the man's handshake with a half-smile. "Merit, eh? Sounds like a decent sort of thing to do. How are you for officers, Hawkwood?" He glanced at the man's gear and nodded. "Greatswords, are you?"

Astor:

Smiling, the big man leans into the handshake to speak into your ear. "Honestly, we need a fair few officers," Hawkswood replies in a soft voice. "Took a pasting at the Fauschlag causeway, and the casualty rates for junior officers are never good in a melee like that. We're building up from under half-strength, and I need veterans to put some spine into the recruits. I won't truck with inbred idiots, partly because I'm as common as muck meself, but mostly because I cannae afford to."

"Aye, we've got some Greatswords. We're a pike an' shot foot regiment in the main - halberd and shot, actually - and a fair few skirmishers. The 'swords are in our "Fletchers" Company, my personal command."

"You being a Burning Sun, I'm guessing you've actually trained to command foot, aye? I'm a Sigmarite man meself, but I appreciate professionalism when I finds it."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor and Hawkswood

"Newly knighted- Astor Marchering." He smiled. "Made it to Middenheim, where I earned my spurs and the badge on my temple." He released Hawkwood's hand and nodded to him firmly.

"My order puts a lot of stock into infantry, aye- and shot, you say? Good to hear. A well-equipped regiment is a living regiment, if you follow me."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya stands, tilting her head as she watches Johann, the young noble from before, collapse. She approaches cautiously, jostles the man by the shoulders. She cans the room, looking for any assistance, a twinge of anxiety plain upon her face.

"He has barely begun to drink. Surely he can not be out so easily?" she asks, not so much to anyone as to the tavern itself.

[Vikingkingq]

Liliya stands, tilting her head as she watches Johann, the young noble from before, collapse. She approaches cautiously, jostles the man by the shoulders. She cans the room, looking for any assistance, a twinge of anxiety plain upon her face.

"He has barely begun to drink. Surely he can not be out so easily?" she asks, not so much to anyone as to the tavern itself.

The crowd sniggers, and the barman winks. "Don't worry lass, Hawkswood will see he's taken care of."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Anna felt distinctly uncomfortable beside the huge man... at her meager height of four feet and seven inches, he TOWERED over her. Still, she kept herself composed, quashing her discomfort at being alone with him.

Bringing your niece to war? I suppose no one will question a man like you. She said, hiding her skepticism at the ploy, I know what I am to do, but not how. Getting close to any of the lords will be difficult, and two of them are church affiliates. They will not be as easy to persuade. But... I will not falter in this, I swear it. Have you some plan of your own? I was told you would be assisting me.

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise

Anna felt distinctly uncomfortable beside the huge man... at her meager height of four feet and seven inches, he TOWERED over her. Still, she kept herself composed, quashing her discomfort at being alone with him.

Bringing your niece to war? I suppose no one will question a man like you. She said, hiding her skepticism at the ploy, I know what I am to do, but not how. Getting close to any of the lords will be difficult, and two of them are church affiliates. They will not be as easy to persuade. But... I will not falter in this, I swear it. Have you some plan of your own? I was told you would be assisting me.

Anna:

"Well, as a General, I'm inside the command tent with the nobs - so there's yer in there. As for assistance, well, I've got or will have soon 2,250 rankers, and another 131 officers - if you and yuir associate, who I hope will be turning up soon, need muscle, you've got it. I imagine the Graf, that snake Buildhoven, and the idiot Gausser will be sending lots of bloody paper my way - feel free to look it over."

"That's about it. Now, do ye have winter clothes? Traveling gear? A horse?"

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

"All but the horse. She'll say, pondering, "Perhaps if we can convince all of them that someone is on to any subversive actions they try, and that they will be punished or exposed accordingly that will be enough. I suppose we won't know until we get started and they get uppity.

Anna looked around the tent with a sudden worry snaking into her chest.

Will I be staying here with you then.... uncle? She said calmly... Her voice betraying none of the hesitance that she felt.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk:
An intense, ascetic-looking priest pauses in his haranguing of the crowd and turns to reply. He reaches out with a hand and traces the sign of the hammer on your forehead with fingers moistened in a jug of holy water at his belt. "Remember that He is the hammer, and we are the metal. We are always shaped to His will. Amen."

"And how can I help a fellow servant of the Church," he asks, glancing at your garments.


Gottschalk
"The blessing will suffice," says Gottschalk. "I am to accompany our army, and ensure that none try to undermine our efforts. The threat of the Enemy is ever present, and we must be always vigilant."

He smiles at the priest. "Sigmar willing, there will be heretics aplenty for me to root out and bring to holy justice." Not normally quite so pious, Gottschalk had nothing against playing it up a bit.

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise

"All but the horse. She'll say, pondering, "Perhaps if we can convince all of them that someone is on to any subversive actions they try, and that they will be punished or exposed accordingly that will be enough. I suppose we won't know until we get started and they get uppity.

Anna looked around the tent with a sudden worry snaking into her chest.

Will I be staying here with you then.... uncle? She said calmly... Her voice betraying none of the hesitance that she felt.

Anna:

Jahn snorts."Aye, well good luck with keeping them fighting. You'll see for yourself how they act when you get them in a room."

At Anna's second comment, Hawkswood takes a careful swallow of his wine. "Yer a bonny lass, but I'd be a very stupid man to take a woman I knew to be a spy into me bed. I'll have the quartermaster requisition ye a horse an' a tent."

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk
"The blessing will suffice," says Gottschalk. "I am to accompany our army, and ensure that none try to undermine our efforts. The threat of the Enemy is ever present, and we must be always vigilant."

He smiles at the priest. "Sigmar willing, there will be heretics aplenty for me to root out and bring to holy justice." Not normally quite so pious, Gottschalk had nothing against playing it up a bit.

Gottschalk:

"Well then, good hunting." The priest presses something into your hands and moves on through the crowd. Opening your hand, you see a cloth hammer and a brass medal of the Twin-Tailed Comet.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor and Hawkswood

"Newly knighted- Astor Marchering." He smiled. "Made it to Middenheim, where I earned my spurs and the badge on my temple." He released Hawkwood's hand and nodded to him firmly.

"My order puts a lot of stock into infantry, aye- and shot, you say? Good to hear. A well-equipped regiment is a living regiment, if you follow me."

Astor:

"My old commander once said that a bad general talks of nothing but tactics, a good general nothing but strategy, and a great general nothing but logistics."

"Well, then, Ser Astor Marchering. You are now Brevet Captain of the 1st Company of the "Roosters," our Haldberdiers - you answer to Commander D'Innocenzi, then to me or me aide de camp Captain Russ. The 1st took the worst casualties of our front-line battalions, so you'll have the most green men. First thing you need is to replace your junior officers and non-coms - Lieutenant Konig is the only one left out of five, and Dustermann and Henroth are the only sergeants who made it back."

After you sign the recruitment scroll, Hawkswood pushes a sheaf of paperwork into your hands. "I'll expect to see you at six bells for general staff, and I'll be reviewing your company at noon. Show me what ye can do, and ye'll be on your way to a permanent commission."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Anna came very close to a smile at that. If he thought she was dangerous, this could all stay professional. She filed that information away for later use.

Fair enough. Thank you. She said, her tone slightly more upbeat, So all we need do from here is keep a handful of lords from destroying this expedition. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk:

"Well then, good hunting." The priest presses something into your hands and moves on through the crowd. Opening your hand, you see a cloth hammer and a brass medal of the Twin-Tailed Comet.


Gottschalk
"Sigmar be with you." Stepping back, his cover now firmly established, Gottschalk went looking for Annalise. He seemed to recall hearing someone say Jahn Hawkswood, and he was betting he'd find both in the same place.

[GryffonDurime]

"Mmph," Liliya mumbles, setting her arms across her chest as if to ward herself. She speaks aloud still, tilting her head to the side. "I am not sure who to be more cross at. The coward for needing a jostling or the recruiter for being bully enough to provide one."

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise

Anna came very close to a smile at that. If he thought she was dangerous, this could all stay professional. She filed that information away for later use.

Fair enough. Thank you. She said, her tone slightly more upbeat, So all we need do from here is keep a handful of lords from destroying this expedition. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?


Gottschalk
"Sigmar be with you." Stepping back, his cover now firmly established, Gottschalk went looking for Annalise. He seemed to recall hearing someone say Jahn Hawkswood, and he was betting he'd find both in the same place.

Anna and Gottschalk:

At that moment, the clark enters the room, escorting in the young Witch Hunter. "Here's the recruit that Lord Montflathers recommended, sir," he says in a loud, but bored drawl, before withdrawing back to the table outside.

"At last!" Hawkswood rises to his full seven feet, plumes brushing the tent ceiling. "You've taken yuir sweet time, me lad. Don't do that again - you may work for our mutual friend, but when yer not off saving the Empire, you take my shilling and work to my satisfaction. Now then, if'n ye can use that sword, I'll slot ye in as a lieutenant in the Halberdiers. Take this-" he chucks what turns out to be a volume on infantry drill and tactics at Gottschalk-"and read it. Then do what yer captain tells ye, rely on yer sergeants, and don't get killed."

"When yer not actively on the job, take this with you-" he hands the Witch Hunter an impressive looking letter dripping with seals and red tape. "You'd be amazed what ye can do with one of those - pass through while delivering it, use it as a warrant or orders since most people can't read the thing, and so on. You'll need to work out a reason to be seen with my "niece," but I leave that to ye."

"And if that's that, I'm off to run a bloody regiment."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise + Gottschalk

Anna looked momentarily surprised by the big man's sudden change of tone, but backed up a bit and kept her silence until he was finished.

We can handle things, I am sure. If we need anything more, we will come to you... yes? She'll say, looking to Gottschalk as she adds in the final question.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor and Hawkswood


"The 1st took the worst casualties of our front-line battalions, so you'll have the most green men. First thing you need is to replace your junior officers and non-coms - Lieutenant Konig is the only one left out of five, and Dustermann and Henroth are the only sergeants who made it back."

Asor nodded, tucking the sheaf of papers under his arm. "Right. Where can I find Lieutenant Konig, and Sergeants Dustermann and Henroth? They can tell me which men have the qualities to make non-comms; I prefer to promote from within, if I can."

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk
"Indeed. I believe I can come up with reasons." Happy that he wasn't getting slotted into frontline combat, at the very least, the Witch Hunter tucked the letter and book into one of the old sacks hanging from his belt. "I'll come to you if I run into any trouble."

"I won't be wearing a uniform, though, so I hope you're not expecting me to."

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk

"I won't be wearing a uniform, though, so I hope you're not expecting me to."

Gottschalk:

"Well, officers generally don't, lad," Jahn says, with a kinder expression. "I believe a cockade and sash is usual. Better for your purposes, I should think - on or off in a blink."

"An' now, I really must be off. We need to take in a thousand or more men, and I make for a better advertisement than poor Bernie out there."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor and Hawkswood



Asor nodded, tucking the sheaf of papers under his arm. "Right. Where can I find Lieutenant Konig, and Sergeants Dustermann and Henroth? They can tell me which men have the qualities to make non-comms; I prefer to promote from within, if I can."

Astor:

"They're waiting in the tavern, at a table by the fire, if I'm any judge - look for three men in the black-and-blue, with a rooster's feather for the Halberdiers and a gold button for the 1st. Konig's the dour one with shrapnel scars across the left side of his face, Dustermann's the starched tightarse with a waxed moustache, and Henroth's the cheeky sod with a necklace of gold teeth."

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise + Gottschalk

Anna looked momentarily surprised by the big man's sudden change of tone, but backed up a bit and kept her silence until he was finished.

We can handle things, I am sure. If we need anything more, we will come to you... yes? She'll say, looking to Gottschalk as she adds in the final question.

Anna:

"Aye. Good night, "niece." And to you, Lieutenant."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor:

Astor chuckled, smiling. "Quite a crew of characters you have, Hawkswood- and what is your official rank? General? Oberst? Brigadegeneral? Or should we count our chickens, and call you Baron Hawkswood?"

[response]

"At any rate, I shall adjourn to the tavern, and see to our officers."

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk
"Much better," the Witch Hunter agrees. "Let me know when we move out. I've got some reading to do."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor:

Astor chuckled, smiling. "Quite a crew of characters you have, Hawkswood- and what is your official rank? General? Oberst? Brigadegeneral? Or should we count our chickens, and call you Baron Hawkswood?"

[response]

"At any rate, I shall adjourn to the tavern, and see to our officers."

Astor:

Hawkswood gives you a hard look, but with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm yer commanding officer - how about we start with "sir." Go on with ye."

