[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XII

[LCP]

Ludo

"None at all," said Lottie.

Dusk was gathering thick around them, and soon they had lost sight of the Tileans through the trees. Ludo spotted a pair of Armin's fanatics through the woods ahead, and gave them a wide berth. Lottie followed silently behind.

At last, they came to the edge of the hollow. The camp looked crowded - Ludo thought there had to be a good seventy people down there, more than he'd left Armin with the last time he'd seen them. It was hard to make out faces through the gloom, but Ludo's eyes were sharp - he saw Armin near the centre of the camp, talking to a huddle of people by a small campfire. His staff with its wolf's-skull totem was driven into the ground beside him.

---

Not Ludo

Filing off into the trees, the Thorns followed a curving path around to the west of where the hollow lay. Despite the dying light, it was easy enough for them to keep their bearings - they just had to follow the rising ground. The more difficult thing was to keep the movement of so many men hidden from any watchers in the woods.

It had been about ten minutes since they left the Iron Company behind where they heard the soft crunch of a footfall up ahead. Gustaf raised his crossbow - but the shape that stepped out from behind the trees was a man in the armour of the Falcons. Behind him were the dim shapes of others, strung out in a line to catch anyone running from the camp.

Riding up along the line, Volker hailed Sieghard with a wave. "Ready when you are," he said, keeping his voice low. "Let's hope the Tileans catch our signal."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Sieghard replied. Out of paranoia, he checked whether the spear was glowing or not and then gave the sign for Elsa to signal the Iron Company.

Spoiler

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No sense taking chances - if it is glowing, he'll warn Elsa rather than having her immediately signal Sforza. Assuming it isn't, he's going in with crossbow ready.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa had an increasingly bad feeling about this whole expedition; it looked as if Sforza just planned to butcher the entire camp. But it's far too late for doubts now, she thought, making thunder rumble overhead.

OOC

Spoiler

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Channeling 93: (d100)[22]
Sounds (not sure about the casting number but it's like 4 or 5): (d10)[6]

Easy-peasy.

"I'll teach you this one soon," she told Tatiana with a smile.

[LeSwordfish]

"Alright," Ludo muttered, and stood, stepping forwards into the clearing. There was a convenient rock by the side of the depression: he clambered up onto it and raised his voice.

"Armin!" he called out, over the murmur of voices and over the fire. "Last time we met, you said you were headed for the hidden vale! You're somewhat out of the way. Last time we met, you said that if the soldiers came, you wouldn't ask anyone to defend you! You promised Lottie Cinderhill that you would instruct your followers to put their weapons down and go quietly. I'm here to honour that promise."

"Everybody put your weapons down, and nobody will get hurt. Armin, by order of the prince, you are under arrest for murder and cannibalism."

[LCP]

Ludo

Ludo's voice rang out clearly over the hollow. Getting to his feet, Armin looked up at the rock where he was standing.

"Is this what you are reduced to?" he boomed back. "Is your master so afraid of us that he cannot leave us be?"

Lottie scrambled up on the rock beside Ludo. "They found the bones, Armin!" she shouted back. She sounded just as angry as she had been with Sieghard. "Human bones! What have you been hiding?"

"Cinderhill," said Armin, squinting through the dusk. "I knew you had left us, but I did not know you would take the Tilean's silver." Lottie's expression darkened further. "I had thought better of you."

"Do I look like I'm on Sforza's payroll to you?" Lottie shot back, standing up to her full not-so-impressive height to show her tattered and grimy travelling clothes. Her voice was fairly vibrating with indignation. "Gods, Armin, you've gone too far. The soldiers are coming! They're coming right now!"

A current of murmurs ran around the hollow, young and old huddling together as they turned frightened eyes towards the trees. Looking down at their dirty faces, Ludo felt a sickness in his stomach at being the object of such fear.

A crack of thunder boomed over the clearing, rolling through the trees from the south. The people down in the hollow jumped, looking up at the sky like startled animals. A few of Armin's cudgel-men gathered close around him, but he held his hands out open-palmed for them to stand down. In all the people gathered there, only he seemed completely unafraid.

"Go, then, Cinderhill," he called back to her. "Run back to them. They are waiting for you." His dark eyes returned to Ludo. "You and your master think you own us because your swords are sharper. You think we tread our own land by your permission. You wish to take me? Come and take me." He spread his arms wide. "But do not cloak yourselves in virtue and call it arrest."

