[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[LCP]

Elsa

"She's grown fond of one of the other two," said Elsa, casting the dice. "May she be allowed to keep it? None of them would've been found, let alone recovered, without her talent with beasts."

Sforza frowned. "Who do these others belong to?" he asked. "I doubt you'd take kindly to someone asking to keep your horse because they found it."

"They belonged to the Falcons," said Al-Makir, quietly. "We commandeered the surplus animals."

"Warhorses, then," said Sforza. "Not suitable for a slip of a girl. Not to mention valuable." He shook his head. "If she wants a horse - if she needs a horse - Abdul can find her a suitable one. She deserves some kind of reward. Otherwise - " - he looked round at his lieutenants - " - I don't know, what do peasant girls like?"

A room full of blank male stares greeted him.

"Fine," he said. "A horse, then."

"I need to ask... My, ah, letters, described the location of a few things I hid not far from here during the war with Alvarr, and which I'd now like to recover. Did you by any chance have them retrieved? Just making sure I won't be wasting a trip..."

Sforza was starting to look a little irritated. "No, Holt, I did not set my men to digging up your possessions." He paused, a thought seeming to cross his mind. "Is there anything buried there that I should know about? Any more... unusual books?"

---

Urgrim

Berki was sitting in the late afternoon sun, looking fully recovered - the effects of a dwarfish constitution and several days to recover from the spirits' freezing touch. He smiled broadly as he saw Urgrim approaching.

"How are you? I'm sorry I never came to see you after the battle, before you came back here. We tried to track the witch right after, and then there was so much on my mind the next morning ..." It was a weak apology, and Urgrim looked abashed. He didn't know what else to say.

"You didn't catch her?" he said. "The others told me you were tracking her. She must be cunning as a rat, to have given you the slip."

He squinted up at the sun, stretching in a way that still betrayed some stiffness in his limbs. "One umgi won't get far. We got him, that's what matters. Thrunrik and the others... all avenged." He couldn't seem to keep himself from smiling. "It'll be a story to tell, back at the Rock."

~

Urgrim found Grunlok and Skorgrund cloistered in a noisy and noisome corner of the Star, packed in tight behind at least a dozen Dwimmulsons. Squeezing his way through, he managed to make himself heard over the continuous chorus of complaints about the proprietor's beer.

"Sforza has it, eh?" said Skorgrund, scrutinising Urgrim's face intently from under his beetling brows. He was nursing a tankard with both hands, a few suds clinging to his white moustache. There was a long, heavy silence. "Aye, well," he said at last. "Little the grombolgi could do about it, as you say. It'll be between the umgi princeling and the Rinn, now." He slurped down another gulp of his drink. "I'll make sure she knows."

"Jotunnsson here went down with the... hunters," said Grunlok. Like Urgrim, he wouldn't say the words ambush party if he could avoid it. "He was there when they shot the zangunaz down."

"So I've heard," said Skorgrund. "Clan Dwimmulson owes you a debt of thanks."