Inside, the tavern is jam-packed with people, mostly soldiers in the blue-and-black of Hawkswood's regiment, but there's a good smattering of crippled veterans (and "veterans") looking for a free drink, women of various ages intent on eligible men, merchants of various kinds, and semi- and unconscious men being hauled out to "sign up."

Perched on top of the bar, a spectacularly ugly man is belting out a tune (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21dRPu_v1xU) over the noise of the crowd:
Well, he was a gentleman soldier, as a sentry he did stand,
He saluted a fair maid by a waving of his hand -
So boldly then he kissed her and he passed it off as a joke -
He drilled her up in the sentry box, wrapped up in a soldier's cloak!

The old hands roar with laughter and join in the chorus.

And the drums they go with a rata ta tat
And the fifes they loudly play
Fare thee well Polly me dear, I must be going away

After a few minutes searching, you see the party you were looking for at the end of the bar, by the fire. Despite the cheery atmosphere of the bar, the three of them look decidedly down at the mouth, Konig scratching at the pink scars that pock his face from mouth to ear, and Henroth idly tracing patterns in spilt beer with a knife. Even the points of Dustermann's moustache droop slightly.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor inna Bar

The knight made his way through the crowded tavern, smiling to soldiers as he passed and laughing -under his breath- at the song, to make his way to the table in the corner.

"Sergeants, Lieutenant." He nodded around the table. "Astor Marchering- Hawkswood just signed me up as Brevet Captain. I hear you're the best officers in the company, so why the long faces?"

[Another_Poet]

Sir Leopold Augustus Romy von Ludolf, a.k.a. "Romy"

The door of the tavern opens and people in the immediate area fall silent. The seem to stare uncertainly at something just outside - perhaps not sure if they're even seeing it correctly.

In strides a single--no, a pair of peasant girls, neither more than eight years old, each with ribbons in her hair too rich for her own wardrobe. The girls each hold a basket full of flowers, which they dutifully distribute to bar patrons as they make a round of the place. They seem to be trying to focus on new recruits, but are somewhat indiscriminate, handing them as easily to bar regulars and old men.

"With regards from Sir Romy," one of them recited by heart, holding up a flower to Astor.

At just that moment, a well-dressed figure enters the room. Adorned with a rich formal wig, bronze silk jacket, and banded salmon-and-white shirt, he sports a hint of rouge on each pale cheek and an epee at one hip which he wears more like a scholar than a man-at-arms. Raising his chin in a practised pout he declares, "Absolutely not, Wexford, and that's the end of it!"

http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:KNG5Ko4zn7iBcM:http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p226/leeruth/hl1.jpg&t=1

Entering behind him is a middle-aged man in a fashionably cut manservant's livery. The servant's coat is of a darker material, but nonetheless, catches the light of the lamps.

There is a beat of nothing happening at all. The dandy noble frowns as if about to clear his throat.

Just then, trying not to sound rehearsed, the butler says his line:

"No my Lord, please, let me come with you."

The noble spins around and grasps his butler by both shoulders. "Reginald, get a hold of yourself! This is not some foolish sporting trip as I undertook in my youth. This is war, man! Cannons to fire, horses to charge, lances to shiver, and many a soul to give his life. Reginald, my trusted friend, I could not in good conscience bring you into such an affair!"

"But, Lord, I cannot let you go alone." The manservant's uncomfortable monotone contrasts comedically with the noble's dramatic stage voice.

"Pull yourself together, Reginald--" he shakes the servant.

"No Sir. Say whatsoever you will. I will go with you on this errand even if it is my life."

The noble turns away and throws a handful of shillings on the floor. "Take your pay, Reginald, and consider yourself dismissed! Though it breaks my heart, after so many years of service, I would rather see us parted now than joined in the grave! It would be your very blood on my hands."

The butler follows him and stutters over his line. "No Sir. Say-- I mean Sir, that is, that if you are to go and not arrive home again safely, I will take my very own life sir, and you will have my blood on your hands either way. Only let me come with you, that I may assure, ahem, ensure that my Lord comes to no harm."

The noble looks back at this Reginald. "Reginald, do you truly care so much?"

"Lord, I have known you since you were a, um, rollicking bull of a schoolboy, Sir. Of course I do."

"And is there no way I can convince you to stay?"

"There is not, Sir."

The Lord falls to both knees and throws his arms around Reginald. "Oh Reginald, oh good loyal Reginald - you alone are proof of Sigmar's handiwork."

"No Sir Romy von Ludolf, only a--"

The noble springs to his feet. "Sherry!" he demands. "Sherry for this brave man!"

[goblinpaladin]

Astor stares at the flower, bemused, and looks to the door as the play unfolds. "Hm. Just need dinner to go with the show."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor inna Bar

The knight made his way through the crowded tavern, smiling to soldiers as he passed and laughing -under his breath- at the song, to make his way to the table in the corner.

"Sergeants, Lieutenant." He nodded around the table. "Astor Marchering- Hawkswood just signed me up as Brevet Captain. I hear you're the best officers in the company, so why the long faces?"

Astor stares at the flower, bemused, and looks to the door as the play unfolds. "Hm. Just need dinner to go with the show."


Astor:

Konig looks startled and rises to his feet, followed by the other two. "Yer...the new captain," he says, somewhat incredulously. The bandy-legged man with the gold-teeth necklace goggles. "Not Loco? Blimey charley," he chuckles.

There's a pause as the flamboyant Romy flounces into the tavern, but the three men barely react. "That's the engineer. He's always like that, but he keeps the cannons pointed in the right direction and they hardly ever explode," Konig explains, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why don't we all sit down and talk quietly," he suggests.

Sitting down, the three men lean in and speak in low voices. "We're the only officers in the company sir - the rest are all dead. I'm Lieutenant now, but I was the junior-most sergeant before Middenheim. Dustermann was senior corporal, and this ruffian was just a ranker."

"See, sir, we were afraid that we were going to get down-ranked or-" Konig is cut off by an incoherent scream as a furious soldier storms over to the table and hurls his drink into your face.

Roll Dodge.

[Vikingkingq]

Rest of people in the bar:

Your attention is suddenly diverted when a furious soldier screaming imprecations storms over to a table and throws his glass in an armored man's face.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor didn't need to look, twisting his head aside and scraping his chair and rising in a fluid movement. The wine flew past his head and smashed into the fire, causing the flames to flicker for a moment, hissing.

The knight grabbed the soldier's arm. "Now, now, soldier. Wish to try again?"

[Vikingkingq]

Astor didn't need to look, twisting his head aside and scraping his chair and rising in a fluid movement. The wine flew past his head and smashed into the fire, causing the flames to flicker for a moment, hissing.

The knight grabbed the soldier's arm. "Now, now, soldier. Wish to try again?"

The soldier (http://c3.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/27/l_6519e6bbf03f44a79ff33afda954fc4e.jpg)angrily pulls his arm away. "Figlio di porca puttana troia lurida fottuta - you, sir, are a thief and a blaggard; I challenge-you to a duel, you fare una cazzata."

At that, he storms out of the tavern.

..."And that would be the other reason we were looking out of sorts, sir," Dostermann interjects.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor looked out the door after the soldier. "I speak Estalian, not Tilean, but I think I know what it is he called me." He looked back to the other officers calmly. "Who was that man, before I step outside and teach him Myrmidia's mercy?"

[Vikingkingq]

Astor looked out the door after the soldier. "I speak Estalian, not Tilean, but I think I know what it is he called me." He looked back to the other officers calmly. "Who was that man, before I step outside and teach him Myrmidia's mercy?"

Astor:

"That was Luco Luccrese," Konig replies. "Captain of the 2nd Company, sir. Was in line for command of the 1st, as it were." He lowers his voice. "Sir, you absolutely need to keep schtum about this. Back in Middenheim, we were in the front line of the east causeway. We were getting pushed proper hard, and Captain Gotthardt, he sends to 2nd for reinforcements. Now, not that anyone could ever prove anything, but Luccrese was awful slow in responding. When the line started to buckle, Gotthardt plugged the line personally, didn't make it out. Word is that Luco was looking to move into dead man's shoes."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor

Astor narrowed his eyes. "I see. I'll keep silence on this, then, but dishonour must be answered." He straightened. "I'll step outside, then- you men round up the best of the First's veterans, the ones who you feel will make good non-commissioned officers. In the meantime, Konig- you're now First. Congratulations on your promotion. Keep an eye out for potential hats for Lieutenant plumes."

He retrieved his gauntlets from the table and pulled them on, the young man's face set into a grim frown.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor

Astor narrowed his eyes. "I see. I'll keep silence on this, then, but dishonour must be answered." He straightened. "I'll step outside, then- you men round up the best of the First's veterans, the ones who you feel will make good non-commissioned officers. In the meantime, Konig- you're now First. Congratulations on your promotion. Keep an eye out for potential hats for Lieutenant plumes."

He retrieved his gauntlets from the table and pulled them on, the young man's face set into a grim frown.

Astor:

The three men move surprisingly quickly to get in between you and the door. "One thing sir: Rules of the Regiment say that duels have to take place at dawn, with witnesses. I'll stand as second gladly, sir. And I'll have some men ready for interviews in the morning." Konig replies.

"Could have been worse," Henroth cackles. "It could have got in yer mouth. "Loco" Luco drinks that awful Tilean grappa - like drinking pine sap cut with turpentine, it is."

[goblinpaladin]

"And I'll have some men ready for interviews in the morning." Konig replies.

Astor nodded. "Well, that seems fair enough. Don't just stick to Firsters, come to think of it- you know a good man in the second, can tell which end of a poleaxe to hold, rope him in too. Eighty acres is a good piece of land."


"Could have been worse," Henroth cackles. "It could have got in yer mouth. "Loco" Luco drinks that awful Tilean grappa - like drinking pine sap cut with turpentine, it is."

Astor made a face. "Honest Empire beer, for me. Down in Old Solland, we sometimes get Dwarf-brew come through. Now there's a good drink. Flavoursome and thirst-quenching, exactly the sort of thing you need after a long week fighting orc-maggots."

[GryffonDurime]

"Always such pleasantry in the Empire," Liliya says towards the knight, a thin-lipped smile on her face. "And such intrigue! Will you really duel him, then?" She asks it with a laugh, brushing her hair aside.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor turned towards Liliya and smiled in return, half-bowing. "I cannot in good conscience refuse; yes."

[GryffonDurime]

"Mmm. Stubborn as a hag, I suppose," Liliya says, then stops. "It is a compliment. I think, at least. But if you must fight, do try and win. They seem to have so few volunteers that they must resort to drugging."

The Ice Maiden shakes her head, and the silver necklace chimes softly as she does. "Mmm. Conscriptions, pugilism, and liquor. My first night in Altdorf has been everything I was promised."

[Another_Poet]

Romy

The briefest frown flashes over Romy's face as the attention is pulled off of him by the angry foreigner but if he resents it at all, he doesn't show it. Instead he claps both hands together and nearly skips in place.

"Roaringly splendid! I do so love duels! Oh, Wexington - get yourself some sherry and join me in the lane!"

He withdraws a lorgnette (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorgnette) from within his vest and heads toward the tavern entrance to watch the show.

[Destro_Yersul]

"What in the..." Watching the soldier storm out of the tavern, his new book quite forgotten, Gottschalk glances between the door and the knight. He looks decidedly nonplussed.

"What just happened?"

[Vikingkingq]

The 2nd of Nachexen, 2523:


The morning air is sharp and cold, the prevailing northerly bringing the clean, wet smell of snow. You awake, not in your previous lodgings, but in a chilly canvas tent. A bugle blares out and a bell is rung five times, and you open the flap of the tent to find yourself on one of the marshaling fields north of the city, with the walls of Altdorf looming over to the south and the Reik river bordering the camp to the west.

Oh, and you see a duel about to begin. "MEN OF THE WHITE ARROW," you can hear the unmistakable bellow of General Hawkswood. "Under the Rules and Regulations of the Regiment, as set down by the chief officers and shareholders of this company, duels between officers on matters of honor are permitted under the following conditions. First, that the duel be conducted in full sight of the regiments, with a judge, seconds, and doctor present. Second, that while on campaign - as we are now - the duel shall be to the third wound only. Third, that two witnesses beholden to neither side be present to see that right is done."

"WILL TWO WITNESSES STEP FORWARD?"

Johann Reinhard:

You awaken with a splitting headache to find yourself on top of a pile of stinking, drunken commoners in what looks rather like a cattle pen. A soldier in the uniform of a Greatsword stands above you, accompanied by two men with buckets. "WAKE UP, ME BEAUTIES" the soldier - a tall man with short-clipped hair, an extravagant moustache and a hatchet nose - barks as you are drenched with freezing cold water.