[LeSwordfish]

"You killed people and ate their bodies," Ludo said clearly. "We're not concerned with land. I'm concerned with Johan Lennart and Rike Moller - friends of mine, soldiers of the prince - who you killed and consumed. Did he tell you that was what you were eating?" he asked the crowd in general. "Armin has lead you away from safety in the hidden vale, and past the security of Manaan's Keep, to here in the wilderness. He's been forced to feed you human meat because there is so little here. And for what? What is he offering you, except to walk until you can't walk any more."

"You hate the prince, I know that. But he's not the one dragging you further into the forest on a fools errand, and making you perform these crimes against nature."

"Come forward now, Armin. Don't let anyone get hurt defending you."

OOC

Spoiler

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I think this is a Charm test to persuade - or at least partially sway - the others in the group? Technically it could be a Command test to get Armin to come forward but I assume that's an automatic failure: I want to focus on starting to turn his followers against him, and force that social pressure to get him to step out of his group in the centre.

(1d100)[61] vs 92 - the "we burned all your crops, whoops" modifier

[LCP]

Ludo

"Rike Moller?" Armin called back. "You might want to tell herself that she has been eaten. I think she would be surprised to hear it."

He motioned to two of his followers, who hurried over to a lean-to tent near the centre of the hollow. From under the dirty canvas, they pulled an improvised stretcher with a half-conscious figure on it. It certainly looked like Rike. Crouched near her, Ludo could make out a gaunt, short-haired woman in a filthy barber-surgeon's apron. This was the second time he'd seen her among Armin's people, and despite the gloom he felt certain now it was Rosmerta Morte.

"We found her wandering in the woods and took her in. Her wounds were festering. She would have died without our care."

Ludo could feel the mood in the clearing; it was not in his favour. The people gathered closer behind Armin.

"You killed someone!" Lottie shouted back. "They showed me the bones!"

"And you believed them?" demanded Armin. "How many people have the Prince's men killed? How many bones do they have to spare?"

Lottie looked around the people in the hollow, searching for familiar faces. "You can't keep on like this!" she implored them. "We always said we were looking for somewhere safe. What are you doing out here? Are you going to rise up against the Sforzas with sticks and stones?" Her eyes fixed on someone in the crowd. "Georgeta, is this how you want to bring up your little girl? Is pride going to keep her warm when the winter starts to bite?" She found another. "Vasile, is this what your sons would have wanted?"

"Traitor!" shot back the old man from the crowd, and Ludo saw the heart-wrenching hurt written clearly on Lottie's face. Armin remained in the centre of the crowd, standing statue-still.

"Alin," he said, turning to one of his followers. "Take the women and old folk, and run from here." The young man opened his mouth to disagree, but Armin cut him short. "They are coming. I will not have you throw your lives away for my sake." He pointed away into the forest, up towards the hills. "Go, now."

All around him, the camp began a mad scramble to escape, seizing up whatever belongings they could carry. Turning back towards Ludo and Lottie, Armin remained infuriatingly calm.

"If you want me, you can have me," he called up to the rock. "But you will not have them. They are beyond your lies."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo cursed. "Stay calm!" he shouted fruitlessly. "Don't try to..."

He swore again. "I'm going down in there in case Armin tries something."

And Ludo scrambled down from his raised position, keeping his weapons sheathed, and heading directly for Armin.

[LCP]

Ludo

Swearing under her breath, Lottie scrambled down off the rock, dashing across the hollow after Ludo. The people of the camp largely ignored them, gathering their things as quickly as they could and running for the trees to the south. The sloping walls of the hollow dammed them up where they tried to escape, the elderly and the over-burdened struggling to make the climb at all.

A handful of Armin’s zealots were standing their ground around their leader. One stepped into Ludo’s path as he approached - but the man’s attention was soon drawn away by the sounds that were coming from the forest to the north. The clink of armour and the soft crunch of marching boots heralded the coming of the Iron Company.

The refugees still in the hollow pressed back against its edges as the first Tileans came into view. Some were carrying lit torches; all had their short swords in hand, their long pikes left behind. Their faces almost unreadable behind their steel barbutes, they formed up in a disciplined line along the edge of the hollow.