"UP, UP, UP" he bellows as the clearly hungover group stumbles awkwardly to it's feet. "Now then, ye worthless pieces of orc dung, yer in the army now. I am Captain Manfred Russ, and I have been burdened by Sigmar with the task of seeing whether any of you are worthy of the title of men! Grab a bar-" he points to a pile of heavy-looking metal spars. "And we're going three times round the camp!"


Strength check to see if you can carry the bar, Toughness check to see if you can keep up with the group.



Gottschalk:

On the small table in your officer's tent, you find a note telling you to report to the 1st Company of the Halberdiers at eight bells, attached to a letter of introduction and recommendation from Hawkswood.



Astor:

At five bells, you find yourself wide awake, with figures of fighting effectives, sick and wounded, and new intake dancing through your head as you limber up for the duel.

A large circle has been drawn in the frozen ground of the parade square, and you shiver slightly in your shirt and breeches. Luco stands on the other side of the square, trying to glare you to death. Kreig holds your cloak, while a young Tilean man does the same on the other side.

Between the two sides stands Hawkswood, who has a strange twinkle in his eyes, and a gaunt, stooped man in black robes who stands ready with a doctor's tool-belt and a freshly scrubbed table.

Hawkswood steps forward and motions to both combatants to step to the circumference of the circle. "MEN OF THE WHITE ARROW," he bellows. "Under the Rules and Regulations of the Regiment, as set down by the chief officers and shareholders of this company, duels between officers on matters of honor are permitted under the following conditions. First, that the duel be conducted in full sight of the regiments, with a judge, seconds, and doctor present. Second, that while on campaign - as we are now - the duel shall be to the third wound only. Third, that two witnesses beholden to neither side be present to see that right is done."

"WILL TWO WITNESSES STEP FORWARD?"

[-Sentinel-]

Johann

"Oh gods," said Johann plaintively.

Bad enough that he had to go to war, it turned out he was only a soldier.

"Um. Captain." He cleared his throat. "There's been a mistake. Surely, you don't know who I am. My name is Johann Reinhard von Marienburg. I've been ordered to join the army, but see, I'm a nobleman and a diplomat. Am I not supposed to be in a position of command?"

He fumbled for the document that identified him as an envoy.


OOC: I'll leave it up to you to decide if he still has it or if someone took it away.

[Vikingkingq]

Johann

"Oh gods," said Johann plaintively.

Bad enough that he had to go to war, it turned out he was only a soldier.

"Um. Captain." He cleared his throat. "There's been a mistake. Surely, you don't know who I am. My name is Johann Reinhard von Marienburg. I've been ordered to join the army, but see, I'm a nobleman and a diplomat. Am I not supposed to be in a position of command?"

He fumbled for the document that identified him as an envoy.

OOC: I'll leave it up to you to decide if he still has it or if someone took it away.

Johann:

With a sense of resigned doom, you note that the pocket that held the document is now empty. If it's possible, the Captain looks even more contemptuous of you than before. "Oh aye? Ye hear that lads? This drunken sot thinks a Von in his name should make him a commander?"

He leans down and gives you a nasty smile. "Listen 'ere, boy. This ain't the Graf's Army, and it ain't Bildhoven's Army, and it ain't Gausser's mob neither. This is Hawkswood's army, and there's no Von in his name. You want command, you bloody well earn it. NOW GET MOVING!"

Strength and Toughness checks, please.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor shrugged, beginning to stretch out in the frigid morning. "'Snot as bad as home, this frost." He nodded to Krieg. "Thanks."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya emerges from her tent, her otter coat glistening in the morning light. She sighs at the sight of the duel assembling and then sets her hand lightly on her necklace, the jangling silver chiming softly as she crosses the camp in a few long strides.

"I am unfamiliar with the custom, at least as you lot follow it, but I suppose I am not beholden to either of these men. I can play witness, if desired."

[-Sentinel-]

Johann

Johann blinked in dismay and confusion. He was not used to being given orders, much less obeying them, but obviously he was not the one in a position of power here.

"Um. Yes. Right away, sir."

Oh please, let this be a nightmare, he thought fervently.

If the pain of carrying a metal bar three times around the camp was any indicator, it was most definitely not one.


Strength 30: [roll0]
Toughness 31: [roll1]

[Vikingkingq]

Hawkswood nods. "Always good to have one of the Gods witnessing a trial by combat. One more!"

[Daisuke1133]

A large, well-muscled, mountain of a man wearing a sergeant's uniform pushes his way through the crowd towards the two combatants and says, "I too will bear witness to this contest of honour."

[Vikingkingq]

Johann

Johann blinked in dismay and confusion. He was not used to being given orders, much less obeying them, but obviously he was not the one in a position of power here.

"Um. Yes. Right away, sir."

Oh please, let this be a nightmare, he thought fervently.

If the pain of carrying a metal bar three times around the camp was any indicator, it was most definitely not one.


Strength 30: [roll0]
Toughness 31: [roll1]

Johann:

At least you avoid the humiliation of dropping the bar, but the combination of refined living and a truly dreadful hangover leaves you, simultaneously sweating and shivering, dragging behind. The drill sergeant insults every aspect of your physicality, your parentage, both your and their proclivity for animal corpses as romantic partners, and curses the gods for giving him you as a recruit.

After an hour or so of this treatment, the group finally is allowed to rest. Captain Russ looks at the lot of you with the same disapproving eye, and consults a scroll. "Right then. Consider this the most fun you're going to have for the next month, because we're going to be training you on the march. Listen up for your names - Burgold Ludwig, Segehart Hull, Rudusch, Mekel Mann - report to the 1st Halberds for further training! Henil Mantelmann, Burgold Ostwald, Herman Theodricus, Pauwel Thomsen, Calvin Adel - 2nd Halberds! Hermann Berg, Mengot, Hannus. Ramwold Richthofen, Gereke Alp - 1st Gunners!"

"Oh, and Johann Reinholdt -" he looks down at the scroll with a look of amused relief. "Quartermasters. Apparently Bernie needs an assistant."

[Vikingkingq]

A large, well-muscled, mountain of a man wearing a sergeant's uniform pushes his way through the crowd towards the two combatants and says, "I too will bear witness to this contest of honour."

"And that makes two! Right then gentlemen, to your marks." Lofting his massive greatsword above his head with one hand, he brings it down sharply.

"BEGIN!"

[goblinpaladin]

Astor drew the sword up in front of him, then dropped it away- an antique salute. "May the Lady Judge."

He stepped forward, in a defensive position, prepared to strike as soon as Loco came close.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor drew the sword up in front of him, then dropped it away- an antique salute. "May the Lady Judge."

He stepped forward, in a defensive position, prepared to strike as soon as Loco came close.

The Tilean sneers, but responds "Myrmidia Invictus!" and takes up his stance.

[Vikingkingq]

With a cry of "Vaffanculo!" Luco charges forward across the circle, his sword snaking past his guard to open a bloody weal along Astor's right arm. At the same time, he twists at the waist to avoid the young Wissenlander's reply, before springing backwards to flick the blood from his blade contemptuously.

"First blood to me, Porco!"

[goblinpaladin]

With a grimace, Astor shifts back into position, arming sword raised. A beat, and then the young knight leapt into an attack, his sword swinging for the Tilean's shoulder. The Tilean moved out of the way, but the Wissenlander's sword shifted, striking into his leg; red blood flowed and the momentum was enough to knock the other man's movement's off.

"Second blood to the Empire."

[Vikingkingq]

Lucrese's nostrils flare with anger as the young Knight comes in again, his sword slashing through the air. Unfortunately for Astor, the slippery foreigner easily evades both cuts and launches a blistering riposte...

Which is easily dodged and parried in return. The two men bind blades and come face to face. "You fight like a farmer!" the Tilean spits.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor shoves the Tilean away, his sword flashing in the morning sun.

"That's a compliment, southerner!" A duck, a sidestep, and a lunge. "Empire farmers fight their whole lives while Tileans whore themselves!"

[Vikingkingq]

It scarcely seems possible, but the fiery Captain grows even more infuriated. No longer capable of speech, he lets loose a screech and throws himself into the attack, but the anger is making his form sloppy.

His first, glancing, blow is parried neatly. Astor turns the parry into a nasty flechette, sending Luco stumbling backwards, blood streaming from his laid-open cheek.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor appears to ignore the blood trickling down his sword arm, launching himself into another attack before his opponent can recover. He leaves the taunts aside for now; the experienced among those watching can see the concentration writ across the young Wissenlander's face.

[Vikingkingq]

The Knight's blade crashes through the thoroughly distracted man's feeble defenses, cutting the man's leg out from under him. Yowling in pain, Luco crashes to the ground.

"HALT!" Hawkswood bellows, as Astor checks his next blow. "I declare the right and honorable winner to be Sir Astor Marquing, Captain of the First Company Halberdiers!" The crowd's cheering, which Astor had been too intensely concentrating to notice suddenly breaks over him, the men of the First throwing their caps in the air, while thick curses in Tilean respond. A flurry of hands exchange coins, as bets are settled.

The doctor moves forward with a liquid grace that is quite astonishing, and with the help of Luco's second, carries the man over to the operating table with practiced efficiency. He unrolls his case with a complicated movement, and produces a black bottle, pouring a healthy amount of some dark brown liquid through the man's teeth. Donning a pair of silk gloves, he pulls out various tools and bends over the now unconscious patient.

"Does anyone else know how to heal?" Lieutenant Konig calls out, hurrying forwards to his captain with his cloak. Suddenly, Astor feels quite cold, as the exertion and blood loss begins to catch up with him.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor stepped back from the churned ground and managed to raise his sword. "This was in the name of the First! For the men of the Empire! And give thanks to the Lady Myrmidia for granting victory and honour!"

He lowered the sword, breathing heavily; blood dripped from the edge of his weapon and along his arm. He shook his head, shrugging into the cloak proffered by his Lieutenant. "No. See to Captain Lucco first; this can wait."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor stepped back from the churned ground and managed to raise his sword. "This was in the name of the First! For the men of the Empire! And give thanks to the Lady Myrmidia for granting victory and honour!"

He lowered the sword, breathing heavily; blood dripped from the edge of his weapon and along his arm. He shook his head, shrugging into the cloak proffered by his Lieutenant. "No. See to Captain Lucco first; this can wait."

"Doktor Vetinari will see to him, sir, but dying of infection would be a strange sort of victory indeed," Konig replies, fussing with the cloak.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor looked to Konig, a smile on his scarred face. "Good point." He pulled a cloth from his pouch with his left hand and started to wipe his blade clean of Tilean blood. "Speaking of victory, how goes the search for officers and sergeants?"

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya interrupts, approaching Astor with a very small smile. There is a flask in her hand, already opened and unstoppered, and she hands it to him gently. Inside is the exotic reek of kvas, the drink of her nation.

"You did very well. You represented your Empire quite admirably."

[Destro_Yersul]

The 2nd of Nachexen, 2523:

Gottschalk:

On the small table in your officer's tent, you find a note telling you to report to the 1st Company of the Halberdiers at eight bells, attached to a letter of introduction and recommendation from Hawkswood.


"1st company of Halberdiers. At eight bells. Ridiculous hour to be awake..." Grumbling mildly, Gottschalk takes the letter and goes searching for the company he seems to be assigned to.

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

Wearing a light wool cloak over one shoulder and a soft hat of green and brown patches, the dandy lord from the night before approaches the victorious Astor, Liliya the witness, and the other man who is with them. Behind him trails his manservant Wexington, holding a tray with a steaming pot of tea ans several clean, empty teacups.

"Bloody good show!" exlcaims the lord as he approaches. "Captain Marquing, is it? Tip a spot of tea old man, it's good for the mending. Ah! But ladies first I'm afraid."

Wexington deftly supports the tray from beneath one hand, using the other to pour three cups of the piping hot stuff. From the colour it is not black tea but some herbal blend; the smell of peppermint rises from the cups.

Romy offers one each to Astor, Liliya and the other witness ((Daisuke, didn't catch your name)) and takes one for himself. Raising it in salute he says, "Cheers! Von Ludolf is the name, but most call me Romy after my uncle. A thrilling show today, and a pleasure to meet the man who put it on."

He frowns at Astor's concern over the wound. "Oh, don't mind that, the bleeding's good for it. I'm something of a doctor myself, you see. Let it bleed lightly for thirty minutes with nothing on it. That'll keep the blood up, and encourage faster healing once it's stitched."

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf accepts the tea graciously and says, "Thank you for the tea. I usually prefer something a bit stronger but this stuff is good from time to time. My name is Vrolf, I have been made a sergeant in this army."

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

It seems clear that Romy is not accustomed to speaking with sergeants or below, but he keeps his manners up and gives Vrolf a sincere smile. "Well Sergeant Vrolf, if it's a stiffer drink you like, stop by the 'chateau'--" he motions with a flourish toward his pavilion "--and pay us a visit of an evening."

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf considers the nobleman's words and with a smile says, "I may do that someday. I must confess I feel more comfortable in the presence of the common men such as myself, but thank you for the offer. You are most gracious."

[goblinpaladin]

There is a flask in her hand, already opened and unstoppered, and she hands it to him gently. Inside is the exotic reek of kvas, the drink of her nation.

"You did very well. You represented your Empire quite admirably."

"Ah," said Astor with a smile. "The lady from last night; you are also part of our band of heroes?" He accepted the kvas, and took a sip. Returning it, the heat spread through his body and the smile spread into a grin. "Ah, kvas."

He turned as Romy approached and raised an eyebrow. "Aha, the engineer- Sir Astor Marquering, and it always good to meet another Nulner. Even if I am actually from rather to the south, my Unit is based in Nuln." He accepted the tea with good grace, raising it to the others.

"Vrolf? What regiment? I'm in need of sergeants..."

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf finishes his tea before responding, "I am a sergeant in the Skirmishers and I would be glad to serve under such a skilled warrior. I'm sure that we can arrange to have me transferred to your command."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Good day.

With a gentle greeting and a respectful bow of her head, a pretty young woman with wavy brown hair moved to join the makeshift gathering. She was clean and well-kept, if not dressed in clothes one might expect from someone wealthy. A well-kept burgher-class woman, perhaps.

Pardon my intrusion, but I saw your duel, ser knight. Very impressive. She said in an even, well-spoken tone, I am Anna Hawkwood. I was hoping I might join you? You seem the only gathering of folk about with a woman amongst you.

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya smiles. It has been so long since she has been in the company of a woman who was not another witch, and she finds herself glad for the woman's presence among the throng of soldiers.

"Liliya Pitrovna Belanov. A humble maiden of Kislev, a...Torr, what is that word? ведьма? Witch? I think that's right. And what services are you rendering to the cause, Miss Hawkwood? Wait. Hawkwood? Hawkwood. Он ваш отец? I mean," she says, shaking her head, "the tall man, with the feathers and the loudness."

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

... my uncle. Yes. Anna said with a faint smile, While I am with the force, he will be.... wait. Did you say "another witch"? You are a witch? With the colleges, I hope.

The young girl looked visibly nervous at the thought of a magus about... as if she was reconsidering the fact that she has approached in the first place.

[Vikingkingq]

Hawkswood swaggers over to the knot of soldiers. "Good fight, Captain Marquing. Needs a bit of work on defending against the rolling riposte, and a bit more footwork to make yer attacks land where ye want them, instead of slashing away, but spirited, very spirited. Get that stitched up, and then I'll see you in me tent for the officer's meeting. Engineer von Ludolf - I'll need an inspection of our stores of powder and shot by noon. This is our last day before we leave for the North, and if we need to buy, I'd rather buy here."

He then pulls out an envelope and hands it to Anna. "Our mutual acquaintance has sent us an invitation, my dear. Would ye mind organizing the details for me - I've never been any good at this sort of thing. I'll bring Bernie, Captain Reinhardt, and the new fella, but you round out the numbers, eh?"

"Must be off to make sure the recruits aren't running away just yet. Captain, ladies, Sergeant." The general turns and stalks off into the tents, where he is joined by another tall Greatsword with a sweeping black moustache and a hatchet nose. Konig pulls a bandage out from a pouch and busies himself binding the cut on Astor's arm.

Anna (+Gottschalk?):

The letter, which looks mass-scribed, with spaces left blank to be filled in later, reads:

To General Hawkswood,

Be it known that the Emperor Karl Franz von Holswig-Schliestein, Grand Prince of Altdorf, Elector Count of the Reikland, Protector of the Empire, Defier of the Dark, Emperor Himself and the Son of Emperors, desires that his subject General J. Hawkswood attend on him at a formal reception for the brave soldiers who have undertaken the Scouring of the North this evening at six of the evening.

In due respect to rank and custom, up to eight persons may accompany his subject as retinue and attendants.

Yours,
KF

Curled up inside the invitation is another note on a piece of card:

Bring the girl with you. Tell her to select such persons as might prove useful.
- S



Johann:

After a few minutes to get your breath back, you find yourself in the Quatermaster's tent, which seems to be made up entirely of boxes and ledgers. A stream of porters shuttle in and out, carrying crates, bags, and barrels. Sitting at a high desk, the clark from last night looks up at you distractedly.


http://www.cedmagic.com/featured/christmas-carol/1971-toon-humbug-scrooge.jpg

"Ah yes, the young man from last night." He straightens up. "Pity about your...misfiling as it were, but you should understand that this regiment prides itself on strict meritocracy, so playing the noble card was a poor idea.

Hence the drink and the run. However, the reality is that I can see from your letter, here-" he produces the very stained document, "that you are educated, and a Marienburger of some standing. I need any educated man I can find to help - for the humble servant you see before you is both Secretary, Quartermaster, and Paymaster for the Regiment, and while I have quite a few porters, I need men who are literate and numerate."

"Moreover, as a Marienburger of rank, I'm assuming that you are familiar with how to deal with merchants and I need someone who can negotiate with them when I'm busy."

"Your first task - make an inventory of our powder and shot stores for the Engineer, would you?"

[-Sentinel-]

Johann was at first grateful to be finally recognized as an educated man... but had to work hard to hide his disappointment when he was still given a menial task. Ah well, it was better than physical labor...

"Thank you, sir. Where can I find the engineer?"

[Vikingkingq]

Johann was at first grateful to be finally recognized as an educated man... but had to work hard to hide his disappointment when he was still given a menial task. Ah well, it was better than physical labor...

"Thank you, sir. Where can I find the engineer?"

Johann:

"He'll be coming to inspect the powder and shot stores. Three tents down, and to the left."

After a few minutes of walking around the supply tents, you find yourself in a long pavilion stacked chest high with chests and barrels, carrying a chalkboard and a crowbar. A sign proclaims "BITTE NICHT RAUCHEN" with a big red slash through a crudely-drawn match.

[GryffonDurime]

"Witch is the right word then?" Liliya says, smiling. "But no. You seem unhappy from the word. But I am not like your witches. Your Empire witches, yes? They're most unhappy people. But in Kislev, the Witches of the Ice have stood against Chaos since before the founding of the Colleges. The Tsarina herself is the greatest of our order," she says, pride in her voice and her bearing.

[-Sentinel-]

Without wasting any time, Johann began his inventory of all the powder and shot under the pavilion. He found that the task was actually not that hard, merely boring. But he could survive boredom.

[Vikingkingq]

Without wasting any time, Johann began his inventory of all the powder and shot under the pavilion. He found that the task was actually not that hard, merely boring. But he could survive boredom.


Give me a knowledge check.

[goblinpaladin]

"An Ice Witch, Miss Belanov? Well, now." Astor smiled. "Lady Fortune favours the regiment, to have such a one. A wizard -a witch, then- is worth a hundred men on the field."

He glances at Annalise and smiles. "Not to fret, Annalise Hawskwood! My own sister is a mage with the colleges; they are perfectly ordinary folk. Except for being able to wield fell powers beyond the ken of men, I suppose." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

Romy bids Vrolf to bring a friend along if that would make him more at ease. As the witch-woman and the Hawkwood-woman chat, he receives his suggestions* from the elder Hawkwood.

*Orders.

"Hmm, a most worthy suggestion, General. I'm sure I can find someone to take a look at it. Tea?"

After Hawkwood declines the proffered cup, he'll furrow his brow in Wexington's direction.

"Oh bad luck, Wexy. Do we have someone who can inventory? I just thought we'd be given more when we ran out!"

"Yes Sir, the Quartermaster found some filth-encrusted Marienburger who can count past seven. M'Lord."

"Oh pooh to you, Wexington. That's no way to speak of a man. He can't help it if he was born too slow to clean himself."

"Very good, Sir."

"Anyway we'll have to go meet him."

"Sir?"

"Well we can't jolly well let the man go poking about without a proper introduction! All alone in that dratted tent. It's a Lowtown meathouse in there, Wexy. Get some bon-bons from le chateau. The almond ones! And a Malbec. Is it too early, Wexington?"

"By far, Lord."

"Ah, then just the bon-bons. Well be quick about it man!"

With that he wanders off toward the powder store.

[Vikingkingq]

Romy:


After a few minutes of walking around the supply tents, you find yourself in a long pavilion stacked chest high with chests and barrels, carrying a chalkboard and a crowbar. A sign proclaims "BITTE NICHT RAUCHEN" with a big red slash through a crudely-drawn match.

A young man, dressed in what must have been very fine clothes once, wanders down the aisles with a chalkboard.


Johann:

The most ridiculously-dressed man you've ever seen walks into the tent.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise


"An Ice Witch, Miss Belanov? Well, now." Astor smiled. "Lady Fortune favours the regiment, to have such a one. A wizard -a witch, then- is worth a hundred men on the field."

He glances at Annalise and smiles. "Not to fret, Annalise Hawskwood! My own sister is a mage with the colleges; they are perfectly ordinary folk. Except for being able to wield fell powers beyond the ken of men, I suppose." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

Ah... Anna said, folding up the note, I do not know how an ice witch, or the like... is different than the magus of the college, but I will accept your word. Surely with all the church men about, someone would step up, were it a problem.

Quelling the appearance of nervousness, Anna looked about a bit before settling her gaze on this supposed "Ice Witch".

Allow me to make an apology. She said politely, My uncle is invited to a gathering, and wishes me to choose his retinue for the eve. His soldiers are not the sorts one should bring and expect polite company... so would you care to join us instead? The note permits as many as eight others with him... enough to bring each of your friends here as well, if you choose.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk, meanwhile, is mentally sighing over the fact that there is a conversation about witches. He's fairly sure the ice witches of Kislev are sanctioned somehow. The Empire seems to tolerate them, at least, and there is that whole thing about the standing against chaos...

"I shall be going to the party as well, I suppose," he says, approaching Anna and Liliya. "I believe I am to be your guardian, of sorts, while I am not on duty. General Hawkswood wants to be careful about having his niece along, I expect." There. That ought to establish his cover nicely.

[-Sentinel-]

OOC:

Give me a knowledge check.
What kind? I have Common Knowledge (the Empire) and (the Wasteland).

Int 37: [roll0]

That's a narrow failure.


Johann looked up at the outrageously-dressed individual.

"Ah, um... are you the engineer?" he asked politely. "Johann Reinhard at your service. I've been tasked to do an inventory of your powder and shot."

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

"Ah! The very same, indeed! Sir Leopold Augustus Romy von Ludolf, and all that, but just Sir Romy is enough of a mouthful! Inventory, is it? What got you into a wretched job like that? Wouldn't you rather be out socking it to ol' North-poke for glory on the field? Knighthood, chivalry and all that bully?"

((and after an answer to that))

"Marienburg is it? You simply must tell me what the place is like, I'm ashamed to admit I've never paid a visit, though your sodding weather is more to blame than myself, couldn't get within fifty miles of the place!"

[GryffonDurime]

"I would gladly accept," Liliya says to Annalise, "I have been too long in the wilderlands myself. Too long away from Kislev, and from it's own sort of uncivil civility." The small joke amuses her greatly, and the Ice Maiden looks out across the sea of tents.

"But I am most uncertain as to what we do now."

[-Sentinel-]

"Inventory, is it? What got you into a wretched job like that?"
"I'm still wondering myself," said Johann glumly.




"Marienburg is it? You simply must tell me what the place is like, I'm ashamed to admit I've never paid a visit, though your sodding weather is more to blame than myself, couldn't get within fifty miles of the place!"
"Ah, but you don't go to Marienburg for the weather!" exclaimed Johann with sudden enthusiasm. "You go there for the playhouses, the art galleries, the balls. In Marienburg, only paupers spend any time outside."

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy


"Ah, but you don't go to Marienburg for the weather!" exclaimed Johann with sudden enthusiasm. "You go there for the playhouses, the art galleries, the balls. In Marienburg, only paupers spend any time outside."

This seems to have immense appeal to Romy who brightens almost as much as Johann did. "Oh, bravo! I sheerly adore playhouses and galleries! Balls not as much, there's so much fussing about and--Oh, Wexington!"

A manservant in more somber clothing enters the tent, bearing a little wooden box which he opens at Romy's behest. It appears to be made of cedar, with individual cherrywood-lined compartments inside, each holding a single chocolate bon-bon.

"Thank you Wexington, this is Mister Reinhard. He's been cut out of all the fun on the war path so he'll be taking out his frustrations and woe counting our bullets here... poor man. But fine tastes! Try a bon-bon, Mister Reinhard!"