In the centre of the line, the soldiers parted ranks and Sforza rode forward, the torchlight reflecting from his burnished armour. Ludo felt the intake of breath from the refugees as they saw him come into view, crouching back like mice that had seen a hawk.

“So,” said Sforza, not deigning to dismount. “This is the miracle worker who has been seducing my people to come and live like animals in the woods.” He swept a disdainful eye over the camp beneath him. “I have to admit, I was expecting something more.”

Armin said nothing, though the four zealots in black huddled closer to him. Sforza’s roaming gaze found Ludo.

“Well?” he demanded. “Will he submit, or must he be made to?”

---

Not Ludo

They had not been waiting in the darkness for long when they heard the rustle of movement up ahead. Squinting through the gloom, Gustaf pointed to a human shape emerging from the trees. More were following it - men and women, some carrying bundles of meagre possessions, some carrying children, some with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

The Falcons readied their firearms, waiting for the refugees to see them as they ran closer. Ingwald looked to Sieghard, waiting for an order.

[LeSwordfish]

"He's claimed he'll submit," Ludo said, drawing his rope from his pack. "Tell your men to stand aside."

OOC

Spoiler

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If they do so, Ludo will go forward and bind Armin's hands.

[LCP]

Ludo

"I will not fight you," said Armin, looking up at Sforza. "That does not mean I submit. I will not kneel before a stolen crown." His men still stood close around him, until he motioned them to stand aside. "I give fealty only to my god."

As Ludo hurriedly bound Armin's wrists, Sforza waved his hand, and the Iron Company began descending into the hollow. Some of the black-robed zealots tried to stand in their way, but were roughly shoved aside. Two Tileans took Armin from Ludo and forced the wild-haired preacher to his knees in the dirt before their prince as he rode down into the camp.

"Then where is this god of yours now?" said Sforza. His voice had a fine declamatory ring to it, each word clear despite their Tilean twang. "I've met many men who've claimed to speak for many gods, but none as sad as yours. If this dead thing you grovel to really is divine, then show me one of his miracles."

Silence lingered in the clearing. Sforza looked down expectantly at his captive.

"Nothing?" he said. "Come on, just a small one. Prove it to me, and my men will release you. You can prove it, can't you? Surely all these people haven't been following a lie?"

"The Drinker will chew your bones!" shouted one of Armin's zealots from the crowd. Before he could shout anything else, an Iron Company man drove a mailed fist into his stomach, doubling him over. Still Armin said nothing. Sforza swung himself down out of the saddle, standing face-to-face with his captive.

"Father Barbaro," he said. "What punishment does Myrmidia prescribe for those who lead others into the worship of false gods?"

A little surprised to be called upon, Barbaro came forwards from the rear ranks of the soldiers. "No punishment can be too severe, your highness."

"No punishment too severe," said Sforza, with exaggerated slowness. "Do you hear that? Is there nothing you wish to say?"

Staring up at the Prince in silence, Armin looked over to where his remaining followers huddled against the edge of the hollow. At last, he spoke.

"You may do what you wish with me," he said. "I am just a man. Kill me, beat me, lock me away. The truth I have spoken will still remain." He raised his voice so it could be heard right across the hollow. "It was your greed that woke the Drinker. You who have never known want, but know only how to take. He has your scent, and He will not stop until everything has been taken from you, as you have taken everything from His people."

Armin smiled through his tangled beard. "You want a miracle, oh great conqueror?" he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "I will give you a prophecy. Your line ends with you. Your name will be forgotten. Your lands, your riches, your armies, all will be dust that blows on the wind. And those that come after you will look upon the desolation of your conquests, and despair."

Until now, Sforza seemed to have been enjoying his naked display of power. Now, something about the wild-eyed prophet's refusal to show fear seemed to anger him. Jerking his head away, he motioned to the Iron Company around him. One of them delivered a vicious kick to Armin's gut, sending the man sprawling to the ground.

"This man is a liar, a rebel and a blasphemer!" Sforza shouted, turning to the others in the hollow. "He is in league with the dead! He will be punished for his crimes! Step forward if you wish to join him!"

The hands of the Iron Company went to their swords. Some of Armin's zealots dropped their weapons and shrank meekly back among the others; a few stood their ground, but made no move to attack. They were seized and dragged over to where Armin lay wheezing.