[-Sentinel-]

"Thank you," grinned Johann gratefully, accepting a bon-bon. "Up to this point, it's the best thing to happen to me today."

Chocolate was incredibly rare in the Empire, since it came from Lustria. It was a delicacy even for the Emperor himself.

Johann glanced down at his chalkboard. "Took a few notes about your inventory. I'm not done yet, but it shouldn't take too long."

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

OOC:
I knew they'd be expensive but didn't realize it was quite that overboard. Oh well, consider yourself one lucky "commoner" :smallsmile:

"Oh, tish-and-pish to that! Inventory is for cretins and mule-drovers, I say! You seem like a clever chap, allow me to enlighten you as to the nature of warfare."

He hands Wexington his cloak, which the manservant folds expertly and places atop a crate. Romy sits delicately down on the covered surface and begins to pontificate, swinging the tiny wooden box about with one hand to punctuate his points.

"How does the common mind perceive of war, Mister Reinhard? A contest of strength? Service to one's nation? An occasion for glory and virtue to overcome hardship and villainy? All of these are true, but none of them grasp the basic engine which drives war.

"War is about money, good Sir, money. Nations declare war either to seize capital desparately needed, or to protect capital most direly threatened. Soldiers agree to play their part in this action because they themselves are promised reward. Generals think they make the most, earning fine estates, but manufactories and miners and outfitters and armourers - those are the victors in every conflict. Well, assuming their shops and homes aren't burned to ground, of course!" He lets out a short, almost practiced laugh.

"In any event, each of us must balance our hope for our own lives against the prospective monetary gain that we, and the company of which we are a part, might make. Do you disagree sir?"

((regardless of what Johann says :smallwink: ))

"Then consider! If we cared only about victory - or survival even - why would we ever set a maximum limit on how much powder and cannonball and grapeshot to procure? The more we have the safer we are, and the more effective at that. If more cannon means more horse and a bigger train, then we would simply hire them. This is no expeditionary force! Why man a cannon for one night when you can man it all month? Do you know the answer, Mr. Reinhard?

"Money! Hawkswood has decided how much he will spend on artillery. If a penny more would save ten lives, then he'll surrender ten lives to the march of his balance-sheet. That is why he has declared an inventory, not simply to track what is remaining, but to decide whether to buy more. To decide if we have 'enough.'"

He looks at Wexington who gives him a sort of half-bow as if in approval of his lecture.

"So you see Mister Reinhard, no matter how much munition your inventory turns up, scale down the numbers a bit. We want the general to buy more, do we not? And that requires him to believe we have less."

[-Sentinel-]

Money was a language Johann, as a Marienburger, understood well. His family had risen to the nobility thanks to trade.

"Sure thing," said Johann, agreeing with the man's every word. "More firepower couldn't hurt. It's not like Hawkswood is going to check by himself just how much powder we have..."

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

"Precisely! By Sigmar, Wexington, I like this man. Another chocolate?"

After Johann accepts or declines, Romy closes the box. "Well I'll leave you to it my good man. Don't work too hard, and there's brandy in the five-pound cannons, have at if you like. I find they keep it cool and crisp, most refreshing. Stop by le Chateau sometime, I'll simply die if I don't hear more of Marienburg!"

((If you check the cannons you'll find a bottle of brandy, lightly wrapped in cloth to avoid breakage, stuffed inside of each.))

He has lost his philosopher's tone altogether and seems back to his usual bouncy self. As Wexington shakes out his cloak and follows him out of the tent, you overhear...

"You see Wexford, not all peasants are so bad! He seems downright educated. Must be a merchant of some sort."

[-Sentinel-]

"You see Wexford, not all peasants are so bad! He seems downright educated. Must be a merchant of some sort."

Johann snorted, but he had to admit he rather liked the man. He gladly took the bottle of brandy and stuffed it in his slingbag. Something told him that being drunk on duty was frowned upon, but he might need it later.

[Vikingkingq]

OOC:

What kind? I have Common Knowledge (the Empire) and (the Wasteland).

Int 37: [roll0]

That's a narrow failure.[/COLOR]


It's not a particularly hard test.

You notice that the musket ammunition is unusually stored. Instead of the usual method of powder horns and loose bags of shot, someone's actually gone to the trouble of making cartridges of waxed paper with a measure of powder and a bullet.

As for the stores, they contain:
- 45,000 cartridges, or 60 shots per gunner
- 200 cannon-balls (100 for each five-pound cannon)
- 200 lbs coarse black powder (for cannons)
- 562 lbs pistol powder (for guns)
- 45,000 musket balls (for guns)

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

Wonderful! You should bring your entire entourage... uncle will seem foolish if he has fewer guests than he is allowed. Anna said with a girlish smile, Were the noblemen who wandered off friends of yours as well? Between they and us, that will nearly fill the guest list.

[GryffonDurime]

"Friend is a strong word," Liliya says. "But if your uncle is to strike a good image, I suppose the fop and the coward are among your better choices."

[-Sentinel-]

Johann erased his previous notes and wrote some new ones.

- 36,000 cartridges, or 48 shots per gunner
- 182 cannon-balls
- 139 lbs coarse black powder
- 458 lbs pistol powder
- 32,000 musket balls

As long as nobody bothered to double-check, he should be alright. If not, he could always pretend he had omitted a section of the storage pavilion.

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf feels flattered by the offer but does not feel any wish to be deceptive and cause damage to another man's reputation.

"I also would not be a good choice for such a gathering, unless you wish me to tell stories of battles with chaos beasts and rival tribes, not good dinner conversations, or tales for the faint of heart or stomach."

[Vikingkingq]

Johann:

After a few minutes, you see the Quartermaster headed your way, a bundle of scrolls under one arm. "Ah, I see you've met our...extravagant engineer. I hope you don't put too much stock into his claims of powder-pinching. The man's a dab hand with parabolae and windage, but I'm afraid his mindset is a tad narrow. Doesn't understand that the art of logistics is one of balance - if we buy more powder, we must purchase more carts to carry it, which means more horses and oxen to pull them, which means more oats, more shoes, more nails, more reins and leathers - and the line stretches further to protect yet a further cart."

"And yet," he adds, with a sweep of his arm at the rows of boxes. "The same crown may be needed to put shoes onto the feet of the soldiers who must carry the guns, or guns to fire with, or food to keep the gunners alive. And we must be sure that for every gunner, there is a halberdier to defend him, and perhaps even a skirmisher or two to screen him. Neglect the balance, and chaos is victorious."

"So, are those figures ready?"

[-Sentinel-]

Johann glanced up guiltily. So, the quartermaster already knew about the engineer's demands for more powder... The young nobleman certainly did not want to endanger his own life by disturbing the entire army's logistics.

"Um. Almost done, sir. Just a few figures to add up..."

He quickly erased the numbers he had written and tried to substitute the actual figures from memory. As he worked, he made his lips move soundlessly, pretending to calculate.

"Here."

He handed his chalkboard to the quartermaster.

[Another_Poet]

Sir Romy

OOC:

That's harsh. This Quartermaster fellow seems to care a lot more about some infantryman's bunions than he does about respecting his betters. The von Ludolfs did not rise to eminence by counting carts and horses, no sir! If these infantry need to eat so badly, then....

Let them eat kegs.


Romy returns to the "Chateau" where he exercises the extreme pleasure of trying different handkerchiefs in the pockets of different coats with different cravats and ruffles.

He comments to Wexington: "Take a turn about the camp if you like. We're doing jolly well here!"

((Not much else to do, so I'm ready for whatever may be next.))

[Vikingkingq]

Johann glanced up guiltily. So, the quartermaster already knew about the engineer's demands for more powder... The young nobleman certainly did not want to endanger his own life by disturbing the entire army's logistics.

"Um. Almost done, sir. Just a few figures to add up..."

He quickly erased the numbers he had written and tried to substitute the actual figures from memory. As he worked, he made his lips move soundlessly, pretending to calculate.

"Here."

He handed his chalkboard to the quartermaster.

Johannes:

"Very good. Now then, at six of the clock, the General will be attending a reception at the palace, and we will attend upon the General. There will be many merchants at the reception, hungry for one last opportunity to bleed us dry before we go. I will require your assistance in bargaining these parasites down to an acceptable figure.

While we are well-stocked in powder, shot, arms, and armor, it is more mundane affairs that concern me. We have enough food for the march, just - but I believe that it is imperative to acquire a direct line of supply once we have reached Middenheim, as local sources are bound to be minimal and stretched. The second matter is one of winter gear - we do not want to take an army into a winter campaign up north without adequate winter supplies.

And now I'm afraid I must run to the officer's meeting."

[-Sentinel-]

Johann saluted.

"Sure, I'll be there, sir."

At last, something he was good at: attending receptions with important people.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise

My uncle is a soldier. War stories can only help him earn respect in that. Anna said with a polite nod, But if you do not wish to attend, that is your choice, of course.

[Daisuke1133]

"In that case, I can certainly regale with tales of the war. I have plenty of those."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor nodded. "I would be quite pleased to attend, although I fear the only suitable garb I have is ironmongery. I trust that will look satisfactory among the company of military men- and now, if you will excuse me, I have officers to hunt and generals to whom I must report."

[Vikingkingq]

Astor nodded. "I would be quite pleased to attend, although I fear the only suitable garb I have is ironmongery. I trust that will look satisfactory among the company of military men- and now, if you will excuse me, I have officers to hunt and generals to whom I must report."

Astor:

The bells of the city ring out in a rough consensus on six o'clock. Arm bandaged, you step into the broad tent to find a broad camp table occupying the center of the room.

http://www.oceansbridge.com/paintings/artists/recently-added/july2008/big/A-Council-of-War-William-Prince-of-Orange-and-his-Aides-after-Landing-at-Torbay-5th-November-1688-xx-Henry-Gillard-Glindoni.JPG

Jahn sits at the head of the table, a commanding presence humanized by the clay pipe in his hand. "Ah, our newest member has arrived," he calls out, standing up. An array of men in a mix of armor and the regiment's black and blue rise as well. "Allow me to introduce the men you'll be working with:
"Captain Manfred Russ, my aide-de-camp, and the standard bearer of this regiment-" he indicates a tall man with closely-cropped hair, an extravagant waxed moustache and a hatchet of a nose, who nods professionally.
"Bernhard Reichert, our secretary, quartermaster, and paymaster-" this time, the long-suffering clark bows.
"Herr Doktor Victor Havelock, our regimental physic," the black-robed man from this morning makes his own, graceful, bow.
"Commander Furio D'Innocenzi of the Halberdiers," an olive-skinned man with a pair of dueling scars across his face nods with a neutral expresion.
[B]"Lieutenant Stanislao Dell'orso of the 2nd Company Halberdiers, filling in for the indisposed Captain Lucrese, who you met this morning," the crowd chuckles at the red-faced discomfort of a middle-aged Tilean.
"Captain Frisco de Valderrama of the 3rd Company Halberdiers," a rakishly handsome man in the costume of the Estalian diestro murmurs "buenos dias."
"Commander Marius Pfaffbacher of the Gunners," Hawkswood indicates a bald man with a deep, leathery tan and pinched eyes who grunts.
"Captain Reinhardt Blunt of the 1st Gunners," a tawny-haired man with shaggy sideburns smiles and lifts a stein in salute.
"Captain Jean Baptiste Muscat of the 2nd Gunners," a bewigged Bretonnian inclines his head gracefully.
"Captain Fritzsche Brennermann of the 3rd Gunners," Jahn points to a quiet Hochlander who you could have sworn wasn't there a second ago.
"And lastly, Commander Friedrich Holzfallen of the Skirmishers," a red-haired man with a neat goatee and the most knives you've ever seen taps a finger to his nose.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor nods around the group of men. "Sirs. No doubt you already know my name- Astor Marquering." He looked to the paperwork on the table.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor:

"Now that we've got that out of the way, gentlemen, to business. I've received a readiness report from each battalion and company - with the obvious exception of the 1st Halberdiers, who will be reporting later today."

Jahn leans back in his chair, steepling his hands. "Three issues seem paramount: recruitment, readiness, and the overall command of the Middenland crusade. Manfred?"

The captain runs a hand across his jaw. "Our numbers are good, on track to put us at full strength. What worries me is the first-timers. We've done well to grab a fair number of veterans, but we're still going to have more than one in four men who've never seen a battle yet."

"Space out the fresh meat," Friedrich shrugs, cleaning his finger with a knife.

"That's not enough," Manfred snaps, glaring at the Commander.

"Si," Furio responds, "even if da new men have hardened veterans on either side, stronzo, if they break in da clinch, we're fighting under our weight."

"Blood them," Pfaffbacher grunts. The group takes a measured silence.