"There is work in the Vale for those who will come with us!" Sforza continued, swinging himself back up onto his horse. "There is food. For those who will not," - he left a pregnant pause - "if you wish to play at being bandits, you will be treated as such. All those who remain here I proclaim outlaw." He gave a sweeping gesture to his men. <Take them away.>

As the Iron Company moved in, the people in the camp offered little resistance. Riding his horse a few paces forward, Sforza looked down at Ludo.

"Another success for signor Stubbs," he said, more quietly. "It seems they will go without a fight. Though I thought there were more of them." He cast an eye around the encampment. "What a sad little place."

Beside Ludo, Lottie's hands had closed into tight, white fists.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

Sieghard glared towards Volker and his men. "Lower your guns, they're unarmed!" he barked. "I want them alive! Advance and block their path! Harm none of them unless they draw weapons!" he shouted. He glanced to Elsa and asked "Can you do something flashy that'll stop them in their tracks without hurting them?"

As the distance between the soldiers and fleeing refugees closed he raised his voice again. "This is over! Give yourselves up peacefully!"

Spoiler

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Command roll to coordinate all of this.
(1d100)[11] vs 64
(1d100)[57] reroll

Intimidate to try to get them to stop running and not try anything that'll get anyone killed.
(1d100)[90] vs 71
(1d100)[70] reroll

[-Sentinel-]

Sieghard glanced to Elsa and asked "Can you do something flashy that'll stop them in their tracks without hurting them?"

Elsa did not need to be asked twice.

OOC

Spoiler

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Channeling 93: (d100)[40]
Crown of Fire 5+/8+: (2d10)[10][5](15)

If failed, a second try:
Channeling 93: (d100)[42]
Crown of Fire 5+/8+: (2d10)[9][3](12)

Intimidate 30 + 20 = 50: (d100)[97]
Fortune: (d100)[75]

come oooooon, how can she fail to be impressive with a crown of fire

A shimmering diadem of fire appeared above her head.

"People of the Reaches!" she barked. "Do not force us to resort to violence! Stay where you are and no harm will come to you!"

[LCP]

Not Ludo

The light of Elsa's fiery crown streamed out between the trees, the Thorns standing close to her squinting against the sudden blaze. The reaction it drew from the people running towards them was not what Elsa had hoped. Screams of fear rang out through the woods, Armin's people blundering into one another as those in the front turned and ran from the unearthly light.

A young man in ragged black ran howling out of the shadows, a wooden mallet raised above his head. With Elsa's spell shining in his eyes, he could barely see the two Falcons that stepped calmly into his path. One tripped him, while the other slammed the butt of his arquebus into his head as he fell. As the man crumpled to the forest floor, Volker stepped forward and let off a shot over the heads of the panicked crowd. The deafening crack of blackpowder echoed through the trees, cutting through the chaos of human voices.

"The lady said STAY!" Volker shouted. "That means nobody move. Drop what you're carrying and stay where you are!"

Most of Armin's people now obeyed his instruction. A couple tried to make a break for the deeper shadows of the forest, but the soldiers on the fringes of the line caught them, wrestling them to the ground. The realisation was slowly dawning on the ragged crowd that they were surrounded.

"Robbers!" raged a big man in the middle of the crowd - no, Sieghard, realised, not a big man, but one carrying another on his back. Clinging to the back of a younger man, Odo shook his fist at the soldiers encircling them. "Witches! Thieves!"

"What are we supposed to do with them now?" asked Ingwald, quietly. "Take them back to the Prince?"

[LeSwordfish]

"We should perhaps gag him," Ludo said quietly. "I don't think he's a wizard but it might be safer."

The curse had unnerved him: it was oddly reminiscent of what Klammenberg had said. On the subjects of the rest of the camp and Lottie, he stayed silent.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"Was the Duke you fought for any better, you miserable hypocrite?" Sieghard shot back. "When Alvarr took Savonne, did the city kneel when he demanded or did he unleash his Norscan dogs to pillage and brutalize the Downlands? At least I can say that I've never put an entire town to the sword for not surrendering soon enough!" He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Odo the entire time. "I thought you a stronger man than this. The Odo I remember knew the Jackal for the lie that it is. The Odo I knew took the false idols, cast them to the ground, and smashed them."

He turned back to the soldiers. "Take them back to their camp!" he ordered. "Come morning we can think about finding them new homes for them in the Vale, but for tonight it's enough to keep them from running off into the hills to die."