Manfred recovers first. "Aye, if we can get them past that first battle, it should hold together." Hawkswood nods, as if he'd been expecting this.

"Readiness?"

Manfred shakes his head. "If we had a month to train them, get the drills sunk in..."

"Well we don't," Jahn shrugs. "The fact o' the matter is that we're on a tight schedule. We need to be in Middenheim by the end of the month, which doesn't give us much time for our first campaign. You'll just have to drill on the march - make it happen gentlemen." The group does not look thrilled about that.

"As for command," here the general sits forward and answers his own question. "This is where I'm worried. Todbringer's in absolute command, and we know he's a solid man from the siege. But von Bildhoven and Todbringer hate each other, and von Bildhoven will barely admit that he's not the Elector this time. And no one trusts Gausser. The scenario that I dread is what happens if overall command and coordination breaks down between the regiments in the field. Thoughts, gentlemen?"

(Feel free to chime in at any time; assume that there's a lot of vigorous back and forth here that I haven't had time to describe)

[goblinpaladin]

Astor remained quiet; this was his first command, so for the time being he was clearly content to sit and drink in the comments of others.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk, for the time being, seemed content to remain quiet and imposing. The witch hunter's apprentice didn't have much to add to the conversation just now.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor:

After an hour of further discussion, the meeting breaks up. As you prepare to leave, Commander d'Innocente follows you out. "Capitane, I shall be shadowing you today as you prepare for the Generale's inspection. I would like to see how you lead both a basic halberd drill and a marching drill - march, double-step, charge, line into column, column into line, and so forth. Just the basics, so that they survive their first action. Il corso avanzato, that they will learn from the veterans among them."

He shrugs a cloak over his shoulders against the cold, and looks you directly in the eye, weighing you as a man might a horse for the race. "Given the lack of time for training, we must hope that intensity will do the work of repetition - work your recruits to their limits, and then past them, burn the memory of the motions into their very bones. Claro?"
(With that, we'll proceed to eight bells, and the interviews)

[Vikingkingq]

Vrolf and Gottschalk:

At eight bells, you find yourself waiting in a line of about two dozen men outside the 1st Company tent. A dour looking Lieutenant with a scattering of shrapnel scars across one side of his face points at you and growls: "NEXT!"

You walk into the tent to find the young knight from the duel sitting behind a camp table piled with paper, with a tired look on his face.


Astor:

A few minutes before eight bells, you find yourself pouring over drill manuals when Konig enters the 1st Company's command tent with a sheaf of paperwork. "Got the list of potential officers, sir. I've got the interviewees waiting outside-" he jerks his thumb at the tent entrance.


OOC:

Split yerselves into two spoilered convos, gents

[goblinpaladin]

To Commander d'Innocente:

Astor nodded. "Si, Commander. I understand."

In a Tent:

Astor looked up at his first Lieutenant and nodded wearily. "Good men, I trust? Send in the best first, then."

[Daisuke1133]

When Vrolf enters the tent he salutes the Captain and announces himself, "Sergeant Vrolf Hrilfson, reporting for duty, Ser!"

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk in a Tent
Having chosen to wear all his normal trappings of work, Gottschalk appeared every inch the servant of Sigmar.

"Evening." He said, "I was told to report here, and here I am. What is it you'll be having me do, then?" His inquisitive gaze was one he'd cultivated particularly to go with the outfit he wore. It suggested that whatever he was asked for had best not conflict with his duties to his order.

[goblinpaladin]

Vrolf: Astor nodded, gesturing the norscan into a seat. "You witnessed the duel, Vrolf, and you seem a reliable sort. You also look to have fought in the Storm- did you make it to Middenheim? Tell me your story."

Gottschalk: Astor lifted a sheet from the paperwork in front of him, smiling as he gestured Gottschalk into a seat. "Herr Hawkswood wants you made a Lieutenant, Templar. I'm wondering what one of the Hammers of Sigmar wants with an officer's duty in a halberdier regiment."

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf takes his seat and answers Astor, "My story entire story is a longer affair than we have time for, but to answer your question, yes, I was at Middenheim. Serving as a mercenary in the Empire's armies. I was among the shock troops who broke the Chaos warband's lines in many battles. I will be very proud to help drive what remains of the warbands back northward where they belong."

After relaying his tale he asks, "Where can my talents best serve you?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk
"I am coming along to ensure the faith of the men remains strong, and to root out any potential subversion of the effort by the Great Enemy," said Gottschalk, reciting his cover story. "I was assigned this duty to, I suspect, keep me busy while I'm not doing that. I am also along to act as safeguard for Hawkswood's niece. He seems to have insisted upon bringing her along, and a war zone is no place for young ladies with no combat experience, in my opinion."

That ought to do for the second part of the cover.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor and Co:

After an hour of interviewing applicants, you finally have a full roster of officers and sergeants:
Lieutenants: Konig, Grufträuber, Willi Remermann (retired Knight of the Burning Sun, friend of the family), Bartomar von Udermann (a young nobleman, ensign in the Altdorf militia), Leonid Sviridov (Half-Kislevite mercenary, veteran of the siege)
Sergeants: Dustermann, Henroth, Vrolf, Wolfram Gauss (a Middenlander veteran whose company disbanded after the siege), Hellebrecht Heinmann (a Talabeclander refugee, formerly Sergeant in the Kusel City Watch), Dietrich Hargendorfer (Company champion pugilist), Bertholdt Beck (Altdorfer military academy student), Ranfeld Kunz (Averlander veteran, company was destroyed in holding action against Grimgor's WAAGH!),
Sigismund Siegenhausen (refugee crusader, former cart-wright), Hartwicus Lieb (Altdorf City Watchman)

It is now nine bells of the morning. The fully-reconstituted 1st Company stands in its ranks, halberds laid out on the ground in front of them. While most of the men, either survivors or veterans, stand with practiced attention, a full third of the company look like they have no idea what they're doing, and more than a few show the tell-tale signs of recovery from "a round on Hawkswood."

Commander d'Innocente regards the men dispassionately from atop his horse.

[Vikingkingq]

6 Bells of the Evening:


http://img705.imageshack.us/img705/1258/fireworksmed.jpg

As you pass through the city gates, you see a city transformed into a blazing torch against the winter night. A thunderous cavalcade of fireworks, complements of the Imperial College of Engineers, greet the parade of officers who march down through the Konigplatz, across the Reik towards the glowing bulk of the palace. Torches and Reman candles line the streets, and even in the poor quarters, candles and bonfires (and a few burning houses) join in denial of Old Night.

Positively thrilled at the chance to party two nights in a row, the citizens of Altdorf line the route, cheering drunkenly. You pass under the archway of the Imperial Palace's northwestern gate under the stern gaze of the Reiksguard and the Imperial Heralds, to pass into the Emperor's Gardens, which have been transformed with paper lanterns and heat lamps into a most unseasonable paradise. A huge crowd of nobles, courtiers, soldiers, ladies of the court, crusaders, merchants, ambassadors, and even a few ink-stained wretches from the Altdorf Press chatter away, drift through the gardens, or avail themselves of the groaning buffet tables.

OOC:

Feel free to grab food, mingle, gawp at your betters and the like.
Gossip and Perception checks will both work to pick up info (Gossip for actively seeking out information, Perception for just overhearing those around you)
Knowledge (Empire) might help you with who's who
Charm, Haggle, Deceive might all have their uses


Gottschalk and Anna:

As you pass through the crowd, you are suddenly joined by your "mutual acquaintance," who seemingly appears out of nowhere. "Having a good evening?" he murmurs. "Can't stay for long. Observe Todbringer. Hard to miss, the man's stomping around like an ogre in a halfling teashop. May have further need for you later." And as quickly as that, he is gone.


Johann:

After a few minutes mingling and quaffing, you see Bernhardt signaling to you in a crowd from a knot of well-dressed, portly types. "Ah, here is my right hand man, Johann Reinhard, of the von Marienburg Reinhards. Johann, I'd like you to meet Herr Meyer Oskarr of the Butcher's Guild, Herr Einhard Hovis of the Baker's Guild, and Herr Sigurt Roe'bucht of the Mercantile Society. Why don't you talk to them about the provisioning issues we discussed earlier; I'm afraid I need to talk to Herr Lagerfeld of the Mercer's Association about the winter clothes."

As he passes, he hisses: "keep them drinking, keep them happy, and don't go above this-" and presses a small piece of paper into your hand.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk at the Drill
"Gentlemen," The witch hunter begins, having acquired an officer's sash from somewhere. "We're here to make of you a fighting unit. We're going to be fighting for Sigmar himself, so we'd best be good at it, hadn't we? I want every man here to pull his own weight, support his comrades, and stay alive. I will be most displeased if anyone under my command breaks and runs. We are men of the Empire. We do not run from our enemies!"


[roll0] Fellowship! VS 39, assuming no bonuses

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf stands before the assembled soldiers, disappointed at the quality of many of the new recruits. It would be his responsibility to show these men how to fight.

"Now men, normally this would be the point where I insult you, disparage your parents, and call your manliness into question. But I'm not going to do that. I am here to train you in the use of those halberds, not make you want to impale me with them. These drills really are not very difficult. We will do these drills until they are as natural as breathing to you."

[roll0] vs 31
Re-roll here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9537533&postcount=228)

[-Sentinel-]

Trying to look casual, Johann smiled politely to the three guildmasters and glanced at the piece of paper in his hand.

[Vikingkingq]

Trying to look casual, Johann smiled politely to the three guildmasters and glanced at the piece of paper in his hand.

The note reads:

Get the best bulk rate you can.

Bread - No more than 2 p a loaf, 37,500 per month
[GM's note - 1 loaf per soldier, every other day]
Meat - No more than 1s a side, 1,250 per month
[GM's note - 1 serving of meat per soldier, per week]
Trail Rations - No more than 6s per six-day's-worth, 30,000 per month
[GM's note - 1 serving per soldier, every other day]
Ale - No more than 18p per barrel, 3,125 per month
[Gm's Note - 1 pint per soldier, per day]

[-Sentinel-]

Trying to sound more friendly than businesslike, Johann discussed politics and economics with the three men, shared news from Altdorf and asked them about their families. He felt quite at ease: events like this were his natural element.

He gradually steered the conversation towards the matter of the supplies he had to buy. He was not used to haggling (his brothers, all wealthy merchants, were better at it than him), but he was quite good at diplomacy... whenever he did not go out of his way to look like an obnoxious, vapid idiot.


Bread:
Charm 54: [roll0]

Haggle 22: [roll1]
Haggle 22: [roll2]
Haggle 22: [roll3]
Haggle 22: [roll4]
Haggle 22: [roll5]

Meat:
Charm 54: [roll6]

Haggle 22: [roll7]
Haggle 22: [roll8]
Haggle 22: [roll9]
Haggle 22: [roll10]
Haggle 22: [roll11]

Rations:
Charm 54: [roll12]

Haggle 22: [roll13]
Haggle 22: [roll14]
Haggle 22: [roll15]
Haggle 22: [roll16]
Haggle 22: [roll17]

Ale:
Charm 54: [roll18]

Haggle 22: [roll19]
Haggle 22: [roll20]
Haggle 22: [roll21]
Haggle 22: [roll22]
Haggle 22: [roll23]


Edit: Meh. I expected better.

[goblinpaladin]

Halberd Drill

"Men of the Empire!" Astor cried. "Many of you fought alongside me and those like me at Middenheim; many of you fought in the other conflicts of that great Storm which shattered upon the impregnable walls of Sigmar's Imperium! Now we shall head back into the teeth of the enemy, to cast the northers back into their black pit!" He stalked the ground on foot, clad in his gleaming armour.

"Some of you have never seen a fur-clad barbarian of the Wastes, and you may feel this is a challenge. Rise to it! You are burghers and farmers and now you are soldiers! You will drill, and drill again, until the polearms before you become as an extension of your fine, clean limbs, so that the ramshackle, feral enemy scatters before the shiny blades which shall move as one."

He drew his sword. "Follow your sergeants; learn from your fellows! Recover!"

[roll0]

"Order!"

[roll1]

[goblinpaladin]

At the Emperor's Party

Astor roamed the party, looking a little out of place in his Order's armour. Still, among so large a group, featuring so many military men in dress uniforms, the effect was not so unusual. He helped himself to some decent imperial ale, and chattered freely with others of his class from Wissenland; he sought news of his father and brothers.

Charm [Fel 37]: [roll0]
Gossip [Fel 37]: [roll1]

[Vikingkingq]

Astor, Vrolf, and Gottschalk:

Konig stands, facing the company with halberd on the ground in front of him, and bellows "Reeecoverrr....ARMS!", while demonstrating the motion himself. The officers join their voices to the chorus, with the now-animated Witch Hunter bellowing a psalm to Sigmar, but a full third of the men are behind the beat, perhaps a fourth just snatch for the pole-arm, and a few men actually drop their halberds.