[LCP]

Not Ludo

Moving forward together, the Thorns and Falcons began herding their new prisoners back towards the camp. Forced back together, Armin's people did as their captors instructed, all too aware of their weapons. Odo, however, didn't take the hint.

"You have yoked yourselves to a false king!" he said, pulling himself up on the shoulders of the poor soul who was carrying him so he could project from the full depth of his barrel chest. "You have made a covenant with witches, and the gods turn their faces away from your wickedness!" He twisted awkwardly round, trying to stay facing Sieghard as the tide of refugees began to flow back towards the hollow. "The Black Hound hunts you! Don't you realise? Can't you see? You're all going to die!"

"By the Hammer, but that one's loud," observed Volker as Odo was carried away. "Maybe he needs a tap on the head too."

At their feet, the young zealot who had been knocked out by the Falcons still lay senseless on the ground, bleeding heavily from his scalp. Odo's voice could still be heard filtering back through the trees.

Die! Death awaits you all! Die! Dieeee!

~

All

At Ludo's suggestion, Armin was gagged as well as bound. Searching through the people still in the hollow, it didn't take long to find Rike. Eyes closed and breathing shallowly, a faint, foetid smell was rising from the bandages around her mangled hand.

It wasn't long before the refugees who had fled returned, herded back into camp by a closing ring of Sieghard and Volker's soldiers. With them, the Iron Company, and those who had been left behind, the hollow was as crowded as a sheep-pen.

<What do we do with them, sir?> Sergeant Domenico asked Sforza, glancing up at the dark sky. <It's a long way back to the town.>

<Hold them here for the night,> said Sforza. <We'll camp on the high ground outside this hole. Set watches and keep them from leaving.> He turned his horse away. <In the morning we'll march them back.>

---

Konigstag, 10th Kaldezeit

Ludo, Elsa, Sieghard & Urgrim

It was a long march back to Manann’s Keep. The day was cold and grey, and Armin’s flock could not march as fast as the soldiers. Much to Sforza’s displeasure, the old, the injured, and those with children kept falling behind. Lottie and Tatiana did their best to keep their spirits up, but as many of the refugees seemed confused and distressed to find their old friends working with Sforza’s men as were happy to see them.

In the centre of the column, four Iron Company men escorted Armin. Though he had been gagged and his hands tied behind his back, he held his head high, showing no sign of letting his circumstances perturb him. There was no sign of the men who had stood by him in the hollow; Ludo suspected they had faced a more summary punishment.

The wind was rising out of the south, sending dead leaves drifting down over the road from the swaying treetops. The sun was setting by the time they returned to the town; an anxious-looking Sussman was waiting to greet them in the square.

“Good to see you back, your highness,” he said. “I, uh, I see you brought some new friends.”

“Don’t worry, Steffan,” said Sforza, handing off his horse to a waiting groom. “I’ll be taking some of them with me.” He looked out toward the distant hills, half-hidden in a grey haze. “Those of them that can use a spade, at least. You can find work for the rest, can’t you?”

“Oh, oh yes,” said Sussman. “It’s just, there’s not so much to go around, you know? I mean, with more people arriving from the north, and the ones Herr Stubbs already brought us… it’s never been a big town here…”

Sforza patted him on the shoulder. “Good man,” he said, in tones that seemed to say he hadn’t listened to a word Sussman had said. “Make it happen. We’ll be marching south tomorrow.” Unbuckling his gauntlets, he turned as if to leave - but then stopped himself. “One more thing, Steffan. I want you to find a carpenter and an ironworker, to make a cage.”

“A… cage, your highness?”

“You know, a cage!” said Sforza, gesturing with his hands. “For prisoners. A hanging cage.”

“Oh! Like a gibbet?”

Sforza looked blank. “I do not know this word,” he said. He put a firm hand back on Sussman’s shoulder. “Make me a cage.”

In among the soldiers, Armin stood in blissful ignorance of what was being planned. While Sforza and Sussman stood talking, Volker looked idly about the square, his eyes alighting on the sign of the Star of Marienburg.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, leaning over a little in the saddle to speak to Sieghard, “but I feel like a drink.”

---

Jarla Schreiber

On the road ahead of Jarla’s horse, the city rose out of the plain like a dagger driven into the earth, the great blade of rock in its heart soaring up towards the cold grey sky. All the way from that grey, walled town whose name the inhabitants had been unable to agree on, she had seen nothing but rocks and dust-bowl fields of wheat stubble. She dimly remembered Adelbert telling her about this place; he had said the Broken Reaches were the last outpost of civilisation before the badlands to the south. Looking into the eyes of the hungry, dirty people she passed by, Jarla wondered if the border had moved since then.

Back then, Adelbert had been onto some hare-brained scheme about searching for the lost thirteenth tribe of Sigmar. In the last town, they’d said he was a priest now. It was difficult for Jarla to picture her older brother in holy orders, but apparently the city was where the priests of this dusty backwater congregated. If she was going to find him anywhere, it was here. She tried to imagine what she would say when she saw him; what he might say in return. It was hard to find the words, but one thing was certain - it had been far too long and hard a journey to turn back now.

Riding closer, she could see the rope-and-canvas shanty town that clustered under the scarred and crumbling city walls. With her rich clothes, Jarla stood out like a sore thumb. Beggars in dusty rags trailed her with outstretched hands, dusty street children running behind her horse until they came close to the guards beneath the gates. A guard with a halberd and a feathered helmet gave her a cursory glance before waving her through.

The streets of Savonne seemed almost like the towns of the Empire, though there were some buildings that seemed like they would have been more at home in Araby than the Old World. Rising like a great grey beast above the rooftops, the Bretonnians’ crusader castle reared its weather-worn turrets to the sky, a brutish, warlike thing compared to the residences of the Wissenland nobility. Jarla followed the flow of traffic to the wide square beneath its gates, where a trio of traders were selling sacks of grain to a great, squabbling crowd from the back of a sturdy hay wagon, guarded by a couple of burly men in leather jerkins. The prices they were asking sounded outrageous - there must have been some shortage they were taking advantage of.

Finding a street vendor on the edge of the crowd, Jarla was just getting directions when she heard a commotion over her shoulder. Scattering people out of its path, a coach and horses clattered into the square, four mounted soldiers formed up in an honour guard around it.

A bugle blew somewhere on the castle walls, and the great gates yawned wider open to let the carriage pass. Jarla saw the insignia on its side as it rolled past her - a fan of golden spearheads above a fortress gate. It wasn’t heraldry she recognised.

“Looks like the bigwigs are back in town,” said the man she had been talking to, unfazed. “Anyway, you want to get to the Temple, just head up along Gods’ Row. It’s a big road, you can’t miss it.” He held up his tray, which as far as Jarla could tell mostly held grey tubes of sawdust. “Wanna sausage?”

[RossN]

Jarla Schreiber

Savonne was certainly not Nuln but truthfully Jarla had seen worse in her crowded twenty five years and the young woman decided she'd wait a day or two before forming a first impression. It was hard to ignore the many destitute though and she felt a pang of sympathy. Adelbert may have been the clever one in the family but you didn't have to be the Grand Theologinist to see this was a troubled land. She'd have to ask her brother to fill her in when he had the chance.

The copper haired Imperial raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the carriage. Well, well, I see there is at least some gold here, Jarla thought, a mischievious glint appearing in her eye. She was an aristocrat herself after all... from a certain point of view. Maybe the nobility in the Border Princes were more interesting than the stuffed shirts she had so often met back home. Another thing to ask Adelbert about!

"Thank you but no," Jarla said to the sausage seller, trying to quell the instinctive flash of horror on her face when she saw what was actually on the tray. "At least not right now." She returned her attention to the carriage, watching carefully to see if it's passengers would appear and how they would appear.

[LCP]

Jarla

The men on the castle gates were already closing them again behind the coach, but through the gap Jarla could glimpse a footman rushing up to open the carriage door. A dark-haired noblewoman in a deep green gown got out, trailed by a pair of maids. She was visible only for a moment before she swept out of sight, heading purposefully towards the keep.

[RossN]

Jarla Schreiber

Jarla had to compliment the noblewoman on her choice of gown, which indicated considerable taste on her part. However as much as her curiosity was unsated it would have to wait; this was scarcely the time or place to make a favourable entrance.