Dustermann lets out a roaring "ACH DU LIEBER! You are worthless, vile, scum!", pacing the back lines and bellowing into the ears of the most hapless. Along the lines, you can see the other sergeants doling out curses and clouts with a free hand, while the veteran two-thirds stare blankly ahead.

Konig gives you a suffering look, but soldiers on. "Orderrrr - ARMS!" "As one, men, as one!" you shout encouragingly, but the inexperience shows. Again, the timing is off, although marginally closer to the beat. More than a few men knock the men in front of them as they bring their pikes up to the vertical, and one poor fool manages to clobber himself in the face. Gottschalk calls down the wrath of Sigmar on the semi-concussed man, who scrambles back to his feet shamefacedly.

A Borderland bloodhound could not give you a more soulful look that Konig does at this moment, but he sighs, draws breath and- "Aaadvance-ARMS!" "Like back on the farm - pretend you're picking up your scythe after a day's work," you shout. By Myrmidia's Grace, who watches out for the put-upon officer, the raw recruits seem to be getting into the swing of things. The halberds rise as one into the air, their wicked metal points gleaming in the weak winter sunlight.

Konig grunts with quiet satisfaction. "Ssshoulderrrr-ARMS!" he shouts, balancing the seven-foot long polearm with a veteran's ease. "Like you're heading home!" you continue on your bucolic theme. The men seem to gain heart from their first success, and the rows of pikes tilt backwards smoothly.

"Pooortt-ARMS!" The men let out a shout as they bring the axe-heads down, menacing an unseen enemy. "Chopping wood, men!" you call out. Unfortunately, the grip of some of the newer men is less than good, and their axes continue to fall to the ground, causing a number of men to scramble hastily out of the way, as the axes thump into the ground. One poor soul isn't fast enough and takes an axe to the back with a scream. Vrolf and Gottschalk grab both men (thankfully, the cut is a shallow one) and pull them out of the line, screaming promises of spiky red-hot death for the next whoreson who drops his weapon. Konig winces, and the enigmatic Commander d'Innocente covers his eyes with one hand.

"Keep them moving," you hiss, and Konig bellows "Chaarrge-ARMS!" Chastened by their lamentable failure, the men move with alacrity, pacing the Lieutenant as he raises the halberd parallel to the ground, then jabs with the spearpoint. "RHAH!" they shout, piercing the air in one swift movement.

"Sigmar demands discipline!" you hear the Witch Hunter orate from somewhere in the depths of the ranks as the drill-master calls out "Clooose-ORDER!" Filled with pious obedience, the company moves as one through the complicated movement, their pikes returning to vertical before thumping the butt-spike into the earth. Suddenly, the tight rows of men turn into a veritable forest of iron.

The commander spurs over to you. "Practice, signore. Molto practice."

[Daisuke1133]

After seeing the performance of the recruits, Vrolf moves through the ranks, cuffing some of the more incompetent ones, particularly the one who caused the casualty.

"Men, that was quite abysmal. If we were to go into battle right now I have little doubt that almost all of you would be killed. You are to bring death to your enemies, Not your fellows, I don't want to see that happen again! I am going to demonstrate again. Pay Attention!"

Vrolf then carefully goes through each of the drills again, hoping that his words have instilled the discipline necessary for them to succeed.

[roll0] vs 31
[roll1] vs 31
[roll2] vs 31
[roll3] vs 31
[roll4] vs 31
[roll5] vs 31
[roll6] vs 31

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk at the drill
"You sorry lot have some potential, at least. With more practice, maybe we can turn you into something resembling men. I've been in a lot worse places than I reckon most of you have ever dreamed of, and you know why I'm still alive?" Hefting his sword, Gottschalk spins the blade in a glittering arc. "This! This and the grace of Sigmar is what keeps me alive. All you have right now is the grace of Sigmar, and that won't save you from incompetence! AGAIN! Until you get it right!"

Gottschalk at the party
"That's not really surprising," Gottschalk murmurs back. "Time to go find him, I suppose." Weaving through the crowd looking for Todbringer, the witch hunter stops on occasion to try and pick up some of the latest news.

[goblinpaladin]

The commander spurs over to you. "Practice, signore. Molto practice."

Astor salutes d'Innocente with a sweep of his sword. "Aye. That's what we need," he said wearily.

"Alright!" he cried to the assembled officers and troops. "We do it again!"

[Vikingkingq]

At the Emperor's Party

Astor roamed the party, looking a little out of place in his Order's armour. Still, among so large a group, featuring so many military men in dress uniforms, the effect was not so unusual. He helped himself to some decent imperial ale, and chattered freely with others of his class from Wissenland; he sought news of his father and brothers.

Charm [Fel 37]: [roll0]
Gossip [Fel 37]: [roll1]
Astor at the Party:

The knot of courtiers don't look especially impressed with his provincial accent, but given the high speed of chatter flowing through the garden, you're bound to pick something up. "Wissenland is quiet at the moment, from what I hear...Marquering, Marquering....heard something about a Marquering joining the Pistoliers, maybe." They then turn back to the subject du jour - the North.

"Why is the Emperor not sending of any his own men to the North? Bit of a rum do, that."
"Haven't you heard? Reikland's stretched, old boy - Schwartzhelm's taken the Reikland regiments off to Averland to end the dispute over the succession and to push out Grimgor's Waaagh, and Helborg's taken the Reiksguard to Talabecland to deal with that succession crisis, and to guard the line against any of the Chaos remnants heading south. All Franz can do is to give away land that's not his."
"Sigh. I miss Leitdorf. Mad as a spoon, but so much fun at parties."
"Oh, I know, old boy. But that's the thing about Averlanders - they're all like that, so the new man will provide plenty of sport, eh wot?"

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk at the party
"That's not really surprising," Gottschalk murmurs back. "Time to go find him, I suppose." Weaving through the crowd looking for Todbringer, the witch hunter stops on occasion to try and pick up some of the latest news.


Gottschalk:


As you press through the crowd you here people chattering away freely, and the name Todbringer comes up frequently.
"I hear Todbringer won't last much longer, and is looking for an heir to marry his daughter off to."
"Nonsense! I hear he's been rowing with the Al-Ulric, trying to get the stubborn old man to declare his son Heinrich legitimate."
"I hear he damn near ate his mustache when he found out that von Bildhoven won a place in the Middenland Crusade."
"According to my sources, Karl Franz deliberately chose Bildhoven to keep Todbringer from gaining too much strength in the province."

As you pass through the gardens into the castle proper, you hear two voices raised in anger.


Roll Silent Move if you want to move in closer, Perception if you just want to eavesdrop.

[BloodyAngel]

Annalise at the Party

Annalise arrived for the party dressed well... a long, clean dress with a soft fur shawl to keep out the cold. It was only rabbit, but warmth was warmth. She looked about for a moment, even after her visitor and the departure of her witch hunter friend. It suited her just as well really... she worked best on her own.

Knowledge: Empire (to see whom she knows of here) [roll0]
Perception: Listening in, for now [roll1]

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk at the party
The witch hunter smiles to himself over the many rumours. One could never be sure what was true and what was false with these sorts of things. Stopping when he heard the raised voices, he tried to listen in without being obvious.

[roll0] Perception 43 Pass, by a lot

[roll1] Move Silently 22 (Untrained! Use only if Perception fails!)

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya, at the Party

Liliya arrives in her Kislevite finery, a small folding fan clutched in her hand. It seemed an Imperial fashion. A fan in the winter, though, was beyond pointless to her, except to kindle a flame in the wastes. Her bright gray eyes scan the gathering, her ears keen and ready. She flits, almost lonely among the foreign courtiers, and then takes in a small breath, searching for the familiar cold-earth smell of oblast magic--or whatever else she might discover.

Perception for conversations (41) - [roll0]
Magical Sense (61) - [roll1]

[Vikingkingq]

Liliya, at the Party

Liliya arrives in her Kislevite finery, a small folding fan clutched in her hand. It seemed an Imperial fashion. A fan in the winter, though, was beyond pointless to her, except to kindle a flame in the wastes. Her bright gray eyes scan the gathering, her ears keen and ready. She flits, almost lonely among the foreign courtiers, and then takes in a small breath, searching for the familiar cold-earth smell of oblast magic--or whatever else she might discover.

Perception for conversations (41) - [roll0]
Magical Sense (61) - [roll1]

Lililya:

As you pass through the crowd, your exotic garb draws appreciative and jealous glances by turn, and a number of well-dressed young men begin to follow in your wake. You are able to overhear a number of conversations, due to the fact that even the most cosmopolitan Altdorfer still has a residual belief that foreigners are a bit deaf and stupid.

"Why on earth did the Grand Theogonist not speak himself - didn't look good."
"I hear the Grand Theogonist's wounds aren't doing well. Might not last the year."
"Nonsense. The real reason he didn't speak was that he's grooming the new Lector, Kahlvin Johannes. A real firebrand, Johannes, very popular with the wild sorts who sympathize with that radical Huss."
"That's a very dangerous game for a man who just got back into the chair to play - the Esmerites might be leaderless, but they've still got a lot of power."
"I hear that's why the High Capitular Ignatius Grimwold is replacing old Stolz as the master of the Middenheim Temple. Keep the reformers from getting too much power."

As you pass through the crowds, you see the Ulrican embassy plowing through the crowd like a pack of orca through sea ice and growling to themselves in some private language. One of them, a huge bear of a man with a fiery red mane, although unusually clean-shaven for an Ulrican priest, has a faint tingle of wintry magic about him, although it is hard to tell whether that stems from his association with the God of Wolves and Winter, or some other source. His gaze falls upon you for a second and seems almost to recognize you before he passes on.

[-Sentinel-]

Johann noticed Liliya very shortly after her entrance. With her snow-white hair, she did not exactly blend in the crowd.

Hey, isn't that the young woman who encouraged me to see a play in Altdorf? he thought.

He threw a deadly glare at the young curs following her and decided to be the first to attract her attention. After a few parting words to the three guildmasters, he strode in her direction, a broad smile on his lips.

"My, what a lovely dress, my lady," he greeted her, bowing. "I did not expect to meet you here."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya fumbles for her fan and then raises it in front of her mouth, as if to hide the fact that she was speaking. "And I am surprised to find you awake. How have you faired, then," she asks, almost in spite of herself. "That Hawkswood man has some foul techniques, I suppose. When you passed out, there wasn't anyone who even bothered to look up."

[-Sentinel-]

"Ah yes, that," said Johann sullenly. "Thankfully, there was at least one person with enough common sense to give me a task to the level of my abilities. I'm here to talk business with some of our suppliers." He smiled. "May I ask what could possibly lead a young Kislevite actress to follow an army?"

[GryffonDurime]

"I am not an actress," she says, with a bit of sorrow--as if that would have been an easier life, a better one. "But I have services to render, and the North is my home--I would see Chaos pushed from its borders as surely as any."

[-Sentinel-]

"You seem like a strong woman," said Johann with admiration. "I wish I had this kind of determination. I'm only here because I've been forced into service. But I'm starting to realize that I don't really have any great cause or ideal to live for... that I'm too fearful or lazy to try to make the world a better place... that I'm content to just watch life pass me by."

He was surprised to hear himself speak so sincerely to a near stranger. He was not much given to introspection and self-doubt: usually he talked only about politics, the arts and the latest gossip, as if scared to delve into uncomfortable matters.

"Of course," he added almost guiltily, "that doesn't mean I won't do my best. We all have a role to play in our victory."

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya lowers the fan slowly, delicately, abandonning the pretense out of a growing and grudging respect.

"Yes," she says, her gaze distant and fixed on something further than the Empire, something separated by both distance and time. "Just as we have all had our hand in the making of this conflict." Her words are softer now, not accusations but bare statements of regrettable fact. "Chaos is the burden of man, ours to battle to a standstill for eternity...because the only other choice is loss, yes? But I know cowards. I have been a coward. That is why I'm here now, I suppose. In the Empire, in this army."

[-Sentinel-]

"I still have no idea why you joined this army," Johann admitted. "Surely you can't be a combatant. Are you some sort of diplomat or representative, like me?"

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk at the party
The witch hunter smiles to himself over the many rumours. One could never be sure what was true and what was false with these sorts of things. Stopping when he heard the raised voices, he tried to listen in without being obvious.

[roll0] Perception 43 Pass, by a lot

[roll1] Move Silently 22 (Untrained! Use only if Perception fails!)