The young Imperial made her departure from the scene, gently nudging her mare onwards in the direction indicated by the sausage seller. As she moved up God's Row and arrived at the Temple she gracefully dismounted her steed and glanced around for a suitable stable, or at least horsepost to tie her too. She'd have to see about quartering the animal properly once she spoke with Adelbert. Brushing some dust from her rich blue riding coat the copper haired woman walked up to the entrance of the building and whoever was on guard at the doors.

"Good morning," Jarla said, smiling politely. "I am Jarla Schreiber and I believe my brother Adelbert Screiber is here. Could you tell him I'm here. He should be... well not expecting me, but if he knows me at all not surprised I'm here. Also do you have any water or better still wine in this place? I've ridden hard and I fear I'm as parched as a Tarradasch comedy."

[LCP]

Jarla

The Temple of Savonne looked to Jarla even more ancient than the castle. The first person she could find was a shaven-headed young woman in Morrite robes, tending the graves outside the doors. She seemed a little surprised to be spoken to, and took some time to stammer out her reply.

"I - I don't think we're allowed to give out wine," she said, her pale face colouring a little. "I'll get Brother Cezar."

She ran inside and returned with a middle-aged, kindly-looking priest. Taking a moment to get the measure of Jarla, Cezar motioned for his initiate to head back inside.

"You're Father Schreiber's sister?" he asked. "Forgive me, I wasn't aware he had family."

[RossN]

Jarla Schreiber

Jarla chuckled at the priest's observation, and gave him a slightly sheepish smile. "Yes, I'm afraid I figure rarely in family conversation except as a cautionary tale. I am the black sheep of the Schreibers. My name is Jarla and I'm Adelbert's youngest sister."

She studied the priest and her blue eyes widened, her smile growing bigger as she recalled where she had heard the priest's name before. "Brother Cezar you say? Yes Adelbert mentioned you in a letter. Said you were a good friend and that your village was, uh, rustic. It is a pleasure to meet you. Is my brother here by any chance?"

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa was a bit gloomy on the ride back; whatever that was, back there, did not feel like a victory. She remembered how a younger Elsa had stood against Jager in defense of the villagers of Elmridge—she still had the scar on her arm—and she wondered if she had since become more like the "Duke's Bulldog" than she would like to admit. And just feeling bad about it did not make her a much better person than him.

Speaking of old enemies...

She peered at the refugees' faces carefully during the march, looking for the archer Fauchard. She had seen him among them a while ago, when they first went out in search of the orphan girl who spoke to goats. What Elsa would do if she found him, she had no idea. All of her personal resentments felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Still, she would rest easier if he was accounted for.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

When morning came and the army prepared to march, Sieghard took a final chance to poke around the camp. Time was limited, but he hoped he might be able to find something that would paint a clearer picture of what had happened to Gunda's party than what little they could surmise from the bones and pieces Urgrim had found.

During the trip back, he rode up alongside Elsa. He had known her long enough to quickly read her mood and could tell she was troubled. "We did what we had to and handled it as best as anyone could hope for," He said quietly. "If we let Armin keep spreading his madness, they would've all ended up in a ghoul's cook pot or as ghouls themselves. Leaving him would've been too dangerous - for them and for anyone else living on the edge of the Thornwood."

---

"You've earned one," Sieghard replied to Volker. "I'll meet you inside in a bit. First one's on me."

He turned his attention back to Sforza and Sussman. "Whatever plans you have for the madman, it may be safer to do it quietly and dump him in an unmarked grave when it's done," he suggested. "There's little a man like Armin would love more than being made into a martyr. Make a show of punishing him and it risks giving him exactly what he wants."

Spoiler

Show

Search roll for the camp. Looking for anything that belonged to Gunda's party. Or their their remains.
(1d100)[85] vs 51 Search
(1d100)[43] Reroll

Anything he does find that can be identified he'll discreetly bring to Sforza's attention.

[LCP]

9th Kaldezeit

Ludo, Elsa, Sieghard & Urgrim

With so many people milling about, it was difficult for Sieghard to make a proper search. He found nothing that looked like it had belonged to Gunda before Sforza gave the order to march. On the road, Elsa rode up and down the straggling line of Armin's people, but could see no sign of Fauchard.

---

10th Kaldezeit

Jarla

"I'm afraid he is," said Cezar, folding his hands in front of him. "Father Schreiber was killed some days ago, in the forest south of here. His body has been returned to the Temple for burial." He paused for a moment to let Jarla process the information. "Would you like to see him?"

Manann's Keep

"When I want your insight, Sieghard, I will ask for it," said Sforza firmly. "Look around you. No-one is flocking to hear the words of the madman of the woods. What matters is that people see what happens to those who think they can turn their back on their prince." His gaze drifted over to Armin. "We will make an example of him."

He paused for a moment, his mind seemingly somewhere else. "This was a distraction," he said at last. "Have your men ready to march in the morning. We'll finish this business at Nath."

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa and Sieghard

"I... suppose so," said Elsa, sounding unconvinced. "It's just that the way we handled it makes me feel more like the boot stepping on people than the shield defending them. I wish we at least had something to offer them, beyond claiming that Armin was leading them astray."

---

Later on, Elsa spoke to Tatiana: "We need to brush up on your lingua praestantia. You were struggling with that when we parted ways in Savonne, and there'll be no one in the Reaches to teach it to you if... something happens to me in Nath."

[RossN]

Jarla Schreiber

"Yes thank you I would," Jarla found herself saying in response to Brother Cezar's revelation. The words had been almost automatic in response to a question, her mind to engulfed by shock to come up with anything more intelligent as followed him.

Dead. Adelbert was dead. Jarla felt numb. The shock was just too great, too sudden for her to contemplate. Even a few years ago and the debutante or newly wed Jarla would have fainted clean away. The current model was made of more steel but she might have been better if she wasn't. She could feel it building now, roaring away inside her, the anger and grief.

"Take me too," she said, voice turning raw, the first flecks of tears in the corner of her grey-blue eyes. "Now."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo sought out Lottie after the return to Manaan's Keep. "I'm sorry. I did what I could." There didn't seem to be much else to say.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"We tried handling it with a light touch," Sieghard reminded her. "We did in Ravenskird and some of them listened to sense. And after that Ludo convinced more of them to abandon Armin and his fanatics. Any of 'em who were left weren't going to listen to us any more than they did when we tried before." He shook his head. "We were out of options. Maybe they'll hate us for it, but they can live out the rest of their lives hating us somewhere that they won't be slaves to a vampire."

---

And if you were the sort to listen to the men who lead your soldiers, you might not have a vampire threatening your rule right now, Sieghard thought.

"My men will be ready, though I don't know how much use their crossbows will be when the vampire calls his storm," he said. "Do we have a plan for dealing with that?"

[LCP]

Jarla

"This way," said Cezar.

The inside of the Temple was cool and dark, incense-wreathed statues of the gods looming up out of the shadows around her. Jarla followed the priest down a narrow corridor to a room where Adelbert lay on a cold stone slab, draped in a linen sheet. His skin was grey, the faint smell of decay masked by the stronger scents of salt and embalming fluid. The shroud the Morrites had given him couldn't hide the ugly wound across his throat.

"Your brother was a... unique individual," said Cezar. "He was not from here, but he treated our struggles as his own. A great many people owe him a great deal."

---

Manann's Keep

Ludo sought out Lottie after the return to Manaan's Keep. "I'm sorry. I did what I could." There didn't seem to be much else to say.

Lottie seemed tired and deflated, and not just from the march. "You did," she said, with a sigh. "And it didn't turn into a bloodbath... small blessings."

She looked around at the other tired, grey people that the soldiers were herding together in the square.

"I don't know what Armin thought he was leading them to," she said, "but the Tileans can't keep this up forever. People are homeless and winter's on the way. People are hungry and the fields are bare." Her eyes turned to Sforza, talking with Sussman and Sieghard. "When people are starving, you can't wave a sword in their face and tell them to be fed."

~

"My men will be ready, though I don't know how much use their crossbows will be when the vampire calls his storm," he said. "Do we have a plan for dealing with that?"

"The storm?" said Sforza. "I've fought in foul weather before, Sieghard. It'll take more than a necromancer's party tricks to break the discipline of the Iron Company."

He looked out to the south. "I know what you're thinking. Only fools rush in, yes? Kleinrabe was a fool. I regret that I didn't see that more clearly at the time." He fixed Sieghard with a direct stare. "But you know I am no fool. I am Muzio Sforza, and I will raze this sad little ruin without setting foot in its streets." He patted Sieghard on the arm. "All we have to do is hold our nerve, and hold our ground."

He turned away towards the fort. "Tomorrow, signores! Be ready."