Gottschalk at the Party:

As you pass by a door, the two voices become more distinct. You pause, keeping to one side of the threshold.
"-crusade is reckless! I warned Volkmar of this - it was bad enough when the fanatics and doomsayers were whipping themselves in the streets when the war began, but now you've given them sanction!"
"The people have been traumatized by the invasion, and by the lamentable failure of our leaders to act with boldness and speed in the face of the enemy. I believe - and the Grand Theogonist and the College agree with me - that they need something more than your moth-eaten homilies - a purpose to live for, hope for a great awakening of the spirit of the nation!"
"Bah! A majority of one is hardly a consensus. And false hope is no hope at all!"
"False hope? False? Do you deny the blessed soul Valten?"
"His signs of divine inspiration were not adequately proven, and you know that. Consider: Sigmar himself passed through the fires of Middenheim and slew the champion Morkar of Chaos and Nagash of Old Night without a scratch. The blessed Magnus submitted himself to the same fiery ordeal and was spared. This blacksmith's son did not submit himself to the tests of an anointed one."
"Oh ye of little faith! You were not there, Grimwold; you cannot understand. Hundreds of thousands of fighting men saw him challenge Archaon the Damned and smite him down, knowing his own death. If you and your faction cannot recognize the faith his martyrdom has inspired in the masses, you will be swept aside!"
"You will divide the Church, destroy Imperial Unity!"
"If the Church does not reform, it will collapse within!"

A large man, tonsured and bearded and wearing the richly-embroided robes of a high-ranking scion of Sigmar's chosen, storms through the door. He spins on his heel and flashes the traditional two-fingered Sigmarite warding. "Feckless radical!" he shouts back through the door, and then huffs off.

He is closely followed by the priest you saw earlier, who bellows "Hidebound old fool!" while shaking his fist at the other man's retreating back.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk
Watching the priest storm off, Gottschalk turned and nodded in greeting to the Valten supporter. "Evening," he said simply, waiting to see what the other man would say before adding his own two cents.

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya considers for a moment and then shrugs. "I am what you may think of as a wizard, though I am not a wizard. Your colleges grasp at vulgar magic. My sisters and I draw our power from the cold heart of the land, the North, our home. We have used it to stand against the throngs of Chaos for countless centuries," she says, and as grand as her claims are, there is a certain wavering in her voice, an uncertainty. She turns her eyes downward and tightens her grip around the folded fan. "I ran from that responsibility, once. Ran to this place, which promptly sends me back."

[-Sentinel-]

"A wizard? Now that's interesting!" exclaimed Johann.

He did not share most people's fear of spellcasters: Marienburg was full of wizards, thanks to its more liberal laws. Many wizards who had been expelled from the Imperial Colleges came to Marienburg.

"I truly can't wait to see you in action. You may have run once, but I'm sure you're braver than you think."

[GryffonDurime]

"I've never used magic that way, before, though--in combat, I mean. I know it, theoretically...but I've never conjured a blade of ice or wrapped myself in a coat of winter wind."

She deflates a bit further, chest sinking in. "Still. We must do what we can. If nothing else, the nearer we come to Kislev, the better a guide I can be."

[Daisuke1133]

Vrolf feels decidedly out of place in the room full of nobles and other assorted aristocrats. Feeling as though he were stuffed into his uniform, he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible as he listens to the conversations going on around him while eating his meal.

[roll0] vs 31

[goblinpaladin]

Party DOWN with the nobs woo

Astor frowned, piping up. "Reikland's stretched by interfering in another County's internal politics? I can't image Averland's pleased with that... Almost as testy as Count Todbringer, I'll wager."

[Vikingkingq]

Party DOWN with the nobs woo

Astor frowned, piping up. "Reikland's stretched by interfering in another County's internal politics? I can't image Averland's pleased with that... Almost as testy as Count Todbringer, I'll wager."

Astor at the Party:

One of the men, an older fellow in a military uniform, scoffs. "They've got no Elector Count and an ork waagh tearing up the countryside, it's not like they have much of a choice. Besides, Schwartzhelm did a fine job sorting out Leitdorf."

"Or are you one of those provincial autonomy extremists, eh?"

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk
Watching the priest storm off, Gottschalk turned and nodded in greeting to the Valten supporter. "Evening," he said simply, waiting to see what the other man would say before adding his own two cents.

Gottschalk at the Party:

The man turns to you with a well-practiced smile. "Just a bit of a theological disputation-" he glances at your distinctive garb and offers a massive right hand the size of a side of beef, "-Templar Knight. Sigmar be with you, Brother. I am Kahlvin Johannes, the new Lector for Middenland and spiritual leader of the Middenland Crusade to scour the north of the heathen darkness. And you are?""

Despite yourself, you find the man's warmth and easy collegiality inviting.

[Vikingkingq]

Annalise at the Party

Annalise arrived for the party dressed well... a long, clean dress with a soft fur shawl to keep out the cold. It was only rabbit, but warmth was warmth. She looked about for a moment, even after her visitor and the departure of her witch hunter friend. It suited her just as well really... she worked best on her own.

Knowledge: Empire (to see whom she knows of here) [roll0]
Perception: Listening in, for now [roll1]

Anna:

It's rather hard to keep up with the swirl of vicounts and baronets, guild masters and merchant bankers, and other notables who fill the Imperial Gardens almost to bursting.

As you pass, you can hear chatter to every side.
"I hear Bildhoven threw a goblet of wine into Gausser's face!"
"The Count? Bildhoven's arrogance goes too far, even for a former Count himself."
"Nay, the younger Gausser. The one as looks as if a greyhound were shaved and taught to walk on his hind legs, but nothing further."
"Hah! That o'erweening half-a-Norscan? Good show for the Duke, though I imagine a Nordlander is used to the spray in his face."
"Indeed, oh my yes."

As you walk through the gardens, you almost hear a noise emerging from one of the ornamental bowers.

Perception check, if you please.

[goblinpaladin]

Astor raised his brow at the other knight. "I wasn't aware that the Elector of the Reikland was entitled to determine the affairs of the rest of the Empire. Perhaps I was mistaken. Shall he next depose von Raukov entire, then? Mayhap we shall become as those Breton savages, ruled by an absolute king and the rest of the provinces his puppet dukes."

He frowned. "It is no extremist position to point out that the Reikland is not the Empire."

[-Sentinel-]

"I trust you'll find a way to play your part," said Johann. Then he grew bold: "Will you walk with me, miss Liliya? I'm here mostly for business reasons, but I'd be honored to have such a remarkable lady at my side. Have you noticed how heads turn as you pass?"

[GryffonDurime]

She smiles, offering Johann her arm. "It's all the exotic. They like to turn their heads and look at the savage beauty. But I am growing used to being a foreigner in this place. It almost makes me glad that we will be heading northward soon. But such commotion I've overheard--concerns over the...theoganist, is that the word?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Theogonist," Johann corrects her. "The head of the Church of Sigmar. What did you hear about him? I've been too busy with business to pay attention to gossip..."

He began to walk with her, glancing at the other young nobles with a smug little smile of triumph.

[Destro_Yersul]

Gottschalk at the Party:

The man turns to you with a well-practiced smile. "Just a bit of a theological disputation-" he glances at your distinctive garb and offers a massive right hand the size of a side of beef, "-Templar Knight. Sigmar be with you, Brother. I am Kahlvin Johannes, the new Lector for Middenland and spiritual leader of the Middenland Crusade to scour the north of the heathen darkness. And you are?""

Despite yourself, you find the man's warmth and easy collegiality inviting.


Gottschalk
"Gottschalk Grufträuber. I'll be accompanying the army on that Crusade. We must always maintain vigilance." Smiling, the former tomb-robber shakes the priest's hand. "The Enemy can hide anywhere, as I'm sure you well know." Changing tack abruptly, he adds a question. "Tell me. Who was that your dispute was with? I didn't recognize him."

[GryffonDurime]

"I heard concerns that the Theogonist," she says, pronouncing the word with a measure of difficulty, "would not last the year, that there was trouble with...reformers? Religion is simpler at home. What is an Esmerite?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Esmer was named Grand Theogonist after Volkmar was supposedly killed in battle against Archaon's forces," explained Johann. "But Volkmar's return changed everything... Now there's a power struggle within the Church between Volkmar's supporters and Esmer's supporters. Some of the Esmerites go so far as to claim that Volkmar is a Chaos impostor."

[Vikingkingq]

Gottschalk
"Gottschalk Grufträuber. I'll be accompanying the army on that Crusade. We must always maintain vigilance." Smiling, the former tomb-robber shakes the priest's hand. "The Enemy can hide anywhere, as I'm sure you well know." Changing tack abruptly, he adds a question. "Tell me. Who was that your dispute was with? I didn't recognize him."

Gottschalk:

"I imagine you'll meet him again, as he's accompanying the army as well. Ignatius Grimwold, now High Capitular of the Temple of Sigmar at Middenheim. A sop to the Esmerites to quieten them after the Grand Theogonist appointed me as Lector, and spiritual leader of the Middenland Crusade." His eyes observe you closely to see your reaction to the term Esmerite.

[Vikingkingq]

Astor raised his brow at the other knight. "I wasn't aware that the Elector of the Reikland was entitled to determine the affairs of the rest of the Empire. Perhaps I was mistaken. Shall he next depose von Raukov entire, then? Mayhap we shall become as those Breton savages, ruled by an absolute king and the rest of the provinces his puppet dukes."

He frowned. "It is no extremist position to point out that the Reikland is not the Empire."

Astor:

The crowd around you murmurs, but you hear a few claps.
"Oh come now - from the very beginning, the position of Elector Count has never been a purely hereditary matter, as it is in Bretonnia; the Emperor has always been called upon to settle disputes of the inheritance of the Countships. Emperor Mandred settled the succession of Drakwald through the abolition of the province, Magnus the Pious decided the succession of Middenland, look you."

"Besides, isn't it rather hypocritical of you to take up the Hammer in search of a title and lands and then deny the right of the Emperor to decide matters of Imperial policy?"

[Vikingkingq]

Anna:

As you drift closer to the ornamental bower, you hear a very familiar sound - the giggling of a young woman, the rustling of clothes, and two people in the early stages of passion. A girl's voice moans, "oh Heinrich!" and then you hear a deeper bass reply, "sssh, we must be discrete, Lizbet."

Knowledge (Empire) check if you will.

[Vikingkingq]

Vrolf feels decidedly out of place in the room full of nobles and other assorted aristocrats. Feeling as though he were stuffed into his uniform, he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible as he listens to the conversations going on around him while eating his meal.

[roll0] vs 31

Vrolf:

The chatter of these effete Southrons is pretty much meaningless to you - they mention people by first name who are clearly supposed to be important, but you don't know them from Adelbart, and they talk so fast!

Still, the food's some of the best you've ever tasted, the sausages are meat through and through, and the beer, while not as strong as the pop-skull you grew up on, has a good nutty flavor that's giving you a nice warm feeling.

[Vikingkingq]

Lililya and Johann:

The soberly-dressed clark who Lililya met only once but who Johann knows as Bernhardt makes his way through the press to clap Johann on the shoulder. "Ah, there you are. Fraulien Belanov, good evening," he bows politely. "Johann, how did it go?"

[-Sentinel-]

Johann smiled.

"It went fairly well. I believe I've saved us quite a few crowns. I didn't calculate exactly how much, though..."


OOC: Did the guildmasters give me some sort of contract or bill that I can show to Bernhardt?

[Vikingkingq]

Johann smiled.

"It went fairly well. I believe I've saved us quite a few crowns. I didn't calculate exactly how much, though..."


OOC: Did the guildmasters give me some sort of contract or bill that I can show to Bernhardt?

[OOC]

You have a set of agreed upon prices, as described in the OOC thread.

[-Sentinel-]

"Here, I noted the prices I managed to negotiate for the supplies."

Johann handed Bernhardt a piece of parchment.

[GryffonDurime]

Liliya surprises herself by giving the clark an honest smile, followed by another for Johann. "I suppose we all have our little talents to bring to bear against Chaos. Even if it's only a gift for pockets and purses."

[goblinpaladin]

Astor:
"Besides, isn't it rather hypocritical of you to take up the Hammer in search of a title and lands and then deny the right of the Emperor to decide matters of Imperial policy?"

Astor spread his hands. "I go north to clean the Empire of norther dogs, as is our duty. If the Emperor wishes to give me title for that, I shall hold it in the name of my Order, as is also my duty. No, fighting to preserve the land that Sigmar gave us is why we have an Emperor. On the other hand, the internal affairs of a province are internal- at least, until that province is no more."

Astor smiled and fingered the scar along one side of his head. "As was the case for the Drakwald, or my own Old Solland."

"At any rate: it is not for me to question the Emperor; I am his man. I am just intrigued that he is sending Reikland infantry to handle Averland affairs. I cannot imagine they will handle that well in Averheim or Nuln."